A Storm in the Desert: Dragonlinked Chronicles Voume 3 (2 page)

Takatin disliked going there himself. The number of vendors near the place bothered him. The hawkers gave the place too much of a festival feel. The food and drink vendors weren’t even the worst. It was those selling supposed holy relics that irritated him. And those who purchased from them irked him even more. It was all a little . . . disrespectful.

He took a sip of wine and chuckled.

Me, complaining about—

Anais refilled his goblet.

Damn the woman, how did she know?

A deep, reverberating gong announced the Capu’s return.

“Oh,” the Capu said when he walked in the room. “I apologize for keeping you waiting.” He turned to his pesan, who trailed behind. “You did not tell me we had a meeting with the Nesch.”

The boy looked flustered. “I—”

“There wasn’t a meeting scheduled.” Takatin stood and placed the goblet on the side table. The room wavered briefly. How much had he drunk?

“I see. Please, let’s adjourn to the drawing room.” When Capu Cirtis glanced at his pesan, the boy bowed and left the room. The Capu then gestured to his steward for his own goblet of wine and led the way to the small meeting chamber.

After handing the wine to Capu Cirtis, Anais withdrew to a corner of the room. Being deaf, as all the stewards in the Order were, she’d wait there for hand instructions.

“So, what brings the Nesch to see me at this hour?” Capu Cirtis sat in a chair.

Takatin chose to pace instead, though there was little enough room to do so. “Why did you send a manis, alone, to find the boy?”

Capu Cirtis let out a breath, sounding impatient. “The insidious rumors of the dragon boy threaten the stability of the Order.”

“And when the manis finds the boy and dragon, will they be killed?” Takatin faced Capu Cirtis and crossed his arms.

“The Order has had to deal with dragon sympathizers in the past.”

Takatin nodded. “I know the histories. The Laminae killed several members and so execution was warranted. Has the boy done anything?” He watched Cirtis swirl the wine in his goblet. Did the Capu know something about the boy that hadn’t been shared with the Umeri, that hadn’t been shared with him?

“I didn’t send the manis to kill them.” Capu Cirtis drank deep. “We must discover whether or not the rumor is true. Locating the boy, determining if he does, in fact, have a dragon, is all that’s needed for now. If the rumor is false, we’ll be able to quash it. If not, at least we’ll know where they are and can decide what actions are warranted.” He stood, a tacit ending of the meeting. “I’m tired of rumors. I want to know truths.”

Nesch Takatin frowned as he walked down the nearly empty hallways. He’d wanted to ask more of the Capu, wanted to demand an explanation of why he hadn’t been consulted before the fighter had been sent. But Cirtis didn’t wish to speak more of it, apparently.

Truths. Everyone in the upper echelon knew the truth of the Order, including Capu Cirtis. And yet, the Order continued on the same path.

‘It is as it always has been.’

He heard that weak excuse from those who would hold to tradition despite anything that contradicted the old ways. Fools, all of them.

‘No one would believe.’

That he heard from still others. When the Order first started, how many believed dragons were evil? That hadn’t stopped Daelon. No, it was laziness. People today were lazy and comfortable in their routines.

‘Only a fool tries to shift sliding sands to another course.’

The weight of over a century of lies would someday carry these fools to the bottom of a sand-sink, dragging all who believed in them to the same doom, and almost none of the leadership seemed to care. That is what angered him the most. That is what had started him down his current path.

A guard on patrol saluted him at a corridor juncture. He returned the salute, though less crisply, and turned down the hallway on the right. He shot a quick glance back at the guard. How many members truly believed? Whatever their number, all of them had been lied to. How would that guard feel if she discovered the truth? Or this ojon, following behind his pesan charge—how would he be affected? Would they all feel as if the floor had fallen out from beneath them? As if a thousand cactus needles had suddenly pierced their hearts?

Relax, Takatin, relax.

He glanced around the hallway. Low, evenly spaced floor lamps glowed along the corridor, three-quarters shielded for the night. Shadows lay across the marble floors and walls, steady areas of darkness covering stone and tapestry alike. There were no people, however. Finding himself alone, he wiped sweat from his lip and took a moment to collect himself.

Too much wine.

He continued on to his rooms along the emptying hallways.

Truths. If the Capu wanted a truth, how about the truth of the Dragon Craft Guild? Its formation a month ago had changed everything. If he hadn’t heard it from Piven, he wouldn’t have believed it.

‘Will this affect how the Order does things?’

Idiot. Of course it would change things. Someday. Takatin didn’t want to wait that long, however, and had adjusted his plans accordingly.

