The Bond (Book 2)

by Adolfo Garza Jr.

  Not really expecting it to be unlocked, he tried the handle. The door opened.

  It felt as if a fist of ice gripped his heart. That door was never supposed to be unlocked at night. The money tills, the safe, everything would be accessible. Neddrick knew this.

  Worried, Kline walked in the office. There was no one inside. He unshielded one of the wall lanterns for more light, hoping to see something, anything that would explain why the room was unlocked. The increased illumination only pointed out the emptiness of the room. The spare key was in its proper place, so he grabbed it and locked the door behind him on the way out.

  It was terribly quiet.

  He raised the lantern. “Neddrick?” Fear for himself, for his friend, made his voice soft. “C–Come on now, Neddrick. If this is a joke, it’s gone far enough. You know better than to leave the door unlocked at night.”

  He grabbed the short step-stool from near the office door and used it to unshield the street lamp hanging above. The flood of light revealed the wide wooden porch, the ticketing area, and the benches to the side. It did nothing to alleviate his fear.

  Maybe the man had fallen asleep in the back room. Kline picked up his lantern and grabbed the step-stool—he had nothing else with which to defend himself, and he now felt he might need to—and headed around the corner to the platform. Ahead, about halfway to the rear office, a dark mass loomed in the light of the small lantern.

  “Oh, Ned.”

  His friend’s empty eyes stared at the stars, and a frightening little smile curved his pale lips. There was a ghastly slash on his neck, and blood darkened the platform in a large fan that extended beyond its wooden planks, nearly reaching the near rail of the track.

  “Ned,” he whispered, “what happened to you?”

  There had been nothing missing in the office when he’d checked, at least not that he could tell. So why would someone kill Ned? Unless it wasn’t someone. Maybe it was some-thing.

  He looked around, searched for any sign of an odd creature. Though to be honest, he had no idea what a nahual looked like. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, he ran for the hitching post.

  Could the horrible things pull someone from horseback? Or would they just kill the horse and then attack the rider? There was no telling and he was in no mood to find out. The only thing he knew about nahual was that they attacked at night. And because he didn’t know if a nahual would hurt a horse, he was taking no chances. If she left piles of steaming clods all over the office, so be it. He was not going to risk losing his only quick transportation away from this place.

  With trembling hands, he untied Peaches. The jostling lantern cast crazed shadows around them. “Come on girl, let’s go.”

  He tried to lead her up the steps but was met with resistance. Peaches lifted her head and locked her legs. She didn’t seem to want to go.

  “Damn it girl, come on!”

  Yanking on the reins and yelling several choice words didn’t seem to help. In frustration, he set the lantern down, grabbed the reins with both hands, and pulled again. She followed him up to the wooden deck with no hesitation. Not really caring what had changed her mind, he quickly lead her to the office and fumbled for the spare key in his pocket.

  One thing was for certain. The company damn well better hire guards. At least for his stations. He’d see they did, or he’d quit. How could the company expect anyone to work alone with those deadly things wandering about?

  Once they were inside, he locked the door. Out the window, the light from the street lamp spilled across the ticket area and a few feet beyond, creating a little oasis of false safety in the night.

  Chapter 6

  Sulday, Secundy 18, 1874.

  Afternoon.

  Aeron’s legs stretched out in front of him, ankles crossed. Hands clasped behind his neck, he sat on the ground, leaning back against Anaya. Above the quarry, the sky was bright and clear, at odds with his thoughts. Aeron brooded about the progress being made on their dragonlinked efforts.

  Construction had started at the stable to make more dragon dens available. Millinith was off on her trip to Delcimaar to submit the business applications, while Master Doronal and Master Canneth worked on the policies and procedures for the dragonlinked business, the rules and such that employees would follow. The newest member, Gregor, was going over the dragon logs and notebooks, reviewing what was known about dragon health so far. Willem was working with Master Helfin to determine how much leather would be needed for dragonlinked gear and how to ensure enough would be available as their numbers grew. Cheddar and Master Doronal were sketching out ideas for candidate recruitment, and Sharrah and Master Canneth were working on plans for increasing their meat supplies in anticipation of the hoped–for increase in dragons. Dragons they didn’t have yet.

