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

by Adolfo Garza Jr.

  “What’s this about a spiral?” he asked. Nodding at the Guildmaster he said, “We heard about it over the comms.”

  “I was looking at the map, too,” Fox said, “and while the locations aren’t really randomly scattered, I don’t see a spiral.”

  “Zolin said ‘ignore the order they started,’ didn’t he?” Chanté approached the table, eyes on the map.

  Fillion grunted. “He did.”

  Chanté glanced at Fox. “Do you have map markers of a different color?”

  She nodded at him. “We do.”

  He looked back at the map. “I need several in a color not yet used.”

  Quillan looked around. Everyone as watching Chanté.

  “You see the spiral?” Master Doronal eyed the unusual young man.

  “I think I do, now.” Chanté accepted the round tin from Fox. Removing a marker he said, “If you imagine a best-fit curve for the fires, you could get something like this.”

  He set several markers down curving from the first fire toward the east, but not quite to, the fourth fire, then it arced down and just outside the second, curving to the southwest toward the fifth, then west to the third, and curving northwest above where the sixth fire had been started.

  “So the next fire will be somewhere just north of the sixth one.” Master Gella grunted. “Fox, have—”

  “No.” Staring at the map, Quillan blinked and then glanced at Chanté, who was smiling at him. “It’s not going to be there.”

  “The spiral leads that way,” Elizabeth said, “so, clearly it will.”

  “You’re wrong,” Chanté said. He still stared at Quillan, a smile curving his lips. He raised a brow and nodded.

  Suppressing a little laugh, Quillan looked back at the map. “Look at the fire stations near the curve in relation to where the fires were started.”

  “Fire stations?” Master Gella looked from him to the map.

  “As Zolin said, the order of the fires isn’t too important. They likely were started that way to seem random or perhaps to keep anyone from noticing their true intent.”

  “True intent?” Guildmaster Millinith looked up at him. “Sowing chaos wasn’t their purpose?”

  He pointed. “Think about those fires like lodestones, pulling at the iron filaments that are the fire brigades.”

  “Hmm,” Master Doronal said. “The nearest fire stations are all inside the curve, so they are the ones that likely responded to the fires.”

  “Indeed,” Chanté said. “And based on the fact that we saw at least two trucks at each location, it seems every single fire brigade within the curve has been pulled out toward the fires and is currently engaged.”

  Master Gella grunted. “I’ll be damned. The next fire will be somewhere in the center.”

  “Pissing blades,” Fox said. She stabbed a finger on the map and looked at Master Gella. “The theater is right in the thick of it!”

  “Shit.” Fillion stared at the map.

  Quillan looked at him. Why was he so worried? “What’s wrong?”

  “They’re going to try to kill High Lady Hasana,” he said.

  Kill the High Lady? Quillan stared. Why would anyone want to do that?

  “She’s at the Theater for the Performing Arts for a show and to give a speech. It was probably supposed to seem like a fire at the theater was just like the rest of the fires being starting across the city, but we now know that the other fires were designed to force one there to burn unchecked.”

  “Except they couldn’t have counted on us coming up with the water sphere idea,” Guildmaster Millinith said. “We’ll get there and stop it.”

  “Indeed.” Master Doronal stared at her. “We will save the High Lady.”

  “Her security detail would be able to get her out of there, once the fire starts,” Fillion said. He looked at Master Gella. “Wouldn’t they?”

  “Whoever’s behind this has been entirely too clever. I’m not taking chances.” Master Gella turned to the map. “Based on what we just learned, we can assume that they will start another fire at the theater.” She pointed to Quillan. “But you’re coming with me in case we find something else entirely.”

  He nodded. “Of course.” He’d do what he could to stop any assassination attempt.

  Thankfully, no one made any comments when Chanté came with them to the roof.

  “Fox,” Master Gella turned to the girl, “have someone get a carriage ready and staffed with a four-person detail just in case. I’ll write in for it if needed.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” She nodded, and after another look at the dragons, she hurried off.