Unfortunately, Capu Cirtis’s ploy with the manis would interfere with them. A ploy that had nothing to do with what the man had blathered on about. Takatin suspected the Capu’s real intentions, despite what he’d tried to intimate. So it was good that before the manis left, Takatin took a quiet meeting with him and told him what to do instead, when and if he found the boy and his dragon.

+ + + + +

“Enough.” Yiska waved his arms and the boy grew silent. They were alone in the large choral chamber.

“I’m sorry, Umeron Yiska.” The lad stared at the ground. “I don’t mean to let the rest of the choir down, I really don’t.”

“These individual lessons will be pointless if you can’t concentrate, child. What troubles you?”

The boy nibbled his lip. “Everything.”

Yiska motioned to the chair next to him. “Come now, everything?”

Sitting, the boy said, “Can you not feel it, Umeron? The air in Bataan-Mok is thick with . . . something. I can’t help thinking that a dark menace approaches.”

Yiska did feel it, this foreboding. Rumors flew, whispers caught the ear, and unease spread. “Aye, I feel it, too. I think everyone does. But I have faith in the old ways. If we maintain them, we’ll be fine.” He smiled at the boy. “We can destroy Yrdra’s evil dragons, can’t we? Nothing can stand against us. The strength of the Corpus Order will let us weather anything.”

“Yes.” The lad nodded. “You’re right. And Ulthis willing, I’ll try for manis when I get older to show those dragons what the Order can do.”

“That’s the spirit.”

“Have you ever seen one, Umeron? A dragon?”

“Oh yes, I saw many in my earlier years. Frightful creatures. Big, powerful, twitchy things. But they are no match for manisi, no match for the Order. Keep that in mind and you’ll be fine.

“Now, off with you. It’s late. We’ll continue with practice tomorrow.”

The boy stood and bowed. “Thank you, Umeron Yiska.” Smiling, he ran off.

Yiska leaned back in the chair. The heavy mood that had settled over Bataan-Mok the past several months was a boon, actually. Comfortable people were complacent. Anxious people were not. They wanted to feel safe and migrated to those they felt could protect them. Alliances were growing as those who’d once refrained from taking a side now joined in. Of course, the core cause of all this disruption was how far the Corpus Order had wandered from the true path. They needed to return to the old ways.

In those days, when the manis patrols left Bataan-Mok together on the way to their various routes, they looked like a small army going to battle. And, in a sense, they had been. They were the Order’s righteous defenders against Yrdra’s monsters. Every time the execution platform had been stained red, people were inspired and loyalty to the Order surged. Those were beautiful times.

If the rumor was true about Capu Cirtis sending that manis to the North, perhaps a dragon would be in their midst soon. Perhaps the old ways would return.

The clear winter sky stretched from horizon to horizon as Aeron and Anaya soared hundreds of feet above the wooded land below. Frigid air whipped past, tugging at wisps of hair poking out from Aeron’s riding cap and making an undulating whisper as it blew over the breathing slits in his leather riding mask. The day was perfect.

Aeron couldn’t stop smiling. Part of the reason was that two new baby dragons, Kisa and Mia, had joined their ranks. He
reached down and patted Anaya’s neck.
What do you think of the hatchlings?

Mia is well-suited to Liara. As such, they will both bear watching. But you already know of Liara’s temperament.

Aeron chuckled. Liara was something else. He occasionally caught an imaginary whiff of lavender when he thought of the forward girl. Her lips had been very soft.
And Kisa?

Kisa will be good for Gregor. Fillion has helped him a great deal, and with Kisa, he will once again be . . . complete.

Complete. That was it. That was why he felt so happy.

When Aeron had bonded with Anaya, he knew that the only way they could stay in Caer Baronel was if he could find a way for them to contribute or help in some way. Well, not only had that been accomplished, they could now help people everywhere.

When he and Anaya had been banished from House Yaot, he’d thought it had all come to an end. But their message had been heard, and every now and again a dragon would come to find someone to stand with their children, to be bond-mates. With the recent hatching, there were more dragons and dragonlinked than ever.

There was Willem, too, and the other dragonlinked. Having the rest of it was incredible, no doubt, but being able to share it made everything just that much more golden.

And now there was the guild. With the approval of the Dragon Craft Guild a little over a month ago, everything Aeron had ever wanted to accomplish was now . . . complete. Maybe he could start relaxing and taking more time to enjoy what he had.

Anaya dropped him off at the main entrance of Dragon Hall.

Aeron raised his brows. They didn’t have to call it that anymore. It was the Dragon Craft Guildhall, now. The Guildhall. It was real and he, along with so many others, was helping build it. He smiled.

Anaya chirped.
I will bask in the sun until you are done.

That sounds good, dear-heart. I’ll let you know when I’m ready to go home.