  Aeron sighed. Everyone’s making progress, he thought. Except for me.

  We should go to House Yaot.

  Aeron turned his head and looked at her. Anaya watched him, head raised, eyes shining in the afternoon light. She liked coming to the old quarry, enjoyed lying on this ledge, basking in the sun. Aeron liked the place, too. Here, they could both relax without a lot of interruptions. Which was especially handy now, what with all the construction going on at the Dragon Stable. They’d flown here just after lunch.

  Anaya blinked. Where else can we get dragons?

  Aeron twisted his mouth. He’d tried to think up other ways to get dragons. Whenever possible, he liked having several options. In this instance, it looked like they had only one. There were no other places anywhere near them where dragons could be found.

  The masters said they’d work on a plan for going there. Shouldn’t we wait for that?

  What is there to plan? We go, we talk to them, we come back. It is simple.

  But it wasn’t simple. What would they do if going to House Yaot didn’t work out? If it was botched, they might not be able to get dragons. On the other hand, not doing anything pretty much guaranteed they’d get no dragons.

  That outcome would make someone out there happy. Aeron completely agreed that an unknown man or woman, or maybe even group of people, was trying to stir the Animal Craft Guild against them. What he didn’t know was why. The reason didn’t matter, though. They had an enemy, and the enemy didn’t want them to succeed.

  Grabbing a rock, Aeron stood up and walked to the end of the ledge. He stood there, tossing the rock up a few inches and catching it, over and over. After a few minutes, he caught the rock one last time and held it in his clenched fist.

  Drawing his arm back, Aeron threw the rock and watched as it rose and then fell in a long arc down to the water below. Ever-widening circles spread out from where it splashed in.

  Alright, dear-heart. Let’s go talk to some dragons.

  + + + + +

  “You’re so full of hot air.”

  The scorn in Slyndon’s voice was like a knife twisting in Fillion’s gut. The ass had all kinds of odd sayings and expressions. It was one of the things people found interesting about him and his family. Fillion found him annoying.

  “What does that even mean?” he asked.

  “You’re so provincial. Haven’t you ever seen a hot air balloon?”

  He hadn’t, but admitting it to snot-faced Slyndon was out of the question. “Of course I have. Who hasn’t?”

  “Then you know what happens if the balloon is torn. All the hot air escapes, and the balloon falls to the ground, deflated. The big balloon reveals itself to be only a pile of cloth made large by nothing more than hot air.”

  Slyndon laughed. “Just like you. I mean, really. You played with a dragon? Who would believe such a farcical tale?”

  The others looked at Fillion, doubt growing in their eyes. Many of them were his friends. Or at least he’d thought they were. Why so many people were taken with Slyndon and his family, he couldn’t say. He’d even overheard a few of the girls talking about how Slyndon was fascinating and cultured. Fillion had almost throttled them.

&nb
sp; “Everyone knows they have a dragon at Caer Baronel,” he said. “Her name is Anaya. She’s the one who brought the investigators checking into the attack at Gurt and Etran’s farm. If you don’t believe me, they can vouch for my story next time they come to town for supplies. Honestly, though? I don’t care whether you do or not.”

  Slyndon raised an eyebrow.

  “I have to be on my way, at any rate. I don’t have time to stand around and gossip.” Fillion walked away, trying to seem as unconcerned as possible. He did have to take the special delivery package to his father, after all.

  Despite his casual appearance, however, he was upset. Even before the ass and his family moved to town, some had doubted Fillion’s stories about Anaya. A few had even complained that he talked too much about her.

  ‘Dragon this, dragon that. Can’t you talk about anything else?’

  Of course he could. It’s just that Anaya was so amazing. How could he not talk about her? If only others had seen her, met her, then they’d understand his keen interest in dragons.

