If he does the same thing . . .
“I do.” He sidestepped to her right, again. “He’s an amazing, beautiful person.”
Using her left hand as a fulcrum, she thrust her right arm forward, whipping the right end of the bo toward him. A meaty smack was her reward as it hit his thigh.
“Ow!” He jumped back a step.
“Don’t repeat your reactions, Aeron, or your opponent will use them against you. I could have aimed for your ribs, maybe breaking one.”
Anaya chirped.
He glanced at his bond-mate, eyes briefly losing focus.
Polandra gave him a moment to recover. “I don’t know that I’d call Willem beautiful. He’s attractive, I guess, but Cheddar, I think, is much more handsome. His hair is gorgeous, like Liara’s.”
Rubbing his leg, Aeron said, “I didn’t mean beautiful like that, though I do think he is. And I’ll have no poaching. Cheddar’s taken.”
She stepped toward him, and he reciprocated. “Poaching? I don’t understand how you are using that word.” Spinning the bo, she moved into an attack stance. He seemed to be distracted by something on her shirt. She could use that.
“In hunting, it means taking game from someone’s land without permission,” he moved into a defensive stance. “But the way I used it means trying to steal a person from another. Cheddar from Sharrah, in this case.”
How about a flurry of attacks? “Ah, yes, Sharrah. She’s nice, and her breasts are pretty.” Aeron’s eyes widened and his gaze flicked up to meet hers. Why was he blushing? No matter, he was definitely distracted now. She stepped to him and began swinging.
He barely deflected the first attack and was grazed by the second. He seemed to get focused, though, and started watching her as he should.
The sharp clacks of the bos came faster and faster as attacks and counter-attacks were blocked over and over. Then, he got distracted by her shirt again. He blushed and jumped back out of range. She glanced down at her shirt but saw nothing there, other than large damp areas from sweat. Why would sweat make him blush? Unless he wasn’t distracted by anything on her shirt, but instead, by what was under it.
She chuckled. “Are my breasts distracting you?”
Anaya let out a grunting laugh and Aeron flushed even darker.
“Breasts are nice,” Polandra said, “but distractions can get you killed. Focus Aeron.”
“I know.” He seemed frustrated. Taking a breath, he moved closer.
“Willem doesn’t have breasts, but he does have a nice butt.” She swung the bo over and down, an overhead attack.
Aeron blocked it. “Yes, he does.” He countered with a reverse swing. “And those freckles, too, are amazing.”
She sidestepped and faced him, ready for an attack. “Freckles are uncommon around here, as is blond hair, but there’s something to be said about long, black hair.” No attack came, so, jumping forward and spinning, she tried a leg swipe.
“Those kinds of things are nice,” Aeron said as he jumped over and thrust the bo at her. “But, it’s all just frosting.”
She got her weapon up in time, blocked, and turned to face him. “Frosting?”
“Yeah. Pretty breasts, a nice butt, soft lips and all that? It’s like frosting on a cake.” He spun the bo as he moved around her. “You can heap mounds and mounds of it on, but if the cake is made of crap, it doesn’t really matter how much frosting there is—” He lunged at her and immediately thrust the other end of the bo out.
Blocking, she finished his sentence, “—you’re still eating shit cake.” She hopped back, trying to catch her breath.
He nodded, chest rising and falling. “Exactly.”
Polandra, panting as well, stared at him. “I like that analogy.”
He leaned on his staff. “Alright, I’m beat.”
“Me too. You can bathe first.”
After he grabbed his satchel, she showed him to the spring and returned to the main cave. She grabbed some dried beef from the saddlebag along with some of the bread, still warm, from that shop. She sat and leaned back on Ikan. He gave out a happy rumble and she reached over and scratched his belly.
She tore off a piece of beef with her teeth and thought about what Aeron had said.
Frosting.
