As he walked along the street, he almost whistled. Today was going to be an interesting day.
+ + + + +
With sunrise over two hours past, it was starting to get hot. Eyes on the cave mouth, Stoltz yawned and tugged the front of his robe over and over to fan some air through it. Fala had never stayed in there this long before. She’d risen incredibly early, too. If he wasn’t a light sleeper, he’d not have noticed. He’d been expecting it, though. Last night, she and Jaci had another whispered conversation.
When he followed her this morning, Fala once again returned to the small alcove hidden behind tall scrub and retrieved the handcart. Neither of the women ever mentioned the handcart nor the various pieces of covered equipment it carried.
Kwatoko had made the mistake of asking about Jaci and Fala’s whispered conversations, once. Fala had snapped at him that it was none of his business. Stoltz had just observed. Like he did now.
He moved a bit, shifted to his left buttock, trying to get comfortable. He’d located a cluster of bushes with a good view of the cave mouth and positioned so that the sun would not be behind him from the perspective of the cave. As before, he hid among those bushes, waiting on Fala.
The former umeron had grown more and more irritable in recent days, especially after that boy left the group, leaving just the four of them. Fala appeared to take the loss of the group’s members as a personal affront.
From talking with Jaci, it seemed that early on, getting recruits had been easy. Not as much was known about the Dragon Craft Guild at the time, only that they would probably bring changes to the Order. It had been easy to find people who wanted to fight any changes, who wanted to keep things the same, the way they had always been.
Now that the guild had been in charge for a time, people saw that the changes they brought were for the better. Everything they’d done so far had improved life here. Of the former members of the Order who yet remained in Bataan-Mok, there weren’t many who still disliked, much less hated, the dragon guild.
He was glad that people had abandoned the group. Fala’s schemes had destroyed property and killed people and animals. It wouldn’t surprise him if that wasn’t the primary reason many—
Movement caught his eye. Fala was leaving the cave. She stopped just outside and appeared to be looking around. She did not have the handcart.
Stoltz slowly crouched even lower.
After a few moments, she started down the animal trail. On firmer, stonier ground, her walking stick made a faint tapping sound. She eventually disappeared beyond a rise.
Stoltz lay on the ground. There was something different about today. Was she finished bringing equipment to the cave? Is that why she left the handcart within? Perhaps it was time to see what she was up to in there. Fala was suspicious by nature, however, so he would wait for at least half an hour to pass. The woman might just double back to be sure no one had followed her to the cave.
The cry of a raptor pulled him from a half-doze. A hawk soared above, searching for prey. Noting the sun’s location, he saw that enough time had passed. It should be safe to leave the bushes. He yawned, stretched, and headed over to the cave.
It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the dimmer light within. The first chamber was tiny and empty save for the rickety handcart. He took the only passage leading deeper. After several feet, he regretted not bringing a lantern.
Before it got completely dark, the passage widened. The faint light reaching from the cave mouth was just enough to see that there was a table to the side, and across from it, some kind of . . . still? It looked like one he’d seen as a child on trips he’d made with his father to visit his uncle. The man had a small still which he used to make modest batches of alcohol from wild agave.
A lantern on the table, once unshielded, provided more light. It was definitely a still, though the only fresh plant matter he found in the small cave was a pile of silverthorn branches. The nuisance scrub could be found throughout the area. More searching revealed a very long coil of rope and a leather harness of some kind under the table, and a tall stack of firewood piled near the entrance of the small cave.
Stoltz stood in the middle of the room and crossed his arms. What in Yrdra’s deepest hells was Fala doing with all this? Was she going to make alcohol? Drown her sorrows with it?
He shook his head. No, she didn’t seem like the kind of person who would do something like that. And he’d be surprised if an alcohol recipe included silverthorn. If you walked too close to the plant and accidentally brushed across its leaves, welts would appear on any skin they touched.
So, what was all this for?
+ + + + +
Something is wrong.
Fillion jerked and sat up. He’d been half asleep, head on the table, still waiting on the information to arrive. What?
I sense fear, panic, and anger.
Where?
From the other side of the building. I am going to see what is causing this.
He stood. “Something is happening.”
“What do you mean?” Master Gella looked at him, brows drawn together.
“Coatl senses panic and fear outside the building. Do either of these face the front?”
She stood and walked to a window. “This one.” She looked outside.
Fillion moved next to her.
Below, a heavy, enclosed wagon sat parked in front of the building. Three people stood behind the wagon facing a hatch on its back. A person in some kind of uniform lay on the ground up near the horses, unmoving. Up at the driver’s seat, two men struggled. The larger man threw a punch, knocking the other man unconscious. After tossing the other to the ground, the large man grabbed the bow off his back, pulled an arrow out of his quiver, and after nocking it, looked around as if keeping watch.
“They’re trying to steal that armored wagon!” Master Gella hurried off.
With a last glance out the window, Fillion saw another man climb up from the other side of the wagon, sit on the driver’s seat, and grab the reins of the horses.
We’re on the way out there. Be careful! Fillion ran after her.
