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

by Adolfo Garza Jr.

  Terry smiled. “Golden! The guild is going to make a good showing!”

  Laughing, Liara waved them over. “Hurry up, you two. We need to go.”

  + + + + +

  “How’s your gut doing?”

  Aeron glanced at Willem’s reflection in the mirrors. “It’s okay, I suppose.”

  “You must be starving, though. I’m getting hungry, and I ate when we got up.”

  In truth, he was ravenous. “I am. After chores, I didn’t have lunch, either. If there isn’t anything substantial at the party, we are definitely going to go eat somewhere afterward.” He turned sideways to the mirrors and looked over his own reflections.

  At first, he’d wondered why the special investigator’s offices would have such elaborate dressing rooms. This one had at least a dozen enormous wardrobes, full-length triple-panel dressing mirrors, and not one, not two, but three makeup tables. He assumed the room for women was the same. Of course when he’d recalled Fillion’s undercover work, the reason was plain. All of this was for disguises. They had to look right, and they had to do so from all angles.

  He tugged on the dress jacket, snugging the shoulders down. “You sure I look okay?”

  Willem walked up from behind and stood to the left. A smirk curved his lips. “You look so good that I’m tempted to make you late for the presentation.”

  Eyes wide and cheeks warming, Aeron glanced from him to Master Doronal. The man stood nearby before another set of mirrors.

  Master Doronal was eyeing his reflection. “This dress gear is rather flattering,” he said and turned from side to side.

  Cheeks hot, Aeron frowned at Willem. “This is important. That’s why all of us are wearing dress gear, and that’s why we spent the past few days learning the ceremony from that girl, Fox.”

  Willem chuckled. “I know. I was just trying to lighten the mood. Don’t worry, you look fine. Where is Fox, anyway?”

  “She left shortly after the final review of the lines,” Master Doronal said. He took one last look in the mirrors, ran a hand along his short hair, and turned to them. “Said she had things to attend to.”

  Willem grunted. “I see.”

  Aeron took one more look at himself and stepped down from the slight platform. “I sort of thought she was going to go with us.”

  “From what I’ve gathered from Fillion,” Willem said, “Fox does a great deal of undercover work, so I’m not surprised she wouldn’t want to be seen out and about, and at an event like this, everyone present will be especially noted.”

  “True enough,” Master Doronal said. “The gossips will be thick in there.” He headed for the door. “Let’s see if the Guildmaster is ready. The presentation starts soon.”

  She was, in fact, more than ready.

  “Gods,” Guildmaster Millinith said, nearly stomping down the hallway, “why didn’t Fox have us do a final review closer to the actual start of the damn thing? Sitting around here for nearly two hours with nothing to do has put me on edge.”

  “You’ll be fine.” Master Doronal, walking at her side, put an arm around her waist.

  A little smile curved Aeron’s lips and he reached for and found Willem’s hand. He got a reassuring squeeze.

  He felt a little anxious, too, but she was the Guildmaster, so likely felt more—

  Why is Millinith so agitated? It is starting to affect Itzel. Faint annoyance came through the link from Anaya.

  Well, we’re going to a ceremony where most of the important people of the city will be in attendance. It’s a little like your meeting with Queen Ixtab near the Guildhall in that we must present a good image, a strong image, for all those present.

  Surprise came through the link. But Millinith is strong. Why is she worried?

  She is strong, love, but everyone can get nervous.

  They stepped out of the door and onto the roof. The sky above was clear, and the sun, blazing in the spotless blue dome, was bright. Anaya and the other dragons emerged from under the shelter and waited for them.

  Itzel did appear to be a little twitchy. Even so, seeing them standing there made Aeron smile. Bathed in shining sunlight, the four massive, beautiful dragons looked magnificent.

  “Gods,” Master Doronal said.

  Guildmaster Millinith glanced at him. “Hmm?”

  “Aren’t they glorious?” Master Doronal smiled. “You know, I still have to pinch myself every now and again to make sure I’m not dreaming.”

  “You are not alone in that,” Willem said.