  There was Aeron as well.

  As Fillion had followed them around that day, he realized that Aeron and the girl’s bluntness, their seeming impatience, wasn’t because they were rude, it was because they were driven. They were fighting nahual—a respectable undertaking.

  Aeron’s casual confidence was appealing, too. And even though it was plain he hadn’t liked helping Millinith dissect the nahual, Aeron had stuck with it. He was dedicated. In addition, when you watched Aeron watch Anaya, the love he had for his dragon was obvious. Someone whose heart could love like that . . .

  Fillion shook his head. He should keep his mind on his chores. All this wool-gathering wasn’t going to get them done. Still, wouldn’t it be fun to just leave, maybe find his own dragon?

  Chuckling, Fillion murmured, “If I somehow got one, I’d fly her right over your head, Slyndon. Then we’d see who was ‘provincial.’”

  His father, Elder Cayo, was at the desk, looking over reports and whatever else it was he read. Fillion did not have the temperament to do what his father did. Thank the gods for older brothers. One of them would take over the position of village elder some day.

  “Ah, Fillion. What do you have there?”

  “Special delivery for you, da. Looks like it’s from Delcimaar.”

  “It must be the medicine for the sheep.” Taking the package from him, his father soon had it open. “It is. Oh, and a letter, too.”

  After a moment, Fillion said, “Did you need me to take the medicine anywhere for you?”

  Lost in the letter, his father sat forward in the chair, reading intently.

  “Da?”

  “Hmm? I’m sorry, what did you say?”

  “What’s in the letter?”

  His father frowned. “It seems a horse disease is going around in the east. The Animal Craft Guild has asked us to keep an eye out for sick horses. If any horses appear to have a severe cold, they should be separated, isolated, until the illness passes. They’d also like us to report if we find any cases.”

  “I see. Well, did you want me to deliver the medicine anywhere for you?”

  “Actually, I do, but let me write a short note for you to take with it.”

  + + + + +

  Even though she had reviewed her mother’s memory of the flight to Caer Baronel, flying to House Yaot was taking longer than Anaya expected.

  Aeron had tried to open a gateway using her memory of the dragon House, but he had been unable to place an anchor. A direct flight was the only way. At least they would be able to use a gateway on return trips. If there were to be any.

  Are we almost there? We’ve been flying a long time. Well, you’ve been flying.

  Anaya caught his concern for her through the link. We are nearly there. Do not worry, I am not tired. It has been three hours, but I had a good rest in the sun.

  She was happy that he had finally decided to do what was needed. His thoughts and emotions had been so clear—he must have felt very strongly about this decision.

  That he had overcome fear of failure made her proud. It proved again that she had chosen well. It also increased her own worry about their task. There were many nahual in the world, and their numbers were growing. More dragons and more dragonlinked were needed. To get them, they had to go to House Yaot. There were other Houses, but memories of them were too old, too faint. She only knew how to get to her mother’s home.

  Would her mother be there? She knew Malina only from the memories, which ended with the laying of her egg. Even so, they gave insight into who her mother was. In a way, she was closer to her mother than even Aeron was with his father. It would be nice to see her, to let her know her daughter had found a purpose and was doing well.

  That was not why she wanted to go to House Yaot, of course. She wanted to convince Queen Ixtab, or at least as many dragons as possible, that they had a purpose, and that joining her and Aeron would help fulfill that purpose. After searching her mother’s memories for ways to do so, a plan had come to mind. She had shared it with Aeron earlier on the flight, and he thought it was sound.

  Anaya banked to the right, toward an upwelling of air. Malina’s memories of the House told her it was close, just beyond this mountain. The rising column of air lifted them, and she glided over the rocky crags far below. As they crested the peak, their destination was revealed ahead.

  Is that House Yaot? Aeron’s surprise and awe came through the link.

