“As she is your ‘bond-mate,’ get her to place her head on the short block,” Takatin said, approaching the stairs. “We will force it there with magic if she does not.”
Aeron stared at him. “Why are you doing this?”
“And do not try anything, yourself, boy. If the manisi sense magic from either of you, they will strike to kill.”
“I suspected as much.” Aeron raised both hands over his head and crossed his arms at the wrists. Tell Willem we are almost ready.
Done. They await the signal.
Takatin’s eyes narrowed and he stopped, one foot on the bottom step. “What was that? Don’t try anything stupid. As I said, you will be killed.”
Aeron lowered his arms. “Why are you so set on executing her?”
“I don’t care one way or the other. The umeri want her to die. The Order wants her to die to reaffirm our purpose in everyone’s minds.”
“Liar.” Aeron stared at him. “If that were the case, the executioner would be here with the sword, not you.”
Muscles twitched in the man’s jaw.
“Don’t you understand that it’s too late?” Aeron gestured to the crowds around the plaza. “The people have seen the true nature of dragons. You cannot put smoke back in the log.”
Nesch Takatin glanced about the plaza and frowned. “Yiska was right. She should have been executed last night.”
“Why? I know what you’ve been through, the losses you’ve suffered. I know you found out that the First Principle is a lie. What I don’t know is why you aren’t helping Capu Cirtis to change the Order, to fix the lie.”
The man chuckled and started up the stairs. “Have her put her head on the block. Now.”
Aeron lowered his voice. “I can’t let you kill her, Takatin. She and I are bonded. Everything she feels, I feel. Everything I feel, she does.”
The man paused at the top of the stairs, brows drawn together. “What are you talking about?”
“If you kill her, it may kill me. And even should I survive, a part of me will have died, leaving behind a dark, empty hole where she used to be. You know what that’s like, don’t you?”
Nesch Takatin’s eyes widened.
Aeron pressed his advantage. “I have heard that some twins are so close they can actually sense each other’s feelings, can almost communicate without speaking.”
The man took a step back. “How do you know about Wematin?”
Aeron placed his hand on Anaya’s side. “When a human and a dragon bond, that is exactly how we are, too. That’s why my friends and I are called dragonlinked.”
“Dragons are just animals.” Takatin’s gaze flicked to Anaya and back. “Incredible animals, perhaps, but animals nonetheless.”
Aeron shrugged his shoulders. “Humans are animals, too. The thing is, humans and dragons are also people. And that makes all the difference.”
He raised his left arm, fist held high. “Stay back, Takatin. I cannot guarantee your life if you do not.”
“What did you—”
The signal having been given, several things happened, one after the other.
Behind, at the south wall, one of the insect banners caught fire. The flames licked their way from the bottom of the enormous pennon toward the top. People shouted and moved away from it.
Two of the manisi took steps toward the fire, then stopped and looked around. All the manisi around the platform moved into a ready stance, probably because they were unsure whether they would need to attack or defend.
To the right, a commotion started near the wide east archway leading from the plaza to the concourse. People were moving away from a spreading mass of—
“Are those marbles?” Aeron stared at the small spheres. It looked like there were hundreds of the colorful ceramic balls.
Nesch Takatin followed his gaze.
“Nahual are the creatures Yrdra created, not dragons!” A young man stood near the marbles. He had a roughspun sack in his hands and shook out more marbles from within. They bounced around him with faint clicking sounds. “Just look at her! Does she look like some kind of beast that would kill anyone? Dragons are people! Dragons have rights!” He tossed the sack aside, turned, and sprinted for the archway leading out of the plaza, clenched fists raised. “Dragon freedom!”
“You two,” Nesch Takatin pointed to the nearest manisi, “after him!”
The fighters nodded and ran off. One slipped on marbles and fell, the other almost did, but recovered. They ran through the wide archway in pursuit.
Nesch Takatin spun back to Aeron, eyes narrowed, and took a step toward him. “These distractions will not save the dragon.”
