A Storm in the Desert: Dragonlinked Chronicles Voume 3 (44 page)

I’m fine. Get out of there!

“Boy! What is your name!”

“What?” Aeron looked at the man. “My name is Huilacho” It was the first thing that came to mind.

“You know a great deal about these things.”

“I listen to the stories, is all. We hear things about them, these nahual beasts.”

The man grunted. “Where are you from? You sound—”

Whistles blasted in the distance. Short, long, short. Short, long, short.

“Dragon!” The young manis, still tending to the woman, looked at the man.

The man still had his gaze on Aeron. He must have seen the fear, the alarm that Aeron felt. His eyes flicked down to the robe again.

Fly away! Hurry!

Aeron followed the man’s gaze down. No, it was not the robe he stared at. The damnable whistle had come out! Aeron grabbed it in his fist.

The man’s eyes widened. “You!” He struggled to stand. “Detain this boy! He’s the dragon boy!”

“No,” Aeron stepped back. “You’re wrong. I just heard you fighting.”

“Don’t just stand there!” The man’s face was getting red. “Bind him!”

Magic flowed over him and his arms clamped to his side. “No, what are you doing?” More magic and his feet were rooted to the ground.

Aeron?

Leave me, get away! Tell Ikan and Polandra what happened!

“They use whistles in the North, I heard, and the dragon guild fights nahual. That’s how you know so much of the creatures!”

Aeron countered the spell binding his feet to the ground and slid backward into the dark alley. A pulse of magic came from the manisi and Aeron’s legs slammed together, bound.

Damn! Barely able to maintain his balance, he started to cast a barrier to block off the alley.

The young manis slid toward Aeron, bo swinging, while the barrier spell completed behind him.

Shit! Aeron leaned and slid back, away from the manis. The fighter’s swing missed, but just barely. Wasting no time, Aeron countered the bind spell on his legs. The Manis slid toward him again, this time jabbing with the bo.

Aeron, legs free, slid toward him, just to his side, avoiding the wooden staff. When the slide was over, he countered the bind on his arms and drew his bo.

At the intersection, the three male manisi were banging on the barrier, apparently trying to see if there was an edge to it. There was, but it was twelve feet up.

Aeron spun to face the young manis in a ready stance. He had just enough time to lift the bo. A loud clack sounded and the staff vibrated in his hands. He’d barely blocked that attack in time. Continuing the movement of the weapon, Aeron whipped the other end around and caught the manis under the chin.

With a grunt, the young man slid back.

Aeron watched him closely. A tensing in the manis’s legs and chest indicated a feint to the right.

Sliding that way, Aeron brought his bo around for an attack to the left, where the young man would actually be.

Two pulses of magic power came from the intersection. Aeron’s arms slammed to his side and his legs slammed together. The bo clattered to the ground and his slide ended, leaving him standing not far from the Manis.

With a grin, the young fighter swung his weapon.

Shit! Aeron slid back, farther down the alley.

A wooden crack was loud in his ears and an explosion of yellow and red tinted his vision when the bo connected with the side of his head. He fell to the ground and was dragged along it a few feet before his slide finished.

Aeron!

He blinked, but the blurriness remained, and there was a ringing in his ears.

Anaya?

Everything was getting pale, closing in. How could that happen at night? A faint sound came to him, like the grass out by the Caer fairgrounds rustling in the wind. Its soft whisper grew loud as his vision went white.

Another dragon roar thundered, shaking the building.

Millinith turned to the distraught boy. “Willem, please. If this continues, the entire Caer will be at our door wondering what is going on.”

His eyes flashed with anger. “I will try, but I completely agree with him!” He glanced at the wall to the den, and moments later, Balam’s roars turned to desperate whimpers and barks.

Other dragons were in there with him: Xochi, Kisa, Mia, and Coatl, all that could squeeze into the place. Ikan and Zolin sat outside the dragon door, heads poked in, crooning. All of their barks and rumbles accompanied Balam’s.

Millinith took a breath and looked around the table in the investigation office. Masters Doronal and Canneth sat across from her, eyes downcast. All of the dragonlinked were there, too, save Aeron, of course. She’d sent a message to Lord Baronel, informing him of the situation and would meet with him later once they figured out what they were going to do.

And what in Yrdra’s deepest hells
were
they going to do?

“I don’t understand what we’re even doing here.” Willem looked at the people around him. “We have to go get him, obviously.”

“We will,” Millinith said, “but we must proceed with caution.” She turned to Renata. “Will they have killed Anaya?”

Gasps came from around the table and Willem stood.

“No.” Renata looked at Willem. “She should be fine. They will keep her, bound, in Daelon’s Plaza for three days. On the night of the third day . . .” She looked down at the table.