  They were approaching the face of another mountain, an enormous stretch of stone. It looked as if someone had taken an enormous sword to it, cleaved a portion off, leaving a smooth, nearly vertical wall of rock hundreds of feet high. There were three openings in the otherwise unbroken expanse, like dark mouths, or perhaps eyes, watching.

  It is.

  Nervousness and a trace of dread pulsed through to her. She made a reassuring rumble and felt his pat on the neck. Wings beating, she made for the main landing.

  We go in.

  The top entrance, which appeared small from afar, was easily large enough for three dragons to land together. Gliding to the dark maw, she thought about this first trip to her mother’s home. House Yaot did not know her. That would change, and soon.

  She backwinged to a stop in the large open space, setting down on all fours. Wind blew across the opening, a sad moaning. A glance behind revealed the mountain range beyond the sheer drop, snow-capped peaks below a blue sky.

  She should not waste time. Which was the correct tunnel?

  A dragon appeared in one of the passages. It blinked at her and was gone.

  Stay in the saddle. I will take us to the meeting cavern. She sensed confusion, surprise and fear from dragons inside.

  How will they know we are here?

  That dragon ran to warn of our approach, I am sure. They are aware of us.

  It was an unusual thing, knowing exactly where to go in a place never visited before. The memories told her the left tunnel was the one they needed. After several feet, the sunlight from the entrance was gone, replaced by illumination from light-moss.

  Those patterns aren’t natural.

  The moss traced intricate designs along the walls and ceiling. Anaya remembered that there were dragons who spent their lives caring for the moss used as lighting. Her great-great-grandmother had been one.

  Moss-tenders shape and nurture the light-moss.

  It’s beautiful.

  She sensed anger from farther within the warrens, and dragons gathering. Walking faster, she took the next passage to the right, a short-cut to the meeting room.

  Hang on, I must hurry. She started to run down the tunnel, and a flash of concern came through the link. His legs tightened against the saddle.

  She ran, outpacing the other dragons.

  Just as she felt Aeron about to speak to her, they burst into a large cavern. Anaya stopped, looking around to get her bearings. The walls, and especially the domed ceiling, were covered in light-moss of even more intric
ate design. There were fungi of various kind around the room, all giving off light. Some even hung from the ceiling, like the complicated lights Anaya had seen hanging in the big building at the Caer.

  “Wow.” Aeron’s whisper broke the silence.

  Spotting the path to the middle of the meeting room, she quickly made her way down the sloped floor, weaving around plants and fungi, and passing several standing areas, all empty.

  They would not remain so for long. She felt dragons drawing near. The standing areas, clear of any growth and slightly depressed, would soon be occupied.

  Making her way toward the ledge at one side of the large cavern, she sensed anxiety from most of the dragons that approached. A few had more confidence. None, however, gave off the assurance Queen Ixtab did as she appeared on the ledge ahead. The rock shelf was a few dozen feet ahead of Anaya and rose four feet above the floor.

  She strode to the front. What is the meaning of this? How dare you intrude on House Yaot without welcome! And I was told you brought a human? The queen looked Anaya over, spied Aeron. You did! Who are you?

  How can I hear her? She’s talking to you, isn’t she?

  Anaya ignored Aeron for the moment. She had to handle this quickly and correctly. A few Watchers arrived, running. One of the royal guards stopped to the Queen’s left, another to her right, and a few made their way onto the main floor and took positions about the room. The Queen must have come here without waiting for them to accompany her.

  Highest Mother, Queen Ixtab, I beg your forgiveness. My name is Anaya, daughter of Malina, daughter of Tonantzi, daughter of Maya, daughter of Xilonen, and more. All of House Yaot. I come to speak to you, we come to speak to you, to all of you, on an important matter.

  The sound of forepaws shuffling on the ground came from all around. It was a sign of confusion, of wanting to know more. Dragons did not speak in the presence of the Queen unless spoken to, so they used their forepaws to show their feelings. Memories from her mother, her mother’s mother, and beyond, filled her with awareness of what was happening, what was expected, what she had to do.