She leapt into the air and beat her massive wings, gaining more and more height. Her beautiful form disappeared over a line of trees on the ‘roof’ of the Guildhall as she searched for a sun-warmed slab of rock to lay on.

In the summer months, dragons tended to stay under cover during the hot hours of the day, but in winter, they liked laying in sunny spots sheltered from the wind. The favorite ledge he and she used to fly to in order to get away from everything was now part of the cafeteria, however, an outdoor seating porch overlooking the lake.

Ah well, Aeron thought, you lose some things and you gain others.

Construction all over the Guildhall was in full swing. He couldn’t wait until the housing area was complete and they could move into their rooms. He was also excited about the hatching cave. Well, it was officially called the clutching room, but whatever you wanted to call it, his team was working on it. When ready, the massive cavern-like chamber would have enough space to allow several dragons to lay their eggs. Just thinking about Gregor and Liara’s bonding earlier that morning made Aeron want to squeeze Anaya in a big hug. He contented himself with a mental one, which was returned.

I love you, dear-heart.

And I, you. Now hurry, or you will be late!

Chuckling, Aeron took the steps two at a time. As he walked in the Guildhall, he removed the riding mask and attached it to his belt with the snaps. There was an information desk on the left side of the entrance hall. Undoing the front of his jacket, Aeron wondered if Renata would occupy that desk, or maybe it would be someone working for her. To the side of the desk was the door that led to the Guildmaster’s rooms, including the office. Millinith would move in there when the suite was finished.

He continued deeper into the Guildhall and took the corridor to the clutching room.

“Ah, Aeron, just in time.” Nathan, the shift leader, looked around at the people gathered. “Alright everyone, let’s get started.”

For the work they were doing, a seven member enchanting ring was used. Six people assisted the leader with the transformation of rock into the forms laid out in the architectural plans. Aeron had heard that it took specialized training to be able to lead an enchanting ring. He grabbed one of the linking bracelets and put it on his right wrist as he watched Nathan. The young man didn’t look unusual, he looked like any guy you’d see walking about the Caer, but he was very good at what he did, following the architectural plans perfectly. And that had caused a bit of a problem at first.

As they had started work on the clutching room, enchanting the corridor that led to it from within the Guildhall, Aeron recalled his trip with Anaya to House Yaot. Throughout the warrens there, he had noted elaborate and beautiful moss and fungi formations, designs created and maintained by dragons called moss-tenders. Aeron had wanted to do something similar in the Guildhall, and the clutching room was the perfect place to start. It would help unbonded dragons feel more comfortable while laying eggs and caring for them here, and if the skills could be taught to bonded dragons, it would also preserve and spread the fascinating and amazing dragon tradition. Besides which, the botanical creations were beautiful in and of themselves.

In order to facilitate such, Aeron thought the surfaces of the ceiling, walls, and floors should be enchanted with a rough texture, the better for moss and fungi to cling to. That was not how the plans were laid out, however. They called for mirror-smooth surfaces. When Aeron suggested the change, Nathan refused to consider it. He would not do something contrary to the plans. Aeron tried a few times to convince him to alter them in this one, minor way. After his third attempt, Nathan had stopped and turned to him.

“If you cannot assist me in creating the design as laid out in the plans, then I’ll have Guildmaster Millinith remove you from my shifts. Leading a ring is difficult enough without you interrupting my concentration every few minutes.”

Aeron had remained silent the rest of that shift. Immediately after, he spoke with Millinith about his idea for the clutching room. She was taken with the notion and had the plans modified that very day. When Aeron arrived for the his next shift, Nathan looked at him, looked at the plans, and then shrugged. Aeron performed his duties with no comment and no smug looks, either. The beautiful art would be brought to the Guildhall, and antagonizing Nathan, gloating over it, would serve no purpose other than to make the young man angry. That had been three weeks ago.

Now, they were about a third of the way toward completion of the chamber itself. They’d already finished the wide dragon passage that led to the landing ledge, and all that remained was finishing the rest of the room itself. When complete, the enormous man-made cavern would have enough space for five or six dragons to lay and care for eggs.

“Form up.”

Aeron moved to his position at the rear of the second line of three. Nathan raised his arms. Both wrists bore a leader bracelet, one magically linked to the left three people and the other to Aeron’s group. A surge of magic power lifted the fine hairs on Aeron’s arms. Nathan began directing the magic that molded and shaped the stone walls.

The spell was a complicated compound enchantment whose extent was huge. It encompassed part of what they were shaping before them and stretched well into the solid stone that remained to be worked. Great portions of the rock wall shifted slowly, like incredibly thick honey or very soft clay being shaped by unseen hands. Most of the rock was unneeded and would be formed into rectangular slabs, two feet thick and six feet long. These were stacked to the side and removed to storage by another work shift. That excess granite would be used in places where it was needed for walls, benches, fountains, columns, and such.

