A Storm in the Desert: Dragonlinked Chronicles Voume 3 (31 page)

It seemed to Polandra like he almost wanted to wink.

Guildmaster Millinith shook her head, and with her own little smirk, she said, “Of course not. I’ll have him scribe a copy for you.”

“Excellent.” Turning to Polandra, Master Doronal said, “Thank you, again,” and bowed his head. “That was a most amazing demonstration. But now, I’ll let you all get to your, ah, sliding door practice.” With a grin and a chuckle, he left.

The protective gear saw much use over the next couple of hours. After a few spills, low barriers were enchanted around the area to keep the door from bashing into anything. Even though the levitation spell was being removed, when someone fell, the momentum the door sometimes had allowed it to fly pretty far. Ikan was grateful for the magical barriers as the door had nearly collided with him during such a fall. Bruises, scrapes and one small cut resulted from the door practice, but eventually, everyone was able to maintain their balance as it was pulled along.

Polandra, standing to the side, said, “Okay. Everyone seems to have the hang of it. Who wants to be the first to try the spell?”

Everyone lifted their hands in the air and shouted for them to be first. The commotion was such that Ikan finally let out a roar, silencing them all.

Jessip was the first.

“You heard him,” Polandra said. “Jessip?” She gestured to the middle of the den.

Looking excited and nervous, Jessip glanced at Renata, smiled, and stepped over. Taking a breath and letting it out, he crouched slightly and leaned forward a touch.

Good. He’d been paying attention, and the door practice had done its part as well, it seemed. Polandra nodded. “Go ahead.”

A pulse of magic signaled the spell weaving. He began sliding forward, but then his feet shot ahead, dropping him on his butt and then his back. The spell continued to drag him the last few feet before he stopped.

“Ow.”

Renata laughed.

“I’m fine, by the way.” Jessip, a wry grin curving his lips, stood with her help, then dusted his backside and legs.

Polandra frowned. It had seemed as if everyone worked out their balance issues, but apparently not. She pressed her lips together. “Again.”

Jessip, one brow raised, walked back to the middle of the den. “You sound like the Guildmaster.”

“She does,” Guildmaster Millinith agreed. “And she’s right. Try it again.”

With a flash of a grin, he got ready and cast the spell again. This time, it went perfectly.

“Golden!” Willem ran over and slapped his back.

Everyone congratulated him.

“Again,” Polandra said, “but this time, slide backward. Be ready in case your feet go out from under you.” She glanced at Renata and grinned. “Someone might be upset if your pretty face got scraped up.”

“Pretty face?” Jessip chuckled and adjusted his stance. He slid back nearly to where he had started.

“Nicely done.” Guildmaster Millinith looked impressed.

“This is actually really fun,” he said, “and reminds me a bit of skiing.”

Renata looked at him. “Skiing?”

“Yeah, you strap two boards to your feet and slide down hills or mountains covered in snow.”

Aeron chuckled “There’s a little more to it than that, but, yeah.” His expression changed to one of curiosity. “Skiing, eh? Now that you mention it, once you start sliding, the balancing and the way you have to hold your weight with your leg muscles would be almost exactly like skiing.”

By the time dinner rolled around, everyone had a chance to practice the spell. Jessip’s comparison to the winter sport had helped some understand how to hold themselves while sliding. A few had even been brave enough to try side-slides. The session went very well.

“Alright, everyone,” Guildmaster Millinith said. “That’s enough for today. Keep practicing, and do so in different directions. But use protective gear for at least a week. I want all of you to be more comfortable with the enchantment before trying it without, understand?”

Nods came from all around.

She turned to Polandra. “And good luck on your trip later.” The Guildmaster headed out, followed by the others.

Polandra had almost forgotten about going to see Isandath to arrange Aeron’s meeting with Capu Cirtis. Her concerns returned.

You worry too much.

Polandra turned to Ikan and smiled.
Perhaps, but I can’t help being worried about a fellow dragonlinked. We’re like a family. And this family isn’t based on lies.

Fillion straightened up and, with a faint groan, stretched his back. He looked over the earthen floor of the den. It was nearly done.

Before he’d been bonded, before he’d joined his friends here in Caer Baronel, sweeping a dragon’s den was not something he thought would be part of caring for the incredible beings. After all, they didn’t relieve themselves in the dens. The comfy quarters were only used for rest and sleep. So why would one need to muck out, as it were, a dragon den? Because of skin flakes, he’d found out. Or hide, depending on what you wanted to call it. That and clay, rubbed up from the floor.

Just like people, dragons shed tiny flakes of skin all the time. Though, tiny was relative. In people, the flakes were so small you almost wouldn’t notice them, unless you hadn’t changed the sheets on your bed in far too long. On a dragon, however, particularly older, larger dragons, some flakes could be as large as the wings of a gnat. Of course, brushing down the dragons in the courtyard definitely helped keep their dens clean longer, but eventually, the shed skin and rubbed up clay added up, making the dens dusty and dirty. Thus, dragon brooms were created.