Some kind of alarm began as they headed for the lobby.
The building was locked down. Clerks and others were hiding about the place, occasionally peeking out to look at the front doors and at a wounded guard there. She sat against the wall beside the doors, an arrow through her right arm. With her other hand, she kept pressure around the arrow. Blood stained the fingers of that hand as well as her uniform sleeve.
Master Gella had to spend some time arguing with the guards to let them out. Finally, they were able to leave.
“Have a care,” the wounded guard said. She glanced at the arrow in her arm. “Aside from the bowman, they’ve got at least one sorcerer.”
Master Gella nodded to her as they walked past.
Once outside, the doors slammed shut behind and he heard locks click closed.
Fillion frowned. A blood trail lead down the stairs toward the gate.
“Take cover,” Master Gella said. “That man had a longbow.” She slipped behind a column.
He stepped behind the next column, about eight feet from hers. Where are you?
Watching from the corner of the building. What are those people doing?
Be wary, these are bad people trying to steal that wagon. They are armed and have shot a guard. He looked around the column.
The small landing in front of the bank’s doors topped a short flight of stairs. At the bottom, a ten or twelve foot walk led to the gate and the street. Unfortunately, it was impossible to see much of the back of the wagon from where he stood. A low fence of stone topped with sections of ornamental iron bars ran off from either side of the large gate. A long hedge ran next to the fence, trimmed to be about a foot shorter. The gates themselves were also made of iron bars, but the heavy stone column that was the left gatepost blocked his view of the wagon.
“I’m going to move closer to see what they’re doing in back.”
“Be careful,” Master Gella said.
As if he didn’t know that. Fillion took another quick glance, then stepped out and started to run for a spot ahead and to the left where the bushy hedge was slightly shorter. He should be able to get a better view of the wagon from there.
Before he’d even made it off the veranda, however, he felt binds placed on his feet. Stuck in-place, his momentum jerked his head and body forward and then down.
An arrow whizzed past, tugging at the hair on the back of his head.
Fillion!
He immediately ducked farther down, broke the enchantment, and rolled back behind the column.
Barbs and pissing blades, that had been close! Contrary to what that sorcerer had likely intended, the bind spell had saved his life. Heart racing, he got to his feet and peeked around.
The big man still stood by the driver, bow at the ready, but now he eyed the bank and especially their hiding places. “Move yer asses!” the man yelled.
“Are you alright?”
The terse question made Fillion glance at Master Gella. He nodded. “Yeah.” He glanced back at the wagon. Francisco’s Barrier would protect against the arrows, but it wouldn’t help if those people knew deadlier spells than the binds. How could they get to a better vantage point?
You were almost shot!
True enough. I’m fine, though.
That is not the point!
Fillion felt the angry bark and even heard it in the distance. The bowman glanced toward the bark, briefly, then turned back toward them.
We promised Gregor we would be careful!
Gregor’s admonition came back to Fillion and he suddenly felt really, really guilty. You’re right, big guy. You’re right. Master Gella and I need to get closer, though. What we need is for those people to look away for a few— He grunted.
For a few seconds?
Yeah. Listen, I need you to do something, but with that bowman and a sorcerer there, you need to be careful.
What do you need me to do?
Stay around the corner of the building so they can’t cast anything on you, and when I say, I want you to roar, then spout fire past the corner so they can see it.
I can do that.
He glanced at Master Gella. “I’m going to get Coatl to create a distraction. Be ready to move closer.”
“A distraction?”
“Yes. Be ready.”
She frowned, then turned back to the wagon.
Fillion watched the bowman. Now!
Through the link, he felt Coatl take a deep breath. Then, an enormous roar filled the air.
The bowman and the driver looked toward the angry sound.
Through the link, Fillion felt Coatl take another deep breath, felt his throat and neck muscles tighten, and felt the different exhalation followed almost instantly by a wave of warmth when the flame was born.
“By the gods, it’s true! Hurry up ya bastards, that must be a dragon!”
“Let’s go,” Fillion hissed.
He ran as fast as he could for the hedge, Master Gella on his heels. Heart pounding in time with his feet, he kept expecting a bind spell to lock him in place, or an arrow to plunge into his side. How would being shot feel? He shoved away the thought with a slight shiver and used the slide spell to cover the last few feet to the neatly-trimmed bushes in a half-crouch. Not even two seconds later, Master Gella dove next to him.
Alright, we’re safe.
Good.
After a moment to catch their breaths, they slowly rose up and glanced over the thorny plants.
The hatch was open on the back of the wagon and the people he’d seen earlier were gone.
Master Gella grunted. “They made it in. We’ll need to see about keeping them here.”
Loud banging came from the wagon.
Fillion turned to it. What were they—?
“That’s the signal! Go, man, go!”
The sound of whips cracking preceded the wagon moving off.
“Damn it!” Master Gella stood up. A pulse of magic came from her.
Movement in the open hatch of the departing wagon caught his eye. “Look out!”
He got the barrier up just in time. An arrow slammed into it, causing a flash of light directly in front of Master Gella’s face.