A stronger tug pulled at his heart as more of his animus and spirit was used, like the other five, in support of Nathan’s efforts. It was great that they were making steady progress on the room, and he was happy that they all would share in the Guildhall’s construction, but it was incredibly tiring. By the time the two hour shift was done, he’d be ragged and exhausted. He let out a breath and watched the spell. Maybe he could learn something of it. There wasn’t much else he could do for a while.

He watched the spell’s bands of color, throbbing with sorcerous potential. They shifted here and there while thick arms of stone extruded from the wall, flowed free, and floated through the air. Waves of goose bumps coursed over his head, chest, arms, and body, responding to the magic power that washed over them all. He rubbed his arms and felt the waves of goose-bumps moving under his fingers. His skin would tingle for hours afterward and at the same time be slightly numb—almost as if it were sore. It was such a strange thing, having your skin be sore.

+ + + + +

The silence in the sun-bright courtyard was broken only by the leathery sound of the big dragon’s wings as they furled upon its back. Large eyes, gold in the morning light, took in everything.

Fillion, brows raised, glanced at Renata and the others. Master Doronal, Master Canneth, Guildmaster Millinith and the guard who’d gone to fetch them, they all watched the girl and her dragon.

Looking back at the unknown dragonlinked, Fillion asked Renata, “You
know
her?”

Renata ran to the newcomer and threw her arms around her. “Polandra, I am so glad you’re here!”

“Peace, Renata, peace!” Polandra laughed. “You’ll squeeze me to death.”

The large dragon rumbled, sounding amused.

Polandra glanced the dragon. “Hush, you.”

Renata is very happy to see the girl. They must be friends.

Fillion turned to Coatl.
It would seem so.

Coatl lay in his favorite spot just outside the large double-doors to his den, watching the goings on. The sunlight brought out red tones in his
mahogany hide.
He turned to the new dragon.
Welcome, brother.

That greeting would have been even more appropriate coming from me.
Xochi left her den for the courtyard. Her hide was a deep, brick red, nearly black at wrists, tail, and neck.
For he is my brother by blood. Hello, Ikan.
She walked to him and they touched noses.

He gave off a happy rumble.
You must be Xochi.
Our blood-mother sends her love, blood-sister.

Fillion’s brows rose. The dragon’s voice was deep, pleasant, and fit the handsome dragon perfectly. His coloration was similar to Coatl’s but lighter, a kind of bronze, shading to darker at the extremities.

My voice might grow deeper as I get older.
Coatl sounded a little jealous.

Why would it? It’s not as if you were using a voice box and throat to speak with. Besides, you sound great now, why change?

Ikan turned to Coatl.
Thank you for the welcome, brother. It has been a long, cold flight.

Master Doronal cleared his throat. “Yes, welcome, both of you, to Caer Baronel.”

“Oh, right.” Renata shook her head. “Polandra, I’d like you to meet Master Sorcerer Doronal,” she gestured to him, “Master Zoologist Canneth,” she indicated the silver-haired, smiling man, “and Master Sorcerer Millinith, who is also the Dragon Craft Guildmaster.”

Polandra bowed her head to each. “Hello, and thank you for your kind welcome.” She turned to Guildmaster Millinith. “When word reached us of your Dragon Craft Guild, I felt it was time to come find Renata.”

“I don’t understand,” Renata said. “Why did you wait so long?” She glanced at Ikan. “It would seem that older dragons can be bonded, so why did you wait? It’s been months since I asked you to speak with Isandath.”

A gust of wind blew a few dried leaves across the courtyard, kept free of snow for the dragons. Polandra shivered and rubbed her arms through her thin coat. “I wanted to wait until I had more manisi training before I left.”

“Manisi training?” Renata looked surprised. “You’re a—”

“The girl looks frozen,” Master Canneth said. “Why don’t we continue inside?”

“Oh, I didn’t even think.” Renata looked abashed. “You’re not really dressed for this weather. Let’s go to my study.”

As they made their way over, Fillion shook his head. “You flew the whole way in those clothes?”

Polandra glanced at him. “These are perfectly fine where we come from. It doesn’t get so fiercely cold in the desert.” She chuckled. “Though, to be honest, I did lay on my stomach on Ikan much of the time to get as much warmth as I could from him.” She turned to Renata. “How do you stand the cold?”

“For one,” Renata said, smiling, “we dress properly for it.”

“We can get Willem to make you riding gear better suited for these climes.” Master Doronal opened the door to Renata’s study and held it for them.