Of Gods, Trees, and a Sapling: Dragonlinked Chronicles Volume 4

by Adolfo Garza Jr.

  “Will someone tell me what’s going on?” Elizabeth sounded worried and angry.

  “Oh, sorry. Can we pick her up first, Chanté? I’ll need to ask her some questions about her investigations when we get to the workshop.”

  Without looking back, Chanté said, “Okay.”

  As Nantli headed back for the balcony, Quillan tried to organize his thoughts.

  Circuit one, on the front of the case, had an unknown purpose. He’d not looked into it as of yet. The circuit was on the outside, and in his eagerness to study those inside, he’d forgotten to remove it and place it with the others. Still, the other circuits were mostly figured out.

  Nantli dropping down for a landing, distracted him.

  “No need for instruction,” Elizabeth said as she hobbled over, “just lift me up and set me down behind Quillan.”

  Chanté stared at her a moment and chuckled. “As you say.”

  Elizabeth rose into the air and floated across the stone floor toward them. When Chanté set her down, she put her arms around Quillan’s waist and said, “No need for safety straps.”

  Chanté scowled, then opened his mouth to say something.

  “As long as Nantli doesn’t do anything sudden,” Elizabeth said, “I should be fine. It sounded like Quillan was in a hurry.”

  Chanté glanced from her to Quillan and twisted his lips. “Fine. Be sure to hold on.”

  Her arms wrapped tighter. “Noted!” She sounded pretty cheerful.

  Nantli hunched down slightly, then sprang into the air, wings pounding over and over.

  Trying to ignore her arms around him, her breasts pressed into his back, Quillan spent the next few minutes going over his suspicions.

  “So,” Chanté said as they walked in the workshop, “why did you need to come back here?”

  Quillan walked to the worktable and pulled over the device. “Seeing that tree and hearing about the wildfires made me think of something.”

  He carefully removed the circuit from the device’s top and began examining it.

  “The crystal that makes electricity?”

  Quillan smiled and glanced at Chanté. His mind was so quick! “Exactly.”

  Elizabeth removed her riding cap and set it down. “What about it?”

  Quillan returned to the circuit. Based on the third and fourth circuits and what they did, he was fairly certain now what this one had to do. But how did it accomplish it? And was that all it did? He began translating it using symbols he’d already decoded and new ones based on a hunch.

  As he wrote the translation down, he said, “The internal circuits, circuits two to five of the device, have been mostly decoded and their general functions gleaned—listen to the magic field, search for a specific trigger, pull in the steel wire, and, maybe, send electricity down those wires. What I hadn’t been able to discover, however, was the overall purpose of the device. To what end did those various actions work together?”

  Yes. It was a levitation spell, but what was this? The portion that set the anchor used an untranslated sym—Oh. Of course. The anchor used a tight bind. It had to.

  Looking over the worktable, he spied the bottle he was looking for. He pulled it closer, then using a thin metal tool, he carefully scraped off the amber and red portions of the magic guides on the metal plate. Once they were cleaned, he opened the bottle, dipped a thin tracing brush into the thick yellow liquid within, and retraced the guides.

  Once it was repaired, he replaced the circuit on the device and lifted the case up. “I think I understand this first circuit. Let’s see if I’m right, shall we?”

  “Quillan.” Elizabeth glanced to Chanté and then back at him. “Are you sure about this?”

  He nodded. “Fairly certain.” Stepping back from the table, he held the device up about chest-height.

  Chanté lifted a hand. “I don’t know if—”

  Quillan pressed the first button, and a tiny, brief pulse of magic passed over him.

  Letting go of the device, he smiled as it hung in the air. He tried pushing it, but it would not budge. It was fixed in place by the tight bind.

  “What on Lethera?” Elizabeth stared at it.

  He chuckled. “Just as I thought.”

  Chanté grunted. “For the wire.”

  “Exactly correct!” Quillan smiled at him.

  The astonishing boy smiled back.