Millinith nodded. “Good. We have some time at least. I want Polandra to go down there tomorrow, have Ikan talk to Anaya, and find out how they are doing. Perhaps Aeron has some information that can help us.”

“What are you talking about?” Willem stared at her. He looked confused and angry and, was that a hint of betrayal? “Why do you want to ask Aeron anything? You said a guild would afford us protections! Was that just a lie? What are these so-called protections?”

“Willem.” Master Doronal’s gaze was stern, but sympathetic.

The boy turned to the magic master, jaws working. When he spoke, it was quietly. “And why didn’t they protect Aeron?”

The question was like a dagger to Millinith’s heart.

When Sharrah reached over and grabbed his hand, he glanced at her and sat down.

Millinith let out a breath. “It wasn’t a lie. But with only three days, our options are limited. That’s why I want to find out all we can. As Renata and Polandra have shown us, and as tonight’s events have as well, manisi should not be underestimated. If we want to save Aeron and Anaya without coming to harm ourselves, we can’t just go rushing in.” She turned to Polandra. “Tomorrow morning, go down there and see what you can find out from Anaya.”

The dark-haired girl nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

Willem stood suddenly and headed for the den.

Millinith watched him leave. “Sharrah, could you . . .”

“Yeah. I’ll make sure he doesn’t do anything foolish.” She went after him.

“Cheddar.”

“Ma’am?”

“See what laws there are regarding kidnapping, animal cruelty—”

“Dragons are not animals.” Jessip frowned.

“We all know they aren’t,” Millinith said, “but the laws don’t recognize that. Yet.”

Jessip raised his brows.

Turning back to Cheddar, she continued. “Forced incarceration, interfering with guild affairs, murder,” she glanced at Liara, who’d gasped, “attempted murder, and anything else you think of.”

He stood. “I’ll get right on it.”

“Don’t stay in there all night, now. We have a day or so to find out what we can and make plans.”

“Right.” He trotted for the door.

“What can I do to help?” Doronal sat forward. He glanced to his left at Master Canneth. “What can we do?”

“Nothing at the moment, though I thank you for the offer.” She sat. “I’m going to go through the information I have on forming and running a guild to learn more about those protections. I may have need of your assistance after.”

He stood. “One thing I can do for you. I’ll meet with Lord Baronel and let him know where we stand. You can then devote your time to your search.”

“Oh, yes, thank you.”

Later, as she flipped through various books, one thought kept bothering her. What would she do if Aeron or Anaya came to harm? She knew what she
wanted
to do, but what could she do legally?

She pushed the question aside and kept looking. Hopefully, one of them would discover something helpful. If it came down to it, however, she wouldn’t hesitate to use any means at her disposal.

+ + + + +

He was falling. The ground was falling. Everything was falling. Panicked rumbles and the flapping of wings and his own screams filled his ears. The floor—there was a floor?—tilted and he started to slide. Closer and closer to the edge he slipped. There it was, the end, the brink, and beyond it, what? An abyss. He slid over, arms stretched upward, reaching.

Aeron gasped and opened his eyes.
Anaya!

I am unharmed. Mostly.

He blinked. The air was dusty. It smelled and tasted old.
Wait. Mostly unharmed? Where are you?
And for that matter, where in hells was he?

In a courtyard, not too far away. They put shackles on my legs. I cannot get free. I cannot fly. If I try to use magic, they . . . hurt me.

They hurt you?
By the gods he’d kill whoever hurt her! He sat up and experienced a moment of dizziness.

Not physically. They use a spell to cause me pain so I lose concentration.

Aeron ground his teeth. Those bastards.
Don’t worry, dear-heart, I’ll think of something.

And you? Are you hurt?

Me? No, I’m fine, if a little bruised.
He touched the side of his head. A medium-sized lump was tender to the touch.

His robe had been removed. Only the a’sano was left to him. It appeared they had placed him in some sort of cell. There were bars at the end of the small room, and beyond was a larger space where two guards stood on either side of a big, metal-braced door. They watched him.

Shame came through the link.

I am sorry.

For what, love?

I did not fly away. When I felt you in trouble, I tried to help you. Now we are both caught.

Don’t worry about that. Does anyone know what happened to us?

I told Ikan and he told Polandra. They left to tell the others.

That was good thinking, dear-heart.

He was sitting on a simple bed. The thin, nearly useless mattress of ratty cloth felt like it was stuffed with dried grass. It was lumpy and not very comfortable There was no pillow and no blanket, either.

When he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and set his feet on the floor, the guard to the right of the large door opened it and left. The door closed with a solid sound. The other guard continued to watch Aeron, her eyes following his every movement.

What in Yrdra’s deepest hells was he going to do? Aeron frowned.
Hang on. You said they hurt you. Who is they?