She flinched and reflexively raised her arms.
The wagon quickly picked up speed and raced down the street amid the sound of horseshoes and metal-wrapped wheels. It was beyond the next building and out of sight in moments.
“Shit.” Master Gella turned to him. “Summon Coatl. We have to go after them.”
Fillion looked back at the front of the bank. “What of the injured guard?”
“Those inside will have seen the wagon depart and with it the danger. They’ll lift the lock down, allowing medical personnel to be summoned. We, on the other hand, have to catch those thieves!”
Fillion pressed his lips together. She was probably right. Come to us. We have to follow that wagon.
A chase! Coatl came tearing around the corner of the bank and bounded over. He crouched so they could climb up.
“Hurry!” Master Gella said. “We can secure ourselves as Coatl flies.”
“Have no fear.” Fillion strapped in. “We can follow them from very high up. There’s nowhere they can go that we can’t see or follow.”
She grunted. “True, but hurry anyway. I mislike losing sight of them for long.”
Fillion patted Coatl on the neck. Let’s catch up to them, big guy.
With an excited rumble, Coatl crouched, then sprang into the air, wings pounding. He flew along the street in the direction the wagon had gone.
“Where is it?” Master Gella, hands on Fillion’s shoulders, stood in the stirrups, looking around.
Can you see them or sense them?
I do not see them, and as I did not have a chance to get to know them, I cannot separate their impressions from the great number of others nearby.
Fillion grunted. They were also much too far away to read their thoughts. A visual search was going to be the quickest way to locate them. He glanced over his shoulder. “They must have taken a side street. Sit down. We’re going up.”
Gain some altitude so we can see around the buildings.
Coatl beat his wings and angled them up higher. A minute or so later, he hovered well above even the tallest buildings.
It took a few minutes scanning the busy roadways with binocs before Fillion spied the wagon racing down a street several blocks away. He pointed it out to Master Gella. There was some sort of accident ahead of it, however, and the wagon had to slow and then stop. People were working to move the carriage blocking the road, but they seemed to be having trouble.
“Perfect!” Master Gella said and sat. She gripped his shoulders and shook him. “Hurry!”
With a mighty beat of his wings, Coatl angled down and flew toward it.
A bubble of darkness enclosed the wagon. So large was the dome, it extended beyond the wagon and horses on all sides by at least three feet.
“Why in hells would they do that?” Fillion called out.
“They’re somewhat vulnerable while delayed. They probably don’t want anyone to be able to place spells on the wagon or driver or horses. If we get close enough, though, we can surround them with barriers.”
The carriage was moved to the side of the road before they arrived. The dome of darkness, and the hidden armored wagon within, picked up speed and hurried past.
“Gods dammit!” Master Gella grabbed his shoulder. “Keep after them, we may yet get another chance!”
Soon enough, they did. The street it raced down narrowed about a hundred yards ahead. There were no side streets or alleys for some distance, either.
Fillion, there is a large crowd spilling into the street ahead of the wagon!
He peered through the binocs. There was some sort of clash going on at the next intersection. He spied a man standing atop a small crate waving his arms and yelling.
Damn the criers! This was the worst possible time and place for a crowd to be forming.
He found the wagon through the binocs. The hemisphere of darkness was not slowing down. It plunged ahead, straight for the agitated crowd. They didn’t have much time. “Master Gella—!”
“I see it,” Master Gella said. “We have to be quick. Be ready to place a barrier behind the wagon to cut off that avenue of escape. The thieves will likely counter, so be prepared to replace it quickly.”
He nodded. “I’m ready!”
A pulse of magic came from Master Gella and she shouted, “Do it!”
He raised his barrier.
The shrouded wagon slowed and stopped. The driver must have noticed the faint shimmer of the barrier ahead of them. After a second, Fillion frowned. Why didn’t they counter it?
A pulse of magic came from Master Gella followed almost immediately by another. The darkness dropped.
Fillion grunted. She must have used resonance to—
Another pulse, and the rear right wheel on the armored wagon exploded into shards of wood. The wagon tilted and the driver and bowman stood, looking about. Moments later, the right front wheel was similarly destroyed, and the wagon fell over on its side, throwing the men to the ground. More pulses of magic came from Master Gella.
“They’re not going anywhere, now.”
The satisfaction in her voice made him glance at her.
With a grim smile, she said, “Let’s get down there. I’ve bound the men, but they might counter at any time. Be wary of them and those inside the wagon.”
Coatl set them down a couple of dozen yards away.
It didn’t seem like the men were interested in countering the bind spells holding them to the ground. They just lay there, the driver completely still, the bowman moaning. Were they too injured to concentrate on doing so? Or were they merely waiting to attempt something once he and Master Gella got closer? The longbow lay well out of reach of the big man, and while arrows lay near him, scattered on the ground where they’d slipped out of the quiver, Fillion didn’t think the man could do anything with just an arrow. What of those in the wagon?
Of Gods, Trees, and a Sapling: Dragonlinked Chronicles Volume 4 Page 43