  That smile! Quillan felt his face warming up and hastily turned to Elizabeth.

  She was staring at the device. “The wire with the rod at the end?”

  He lifted a finger. “It’s a pin.”

  She turned to him, brows drawn together.

  Quillan grabbed the wire and untied the ribbon from it. “In your profession, Elizabeth, you must know that words are powerful. Two words can mean roughly the same thing, can be used to indicate the same item. But the wrong word can lead you to think of the item in the wrong way.”

  He unclipped the metal bit from the end of the wire and held it up between his fingers. “Rod or pin? When you call something like this a pin, several preconceived notions come with that, notions that do not occur to you if you call it a rod.”

  “The accelerant,” Elizabeth whispered. She looked from the pin to Quillan. “That’s how it is released.”

  “And that is why the case has to be in a fixed position,” Chanté said.

  “Precisely,” Quillan said. “That way the release pin can be pulled from . . . whatever it is in.”

  “And then the spark can ignite it.” Elizabeth frowned. “But would the designer of the device be able to count on enough fumes getting into the thing to be lit by the spark? That seems a bit too optimistic.”

  “Ah,” Quillan said, “but they used a wick of some sort, I think.”

  “A wick?” Elizabeth glanced at the device, sitting seemingly unsupported in the air.

  Quillan nodded. “Or fire twine, perhaps.”

  “Fire twine?” Chanté tilted his head.

  “It’s string, essentially, treated chemically to burn quickly and consistently. It has some uses in various industries. Illusionists, for instance, use a quick-burning form of it in some of their sleight-of-hand tricks. They also have something called flash paper that is used in some fun effects.”

  He deactivated the device and carried it back to the worktable. “I noticed some sort of burned residue in the metal sleeve on the side, the hole next to the spark circuit. At the time, I attributed it to something that had burned outside the device and fallen in, but . . .” He set the case under the magnifying lens and looked inside, at the bracket next to the hole in question. “I bet if I were to look at this small clamp where the ends of the spark wires were attached, I’d find—Oh, ho, there is something poking out from under it.”

  Using very small picks, he lifted open the clamp, and beneath the small metal arm where it had been held tightly, a tiny bit of string was revealed, its end burnt.

  “It definitely looks like fire twine.” He sat on a stool and turned to them with a smile.

  He’d accomplished his task. They now knew what the devices were for.

  “Would the”—Chanté glanced at Elizabeth before looking back—“accelerant have had enough time to spread when the spark lit the fire twine?”

  “That’s a good question.” Quillan turned and pulled the spark circuit under the lens. “There’s a portion of the circuit that I was unable to translate because it has foci that aren’t used in any of the others. But if I try using ether focus under the assumption that there is a time-delay aspect to it, perhaps that will reveal something.”

  “Ether focus?” Elizabeth said. “I thought that had to do with distance?”

  “Space—including distances within it—and time are both aspects of the ether, the universe’s foundation, which ether focus affects.”

  Quillan nodded at Chanté’s comment as he wrote.

  “I see.”

  After a few seconds of scribbling, he had the translated portion.

&n
bsp; He tugged his ear. “Two minutes, maybe?”

  “Hmm?”

  Quillan looked at Chanté. “When the fifth circuit is activated, there is a two minute delay before the spark is generated.”

  “So the accelerant cannot be too viscous,” Elizabeth said. “It must spread quickly if there are only two minutes before it is ignited.”

  Quillan drew his brows together. “Why do you say that?”

  “In the warehouse where I found that device, the accelerant was distributed from an air circulation room. Based on the room’s location, the accelerant had to travel anywhere from seventy to over a hundred feet along the air ducts to reach the first floor air vents.”

  Quillan nodded. “I see.”

  Elizabeth tapped her chin. “So, the firebug sets up some kind of container with accelerant, activates the first circuit to position the device, clips the wire to the container’s release pin, then activates the second circuit and runs to a safe distance to watch before the two minutes are up.”

