A Storm in the Desert: Dragonlinked Chronicles Voume 3

by Adolfo Garza Jr.

  They all stared inside at four stacks of—

  “Glass?” Master Gella sounded disappointed and a little angry. “They killed him for glass?”

  Fillion reached in and carefully removed a clear sheet of what certainly looked like glass. About a foot across, the thin plate didn’t seem to be even a quarter of an inch thick. He hefted it. “This feels heavier than glass, though. And the shape they cut it into is strange, kind of geometric.”

  “You don’t mine glass.” Guildmaster Millinith kneeled and removed a sheet to examine. “Could they have cut these from some kind of crystal?”

  Master Gella turned and stared at her, eyes narrowed. A dagger appeared in the investigator’s hand. She dragged its tip across a sheet inside the chest. It left no mark. Again she tried to score it, she leaned on the dagger, even, but still it left no mark.

  “Good gods,” she whispered. “It can’t be.” The third time she tried, entire body pressed down on the dagger, the blade slipped and shot sideways, embedding itself in the side of the chest.

  It left no mark.

  “Gella,” Guildmaster Millinith said, “what do you think it is?”

  Ignoring her, Master Gella returned the dagger to whence it came and pulled out a small pouch. She stuck her finger and thumb inside and removed a pinch of something. She dropped it, a powder, near the edge of the plate. Pressing down with her thumb, she rubbed it in. It scratched the clear material. She then dug in her pocket and removed a 5 mark piece. The powder scratched it as well.

  Brows raised, Guildmaster Millinith stared at the scuffed mark.

  “Garathel’s great—” Master Gella glanced at Fillion. “Hammer.”

  “What is it?” He recognized the pouch now. It was the one from the bank.

  “It can’t be.” Guildmaster Millinith carefully returned the sheet of crystal she carried to the crate and stared at its contents.

  “It must be.” Master Gella looked at the crystal plate Fillion still held. “It’s Korovite. And they’ve got fifteen crates of it in this shipment.”

  “This shipment?” Guildmaster Millinith looked at her. “There’s more?”

  “Everyone’s still at the National Transportation camp, still working. If this was it, if this was all they had, they would have broken camp and moved on.”

  Fillion struggled to keep his voice low. “What is Korovite?”

  “It’s what marks are made from,” Guildmaster Millinith said. “It’s what all our currency is made from.”

  “It is a very rare crystal,” Master Gella said, “highly resistant to damage. But its most remarkable feature is that it can be enchantment locked. That is the reason it is used for currency. Only one mine exists—” She frowned. “Only one mine existed, at least before this.”

  Fillion glanced at the sheet of crystal and, with shaking hands, placed it back in the crate. You could make money of any denomination you wanted with those. No wonder that investigator had been killed.

  “Fillion,” Master Gella said, “head off to your spot while we get ready to return this. Quickly, now. We need to get this back. We can’t have them know we’ve been here.”

  He nodded and started making his way down the hill. This next part was the most likely to fail. Lifting a chest straight up was easy. Getting the chest back over the wagon and lowering it down into its original spot was going to take a lot of careful movement on Guildmaster Millinith’s part.

  Once he got far enough down the hill, he enchanted a red glow on his shoulder. He needed to hurry, but breaking a leg would not help.

  Are you ready, big guy?

  I am.

  From her vantage point, Guildmaster Millinith would be able to see if the chest was too far left of its stack or too far right. She couldn’t see how far off it was as far as front to back, though. That’s where he would come in.

  When he reached the bottom of the hill, he removed the glow. Carefully, trying to be as quiet as he could, he made his way over to the copse of trees that would be his new vantage point. It was at a right angle from Guildmaster Millinith and the wagon. From there, he’d be able to tell if she needed to move the chest farther away from herself, or closer. Watching where he put his feet, he slowly made his way around.