Fillion grimaced at his. Essentially a regular broom that was half again as wide, they made sweeping the large dens a bit easier.

You are almost finished. See it through to the end.
Coatl sat on his haunches in the dragon door.

Fillion raised a brow.
I always do, leather bag. I was just taking a break.

His bond-mate’s huffing laughter brought a smile to Fillion’s lips, and he turned back to his work. Most of the dirt he cleaned up was exactly that: dirt. While dragons rested or slept, their movement rubbed up the clay-based floor. In fact, Coatl had worn a shallow hollow where he normally lay. Kisa, however, hadn’t had time to wear a spot anywhere.

After Gregor moved in, he and Fillion took turns cleaning the den. It was Fillion’s turn, and he was late in doing it. Thankfully—his stomach was growling with hunger—he finished after only a few minutes more.

As he pushed the quarter-full wheelbarrow across the courtyard, Jessip emerged pushing a wheelbarrow of his own.

“Ah, the joys of dragon care,” the older boy said, smiling.

“Honestly,” Fillion said, “it’s worth it. I’d do this and more for Coatl.”

“I’m with you on that. Anything for Zolin.”

They headed for the collection heap behind Jessip and Renata’s stable.

“Girls, please.” Aeron, outside his study door, raised his hands. “I’m begging you, let’s do this tonight. I’ve got an enchanting shift soon and I need to get lunch beforehand.”

Renata stood before him, arms crossed. “Fine,” she said. “But right after dinner, hear? You need to know the ceremony like we do.” She glanced at Polandra, who stood a few feet to the side.

Aeron nodded. “That’s fine. See you then.” He hurried off.

Fillion lost sight of the girls as he and Jessip rounded the corner. Once at the low fence around the heap, they began shoveling out their wheelbarrows.

Glancing at Jessip, Fillion said, “What was that about? Renata seemed a little agitated.”

Jessip frowned. “As much as Polandra’s worried about Aeron’s trip, Renata is, too. She wants to make sure Aeron knows everything he can about the temple where the meeting will take place.” He shrugged. “Renata wants to be sure he can act like a local, and we don’t know how much time she has to do that. At least until someone meets again with Isandath to find out the date Capu Cirtis agreed on for the meeting.”

Fillion nodded. Polandra had voiced her concerns last night when she’d returned from the South. “That makes sense. The better he fits in, the less likely anyone will take note of him. Aeron looked happy to be free of her, though.”

Jessip chuckled. “She’s been pestering him all day about that ceremony. She’ll be on him again after dinner, like she said. That’s one of the things I love about her. She doesn’t give up. She always tries.”

Fillion flung the last of the den dirt on the heap and dropped the shovel in the wheelbarrow. “Well,” he said, “like Aeron, I’ve got to grab a quick lunch before I head out. I’ll see you around.”

Jessip raised a hand in farewell.

Fillion hurried back to the stable. A good lunch would do nicely with the long afternoon he and Coatl had before them.
I’m going to get something to eat, then I’ll come back and we can be off.

Coatl raised his head and blinked at him.
It will be good to stretch my wings.

Much later, Fillion wondered if perhaps he shouldn’t have brought a snack along as well. Hungry and chilled, he welcomed the warmth of the sun shining on his back. The cool air rushing past as he and Coatl flew above the tracks had been bracing at first, but they’d been on patrol for almost four hours, and now it was just cold. Luckily, they were nearly done.

Depending on how many miles of track were added by the workers in the last week, not much remained of their patrol route. There were only a dozen miles or so before they reached the next station, near a small town with access to a road, and then whatever there was of rail line beyond. Coatl wanted to go back to the enormous lake they’d passed early on, Lake Pellucid according to his map, for a swim after. Fillion wasn’t sure that was a good idea. The weather was still very cool.

They’d taken a short break about two hours ago, giving him a chance to warm up a bit. The patrols for the Continental Transportation Company included stops at the rail stations along the way to check in. The station master at the last stop, a welcoming sort, didn’t have anything to report. He, like most of the people Fillion met on these patrols, was a decent fellow, but every now and then there’d be someone who didn’t appear happy to see them. Coatl said they were nervous about being so close to a dragon, which was sheer foolishness. As the patrols went on, perhaps people like that would see that dragons weren’t anything to be worried about. At least he hoped so.

Fillion shook his head. Some people just seemed to have a need to be worried. They couldn’t be happy unless they were unhappy. So much wasted concern over minor things. Especially when there were real matters to be troubled by.

What do you think about Polandra and Renata’s concern? Do you think they’re right to be worried?

Coatl looked back at him.
About Aeron’s trip?

Yeah. They seem pretty anxious about it.

His bond-mate faced forward again.
I think Aeron has the right of it. As he said last night, if they do not take their dragons into the village with him, it is unlikely anyone will know who they are.

Yeah, I suppose that’s true.

Renata and Polandra’s plan to spend as much time as they could teaching Aeron about the shrine was a good one, though. While they knew everything about the South, Aeron did not.

There are people ahead.

Fillion squinted and leaned forward, but could see nothing. Dragons had excellent vision. Lifting binocs to his eyes, he scanned the tracks.