  Master Gella walked to Coatl and began digging in his saddle bags while Fillion mounted up.

  Quillan climbed up on Nantli behind Chanté.

  “I may as well have riding belts shipped to me and make them part of my normal wear.” Master Gella snugged one on. “Lately, it seems like I’m always putting the things on and taking them off.” She mounted up and strapped in.

  Coatl let out a chirp, crouched, then vaulted into the air, wings lifting them higher and higher.

  Nantli chirped and crouched.

  Quillan grabbed onto Chanté just as he was pulled backward with Nantli’s leap. The pounding of her wings was loud.

  She quickly leveled off and glided after Coatl.

  Quillan leaned forward. “I’m sorry for always holding on to you like this. I’m taller than you and not exactly a small guy, so I must weigh a ton. Eventually, I’ll get used to Nantli taking off enough that I won’t have to.”

  After a moment, Chanté turned his head a bit. “Keep holding on for as long as you need.”

  But what if I don’t want to ever let go?

  The thought took Quillan a little by surprise. His feelings were not lessening, it seemed. “You—You’re sure you don’t mind?”

  Believe me, he does not mind.

  Nantli’s large eye regarded him with what seemed like humor.

  Chanté nodded. “I’m sure.”

  “Alright.” Quillan smiled and held on.

  They arrived soon after, because Nantli started to hover.

  “What in hells is going on down there?” Fillion’s voice through the comm set sounded confused and worried.

  Quillan steeled himself and glanced down. There were numerous people around a building below, gathered around the front and a few other places. Every now and again someone would shout, fists raised.

  He reached up and activated his mouth piece. “Is there going to be another riot?”

  “A riot? Where?” Renata’s voice held concern. “We don’t see anything like that here.”

  “Nor us.” Gregor sounded tired. “The only crowds of people not near the fires I see are all celebrating the festival, it looks like.”

  “Well, I certainly hope this won’t turn into a riot.” Fillion sounded grim. “But there aren’t this many people gathered anywhere else near here. Awfully suspicious, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Should Anaya and I go assist?” Aeron sounded worried.

  Fillion’s voice came over the comm set a few moments later. “Master Gella says for you all to bring your fires under control first, at least enough that they can be handled by the fire brigades. Then you can come. Coatl is telling your dragons where we are.”

  Several voices acknowledged Fillion’s instructions.

  “And you will all fly there, hear?” The Guildmaster sounded stern. “Don’t forget that even though the portals for the water sphere are small, they are still portals. I can hear the exhaustion in your voices. As we are not dealing with fires, Master Doronal and I will head over, now, to assist.”

  Quillan grunted. It would be good to have the Guildmaster here.

  Chanté reached up to his riding mask. “We need to get in that building. There’s no telling when it will catch fire.”

  “Aye,” Fillion said, sounding worried, “or whatever their plan is, but it looks like all the doors into the place are blocked by those gro
ups of—”

  Quillan glanced over at Coatl, and Fillion on his back. Why had he cut off?

  “That’s right, he works here!”

  He frowned. “What are you going on about, Fillion?”

  “Coatl told me that Tobin is in there. He’s asking Tobin if there are any ways for us to get in aside from those doors being blockaded.”

  “We could always land in front and have our dragons clear the way for us,” Jessip said.

  “Master Gella would rather use that as a last resort.” Fillion turned back forward. “There’s no telling how the crowds will react. That is a lot of people and she doesn’t want anyone getting hurt, us or them.”

  “I suppose.” Jessip sounded a little disappointed.

  “Tobin says that there’s an access hatch in the basement of the building to the storm drains. We can come up from below. He’ll meet us there.”

  It took them less than five minutes to find a worker access cover down the street.

  “Quillan with me.” Master Gella pointed to Fillion and Chanté. “You two wait for the Guildmaster and Master Doronal.” She glanced at Fillion. “Have Coatl keep in touch with me.”