  Millinith chuckled. “Thank you, Doronal.”

  He turned to her. “For what?”

  “Reminding me about one of the reasons we’re going to this gods-cursed ceremony. Perhaps the most important one.”

  She moved ahead, hurried to Itzel. “How are you, love?”

  Itzel chirped and leaned into Millinith’s hand.

  With a smile, Guildmaster Millinith said, “Let’s get over there.”

  It didn’t take long to arrive at their destination. A few days ago when she had showed them how to get here, Master Gella mentioned that at some point in the past, the building had been part of a castle. A corner tower, Aeron guessed. About a hundred feet of structure angled out from either side of the tower, but nothing else of the original castle walls, nor any other of its buildings, remained. The angle between the former curtain walls was narrower than a right angle, and so the building built from them looked a lot like an enormous letter ‘V,’ the tower rising from just within the bottom.

  The bailey courtyard was now vast, grassy lawn broken only by a driveway, and on the other side of the building, below the ‘V,’ what looked to have been a moat had been filled in, and along with even more land, was laid over by the large gardens.

  They had reminded Aeron of the gardens Fillion described at the palace in Delcimaar. There were several, and most had paths and low walls between.

  The particular garden within which the ceremony would take place was filled with flowering plants in full bloom and divided up the middle by a wide, paved walkway leading to a fountain. Several benches were situated on either side of the central path. Behind the fountain, and apparently serving as a backdrop for it, was a tall, leafy wall—a long, well-trimmed hedge. Two entrances into the flower garden were at either end of the hedge and there was one south entrance at the bottom of the middle walkway. Wide paths surrounded the garden on all sides, and a walkway led from the north path to the former castle tower, perhaps three dozen yards away.

  The others are already here.

  Aeron leaned out and spotted their friends below. They stood on the path between the flower garden and the garden south of it. That garden was completely filled with large, leafy trees whose shade would be welcome as one sat to pass the time.

  He grunted. Let’s get down there.

  Whispers and murmurs rose from below as the three dragons descended, and all eyes were on them when they landed. Those benches were filled with people whose gazes drifted between all the newcomers.

  The people Aeron could see nearby were dressed very well. Not an item of clothing was out of place, and not an item of clothing looked to cost less than at least a week’s wages. Gold and jewels glittered on ears, wrists, necks, and ties. If they weren’t stage jewelry, some pieces looked as if their owners had spent a year’s earnings on them.

  Aeron had never been more glad of the dress gear. He and Willem exchanged glances and then hopped down.

  “It’s more than a little strange having so many people eyeing us,” Polandra murmured, her gaze on those in the garden.

  “I don’t mind the looking so much,” Terry said, “as the feeling of being weighed.”

  “Ignore them.” Korrie turned away from the gazes and smiled at Terry. “We know we’re golden. What they think doesn’t matter.”

  Aeron grunted. She had a point.

  “Well-said.” Liara nodded.

  “Hear, hear.” Master Doronal smiled.

  “Sure,” Jessip said, �
��as long as they remain civil.”

  “Even if they don’t,” Guildmaster Millinith said, stern gaze on the young man.

  Renata put her arm around his waist. “We want to leave a good impression.”

  Jessip shrugged. “Fine.”

  Aeron smiled and looked about. All the dragonlinked were here. Well, aside from those at the trial, but he wouldn’t begrudge them that. The investigation had been long and difficult and they wanted to see the results of their hard work. If they made it here in time, great, but those who were already here would be plenty. A nice show of strength, as it were.

  He glanced at his wrist-watch. The ceremony was scheduled to start in less than a quarter hour. “We should get ready,” he said.

  “Yes,” the Guildmaster said, “we should.”

  As they’d practiced, they all took their places. He and Guildmaster Millinith stood at the top of the wide walkway, he on the far left, she on the right, just at the edge of the paved circular area surrounding the splashing fountain. The rest of the dragonlinked stood along the walkway in two lines, one behind him and the other behind the Guildmaster, leaving a wide area between for later. Their bond-mates moved to stand in the paths to either side of the garden, two sets of dragons, facing inward, watching.