There. Three people—two men and a woman, it looked like.

Fillion glanced behind. The sun at their backs might help keep them from being seen. Even so . . .
Gain some altitude and hover. We’ll see what they’re doing.

He was certain they were up to no good, however. What could anyone be doing huddled around a section of track that was good?

As Coatl hovered, enormous wings beating the air, Fillion watched the people far below. The large man was wrangling some kind of unwieldy tool with the help of the other man. It looked heavy. They attached it to one of the metal rails. As they did so, the woman looked to be prying something loose from next to the rail. She removed a thin rod or spike and began to repeat the process on the next wooden track support. The other men duplicated her efforts at other railroad ties.

It looks like they’re dismantling the track. We need to warn the people at the next station!

With a rumble of agreement, Coatl beat his wings faster, and they flew east along the tracks, racing for help.

Fillion lowered his body closer to Coatl and gripped the handholds on the saddle. He was more than a little surprised. Continental Transportation Company’s concern about vandals had seemed like more needless worry. He’d been wrong. In a way, though, it was good. They’d be able to prove their worth to Lord Eldin, now.

The closest station, the one ahead, was near the current end of the rail line. Hopefully, there would be some men and women there besides the station master and guards, some of the workers extending the line, building tracks farther east. That big vandal had looked like nasty business. The more help the better.

Even with Coatl going as fast as he could, it took nearly ten minutes to get to the station. As his bond-mate backwinged to a landing, Fillion removed the safety straps and jumped down.

Thankfully, there were a good number of people about. Some workers sat along the wooden deck nearest the tracks. Several turned to watch Coatl settle his wings.

“Where’s the station master?” Fillion yelled as he hurried up the steps. He ran for the large ticket window and pounded on it. “Station master!”

“Hey! What’re you doing?” A man, he was dressed like a guard, started walking over.

At the back of the room, a woman jumped to her feet and glared at him through the glass. “Stop that! I’m the station master. What’re you going on about?”

“Ma’am, there are people tearing up your track about fifteen miles back, off toward Pellucid.”

“What?” She ran for the door of the office and stepped out beside him. “How many?”

“Three. Two men and a woman. One of the men is big. They were pulling out some kind of spikes and had a tool hooked to a rail.”

“Bastards.” She looked to the workers—some of them had moved closer—and shouted out orders. “Get a team together, we’ve got wreckers fifteen miles west. Take a few rails along with everything else you’ll need for repairs, just in case. Move it!” She turned to the guard. “You, get four men and head there on horseback. Tellon stays. I want one watchman to remain here. Stop those people before they do more damage!”

The guard nodded and ran off. About half of those who’d been sitting about had sprinted off to a group of tents. The rest were moving what looked like a flat-bed wagon on the tracks. Once positioned, they began loading it with things Fillion had no name for.

“How long ago did you see them?”

He turned to the station master. “Maybe ten minutes?”

“You traveled that far, that fast?”

He shrugged. “Dragons can be quick.”

“My men can’t get there anywhere near that swiftly. I need you to go back to the wreckers and do what you can to try to stop them until my people get there.”

Fillion frowned. “What if they make a run for it?”

“Try to detain at least one of them. I want to find out who they work for.”

He let out a breath and nodded. “I’ll do my best.” That was easier said than done, though. He thought on how to stop them as he returned to Coatl.

As they hovered, Fillion opened a portal back to where the vandals were.
Let’s get back there.

Coatl flew them toward the gateway.
How are we going to catch them?

I’ve got a couple of ideas.

He’d set this end of the portal several hundred feet up, so that it might go unnoticed. After closing it, he used the field-glasses to check on the, what had the station master called them? Wreckers? They appeared to be unaware of what was about to befall them.

Get us down a little closer.

Coatl reduced their altitude by half, gliding down in tight circles, and hovered.

Looking through the binocs, Fillion enchanted a long, tall barrier between the people and their horses. If they made a run for it, that should keep them busy for a little while. Then, he used the bind spell, the same one manisi used, on the feet of the big man. Fillion watched through the field-glasses and waited, in case the man could counter spells.

The man merely looked down at his feet and said something. Unfortunately, Fillion was too far away to hear their voices. The other two turned to him. Then the woman started looking around at the trees. She seemed to be the smartest of the three. Fillion used bind on her feet.

She apparently couldn’t counter either. Instead, she yelled at the other man who then sprinted for the horses.

Fillion winced when the thin man slammed into the barrier, eliciting a momentary, faint glow. The impact bounced the man’s head and body back, and his skinny frame collapsed to the ground—he’d knocked himself out.

Fillion looked over the three and grunted.
That was easy.
He stowed the field-glasses.
Let’s get down there.

While landing, his bond-mate sent a warning. ‘
Ware the woman. She plots something.

The two wreckers watched Coatl set down.

“You’re trespassing on private land,” Fillion said, dismounting. “And you’re willfully destroying property on that land.” He glanced at the spot the people had been working. They’d moved the rail out a couple of inches but left it there.