There were quite a few people in the Order who were shit cakes with pretty icing on top, some with thick layers of it. And that was the problem. Frosting was the first thing you saw of anyone. It took time to find out what their cake was made of. The people from the Dragon Craft Guild were good cake, though. Hard-working, devoted to their dragons and to the other dragonlinked, all of them were . . . delicious? She frowned as Aeron’s analogy broke down.
Taking a bite of the warm bread, she found it to be especially good. Food always seemed to be better after strenuous activity like the practice session. She rubbed a muscle on her arm where Aeron had landed a strike early in the workout. He was much better with the bo now, nearly as good as Willem or Liara.
Thinking of the jet-haired girl made Polandra smile. Now there was someone with dedication. Liara practiced all the time. The attack on Anaya had driven home the fact that everyone needed to be ready for anything. Liara was making sure she was.
An enormous yawn nearly made some food fall out of Polandra’s mouth. It seemed her idea of a heavy practice session was working. Once done with a quick bath, she should be asleep within the hour. She removed a small chronometer from her saddlebag. After adjusting the time for Bataan-Mok, she set the alarm for an hour and a half before sunrise, more than enough time to wake up and get ready for their meeting with Jakkar.
Chewing on the last of the strip of beef, she stared at the dancing flames in the fire pit. Tomorrow, they would find out exactly what was going on at Ghost Flats.
Chapter 13
Sulday, Primory 18, 1875.
Sunrise
The horses, and Aeron used that word generously, were not worth two marks each. Not even close. Jakkar’s was in better shape, but not by much. The beasts were thin, though not emaciated, and didn’t seem very sturdy. Aeron couldn’t believe the amount Polandra had been required to leave as a deposit for these animals. His horse was already winded, as was Polandra’s, from the pace their guide set. Jakkar had kept mostly to a trot until just now. Aeron hoped the horses would be strong enough to be ridden back out of the flats. Though, if worse came to worst, the dragons could be summoned to pick them up.
Checking the link revealed Anaya was napping. Aeron and Polandra had flown south from the caves to the hills that, at least in this part of the desert, ran like a lumpy wall along its southern border. They’d flown along the headlands to the southwest, getting close to Pashi. They wanted to leave the dragons in the foothills, instead of anywhere near patrol routes. Finding a secluded spot, they left Anaya and Ikan at a big, mostly flat area of stone tucked between two lines of hills, before heading off to their appointment with Jakkar. The dragons would sleep and laze around while waiting.
Nearly two hours had passed since the dawn meeting, based on the sun’s current position. Jakkar led them farther southwest along that same line of hills. Their guide had insisted that this was the safest way to get to the flats. Several miles south of Pashi and the other villages, the hills were also well south of Bataan-Mok.
“They will provide cover from eyes that watch,” Jakkar had said.
That suited Aeron well enough, but he wished they also provided cover from the sun. Bright and blinding, it sat well above the horizon, a fiercely yellow orb in a clear blue sky. At least it wasn’t sweltering. Well, not yet, anyway. But how hot would it get? Though it was winter, these were desert lands. Their dragons would enjoy the heat, but Aeron wasn’t sure how good this robe would be at keeping it at bay.
Aeron shielded his eyes with his hand and looked around. The hills they followed were actually foothills of a large mountain range that rose behind them, farther to the east and south. Though the range extended across a great deal of the horizon, the mount
ains didn’t seem that tall. It was difficult to judge size, however, as he had no idea how far away they were. Two peaks rose higher than the others he could see, one much farther south. It looked like there might even be a snowline on that far one.
Aeron breathed deep and sighed. “It smells like dirt.”
Jakkar's body jerked and he turned to look at Aeron. The man was jumpy. He blinked and turned forward again.
“There are worse things it could smell like.” Polandra glanced at him. Her robe draped over her and the saddle. “In a few months, trees and plants will bloom for a short time. Then it will smell nice.”
Aeron searched the area nearby. “Trees?”
Chuckling, Polandra said, “Our version of trees, yes.” She pointed to a big shrub in the distance. “There. That’s mesquit, for example. It grows taller, into a tree.”
He stared skeptically at it. “If you say so.”