  “If that’s the case,” Chanté said, “then why go through the effort of including the magic field circuits?”

  Quillan stared at the device a moment. “Elizabeth,” he said and turned to her, “in the fires where those devices were found, were there ever any sightings of someone suspicious? Say, lurking about or running away?”

  She frowned. “No. And actually, in two of the fires, a building caretaker heard the start of the fire, a loud whooshing. If someone had been skulking about to start the fire, I’m sure they would have been seen.”

  “Caretaker?” Quillan drew his brows together. “Are they always on-site?”

  “No, they only visit the buildings occasionally to inspect for vandalism and such and to show the buildings to prospective buyers or renters.”

  Quillan smiled. “In other words, the buildings were usually completely vacant with no one around. Someone could easily have gone in to set everything up ahead of time and no one would be the wiser.”

  “Then,” Chanté said, “at their leisure, they transmit the signal across the magic field from some remote location.”

  “The fires were not started by a firebug.”

  Quillan looked at Elizabeth. “What do you mean?”

  “From what my friend told me, firebugs like to watch the burning. That’s the whole reason they set the fires in the first place. But if the fires are started remotely, up to forty miles away I think you said, then I highly doubt a firebug is involved.”

  Quillan grunted. “Extortion then? Pay us or we burn down the building?”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “I don’t think so. When I spoke with the various bank managers in charge of the properties that had burned, no mention was made of something like that, nor did they look as if they were trying to hide anything. Besides, the fire devices would have been easy to find and disable if someone had been actively searching for them. Dozens, maybe even hundreds of gallons of accelerant had to have been used based on what I saw at the warehouse. It would be difficult to hide the barrels you’d need to hold that much.” She blinked. “And I saw evidence of barrels, now that I think about it.”

  Quillan sighed. “We could go in circles forever, trying to think about the whys and wherefores. Master Gella needs to be informed of what we’ve learned about the device.”

  + + + + +

  Fillion eyed the stack of crates in the dim light. Six high, it was one of many in the building, and there was a gap between it and the next stack in the line that formed a wall of sorts along the wide aisle in the middle of the warehouse. The stack wasn’t as high as the one he’d quietly run from to avoid a patrolling sentry, but it was high enough to hide behind, so he sat against the near side, being careful not to extend any of his body beyond the corner.

  It was darker here between two of the ceiling glows that dimly lit the place, and, not having spotted any patrols close enough to sense magic, he used Meturato’s Gloom to shadow the spot even further from any eyes that might peer his way. He then allowed himself a moment to rest.

  Sneaking around was a lot harder than he thought it would be. Handouts, listening to Adept Olwen talk about it in lessons, even watching her demonstrations, none of that compared to the real experience. Being as silent as possible involved a great deal of attention and effort. And patience. Something he knew he didn’t always have a lot of, at least not when it came to certain things. But once he was done with this, he and Coatl could go back and observe adepts Komako and Oran as they spoke with the Departed that were visiting the Guildhall. Zolin was the guide today, the one who’d primarily show the visiting dragons around and answer any questions they might have.

  Talking with the dragons who’d dropped by the guild since the meeting had been more interesting and fun than Fillion had anticipated. And from what he’d heard before they’d left early this morning for this place, there were three—

  A relatively loud scuff followed by a nearby footfall nearly made him jump.

  Barbs and pissing blades! Focus, Fillion!

  Are you okay?

  Despite the loud pounding of his heart, he heard the footsteps moving away.

  Thank the gods. I think so. It seems I’ve not been found.

  He waited a bit after he no longer heard the footsteps before dropping the gloom spell. He then got to his feet and rounded the crate, tucking in the narrow gap between stacks and squatting next to the corner by the wide aisle. After quietly retrieving it from a pocket, he slid open the tactical mirror and slowly poked the end of it beyond the corner. With a slight twist to pan the mirror over the area on the right, movement was revealed. There was the sentry, back to him, heading away. A spin of the mirror stick, downward, then up, to avoid reflecting light around as much as possible, showed that the other direction along the wide aisle was clear.