  He still couldn’t believe what they’d learned. How much money could National Transportation make from all that, what did they call it? Korovite? Coins were small, so you could make a great deal of them with what was in all those crates. You could make them all fifty-crown pieces, too, worth five thousand marks each. People would definitely kill for that kind of money. The realization of just how dangerous this whole investigation was, and had been the whole time, was a bit of a shock.

  Fillion crept into the trees and took a breath. He’d made it.

  Levitating himself was strange but fun. At least until he looked down from half-way up. After a gulping swallow, and using the tall pine as a kind of handhold, he lifted himself the rest of the way, high enough that he could see in the bed of the wagon. Though he still levitated, he hugged the tree anyway and raised the binocs. The wagon guards still stood watch. The patrol kept on their rounds. The whole camp looked unchanged. The guard at the rear of the wagon rubbed the back of his leg with his foot.

  Tell her I’m ready.

  A moment later, Coatl responded. She has begun.

  Fillion took another breath. Here we go. He searched the stars for the tell-tale patch of darkness. A little panic started to set in—where was it?—but then he spotted it. Rotating the binocs down and then up, lining up the circular shadow and wagon, he could tell she was off.

  Tell her to move it toward her by five feet.

  The darkness shifted, moved closer to the correct position.

  That’s close enough for its current height. She can lower it to just above the wagon when she’s ready. Not too fast, though. That guard has good hearing.

  The dark circle lowered and lowered and lowered. Then the gloom disappeared. The now naked chest floated maybe a foot above the others. If anyone looked that direction . . .

  He shook his head. Focus, Fillion.

  Have her move the crate three feet away from her.

  I have done so. Do you not like floating?

  A little, but also not at all. I much prefer having you under me. You make me feel safe.

  The chest started to move. They were almost done.

  “Hey.”

  Fillion’s heart leapt into his mouth. Sound did travel far, just as Master Gella had warned! Desperately scanning the camp with the binocs, he found who was talking. One of the patrol guards was approaching the wagon.

  Shit!

  “Time to swap,” said the guard, heading to the rear of the wagon. “You’re first this time. When you get out there, tell Mack to take the front. I don’t want to be near him. He’s got the winds something fierce.”

  Tell her she has to lower the crate now!

  Fillion could see it, still floating about a foot above the others. Thankfully, the wagon’s sides kept it from their view, but when the replacement guard rounded the wagon, he’d see it floating, too. It was moving, oh so slowly, toward the front of the wagon, tucking back in with the others.

  The rear guard chuckled. “I bet it was the beans for dinner. They never sit well with him.”

  Fillion held his breath. Why wasn’t she setting it down? They didn’t have time to be perfect!

  The guard reached the back of the wagon.

  The chest dropped the last few inches and fell over with a loud crash. There hadn’t been enough time for Guildmaster Millinith to move it far enough to sit atop the lower one properly.

  “Yrdra’s tits!” The rear guard spun around and stared at the chest. It lay on its side on the floor of the wagon bed.

  “It just . . . fell over,” the replacement guard said. “I saw it fall.”

  “I thought I heard something earlier. Maybe it was about to fall this whole time.”

  The replacement guard turned to the campfire. �
�What in Yrdra’s deepest hells, people! Those chests were supposed to be stacked carefully! If whatever is in them is damaged, it’ll be your asses, not ours!”

  Fillion let out a quiet sigh. Alandra’s merciful heart, they thought it fell over.

  His own heart pounded crazily in his ears. Getting down and away was all he had on his mind. And that he did. After lowering himself back to the ground, he moved quickly, though carefully, back to where they’d left Coatl two miles away. Once there, he threw his arms around the mahogany dragon.

  That was the scariest, most nerve-wracking thing ever!

  Coatl’s chuckles vibrated in Fillion’s chest. And you loved every minute of it.

  You know, I actually did love it. He looked up at Coatl’s face. Is that normal?

  His bond-mate stared at him, large eyes sparkling with reflected starlight. What is normal?

  Fillion grinned. That is a good point, big guy.

  The look on Master Gella and Guildmaster Millinith’s faces when they finally arrived reminded him of the chests and what was in them.