  He nodded. “Will do.”

  She started down the ladder. “Let’s go.”

  “Quillan, speak with Nantli if you need anything.” Chanté looked worried.

  I will hear you.

  Quillan glanced at her and nodded. “Okay.”

  “Hurry it up.” Master Gella’s voice rose from below.

  “Coming!” Though it was dark as ink down there, he tried not to look below as he descended into the hole, a process made difficult by barely visible climbing rungs. Made of steel, they were cold and a little slimy with damp.

  Master Gella activated a hand lantern. “Coatl says Tobin is this way.” She headed off down the dark passage. A circular patch of light moved about the place as she shone the lantern here and there.

  Wiping his hands on his riding pants, Quillan followed.

  Apparently, Chanté had been inside tunnels like these when they had chased after the armored wagon thieves. Quillan didn’t like it in here. Anything could jump out of the dark and grab you. He enchanted a glow over his right shoulder.

  They’d walked for a few minutes when he spied someone ahead. “Do you think—”

  “This way!” Light from an oddly shaped doorway illuminated a man standing in the tunnel, Tobin, waving at them.

  Master Gella began jogging over and Quillan hurried to keep up.

  Tobin looked worried. “Where’s Fillion?”

  Quillan jerked his thump upward. “Waiting above with Coatl.”

  “Were they able to get Elke and Preeti?”

  “They were, though Fillion got an arrow in the arm for his effort.”

  Tobin put his face in his hands. “Thank the gods.”

  “We think someone is going to set the theater on fire,” Master Gella said, “and with the makings of a riot outside, the security detail will have quietly locked the building down for the High Lady’s safety.”

  “A fire and a riot?” Tobin lowered his hands. “Is that the grand finale?” He looked at the open doorway, a metal-framed access hatch. “The padlock was open, so was he going to use this to escape the theater himself?”

  “What finale?” Master Gella’s voice had an edge to it.

  Tobin’s eyes narrowed. “That’s what Astin was actually doing here at the theater, wasn’t it? Working on the details of the finale.”

  “Tobin!” Master Gella grabbed his shoulder.

  He shook his head. “Sorry. We probably need to hurry. Come.”

  Quillan ended the glow. He then stepped over the bottom of the odd doorway—it was two feet above the ground—and into the room beyond.

  Tobin closed the hatch-like door, spun the wheel handle, and said, “This way.”

  Filled with strangely out-of-place items along with a lot of things covered in tarps, the room must be used for storage. They passed a small fountain painted to look like marble, an obviously fake anvil, and two large, fabricated camels.

  Near the end of the short hallway just outside, Tobin stopped before a pair of elevator doors and pressed the small summons stud to the side. “If this fire is to be like the others, we need to get to the mechanical room.”

  Quillan glanced at him. “So you know about the other fires?”

  Tobin stared ahead. “I’m not sure what he’s thinking. Even after the High Lady announced that she was going to do exactly what we had been working toward, he still seemed like he was going to continue with what he called the grand finale.”

  “Who?” Master Gella said. “Who’s planning a grand finale?”

  Tobin turned to her just as the doors slid open. “Lord Koen.”

  “High Lady Hasana’s uncle is in Stronghold?” Master Gella’s brows were drawn together.

  Quillan was surprised about something else entirely. “Her uncle wants to burn this place down with her inside?”

  Tobin stepped inside the elevator. “Hurry.”

  Master Gella walked into the elevator. “And he’s the one who was holding your wife and niece captive?”

  Quillan followed quickly.

  Tobin’s expression changed. Where before the man had looked curious and a little confused, now he looked angry. “Yes. You’re certain they’re safe?”

  Quillan nodded. “Fillion dropped them off at the special investigator offices. I saw Preeti there earlier, myself.”

  Tobin pressed a destination stud. “Good.”

  When the doors opened, Tobin stepped into the hallway outside.

  Master Gella tucked away her ’writer—she’d been scribbling in it—and followed him.

