A Storm in the Desert: Dragonlinked Chronicles Voume 3 (4 page)

As if there weren’t enough on her plate at the moment. “I need to take care of a few things and then I will return. Master Gella is expecting to hear back from me within half an hour.”

+ + + + +

Fillion walked back to the stables with Renata and Polandra. The girls had finished much faster than he’d expected. He thought for sure Polandra would have wanted to spend some time soaking in a hot bath. She explained that she’d made use of the showers, which she found amazing, so that they could return to the masters quickly. Fillion told her she could have taken as much time as she’d wanted, but she said enough time had been wasted getting her clothes and the coat beforehand.

Fillion shook his head. They’d only ‘wasted’ ten minutes. The people at the Laundry could take your measure at a glance and know exactly what size you were.

He looked at Polandra. She had the sack of clothing thrown over her shoulder and looked much more comfortable in the winter coat. It was second-hand, or third, or fourth, as was all the clothing she’d been given. But they were clean, sturdy, and well-mended and would serve her until she could buy her own.

The girls were very similar, he noted, as they talked with each other, catching up on lost time. In fact, they looked like they could be sisters. They had the same straight black hair, for one thing. Polandra’s was shorter than Renata’s, but it was of the same style—shorter in the back by a couple of inches, and cut along the sides at an angle down to the longer length in front. Polandra’s came down to about her chin. If he remembered right, that was how manisi wore their hair. They also had the same skin tone, though Renata’s appeared to have faded somewhat. Probably due to being covered up because of the winter weather. Their eye color was slightly different, too, a different shade of the same hue. Even so, the two were equally as exotic-looking.

“So, you live in these buildings with your dragons?” Polandra nodded at the stables.

“We do.” Renata smiled. “Not as roomy as the caves down in the South, but much more comfortable.”

“Once we move into Dragon Hall,” Fillion said, “we’ll each have a little more room.”

Polandra looked at him. “Dragon Hall?”

“Mmm hmm.” He nodded. “Though, I suppose we should start calling it the Guildhall. Every guild has a guildhall, you see, but before we were a guild we called it Dragon Hall. At any rate, it will have living quarters for dragonlinked, so, you know, we’ll be able to live there.”

“It won’t house every dragonlinked,” Renata said, “there will eventually be too many. But it will for now, as there are only seven at the moment. Or, eight, I suppose.”

Polandra smiled. “Dragonlinked. I like that name. I like that there are many.” She then frowned. “I hope there always will be.”

“Oh, there will be, “ Fillion said as they walked into the courtyard. “We’ll make sure of it.” He spied Coatl laying in the sun and smiled. “I’m so excited about moving into the Guildhall that Coatl and I flew back to my home and picked up a few more things.”

Coatl lifted his head and chirped at him.
I was happy to finally meet your parents.

And they were happy to meet you.

“Things?” Polandra’s brows were furrowed.

“Yeah, you know, like my own pillows and blankets, a few curios, some favorite books, a couple of daggers, more winter clothing, oh, and my old pet, Soot.”

Renata glanced at him. “Soot?”

“He was a raven.”

Polandra stopped and stared. “
Was
a raven?”

“Yeah,” Fillion said, “he passed a few years ago. He was my da’s pet but took a liking to me. We were buddies and he was always at my side.”

Polandra looked alarmed. “You kept your pet after it died?”

“Well, yeah,” Fillion said. “We had him stuffed. Now he sits at the back of my desk.”

Looking not the least bit relieved, Polandra said, “Stuffed?”

“At the taxidermist’s. They basically skin an animal, take it down to the skeleton, then rebuild the body over it out of leather, some kind of stuffing, and who all knows what. Then the skin is replaced on top, and the eyes are swapped out with fake ones made from glass.”

Renata twisted her mouth. “Doesn’t it . . . rot?”

“The skin and bones are treated with chemicals to keep them from spoiling.” He chuckled at their expressions. “Gregor feels the same way about it as you do, by the looks on your faces.”

To be fair, the bird does smell funny.