There are manisi here, a hand. They stand nearby, guarding me. There are a lot of people here, too, other members of the Order, based on their clothes. They stare at me. Most are not scared, merely curious. Some are excited, especially the little ones.

Aeron didn’t like the sound of it. Anaya wasn’t some sort of . . . trophy or prize to be shown off. She was a person, his bond-mate.

How was he going to get her out of this? How was he going to get
them
out of this? He lost track of time as he went over the few options he had, trying to figure out a way.

The door opened and a man walked in. The guard followed him in, closed the door, and returned to his previous spot.

“I assume that you are, indeed, the dragon boy?”

Aeron looked up at the man. He looked older than Master Doronal, but not quite as old as Master Canneth. “I am. Who are you?”

“What are you up to? Your dragon has been spotted in the area before.”

“Are you sure it was my dragon?”

“Again, what are you up to?”

Having his questions ignored was starting to piss Aeron off. “If you want me to answer your questions, you’re going to have to answer mine. Who are you?”

The man stared at Aeron a moment, then looked him over. His gaze paused briefly at Aeron’s wrists, no doubt at the pale bands where his skin had no color. “I am Nesch Takatin.”

Aeron raised his brows. “You’re Nesch Takatin? I expected you to look different, based on how Renata described you.”

The man’s eyes narrowed at her name. “What have you and your dragon been up to?”

“Lately, we’ve been helping your manisi find and destroy nahual. Those evil creatures have been attacking villagers for years, and yet the Order hadn’t lifted a finger against them until now, until I started pointing them out to people and the patrols.”

Nesch Takatin held out a hand. A cord hung down from the small metal device in his palm. “You lured them to the creatures with this. Where did you get the whistle?”

Aeron shrugged. “I bought it.”

“You bought it.”

“Sure. They’re pretty common.”

The man’s hand disappeared into his robe. “Are there not these creatures, these nahual, where you come from? Do you not need to fight them at home?”

“There are nahual at home, yes. The evil things are everywhere.”

“So why come all the way down here?”

Aeron stood. “I was curious about an organization that claims to devote itself to killing Yrdra’s monsters, but instead kills dragons.”

“Dragons are Yrdra’s monsters.”

“No, they’re not. And you know they aren’t. You know that the Hour of Creation is false, that it was changed. The First Principle is a lie.”

Muscles in his jaw working, Nesch Takatin stared at him.

“Nahual are the creatures Yrdra created, not dragons. Why does the Order continue to hold to the lies, the false Principles? That’s why people leave, you know, like Renata. They feel betrayed.”

Words exploded from the man. “You think I don’t know about that?” His eyes were hollow pits of darkness.

Aeron took an involuntary step back.

Seeming to get control of himself, Nesch Takatin shifted his shoulders and stood a little taller. “The Principles are no longer important.”

What? Aeron stared at him. The second in command of the Order didn’t—

“So, you’re a pawn of the Laminae, then.”

“The Laminae?”

“No matter. My plans will come to fruition despite your short-lived interference.” Turning to leave, he chuckled. “Short-lived.”

Aeron stared at the man’s back. “Holding us prisoner doesn’t help anything. The Order isn’t bad, you know. You’re just killing the wrong things. At its core, the Order is honorable.”

Nesch Takatin stopped and looked over his shoulder. “You’re so naive. About many things.”

When the door banged shut, the guards remained, staring at Aeron.

Did you listen in on that?

I did.

There is something going on here. Something more than the Order’s normal stupidity. Can you sense him, Nesch Takatin?

I can, now.

Good. We’re going to fly his dreams tonight.

+ + + + +

Aeron floated with Anaya in darkness. He could feel nothing, hear nothing, and see nothing. He had no body with which to do so. But he sensed Anaya near him, nevertheless. He also sensed another a little ways away. That man.

Go ahead and start, dear-heart.

He has much on his mind. I will try to focus on his greatest concern.

Flying dreams was an ability exclusive to dragons. They’d all tried it when Xochi taught the other dragons, but humans could not do it. They could, however, follow along with their bond-mate.

Light speared down from above and lit an area below them. In the middle of the pools of illumination was a small room, walls lined with shelves and chests of drawers. Scrolls and books and piles of papers covered every available surface, save two tables in the cramped space.

A younger version of Nesch Takatin sat at a table, gloved hands slowly flipping slim metal frames. Bound almost like a book, each frame contained a page of some sort. He was intently focused on reading those pages.

What is he reading? Is that the Hour of Creation?

Hush. You must lose yourself in the flow of the dream. Become the dream.

Aeron knew that already. He just wondered what was in the book thing.

He moved closer to Takatin. Emotions played across the man’s features—fear, confusion, and denial. His lips, his brows, his eyes and cheeks, they all twitched and moved in a symphony of revelation.