“Help!” The voice came from the seating section. “Someone send for medics!”
Nesch Takatin turned to the shout.
In the tiered seats, several people were laying on the ground, vomiting.
The Nesch took a step down the stairs, toward the umeri, and lowered his sword. “What in Ulthis’s name?”
Now, Anaya. Tell them to do it now!
The surge of sorcerous power focused around them raised the hair on Aeron’s arms. Nesch Takatin must have felt it, too. He spun, sword raised.
“Stop!” Aeron yelled. “Not one step closer or you die!”
The glittering crystal plates that preceded portal creation were deep violet in the light of sunset. They rose from the edge of the platform like a delicate dome of glass over him and Anaya.
One thing he’d always wondered about was now answered. The geometric plates that made up the portal sphere, plates which looked like glass, were not, in fact, solid. The tip of the sword that Nesch Takatin carried passed right through them.
“What in Yrdra’s deepest hells is this?” Takatin stared at the curved, transparent wall. He then moved the sword about and watched it pass through the geometric plates.
Eyes narrowing, he took a step toward Aeron. Half of the sword was now within the crystalline dome.
“No!” Aeron held his hands out. “Don’t!”
Nesch Takatin must have seen the genuine fear in Aeron’s eyes because he paused.
The violet glass dome vanished. A loud crack, like splitting stone, pulsed from below, and a sharp, ringing sound, that of metal snapping, came from ahead.
Aeron blinked. Half a sword blade floated above the end of the platform. Beyond the edges of the granite slab, the view of Bataan-Mok rose up and was gone, replaced by dunes as far as Aeron could see.
The platform was falling. He was falling. Everything was falling.
Anaya let out a worried yowl.
The spells! Aeron turned to Anaya and tried to walk to her, but when he took a step, pushed off with his foot, the platform . . . moved. Or was he rising up from it? Concentrate, Aeron!
We need to counter the spells on you.
It took less than a second to locate the enchantments and remove them.
A deep thump came from below, followed by the clatter of metal on stone, and Aeron slammed into the platform. His vision exploded in white and yellow.
Aeron!
He was on his stomach, sliding. He shook his head, but that made it hurt more. Something tickled his eyebrow.
Aeron, are you okay?
He spread out arms and legs to slow his descent. It helped, but he was still moving. The robe began to bunch up at his waist as the gradual slide continued. He started to panic when his legs slowly went over the end. How far was it to the ground?
He reached down and grabbed the edge and tried to hold himself on the platform. The robe, now bunched at his waist, along with the tight grip on the stone lip stopped his fall, though his legs and backside hung over the edge.
I am falling!
Aeron looked up. Anaya was slipping toward him, fast. He closed his eyes and waited for the impact.
The sound of chains clanking and Anaya’s grunt, followed by sudden pain through the link, made Aeron open his eyes. Her tail slapped him along the shoulder and back as it landed on him.
I . . . am not injured badly. I do not think.
She hung from her forelegs. They were spread wide, at the end of the chains linking the shackles to the stone blocks embedded in the platform. Scrabbling with her hind legs, she tried to gain a purchase on the tilted floor, but even with claws scraping, she could not.
Pain in his hands made him look down. The edge of the platform was extraordinarily sharp for some reason. Had he cut his palms? Why was he trying to stay on here anyway? He couldn’t do anything on the platform. It was tilted far too much. A careful glimpse over the edge revealed nothing but the powdery sand below.
I’m jumping off, dear-heart, and the end of the platform is very sharp. Watch your tail so that it doesn’t hit the edge.
Her tail shifted off of him.
Lifting himself up a little so as not to hit the lip on the way past, he pushed himself away and over. He fell to the sand perhaps ten feet below and landed on his back with a loud grunt.
His vision swam a moment. The sand had not been soft. At all.
The sand was very hot, too, and it had kicked up onto his sweaty face. He blinked and raised his hands. No cut palms. Good.
Aeron, the shackles hurt.