That’s the chemicals I mentioned. Though, I can’t even smell anything from Soot anymore.

Well, I can.

Dragons probably have better senses than humans.
A mental shrug was all the response Fillion got.

“Anyway,” he said, “let’s get back to the masters, see if they’ve got the food yet. What with the hatching, I didn’t have a chance to eat breakfast.”

As they headed for Renata’s study, the guard outside said, “Guildmaster Millinith was called away by Lord Baronel, and when she returned, she and the masters went to the investigation office for a meeting. They said for you to wait for them in your study.” He nodded to Renata.

“Thank you.” She opened the door and the three of them entered.

“Food!” Fillion grabbed a sandwich from the counter and then sat on the couch. He took a large bite. “Roast beef, my favorite.” Even he found it hard to understand his words as he spoke around a mouthful.

“I didn’t realize just how hungry I was.” Polandra picked up a sandwich and started eating.

As Renata decided on a sandwich, Fillion turned to Polandra. “About those missing people. Has anyone actually seen a dragon killing people?”

She shook her head. “No. At least not that they’re telling anyone.”

“Oh,” Renata said, “if they’d actually seen dragons doing that, they’d be trumpeting the news.”

“That’s true,” Polandra said. “It would only serve to support their story.”

Fillion took another bite of the tasty sandwich. “So, it’s all rumor and speculation.”

“Or outright lies,” Renata added.

“I don’t think they’re complete lies.” Polandra’s eyes grew dark. “Many have come to Bataan-Mok pleading for help finding their loved ones. People really are missing.”

He grunted. “Setting that mystery aside, I’m not sure about going to Bataan-Mok right now.”

“What do you mean?” Polandra wiped crumbs from her lips.

“I think I agree,” Renata said. “There’s a lot going on here at the moment.”

Fillion nodded. “Yeah. We’ve got nahual patrols, Jessip and Willem are on theirs right now, and there’s enchanting shifts to help finish building the Guildhall.”

“Not to mention dragonlinked training,” Renata added. “We’ve got classes almost every day now.”

Fillion pointed at Renata with his sandwich. “And you and Guildmaster Millinith are coordinating the construction of the Guildhall, not to mention trying to hire people for it. I bet you’re being swamped with applicants for the guild, too.”

She frowned. “That we are.”

Polandra sighed. “I’m telling you, even disregarding the missing people, something is happening in Bataan-Mok, and it worries me. Isandath is concerned, too. He mentioned something about different factions in the Order.”

“Factions?” Renata took another bite. “There have always been power-plays.”

“This is different. It isn’t everyone for themselves anymore, these groups are gathering members, or, rather, people are flocking to them, not wanting to be caught alone.”

Fillion glanced at Polandra. “Caught alone? By what?”

“By the coming storm.” She shivered. “That’s what it feels like in Bataan-Mok. There is a strange pressure, a heaviness, an electric, dangerous feel to the air.”

The arrival of Guildmaster Millinith and Master Doronal interrupted the conversation. “Good,” she said, looking at Fillion, “you’ve eaten.”

That didn’t sound good. He stood and grabbed another sandwich.

“I have to make a special trip to Delcimaar to investigate a nahual attack. I’m going to take Gregor with me, as there is a victim to examine.”

Fillion nodded. It wasn’t the first time she’d taken someone along like this. The more dragonlinked who knew how to examine nahual and their victims, the better. The Guildmaster wouldn’t always be able to personally go to every site anymore.

“As Kisa is much too young, we’ll need a lift. Fillion, you’re going to take us.”

He raised his brows. “What about my enchanting shift later today?”

“We shouldn’t be gone too long.” She turned to Renata. “If anything comes up while I’m away, please take care of it. The masters will be available, if you need assistance. Also, can you and Master Doronal work out a place for Polandra to stay?”

Renata glanced at the magic master and nodded.

Guildmaster Millinith turned to Polandra. “I’m very sorry to cut our meeting short. We can continue our talk at another time.”