  It is time.

  Aeron turned to Anaya. She stood in the path to the right of the garden, facing him, but her gaze was directed behind the fountain hedges or toward the building, he wasn’t sure which.

  A clerk or steward of some kind appeared on the path from around a corner of the bushy wall and hurried to the Guildmaster.

  From what Aeron could hear, everything was ready to start, just as Anaya had said.

  “Excellent,” Guildmaster Millinith told the clerk. “We’re ready, too.”

  With a quick bow, the clerk dashed off.

  Aeron glanced left at those watching from the nearby benches and pressed his lips together. He then turned forward, looked at the fountain, and after taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly.

  Everyone should know their parts, which were simple, really. They just had to stand where they were throughout the whole thing and repeat some lines at the proper points. The lines did seem oddly archaic, though. Why an award presentation required such formality, Aeron had no clue, but he didn’t know enough to question Stronghold’s customs. Besides, as part of the ceremony, he was going to see one of the royals. That was a little golden.

  The sound of quiet conversation and footsteps preceded the arrival of two groups of people, one from either side of the hedge wall. Dressed in long robes, these men and women must be the councilors that Fox had spoken of. The people making their way to the large benches on either side of the fountain made up Stronghold’s city council. Their gazes flicked between the dragons and the dragonlinked, though they tended to linger on the lines of dragons.

  One of the councilors separated from the others and approached. He stopped a few feet away, back to the fountain, and smiled. He leaned close and with a quiet, eager voice said, “Guildmaster Millinith, it is a distinct pleasure to meet you. I am Councilor Fiske. It was I who initiated the resolution for this well-deserved ceremony.”

  Aeron drew his brows together. This was not part of how the ceremony should be proceeding.

  Guildmaster Millinith stared a moment. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Councilor Fiske.”

  After a quick nod, Councilor Fiske stood back up and his expression grew somber.

  With a bit more flourish than Aeron thought was necessary, the man took a step back and abruptly raised his arms, causing his robes to flutter loudly and dramatically. “My friends! Stronghold has endured many things over the centuries. Bandit attacks, floods, outbreaks of disease, vermin infestations, and more. But only rarely do events come along that truly test our fair city. Still trying to recover from the financial uncertainty caused by the horse flu, Stronghold was several days ago plagued with numerous fires.

  “Buildings and property were destroyed across Stronghold,” he said loudly, gaze sweeping across all those before him in the garden, “and a few lives were lost. But it could have been so much worse if not for the courage and skill of the dragon linked as they rescued people and assisted our fire brigades in halting the spread of the destructive flames.”

  Aeron drew his brows together. That was wrong. It was one word, not two.

  “If not for the stalwart men, women, and dragons of the Dragon Craft Guild,” Councilor Fiske said, “Stronghold could have once again experienced the horror and devastation of the deadly fires of 1412. Many lives were saved at the Theater for the Performing Arts that night, including the lives of many councilors who are here, that of High Lady Hasana, and including my very own.” He gestured to Aeron. “All were able to be saved in no small part because of this young man right here, Apprentice Dragon Linked Aeron.”

  Aeron pressed his lips together. He hadn’t been alone at the theater. And could the man at least get the occupation titles right?

  It is not deliberate. He, like many here, has great interest in the guild, in dragons. Some are more interested than others, but not all the interest seems . . . good.

  Aeron glanced sidelong at Anaya. What had she meant by that? His bond-mate merely watched the goings-on, however, so he looked back at the overly dramatic councilor.

  Head lifted, arms spread wide in an encompassing gesture, Councilor Fiske looked around at the dragonlinked present. “It is because of such bravery in the face of the terrible fires that Stronghold bestows upon the Dragon Craft Guild its highest civilian honor.”

  With a large smile Councilor Fiske gestured behind him. “The Wreath of Gold.”

  The same steward or clerk from earlier walked from behind the fountain. He carried a large plaque upon which a wreath was mounted. From the description and the way it glinted in the sunlight, it would seem to be made of gold.