“There isn’t as much rain here, so plants aren’t as big. They are sturdy, though. Like the people.”
Aeron glanced at her. She and Renata were certainly sturdy. Anyone who could survive alone down here was that and more.
Beyond Polandra, the land below the hills shimmered with heat along the horizon. Scrub brush, dirt, and rocks, dotted the place. Standing atop the caves, seeing all this from a distance, made the land seem more . . . romantic? Fanciful? Whatever the word, being here, in the middle of it, made him realize how stark and unforgiving the place was.
Jakkar's furtive glances, his head constantly turning this way and that, drew Aeron’s attention. The man was getting nervous about something.
“What can you tell us about the area near the flats, Jakkar?”
He jerked his head around. “It is dangerous. At least it is now.” More glances about. “Many have died near the flats. If your friend hadn’t agreed to pay me as much as she did, I’d not come near this place. No one comes near anymore.”
“Is that why it is called Ghost Flats? Because of the deaths?”
“No. It has been Ghost Flats for as long as I can remember. The mirages, you see.” He turned forward. “The flats are exactly that: flat. For hundreds of square miles, nothing rises above the ground. And yet, sometimes, you can see people in the mirages, or what looks like people. But they are just heat shimmers, fleeting glimpses of half-seen figures. Ghosts.” He lifted an arm and pointed. “There.”
Ahead, the shimmering air was a lighter color, a pale cream, and mixed in, patches of white.
“What is that?” Aeron couldn’t make anything out in the twisting, wavering image.
“Ghost Flats.” Polandra had an unreadable expression on her face.
Aeron lifted field-glasses to his eyes. The land ahead was white. Pure, blazingly, white. Even squinting, he couldn’t look overly long at it.
Jakkar angled them downward out of the hills, toward the flats.
When they reached them, Aeron could only stare. Hand before his eyes to shield them from the painful, bright whiteness, he tried to figure out why the land was as it was. He hopped from the horse and grabbed a handful of . . . sand? No, it was courser, chunkier. Close-up it was even semi-transparent, like really bad glass.
“What in hells is this? The entire place is covered in it.”
“Salt.”
Aeron glanced up at Jakkar. “Salt?”
The man’s gaze flitted around, looking everywhere. “Taste it if you do not believe.”
Polandra had mentioned there was salt at the flats, but this? Aeron looked at the girl. She was smirking.
Aeron tasted it, and it was. He dropped the salt and wiped his hand on the side of the robe as he took in the bright vista. “That’s a piss-ton of salt.”
“Salt is one of the few things from this land that can bring income,” Jakkar said. “There are still some who harvest it farther north. But not here. Not anymore.”
Aeron climbed back on the horse. “Where was the last person supposedly killed by a dragon?”
Jakkar, eyes still searching, said, “It’s not much farther west from here. I’ll take you that far at least. But we should get back to the hills. Come.” He kicked his heels into the horse and got it moving.
They were riding up out of a dip between hills, perhaps twenty minutes later, when a strange, very loud thrumming sound made Jakkar pull up. “Dragon!”
“That’s no dragon,” Polandra said.
“She’s right.” Aeron looked around, but could see nothing in the hills around them, in the sky, or in the flats below. It had sounded kind of like a roar, but not a dragon roar. And something was off about it.
The sound came again. Aeron turned toward it.
“I’m telling you, that’s a dragon.” Jakkar's fear was affecting his horse. It whinnied and stamped its hooves.
“No,” Aeron said, making use of the field-glasses, “it isn’t.”
There was a group of four people west of them, down in the flats. The distance and bright salt made it difficult to make them out clearly, but it appeared as if they had some sort of flat barrel or drum hefted up on a tall stand. A rope hung from the middle of the drum. One of the people reached for the top of the rope and pulled down on it, or maybe rubbed it. The sound came again.
“You two are crazy! Get eaten by a dragon, see if I care, but I will not be food!” Jakkar jerked savagely on the reins, pulling his horse around, and galloped back the way they’d come.