She turned her attention back to Fillion. “Pack something for you and Gregor for an overnight stay, just in case. Then, pick him up at the caves. Liara and Sharrah—Sharrah’s still there, right?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Good. While he’s gone, they can watch over Kisa and Mia.”

Fillion didn’t even have time for a response before she’d turned away.

“Renata, select someone from one of the duviday shifts to take Fillion’s today in case we don’t get back in time. Fillion will then take their shift if that’s the case.”

Renata nodded. “Will do.”

Fillion actually wouldn’t mind if his shift was put off. They always left him feeling like a wet towel that had been wrung too tightly. But what had gotten into the Guildmaster? He’d never seen her so . . . in command. Something about this nahual attack must be different.

Guildmaster Millinith looked at everyone. “Alright, let’s get to it. Fillion, you and Coatl meet me at the steps of the Residence in twenty minutes with Gregor. We leave for Delcimaar from there.”

“This is unacceptably dangerous.”

She glanced at the umeron in the subdued light. Faint tinkling came from his crystal earrings, disturbed by nervous movements. They were convenient, in a way, as they always announced the presence of an umeron. She had a second pair herself, for when she needed to move quietly. She wore them now, in fact. The thin coating of hard wax worked wonders at cutting down their sound. This man wouldn’t understand the need for such. He’d chosen his veiled name, Scorpion, himself. It should have been Mouse.

“It was necessary,” she said and looked at the others. “We lost another.”

Shocked whispers.

“Where? I have not heard—”

“At Ghost Flats.” She stared at Scorpion.

“More blood and torn clothing were found by a manis patrol,” he finally said. “We have to assume it was Hawk. He has not reported in.”

“How?”

“Carelessness, no doubt.” She shook her head. “He was ever rash and prone to quick decisions. He should never have been assigned as a scout.”

“Rash?” Scorpion said. “Like calling this meeting so suddenly?” Muted light reflected from twitching crystals.

She frowned. “Sometimes we must respond faster than our traditional . . . care will allow.”

The ojon, Coyote, spoke. “Eyes and ears are everywhere, more than ever before, and we do not control them all.”

“We can be timely and still be careful.”

“What of Isandath? Though he eventually returned, his departure years ago brought him to the attention of more than just the Observers. And with things as they are now . . .”

“We will be especially careful when we approach him.”

“You think we should continue with the plan?” Coyote’s eyes were wide.

“Absolutely. We cannot abandon our efforts now when we are so close.” She looked at the concerned faces around her. “We must follow our plan to its conclusion. Recent events notwithstanding, we will continue.”

“So many departures, though.” Scorpion’s sigh was accompanied by faint, crystalline chimes. “In the history of the Order only five people have left to not return. And two of those people left within the last several months. The departure of the most recent girl, another manis, sent ripples through the manis ranks, and beyond I am sure.”

She looked around the table. They had fallen far in the last century. If moving forward and contacting Isandath frightened them, how would they feel when she revealed her next move?

“But even before that,” Scorpion continued, “tension between the factions was rising. Change is coming, my friends.”

“I agree,” she said. “But we cannot scurry and hide and wait. We must continue while learning all we can so that we may act to ensure it is the change
we
want.” She placed her clasped hands on the table before her. “Now, back to the purpose of the meeting. The flats are too important to not have our own eyes and ears there. Another scout must be chosen.”

“What of the dragon guild?”

She shot an angry glance at Coyote.

“Surely they could assist us with what is to come?”

“Capu Cirtis sent a manis to find them. But before the fighter departed, Nesch Takatin met with him.”

“Do we plan on intercepting the manis ourselves?”

“No. Too many know of him. We can only hope for a positive outcome. We will continue as we have, but with a higher level of readiness.” She looked over the assembled leaders of the Laminae. “So, who shall replace Hawk?”

Faces turned to each other, whispering.

“Rabbit,” Scorpion said, when they’d decided.

She nodded. “The time is near at hand. Tread with care, Blades.”