  Councilor Fiske took the plaque from the clerk and offered it to Guildmaster Millinith.

  She held onto its bottom edge and turned to the right. Still gripping the plaque, Fiske turned as well and smiled.

  A woman standing that direction raised a hand and said, “Hold still, please.”

  Aeron moved a step toward the fountain so that he could watch the woman.

  In her other hand, she held a cord with a protuberance on the end, which she pressed using a very obvious motion. A flash of light came from the box to which the cord was attached, and she nodded.

  “Thank you,” she said, and proceeded to tinker with the box.

  Aeron stepped back to his former spot. The photograph had been taken. Hopefully, the guild would get a copy.

  Guildmaster Millinith accepted the plaque from Councilor Fiske and said, “The guild is honored by this award. It will serve as a reminder of our primary purpose, which is to help people where we can.”

  Polite applause came from those sitting in the garden, from Councilor Fiske, and from the councilors seated on the fountain benches.

  Aeron took a breath and let it out. Only a little more to go before the more formal part.

  + + + + +

  “I can’t. I’ve got my story to work on.” Elizabeth’s lips pulled into a half-smile. “Besides, I’m not in the guild.”

  Chanté grunted. He’d thought she would want to go.

  “Okay,” Quillan said and quickly climbed behind Chanté.

  Elizabeth chuckled. “Not even an argument?”

  Quillan laughed. “There’s no time! The ceremony has already started!”

  “He’s right, we gotta go!” Fillion was standing in Coatl’s stirrups, pointing to the sky.

  To their side, Gregor nodded vigorously from Kisa’s saddle.

  Nantli barked and turned to Chanté, eyes pale yellow with worry. We must hurry!

  “Sorry!” he said to Elizabeth. Gripping the handholds, he called out, “Lifting off!”

  Quillan held tight. “Noted.”

  Nantli’s jump was so powerful that Quillan grunted, held even
tighter, and Chanté had to grab the saddle handholds. She was certainly eager to get to the ceremony.

  As the dragons lifted them above the buildings, he saw Elizabeth waving from the carriage yard below. He lost sight of her as Nantli, Coatl, and Kisa banked and headed off, wings beating.

  You received the destination from someone?

  Anaya showed us where to go.

  Good. Let’s hurry.

  Though all dragonlinked had attended at least some practice sessions for the ceremony, Chanté hadn’t thought the four of them would get to see any of it. Thankfully, presentation of the documentary evidence and the accountant’s testimony had only taken three hours. The judge had then called a recess until tomorrow morning when the trial would resume and the defense would present its own evidence and witnesses.

  Chanté wasn’t certain how the defense would be able to counter everything from the prosecution. It hadn’t looked like Koen or his lawyer had any ideas, either. Both wore worried expressions throughout the accountant’s testimony, but Koen’s expression also had something like disbelief in it.

  What had Quillan once said? Justice would prevail.

  Chanté smiled.

  There they are.

  He leaned out and saw his friends below, lined up as they’d practiced. The ceremony wasn’t over! Coatl and Kisa were already setting down at the bottom of the wide central path. Land with them, and you can stand on either side with the dragons.

  Okay. Nantli banked down.

  All eyes were on the new arrivals, most likely drawn by the sound of dragon wings beating over and over.

  Fillion and Gregor ran to take places at the end of the right line of dragonlinked, so Chanté and Quillan hurried up to the left.

  Polandra, formerly at the end, grinned and whispered, “You’re late!”

  He offered an embarrassed smile in return. “Sorry. We weren’t even sure we’d make it.”

  “Ahem.” A robed man was standing in front of a fountain, facing the Guildmaster and Aeron. He glanced from Chanté to Quillan then to Fillion and Gregor before looking back at the Guildmaster. “And with this award, the city of Stronghold also makes its friendly intentions known. Currently, the nation pays for the nahual patrols the guild makes in and around the city, but in the future, Stronghold may wish to directly employ members of the guild for such, and perhaps for other things as well.”