  After carefully sliding the extendable stick closed, he tucked the tactical mirror away, left the gap for the aisle, and made for another gap across the way. Gaze on the moving sentry, he took careful steps in-time with her, to lessen the chance of being heard.

  Once safely across the aisle in another gap between crate stacks, he closed his eyes and listened. The sentry’s footsteps were still moving away. Somewhere else, behind and to the left, footsteps indicated that another route in the enormous storeroom was being patrolled. He didn’t hear any other moving patrols nearby. There were likely stationary sentries, however, so he’d have to keep an eye out for those.

  Still, he was getting close if he remembered the map correctly. He’d memorized the rough sketch to his destination. He hadn’t brought it with him, though, not wanting to risk the rustling of paper that would be caused by opening and closing it.

  The map had the general layout of this corner of the storeroom, crates, equipment, and such, as well as his destination. It did not have the location of the sentries, however. He’d had to climb up to a high vantage point and watch for nearly a quarter hour to be sure he understood the routes of those patrolling the area he was interested in. Even so, he’d nearly been spotted twice, and those footsteps had certainly caught him off-guard.

  He shook off the thoughts and quietly moved further into the gap between stacked crates. About a third of the way down, he looked up. The top crate in this stack was his target.

  Fillion flexed his fingers and legs to loosen them up, then he started the climb. Carefully, slowly, he used the edge slats of the wooden crates as toeholds while he climbed, fingers grasping the same thin boards.

  Each time he reached a new crate, he’d take a slow look around. Any visible patrols? Any stationary sentries that might be able to see him? Then after confirming he was in the clear, he’d move up to the next crate.

  By the time he got to the top, ten large crates up, his muscles were trembling with nervousness and exhaustion. Sweat dripped down his forehead and into his eyes, making them sting. But there it was.

  He took another slow look around—hang in there fingers, toes, and muscles!—then reached over and grabbed
the blue flag.

  Large glows sprang into existence around the warehouse, lighting everything up.

  “Not too bad, Apprentice Fillion, not too bad.”

  Using a levitation spell—he was sure as hells not going to climb down—Fillion lowered himself to the flagstone floor. There he sat and waited, flexing his fingers.

  A few minutes later, Adept Olwen approached down the gap from the aisle, binocs bouncing at her hip and her gaze on the clipboard she carried. “It looks like you get eighty-five out of a hundred.”

  Fillion frowned up at her. “There’s no way Liara heard me walking, I timed my steps with hers perfectly.”

  “Yes,” Liara’s voice came from behind Adept Olwen, “you did.” She moved to the side of the adept investigator and stared at him, lips quirked in a half smile. “But I heard you breathing as you rested behind the crates before that. You had your mouth closed at the time, didn’t you?”

  Barbs and pissing blades! He shut his eyes and sighed. “Yes. I was breathing through my nose.”

  Did you not do well?

  I suppose I did well enough, but I wanted a perfect score.

  “Thus the deduction,” Adept Olwen said. “However, as for the rest, your performance was exemplary. You and Liara have the highest scores on this test, so far. Well done.”

  Liara smiled, leaned down, and offered her hand.

  With a smile of his own, her eyes shone when she smiled and he couldn’t help smiling back, he took her hand and stood.

  “That’s actually an impressive score, if you think about it,” Liara said. “You miss so many lessons and have to study and practice when you can between your trips to help Master Gella.”

  Fillion grunted. “That’s a good point, I guess.” He turned to Adept Olwen. “I’d like to thank you again for allowing us to make up this test on the weekend.”

  She shrugged. “The building was available today, the local accepted need something to do anyway, and both you and Polandra were away on official business. Have no worries there.”

  She clapped her hands and her voice rang out. “Alright everyone, get ready for the last one!”

  Murmurs and hurried footsteps echoed in the large room.