+ + + + +

The two sandwiches Fillion had eaten would have to do for who knew how long. There was no telling if they’d be back in time for lunch. Luckily there had been extra. He’d brought a couple for Gregor. The blond healer was munching on the second one now as they stood outside the Residence waiting for the Guildmaster to arrive.

“I’m sorry you have to leave Kisa for this,” Fillion said. “You bonded with her just a few hours ago and already you’re being pulled away.”

“She was asleep, anyway,” Gregor said, wiping the corner of his mouth. “From what I read, dragons spend almost all day sleeping when they’re this young. I do want to spend time with her, but I’m looking forward to going on an investigation trip with the Guildmaster again.”

Fillion frowned. “I can’t get used to seeing people and animals getting cut up, even nahual. It still makes me shiver.”

Gregor chuckled. “It takes a while to get used to it, I’ll grant you that.”

Fillion watched him finish off the sandwich. As glib as he was about his calling, there were times when Gregor had lain awake for hours before finally falling asleep. More so from not being able to help someone in his care than having to perform an autopsy, but still, the young man wasn’t as tough as he let on.

Done with the sandwiches, Gregor put on riding gloves. “So, tell me more about this Polandra girl you mentioned. She’s friends with Renata?”

“Yeah, they were both in the Corpus Order, where they met. Both were manisi, though Polandra has a few months more training than Renata.”

“And she suspects the Order is up to something.”

Fillion nodded.

“Did she have any specifics?”

“Nope.”

Gregor grunted. “I’d like to meet her and her dragon. Ikan, you said?”

“Yeah. He’s big.”

“I’ll bet. He’s over a year old, right?”

Fillion nodded. “He’s older than all our dragons.” He smiled at Gregor. “You’re like Sharrah, itching to get a look at him, aren’t you?”

Gregor laughed. “Guilty as charged.”

She comes.

Fillion glanced at Coatl. The mahogany dragon lay on the flagstones, enjoying the sun. Both he and Coatl then looked up to where Guildmaster Millinith emerged from the large doors. She hurried down the steps to them.

Fillion handed her a riding belt, and she handed him a small sheet of paper.

“That’s where we’re going.” She strapped on the belt over her coat.

One end of the small map showed the Gallia country estate, the childhood home of Master Doronal. At the other end of the map, a large ‘X’ indicated their destination. Fillion walked over to Coatl and showed it to him.

“We’ll portal to the estate and fly the rest of the way.” The Guildmaster glanced at the flying belt already on Gregor’s waist then turned to Fillion’s bond-mate. “Coatl, if you would?”

With a chirp, Coatl stood, and they all mounted up.

There was much less snow near Delcimaar, which rose in the distance. Traces of it only remained where shadows held most of the day—the side of trees, along hedgerows, and in other sheltered spots. It was nearly as cold, though, at least up where they flew.

It is just ahead.

Fillion carefully pulled the map out and held it tight, fearing it would be carried away in the rushing air. He compared it to the land below.
Are you sure?

I am.

He hoped so. They’d been flying for at least half an hour. Maybe. It was hard to tell exactly how much time had passed because the morning sun rode lower in the sky here at Delcimaar, and he’d forgotten to note its position when they’d arrived. Regardless of how long it had been, however, he was wearing normal riding gear, not winter, and he was getting cold. He glanced behind at Gregor—the healer smiled at him—and at Guildmaster Millinith. He hoped they weren’t too uncomfortable.

We are here.
Coatl banked to the left, angling downward.

Fillion took in the small cottage below. It sat alone in a large area surrounded by a fence made of branches for posts with some kind of wire strung between. Properties with small homes of various design dotted the land nearby, and a road wound between them. He hoped there was a fire going in the cottage. It would be nice to get warm. There was no smoke coming from the chimney, though.

His mighty pinions beating the air, Coatl backwinged for a landing. Leaves and debris scattered with each loud beat.

Whoomp! Whoomp!

A woman emerged from the cottage and gaped as Coatl dropped to his rear legs and then to all four. He settled his wings on his back.

The Guildmaster removed her safety straps and leapt to the ground. “Master Investigator Gella?”