He sat up and wiped his eyes and mouth. The pain in her wrists and shoulders was very clear through the link. I know, dear-heart. I’m trying to think of how to get you free of them.
He took several steps back and looked up at what appeared to be a gigantic ball of stone, cut in half. On top of the sharply tilted hemisphere, Anaya lay with face and belly against the rock platform. The only thing keeping her from sliding backwards to the ground were the chains. All her weight pulled on her forelegs and shoulders. He had to get her free as quickly as possible. Unless . . .
Can you lift yourself up a bit? Pull up with your forelegs and lift your tail and hind legs?
I can try.
She was able to lift herself up four feet, which was plenty. Aeron quickly cast a barrier directly under her.
There, dear-heart. You should be able to rest on that.
She lowered herself gingerly and found the invisible barrier with her rear paws, causing light to flare and shimmer in its surface. When the barrier proved sufficient to support her, she moved more confidently, it seemed. She raised up on her hind legs and was able to stand tall enough to take the pressure off the shackles on her forelegs. It wasn’t ideal, though, as she had to stretch awkwardly and lean against the tilted surface of what used to be the floor of the platform.
This is much better. Thank you.
Now to figure out how to remove the shackles.
He wouldn’t be able to do that from down here, though. Narrowing his eyes, he wondered how many barriers he could create. He set one about a foot above the dune, then another a foot above that one, but offset by half a foot. He scattered sand on them as he went so they’d be visible.
While he worked on making more ‘steps’ to get back up to the platform, two portals appeared high above, and dragons flew out of them. He’d missed the portal they’d come through vanishing, so busy had he been.
Balam’s roar announced his and Willem’s arrival. Renata and Xochi were flying in for a landing, too, as were Polandra and Ikan and Fillion and Coatl.
Aeron had reached the bottom end of the tilted platform when Willem and Balam landed. “Will, help me figure out how to remove the chains and shackles from her.”
Balam roared up at Anaya and she chirped down at him.
I am fine, Balam. I will soon be free of these chains as well.
“I am helping, Balam.” Willem hurried up the nearly invisible steps. He looked at Aeron and his eyes widened. “What happened to you?”
“We had a rough landing. What was Renata thinking opening the destination portal so high?”
Willem reached over and touched Aeron’s forehead.
Dull pain came with the touch. “Ouch! What did you—”
Willem pulled his gloved hand back, finger held out. It was bloody.
“Oh. That’s right. My head smacked into the platform when everything hit the ground.” He reached up and carefully tried to gauge the extent of the cut.
“Gods, I am so sorry!” Renata ran up and stared at them from the ground. “I forgot that we had removed so much of the dune. I placed the portal five feet from where the top of the dune used to be before we took all that sand. You must have fallen forty or fifty feet, instead.”
Aeron frowned. “Yrdra’s tits, Renata.”
“I know!” The girl looked crestfallen. “I know. I’m sorry.”
He took a breath. “You know what? It’s okay. If that’s all that went wrong, I’m happy. Let’s just see if we can’t get Anaya free of these shackles so we can go home.”
Willem helped Aeron create steps up to Anaya’s side where they placed a large barrier to stand upon. Aeron studied the shackles on her forelegs.
“I can go to the Caer and bring back an ax,” Fillion offered from the ground. “We can cut through the chains with that. Once Anaya is back at the Caer, we can get a blacksmith to remove the shackles.”
“Those chains are really thick,” Polandra pointed out. “I’m not sure how long it will take to cut through them hacking with an ax.”
“Could we melt them,” Renata said, “with Safisha’s Flame?”
Willem rubbed his chin. “Do you think we could use a sort of reverse compression spell?”
“A what?” Aeron turned to him.
“Take the compression spell, set the anchors together through the shackle, front to back, but have the vectors point away from each other.”
Aeron stared at him while going over the spell. “Right. That should pull the shackle apart along the anchor-line!” He nodded at Willem, impressed. “Golden. Let’s give it a try.”
When the spell completed, a sound similar to what the sword made preceded the shackle snapping open and falling off. The cut ends were mirror-smooth.