  “I need to get back to Delcimaar immediately. High Lady Hasana must be informed of our discovery.”

  “We can get you there in five minutes.” Fillion slapped Coatl on the neck.

  “I also need someone to follow that wagon. We’re fairly certain these people are National Transportation, and the wagon will likely be taken to somewhere in Stronghold, but I want eyes on it just the same. I cannot afford to lose it.”

  “After we drop you two off, Coatl and I can come back and follow those people and the wagon.”

  “Fillion.” Guildmaster Millinith looked concerned.

  “This is pretty damn important,” he said and looked at Master Gella. “Right?”

  She nodded. “It’s vitally important.”

  “So,” he continued, looking back at Guildmaster Millinith, “if you could work it out with my chores and lessons, Coatl and I can do this.”

  His bond-mate let out a soft rumble of agreement.

  “It would only be for a few days,” Master Gella said. “I need to speak with Lady Hasana and then we’ll need to plan our next steps, but once that’s done, I can return here and take over.”

  Guildmaster Millinith, looking like she might regret her decision later, said, “Fine. But you will make up your lessons. And, by all the gods, be careful.”

  “Of course.”

  “Be sure to check in with your Guildmaster every night,” Master Gella said. “Report anything unusual to her, and she’ll let you know if I am ready to be picked up, and where.”

  As they flew through the portal back to Delcimaar, Fillion had to work hard to contain himself. He and Coatl were going to go on an investigation assignment!

  + + + + +

  “I know I’ve been a pain in the ass and have complained about the lessons,” Aeron said. “But I want you two to know that I really appreciate this.”

  Renata and Polandra stared. Were they shocked that he was thanking them, or that he wasn’t complaining again?

  “Seriously, we’re all a team and you’re both proving that point. If we want to stop the Order from killing dragons forever, we all have to do what we can, everyone bringing their own skills and knowledge.”

  They’d been in Polandra’s study for the last hour, practicing the traditional rites and ceremonies one performed at the shrine.

  “Truth be told,” Polandra said, looking a little embarrassed, “I feel a little guilty.”

  He frowned. “Guilty? For what?”

  “I don’t know about Renata, but I still feel bad that I once helped the Order, that I once was part of them.”

  The other raven-haired girl shook her head. “You are not alone in that.”

  “I understand,” Aeron said. “Though, if you think about it, at its heart, the Corpus Order is exactly like us. Their purpose is to defeat the creatures Yrdra created. They just got the creatures wrong.”

  “Deliberately.” Renata looked pissed.

  “Someone did change the text, yes,” Aeron said. “And that person deserves to be covered in honey and left in a bear cave.” He raised his hands. “But. Take out dragons from the principles and stop the horrible things some recruits endure and what’s left is the passion for protecting people and helping the villages. Those are good things. Not only that, but the Corpus Order is an important part of life down there.”

  Polandra chuckled. “Dragon boy, you damn well better not get hurt at the meeting.”

  He smiled, confused. “What do you mean?”

  “If you can make me feel good about the Order, the self-same group that tried to kill your dragon, the guild cannot afford to lose you.”

  “Exactly,” Renata said.

  “Oh,” Aeron said, “don’t get me wrong. Nesch Takatin is going to pay somehow for that. Even if it’s only a punch in the nose, he will pay.”

  “None of that will happen,” Polandra said, “if we don’t get down there and talk to Isandath to find out when the actual meeting with Capu Cirtis will be. It is time.”

  Aeron nodded. You ready, dear-heart?

  I am.

  After saddling Anaya with Willem’s help, Aeron stripped to his small-clothes to change into the skirt and robe.

  Polandra and Renata had decided that the robe didn’t cover riding gear well enough. The jacket cuffs, the boots and the pants occasionally showed past the ends of the robe’s arms and its bottom. Instead, they suggested what people of the villages and Bataan-Mok wore under their robes: skirts and, at least for the girls, a kind of half shirt, half swim top. Simple leather sandals would be their footwear.