The woman’s mouth snapped closed. She looked around as if searching for someone on the property, though Fillion hadn’t seen anyone else as they were landing. “Just Gella, if you would. At least while we are in public. Come inside.”

Fillion glanced back at Gregor. He had the same question in his eyes. What had she meant by that?

She is impressed with me.

Fillion dismounted and slapped Coatl lovingly on the neck.
As well she should be. You’re a handsome devil.
He looked around the yard and surrounds.
Keep an eye out. Let me know if anyone approaches. Something seems off.

As you wish.

Master Gella studied him and Gregor as they entered the small house. She turned to Guildmaster Millinith. “Two people?” Her breath left faint clouds in the air.

Fillion frowned. The place wasn’t heated. So much for warming up from the cold flight.

Guildmaster Millinith gestured. “This is Adept Healer Gregor. He will assist with my examination of the body. Dragonlinked Fillion was kind enough to provide us with transportation here.”

The investigator nodded. “I see.” She stared at Fillion and seemed like she was going to ask him something. Instead, she turned and walked off. “The victim is this way.”

As she led them down a short hallway, Fillion tried to determine her age. She was older than Guildmaster Millinith, but it was difficult to gauge by how much. Her dark hair was clipped short, but it didn’t make her look severe. Her face was smooth, with the slightly rounded features of youth, and her eyes were sharp and clear. Also, her voice was steady and firm, a rich contralto. He decided that she was maybe twenty-five. She wore a woolen tunic and pants, a long leather jacket, thin leather gloves, and sturdy boots.

She walked into what looked like the main room of the place and walked to a body on the other side of the large, cluttered chamber. The back yard of the house was visible through a wide open door about five feet beyond the dead man. She looked down at the corpse.

Fillion frowned. The man lay on his stomach, head turned to the left. His long hair was splayed across his back and some few strands lay across his slack face. The eyes were closed. He almost looked asleep, except for how pale he was. That and all the dark blood coagulated in a huge pool on the right side of his body. A great deal of the blood had sprayed out from his neck, evidenced by the dark fan-shaped stain that extended beyond the pool surprisingly far. When Fillion spied several dark drops spattered on the wall in that direction, he shivered and looked away.

You are upset.

Yes, love, I am. There is a dead man here.

Would you like to leave?

I would, but I can’t. This is part of being dragonlinked, investigating attack sites. It puts a worm up my spine, but I’ll get used to it.

A surge of pride and confidence came through the link, and Fillion’s spirits lifted. Coatl was the best.

“If you could examine him first,” Master Gella looked up from the body to Guildmaster Millinith, “we can compare conclusions after. I don’t want to prejudice you in any way as to what you may find.”

“Prudent.” She turned to Gregor, who opened the examination kit and removed two pair of gloves. He handed her a pair, and they both turned to the body as they pulled them on.

Gregor’s demeanor changed. All expression left his face. His lips, perpetually curved in a faint smile, pressed together in a thin line. And though his gaze grew distant, he seemed more focused. Gregor was putting on armor, Fillion supposed. Mental armor for the task ahead.

Fillion glanced at the dead man. Is that how Gregor was able to be around injured and dying people in the infirmary day after day? How he could examine a corpse, the body of someone who once was alive? Fillion would need to ask him how to do that.

“Let’s begin,” the Guildmaster said.

She began studying the body from a few feet away. Gregor followed along, his eyes taking in everything as well.

Fillion remained near Master Gella, watching the two.

Guildmaster Millinith walked around the body slowly for several minutes, noting who-knows-what. She then examined the blood splattered across the floor, and the spray of drops on the wall. The open door came next.

She stepped up to it, studied the lock mechanism and door jamb, then she eyed the ground just outside. Apparently satisfied, she returned to the body and knelt on the left side. Gregor knelt to her right.

The Guildmaster lifted the dead man’s hands and the two of them studied each one—nails, fingers, palms, the backs—then she placed them in their original positions. Shoes were next, and then the bottom of each pant leg. Everything got a close look.