Anaya let out an excited bark as everyone cheered. The rest! Do the rest!
Aeron laughed. “I will, dear-heart, I will.”
When the last manacle fell off, Anaya roared, pushed off the the platform, and jumped to the ground, wings lifted high. I am free!
Balam ran to her side, barking and chirping and rubbing his cheek against hers.
Aeron took the steps down dangerously fast, but he wanted to check her legs where the shackles had been.
“Balam, let me see if she’s been hurt.”
The green dragon stepped back and watched as Aeron examined Anaya’s legs.
It was good that he did so. Her hide was scraped raw where the shackles had been on her forelegs and was badly scratched on her hind legs. “Those bastards took no care putting them on, it seems.” Aeron used a healing spell on each to ward against infection.
“Let’s go home,” he said. “Anaya needs those cleaned and bandaged, and I need a shower to wash off this sand. Then, I want to talk to the Guildmaster.”
When they arrived, several people left the buildings for the courtyard. The dragonlinked who’d stayed behind and their dragons, Master Canneth, Master Doronal, Guildmaster Millinith—even Lord Baronel was there.
Aeron hopped off Anaya. “Lord Baronel.” He bowed his head. “I–I didn’t expect to see you here, my lord.”
“Dragonlinked you may be, my boy, but you’re still one of my people. As is Anaya. How is she, lad?” He turned to Anaya.
“She’s fine,” Aeron said, “though scraped up a bit.” He touched his forehead. “We both are, I guess.”
Guildmaster Millinith glanced at them. “At least you two are safe, now. Once you’ve both been cared for, I’d like you all to meet us in the investigation office. Masters? Lord Baronel? I’m not sure about you, but I could use some tea.” She led them away to the office.
“I’ll grab a kit,” Gregor said, running off to his stable.
Sharrah examined Anaya’s left foreleg. “Those jackasses! How could they do this to s
omeone?”
“Actually,” Renata said, “some of that is my fault.”
Aeron turned to her. “Renata. I told you, forget about it. You got us away from Bataan-Mok.”
“That’s true, but—”
“Here,” Gregor, a little out of breath, handed Sharrah the healer’s kit. “You,” he looked at Aeron’s forehead, “I will take care of.” He began tending to the cut.
Sharrah, a cleaning cloth in her hand, poured some antiseptic on Anaya’s raw flesh and began gently wiping.
Anaya let out a yelp and twitched.
“I’m sorry,” Sharrah said. “I’ll try to be careful, but these need to cleaned.”
Anaya chirped at her.
“The agitator and the fire seemed to have done the trick,” Willem said. “There was a lot of confusion in the plaza.”
“Yeah,” Aeron said as Gregor scrubbed the cut. Every now and then the healer adept scrubbed a little too hard, making Aeron wince. “There was another distraction, too, tainted wine that made people vomit.”
“Eww.” Liara grimaced.
“Speaking of the fire . . .” Aeron glanced at Renata. “Those banners had an insect depicted on them.”
Renata nodded. “Yeah. A sand wasp.”
“What are those?” Jessip looked up from watching Sharrah tend to Anaya.
“Well, they aren’t wasps,” Renata said. “Not true wasps, anyway.”
“They look like a wasp, a cricket, and a scorpion got drunk one night and had a child.” Polandra grinned at Aeron.
He chuckled. “A fair description.”
Renata rolled her eyes at Polandra. “They’re the symbol of the Corpus Order. The things are very slow to anger, but if you do get one upset, it will attack. If you’re stung, as long as you get the antidote within an hour or two, you’ll be fine.”
“If not?” Fillion looked from Renata to Polandra.
“Their poison does progressive nerve damage,” Renata explained. “You’ll start to feel as if your skin is warm, then as if it is on fire. Eventually the pain is excruciating. It is a long and torturous death.”
“Death?” Gregor had stopped cleaning and stared at her.
A Storm in the Desert: Dragonlinked Chronicles Voume 3 Page 46