  Polandra and Renata were being overly-cautious, Aeron felt, even going so far as to visit the villages to purchase the clothing, but they’d pointed out that it was better than attracting unwanted notice. Riding gear was definitely unusual, at least to those who’d never seen it before, so he hadn’t really been able to argue the point. At least Polandra had remembered that he didn’t like the rose color of Renata’s robe. The one they bought for him was a pale green. The skirt was a nice color, too, a slightly darker green that went well with the robe.

  He pulled on the short, divided skirt and secured it.

  “You know,” Willem said, “I have to say, the clothing from the villages has its advantages.”

  Grabbing the robe, Aeron glanced at him. “Oh?”

  “Absolutely. That skirt-like thing shows off a person’s physique pretty well.”

  Aeron looked down at the garment. The bottom didn’t even reach halfway down his thighs. It exposed a great deal more leg than swim shorts, which extended to the knees. Barely more than small-clothes, this was all he’d be wearing underneath.

  A sudden thought made his heart stop. Did people remove their robes while indoors? He and Polandra never had at the tavern, but was that just because they’d been wearing riding gear? Would he have to walk around like this? In front of people? Warmth started in his cheeks and spread quickly to his whole face, his neck, and beyond.

  Willem burst out laughing. “Wow, you’re blushing so hard, it’s reaching down to your chest.”

  “Don’t make me punch you.” Aeron quickly slipped on the robe. As embarrassed as he was, Willem’s appreciative gaze had also made him feel a little pleased, though he’d never admit it.

  If they did take off the robes, he’d just have to deal with it.

  Willem wasn’t the only one having fun at his expense. Aeron ignored the humor coming through the link from Anaya and her grunting laugh as he approached the sometimes annoying dragon. “If you’ve had a chance to recover, dear-heart, can we get started?”

  Anaya rubbed the side of her face against him and lifted up a foreleg. She let out a little chirp.

  Aeron shook his head and patted her neck. You’re terrible, but I still love you. The happy rumble she made brought a smile to his lips.

  He climbed into the saddle, but had to hike up the robe in order to sit properly. More stupid clothing
problems. Once he was settled, they met Polandra and Ikan in the courtyard. The cold hit his legs first, but it soon penetrated the light, airy robe, making him shiver.

  “Ready?” she asked.

  “Definitely.”

  When they made use of the portal, the warmer weather in the South was like a physical wall that Aeron could feel as they passed through. The warmth was good, though, what with the thin robe.

  The leather saddle against his bare thighs was an interesting sensation. It was thrilling and a little embarrassing at the same time. He fidgeted. Why did Willem have to point out how small the skirt was? Now that was all Aeron could think of. Even with the robe, he felt undressed.

  You cannot even tell in the darkness.

  Hush, you. You were laughing, too.

  Humor came through the link and the faintest of chuckling rumbles thrummed through the saddle.

  They left Anaya and Ikan in a bend in the ravine with admonitions to be careful before heading off to Pashi.

  “Why are you so twitchy tonight?”

  Aeron glanced at Polandra. “Honestly? Because I feel naked under this.”

  “Ha! You think these skirts are small? The loincloth new recruits wear is just a strip of cloth that hangs in front, and it’s not even half as long as these skirts.”

  Aeron was aghast. “How would that cover . . . anything?”

  “New recruits are usually about eight years old.” She glanced at him and away. “There’s much less . . . to cover.”

  “Ah. Right.” Still, he couldn’t imagine wearing something like that. Walking around bare-butt in the tub room was one thing, but in front of everyone?

  “It is good that we started you with the a’sano now, though.”

  “A’sano?”

  “The skirt. You’ll need to get comfortable wearing it before the meeting with the Capu. You’re twitching and self-conscious movements will draw attention if you do not.”

  Great. Not only was he going to have to make sure he performed all the rites correctly at each stop at the shrine, he was going to have to try not to be self-conscious about the clothing, too. He sighed.

  Polandra chuckled. “We’ll be there with you to help.”