+ + + + +
Lady Erindia certainly knew how to host someone, Fillion thought as they made their way to the room from yesterday. Breakfast had been delicious. Eggs, flat cakes, bacon, juice, and fresh fruit had all been on hand. She’d even had something for Coatl!
How was your breakfast, big guy?
As good as yours. I think I like the lady.
Me, too.
Fillion’s belly was pleasantly full as Master Investigator Gella pointed things out on the map.
“You said the caves are in this vicinity.” She tapped an area northeast of Bataan-Mok. “Obviously, we want to avoid the Order and I’d rather not be seen by anyone from the villages. We should therefore fly northwest,” she dragged a finger along the map, “until we reach the top of the flats. We can then fly south along their border,” the finger traced the side of the flats, “keeping an eye out for anything unusual until we reach the hills down here.” Tap-tap.
“If the Order has something going on at the flats,” Guildmaster Millinith said, “it is likely to be somewhere on the eastern end.”
“Exactly. Same thing with National Transportation. Bataan-Mok and the villages are just east, so any rail lines or what have you would be easier to construct on this end, closer to supplies and provisions.” She nodded, eyes on the map. “Yes. We’ll start on the east side of the flats and move west as we can.”
“Good.” Guildmaster Millinith stood. “Let’s get our things together, take care of anything we need to, and meet at the barn in say, fifteen minutes?”
Like Fillion’s rooms at the sable, this water closet sat off the bedroom. And, like his back at the Caer, this one only had a toilet and sink, but that was all you really needed. Not having to walk down a long hallway and back at night just to piss was a luxury he really enjoyed.
Fillion washed his hands, shut the door behind him, and grabbed his satchel from under the bed. After packing up, he headed for the barn.
The wan light just before dawn barely lit the large yard as he took the steps down from the house.
The last time he’d spent the night here had been the day before the guild approval meeting. What a busy night that turned out to be. The looks on the faces of everyone in the meeting room at the Bureau of Guilds when they dropped those nahual corpses on the floor had been worth it, though. He found it annoying that they thought nahual were someone else’s problem. Delcimaar was a big city. It was so efficient, so planned, so civilized, that people there likely thought that everything everywhere was that way. How could a terrible beast like a nahual have anything to do with ci
vilization? Well, nahual didn’t give a damn about that. They hunted people wherever they were.
You ready, big guy? Fillion walked in the barn.
Coatl rose to all fours. Always.
Fillion stood admiring his bond-mate in the light of the lanterns and the brightening glow of morning. “Gods, but you’re a handsome devil.”
The mahogany dragon stood a little taller and let out a rumble of complete agreement.
Laughing, Fillion packed his satchel in a saddlebag.
“I thought you might need these.”
Lady Erindia stood in the door of the barn, several water canteens slung over her shoulders and carried in her arms.
She’d carried those through the snow? “My lady, let me help you with those.” He ran over and started taking them from her.
“I can carry a few.” She smiled and walked with Fillion back to his bond-mate. “What is your dragon’s name, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Not at all, ma’am. His name is Coatl.”
“How do you do, Coatl?”
His bond-mate chirped at her and ducked his head briefly.
Her brows raised. “What a charming fellow.”
“Oh, he can be, ma’am. Though, personally, I think he has much too high an opinion of himself.”
Coatl let out a bark that sounded remarkably like a ‘harrumph.’
Lady Erindia laughed.
Chuckling, Fillion proceeded to pack away the canteens. “These will come in handy, I’m sure, ma’am. Thank you.”
“There’s no telling how long you all will be down there. Water will be needed in the desert.”
“Oh, I doubt we’ll spend more than a day at a time there.”
“How so?”
“We can use a gateway to get there in the morning and a gateway to come back in the evening. We’ll only ever need supplies for one day.”
“Oh, I see. I didn’t even think of that aspect of instant travel.”
“Not to worry, ma’am. Until we know exactly what supplies we’ll need, it is better to be safe.”
A Storm in the Desert: Dragonlinked Chronicles Voume 3 Page 23
