The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume I: Volume I

lumbird mind, should see the sense in that.
    “Last summer, a charcoal burner gave me directions and a meal. He moved back to the village and died last winter.” Her eyes closed in momentary pain. Jaylor knew she had felt the man’s death, probably nursed his last illness.
    “Perhaps his hut is still standing. I’m not sure I could find it again from this direction.” Brevelan shivered again. This time her arms encircled both men to bring them close again, as if she needed the heat of their bodies to chase away the chill of the rain as well as the chill of death.
    Her sense of loss passed quickly. But not before it engulfed Jaylor and, from the look of him, Darville, too. They were becoming too sensitive to her uncontrolled emotions.
    “We’ll more likely find leaning walls and a collapsed roof,” Darville grumbled as he kissed the top of her head. His lips lingered a moment. Jaylor felt their cherishing warmth almost as soon as Brevelan did. He clamped down on his instinctive jealousy. The three of them were too closely linked. They all knew/felt what the others did.
    “I’ll scout ahead.” Darville broke the empathic link. “If I were a charcoal burner, I’d want my hut sheltered from the weather, close to the burner but protected from a chance flame.” He scanned the woods around them. “Over that way.” He dropped his pack and moved off in an easy lope. Even in man form, his stride resembled that of a golden wolf.
    Jaylor snuggled Brevelan close against him within the folds of his cloak. His chin rested on top of her head so that her breath fanned his chest. “He won’t be long,” he reassured her.
    “He will probably find the place by smell.” Her tone was light, almost a giggle.
    Smiling, he, too, kissed her hair. “There seems to be some advantage to changing him back and forth. He’s a wolf with a man’s intelligence and a man with the keen senses of a wolf.”
    “And what of you? What have you retained from your flight with the dragons?” She looked up into his eyes.
    “I don’t crave meat if that is what bothers you.” Instead he craved the Tambootie, just as the dragons did. The giant winged creatures required the herbage as part of their balanced diet. It also gave them invisibility. He didn’t need it for health or protection, yet he still felt compelled to eat it.
    Jaylor allowed Brevelan to probe and absorb his emotions. “What I remember is a tremendous sense of wonder. They are such magnificent creatures, yet so sad. Without Shayla, their need for Tambootie is all that keeps them in Coronnan. Their anger at Krej may be strong enough to break that one chain. If they can find Tambootie elsewhere, even a different variety that doesn’t make them invisible, they’ll leave, taking their gatherable magic with them.”
    Some of the sadness engulfed them both. They gulped back sobs together.
    “We have to save Shayla.” Brevelan stepped away from the embrace. Her determination surrounded her like an aura.
    “We have to get you warm and dry,” Darville broke into their private thoughts. He grabbed his own pack and Brevelan’s as well. “The hut still has a roof and a stash of dry firewood. There’s a stream nearby for clean water.” He marched off, leaving the others to follow.
    A fresh torrent of rain strengthened the existing downpour, sending icy runnels down Jaylor’s neck. “That’s all we need, more water!” he called after his friends and lovers.
    Love. It was their love, for each other and theirs for him, that had brought him back from the ecstatic flight with dragons. Only an emotion so powerful could break his addiction to the herb that fed the dragons and created their magic. But would it last? Would their love be enough to fill the aching emptiness left behind when the evil herbage wore off?
    No wonder Tambootie was considered the essence of evil. Even now he hungered for it, wondered if he could work any magic at all without it.
     
    The raiders have gone too far. I paid them to harass the farmers and steal a few cows. Instead they have burned everything in their path.
    The merchant city of Sambol on the border is in danger. No traders have dared pass through the region because of the raiders.
    Simurgh take them all! I only needed an excuse to raise the army and discredit the Commune. I don’t need a full-scale war and a disruption of trade.
    All my generals and lords keep running to their priests and shrines to pray for guidance and deliverance.