A Storm in the Desert: Dragonlinked Chronicles Voume 3 (40 page)

With a cold feeling in his gut, Fillion realized what they were waiting for.
The caravan! They’re going to transfer the wooden chests to this train and it will carry them on to Stronghold.

Fillion mentally kicked himself for not making the connection sooner. National Transportation had done it before, after all. The shipping receipt from the safe deposit box was proof of that. Instead of blindly following them, he should have been scouting ahead now and again for just this possibility.

As slow as the damn thing was, it would likely take the caravan at least two hours to reach the train. Then, they’d spend a quarter hour or so loading the chests into one of the cars. That gave him a little time.

Coatl, we need to fly along this rail line as far as we can.

What of the wagons?

They won’t matter once they transfer the chests.

Ah, I see. You want to get to a place far ahead so that we can portal back there after letting Gella know of this.

Fillion reached down and patted his bond-mate’s neck.
Leather bag I might call you, but you’re the smartest dragon in the whole world.

With a proud rumble, Coatl beat his enormous wings and raced north along the twin metal rails.

Fillion sat lower in the saddle and gripped the hand-holds as they tore through the air. Now
this
was exciting. A gigantic smile spread across his face.

After a few minutes, however, he realized the actual enormity of two hours. If they went the whole way full-tilt, Coatl would tire himself out well before then.
There’s no need to fly as fast as you can. We have a long time to go, and even at your normal flight speed, you’re faster than a train.

I want to stretch my wings a bit. I will take breaks between.

Fillion’s mouth crooked in a grin. The big guy had been bored after all.
Sounds good.

And Coatl did take breaks. There were long periods of slow wing beats, gliding from one thermal upwelling to another, delicate wing membranes thrumming. At these times, Fillion often spread his arms in the soft rush of air, completely relaxed and at peace, a happy smile on his lips. And there was the view, of course. Not having to keep watch over anything in particular, Fillion was able to take in the surroundings.

The countryside was changing. There were a lot more trees, and low hills now undulated across parts of the land. They ran across clouds more often, and Coatl sometimes glided through them. Sunlight took on an almost otherworldly appearance as it penetrated the cloud vapor. Fillion lifted his hand once against the glare, and an amazing halo of light seemed to surround it.

The sun also eventually signaled that time was up.

Fillion twisted his lips, a little sad that it was time to go.
It looks like about two hours has passed. Hover here a moment so I can set this area in mind.

As you wish.

When he’d done so, he and Coatl opened a gateway to Caer Baronel.

As Fillion closed the portal, a young dragon roar drew his attention to their stable below. Kisa must be welcoming them back. Sure enough, she came barreling out the dragon door, wings held up, an excited chirp bursting forth each time her forepaws hit the ground. He was a little surprised that she was awake.

Gregor walked out the dragon door and waved up at them, and Fillion waved back.

After landing, Coatl let out his own chirp and leaned down to touch noses with the little dragon half his size.

“Why are you back during the day?” Gregor said. “I didn’t expect you until tonight for your shower and food pickup.”

Fillion grinned. “I could say that I missed you so much I had to come back . . .”

Gregor chuckled.

“. . . which wouldn’t be a lie at all, but the real reason is that something came up. I need to talk to the Guildmaster.”

The healer’s expression became serious. “Oh?”

“Yeah. They’re going to transfer the chests to a train. I need to contact Investigator Gella, find out what she wants me to do about it.”

“I see.” Gregor gave Coatl a pat on the shoulder. “Well, go on then. The faster you get all this done, the sooner you’ll be back in the Caer for good.”

Fillion didn’t bother holding back the smile. “Yeah.”

He was still smiling when he walked in the investigation office.

Guildmaster Millinith was sitting at her desk. She looked up. “Fillion?” Her brows rose. “Is something wrong?”

“No. Well, not wrong, exactly, but the wagon caravan is about to meet up with a train. I think they’re going to transfer the chests to it for the remainder of the trip to Stronghold. I was wondering if you could contact Master Gella and let her know. I think she might want to change our plans.”

Already working at the ether writer, the Guildmaster nodded. “Yes, I think she might, too.” Moments later, Millinith frowned. “Hmm. No response yet. She doesn’t appear to have her ‘writer with her. If you’d like to spend some time—” Her gazed flicked back to the device. “Hang on, she’s there now. Ah, she was in a meeting.” Faint clicking came from the stylus as the Guildmaster scribbled out her message on the metal writing plate.

“She does want to change plans. You’ll pick her up in fifteen minutes at the rear plaza of the Bureau of Guilds. She wants to see the train for herself.”

He nodded. “Alright.”

“And Fillion?”

“Ma’am?”

“Stay focused. All of you. These people will do anything to protect their interests.”

The memory of the dead investigator, neck sliced open, came back to him. He took a breath and let it out. “Yes, ma’am. We will.” He closed the office door as he left and headed back to the stable.

Gregor and Kisa were keeping Coatl company. The dragons were chirping at each other, though Coatl’s were a deeper pitch.

The big dragon turned to Fillion.
The dead man didn’t have a bond-mate.
We are a good team. We will protect each other.

Fillion nodded.
That’s true, big guy.

Gregor and Kisa welcomed him back with a smile and a happy bark.

There were a few minutes before they had to go, and Fillion would spend them with his most favorite people in the world. This right here was why none of them could afford to let their guards down. He did not want to lose this.

Sooner than he would have liked, they were off. Coatl circled down to land in the courtyard behind the Bureau of Guilds. Investigator Gella waited below.