  Quillan hurried out before the doors closed.

  “This way.” Tobin headed down the hallway.

  About twenty feet from the end, he stopped before a large door, opened it, and stared inside. Brows drawn together, he said, “What in hells is that?”

  Three feet within, a sorcerous wall of deep, inky black ran across the entire room. Nothing could be made out through it.

  Master Gella banged on the wall with the pommel of a dagger. It made sharp, vibratory sounds, almost like striking a large metal sheet with the end of a rod. Pulses of light spread from the strikes and quickly faded.

  She turned to Tobin. “I take it the air circulator is on the other side?”

  “It has to be.” His jaw muscles worked. “We won’t be able to disable the fire package.”

  Quillan chuckled. “Oh, yes we will.”

  He used Myung’s Manifestation, making the barrier enchantment visible.

  Master Gella grunted. “As you’ve got this in hand, I’ll leave you to it. Let me know if you find anything unexpected. Tobin, take me to the High Lady. We need to get her out of here in case this is not the extent of their plan.”

  “Of course.”

  Quillan watched them leave, then turned and disrupted the opaque barrier enchantment. It collapsed with an odd buzzing, crackling sound.

  He blinked.

  On the left, four large clothing trunks sat on their ends atop a familiar-looking wooden stand. All else was as Quillan had seen before. The control device floated nearby, with its steel wire leading under the stand and its fire cord leading to the open air chamber of a very large circulator two feet to the left of the stand.

  Quillan ended the manifestation spell and approached the control device. With the press of a stud, it was no longer responsive to signals. Still, to be safe, he pulled the fire cord out of the chamber, tore it from the device, and tossed it aside. Then, he squatted and unclipped the steel wire from the pin on the release valve under the stand. To be extra certain, he used Tretan’s Relocation on the wood chute, ripping it from under the stand to the floor then used the spell again to fling it against the wall. It broke into a few pieces when it struck the unfinished wall beside the door.

  Quillan nodded in satisfaction and activated the mouth piece. “I’v
e disabled the device.”

  “Pissing blades. So they were going to burn the place down?”

  “Keep the comms clear, Fillion. Quillan, ask Master Gella if we should attempt to disperse the people outside the theater.”

  “I can’t, ma’am, she went with Tobin to find the High Lady and get her out of here. Master Gella’s worried that this isn’t all these people intended. With those crowds outside, I’m guessing she’s getting the High Lady out the way we came in.”

  “I see. Those of us not currently occupied will get closer to the theater to keep an eye on the crowds. Quillan, let me know if anything changes.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Quillan deactivated the mouth piece.

  Good. It sounded like they had things under control out there.

  At the other end of the room, he spied a pair of doors made of thin wooden frames holding glass panes. He could only see darkness through them.

  Where did they lead and why hadn’t access from them been blocked by a barrier, too?

  As he approached, he slowed. The darkness was night. He could see Stronghold through the glass panels. Beyond the doors was a small balcony overlooking the city.

  How high up was this room?

  Taking a deep breath, he looked out. He seemed to be on the top floor, five stories up. The shallow balcony appeared to be just for appearance. The only two-foot deep terrace overlooked the plaza in front of the theater. A glance up through the closed doors revealed nothing but the starry sky, and below, well, there were all those people in the large entry courtyard below. So . . . very . . . far . . . below.

  Quillan shook himself and turned around.

  How about something less stressful? The device. Was it exactly the same as the others?

  He walked over to the control device, deactivated the levitation circuit, and glanced up. There was better light from a fixture hanging in the middle of the room. He walked under it and began his examination in earnest.

  + + + + +

  “You felt the barrier fall?” Lord Koen glanced at the air vent on the wall at the side of the stage and then looked back at High Lady Hasana giving her speech.

  “Yes, sir.” Cadoc turned to the vent and frowned. The barrier would not have dropped on its own. “I really should go make certain the package is safe.”