Do you think Caer Baronel will ever get this big?

Fillion’s brows rose.
I don’t know. I suppose it could, now that we’re protecting people from nahual. If it does become a city, it will feel weird to just call it Baronel.

Coatl backwinged to a stop and then dropped the last couple of feet to the ground.

Investigator Gella approached them.

Fillion bowed in the saddle. “Master Investigator.”

“Dragonlinked.” With a half-grin, Master Gella said, “Gods, but I wish all the people I worked with were as prompt as you two.” She bowed her head to his bond-mate. “Coatl.”

He chirped a greeting and lifted his foreleg.

“We should have expected this, I suppose.” Master Gella climbed behind Fillion. After strapping in, she said, “How long ago did you leave the train?”

“Nearly two and a half hours.”

“Two and—” She grabbed his shoulder. “Why did you take so long?”

“Oh, no, the wagon hadn’t reached the train, it was still on the way. We flew ahead along the tracks so that we could have a place to return to far ahead in case the train was faster than we expected. Actually, they may still be loading the chests on the train right now.”

Master Gella nodded. “I see. Let’s try the end of the line first, see if the train is still there.”

“Let’s go, big guy.” Fillion patted him on the neck.

Once through the portal, Fillion had set it nearly a thousand feet up, he closed it and they hovered.

“You were right.” Master Gella, binocs held to her eyes, looked at the site far below. “Though only just. They’re loading the last two chests this very moment. You have Ulthis’s own luck with your timing.”

She is more impressed than she is letting on.

Fillion chuckled.

“Did you note any side branches along the tracks as you flew north?”

“No, ma’am. It was a straight shot the whole way.”

“Any towns or villages?”

“None.”

“Alright. Take us to the last place you were at along the tracks.”

Once there, she had them fly north, following the twin metal rails.

“I’d like to find out exactly where we are,” Master Gella yelled over the rushing air. “If we can find a village, I can locate us on a map I brought along.”

Fillion yelled over his shoulder. “To what end?”

“If we aren’t too far from Stronghold, I want us to fly the entire way. That will give you the city as a destination, which could come in handy later. You can then drop me off at the first village out from Stronghold where I can get a horse and approach alone in disguise. I’ll have time to get certain preparations made before the train arrives.”

“Alone?”

“Yes. This next part I will handle myself.”

Fillion frowned and faced forward.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. “You’re good, Fillion. Very good. But you have no experience in the field. This investigation is extremely important and very dangerous. I’m sorry, but I will have to go alone.”

“You’re right.” He turned to her. “I am good.” He smiled. “And have absolutely no experience in the field. Eventually, that will change, though.”

She laughed and shook her head. “I do not doubt it. Let’s find how close we are to Stronghold. We’ll see where we go from there.”

He’d been a little surprised at how disappointed he’d felt. But she was right. If they ran into trouble, did he know what to do? And that, too. How did one avoid running into trouble? Was the disguise she talked about part of that? What kind of disguise was it? She’d also mentioned preparations, but what were they? And how was she so sure that the train was even going to Stronghold? What if the chests were going to be taken somewhere else this time?

When he asked that question, her answer was simple. “The train must follow the tracks.” She pointed below. “You said there were no side-branches, at least to where you two flew. If there are none all the way to Stronghold, the train cannot go anywhere else. If we do find branches before the city, we’ll adjust plans accordingly. Besides which, the shipment on that receipt went to a station in Stronghold.”

Logical. And if he’d thought about it for half a second, he’d have had the answer for himself. Trains were a great deal faster than horses and even more so than wagons, but they could only travel on their twin metal tracks.

“How fast is Coatl?”

Fillion looked over his shoulder. “Right now?”

Master Gella nodded.

“With the two of us, he’s probably going around forty, maybe forty-five miles an hour.”

I am flying a little faster than normal.

Now see here, leather bag, don’t tire yourself too much.

I am not. The two of you are in a hurry, and also, the winds are from behind my tail. That makes flying easier.

“What did he say?”

He blinked at her. “Sorry?”

“You had that look. What did he say?”

Fillion chuckled. She picked things up quick. “He says he’s actually going faster than normal. Maybe as fast as fifty or fifty-five miles an hour?”

She shook her head. “That’s incredible. Still, the distance to Stronghold is enormous. Can he maintain that speed for that long?”

“No. We’ll take short breaks as needed.”

In the end, they only took one break. They stretched their legs, took turns behind some trees, and sat around a bit. Coatl soon insisted that he was rested enough, and Fillion could feel that he was, so they resumed their flight.

It took nearly five hours, all said, and even from a few miles out, Stronghold was just as big, just as . . . intimidating, as Delcimaar. Coatl hovered as they all gazed at the ancient city.

“Set it in your mind.”

Fillion glanced at Master Gella.

“Or whatever it is you do,” she said. “Being able to get from one side of the continent to the other instantly will have its advantages.”

He could see how that was true, so he wanted to make sure that enough details of this place could be recalled.
Take us to that hill over there.

Coatl turned toward the low rise and banked down.

A few beats of his massive wings and they were landing. After dismounting, Fillion retrieved his gateway book. Master Gella watched as he did a hasty sketch of the city and surrounds from the hilltop point of view.

“It’s nothing artistic at all,” he said. “These serve more as reminders of where I’ve been, so I can place an anchor later for the gateway spell.”

“I don’t know,” Master Gella said, staring at his sketch in progress, “that looks pretty good to me. Though, I’m no artist either.”