The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume I: Volume I

asserted.
    “The path is enchanted to draw travelers away from the capital.” Jaylor studied the twisted wood of his staff. His eyes squinted along its length back the way they had come. He was using some kind of magic to discern the nature of the problem. “I expect it’s part of Krej’s defense. If we can’t find Coronnan City, invading armies can’t either.”
    “So, do something. You’re the one who broke his other spell.”
    “First we’re going to get dry and have a meal,” Brevelan insisted. She turned and began trudging through the gray trees toward the gray shadow that was the hut. The rain was gray, too, as was the mud beneath their feet. Even their clothes and faces looked gray.
    Coronnan was losing its vibrant colors. The life of his kingdom was draining away in the incessant rain. Darville had to get back to the capital before Krej destroyed everything.
    “We don’t have time,” Darville returned.
    “Don’t argue with her.” Jaylor grabbed his arm.
    Darville shook off the restraint, anger and frustration feeding his normal restless impatience.
    “Haven’t you yet learned that she’s the strongest of us all?” Jaylor reclaimed the sleeve. His powerful fingers threatened to rend the cloth.
    Darville stared at the restraining hand. Jaylor stared at his staff. Brevelan stared at them both.
    “I suppose we should take one more night to dry out before we try again.” Darville surrendered to their superior advice. “There’s a farm about another hour further along.”
    “The farmer is one of Krej’s spies.” Jaylor pointed his long staff at Darville’s chest. “Do you really want to be a wolf again tonight? You make a very handsome pet.”
    “Don’t start that, Jaylor. I have very little patience left. Why don’t you call someone at that University of yours and find out what’s happening in my capital?”
    “I can’t waste my magic on a summons if I’m going to break another of Krej’s spells in the morning.”
    “You’re stalling! Why?” Darville accused. He reached once again for the sword that should hang at his hip. He felt empty, off balance without the weapon.
    “I’m conserving my magic for important spells.”
    “And what’s more important than getting me back to the capital?”
    Just then Mica chose to slash his shoulder with her claws. Pain jolted him back to the reality of their circumstances. The little cat arched her back and hissed at both of them. Her claws continued to dig into his flesh, through several layers of heavy cloth.
    Stop it!
    Darville wasn’t sure if the cat or Brevelan shouted in his ear. The voice that halted his next verbal assault sounded like both of them combined.
    “Stop this childish bickering,” Brevelan commanded. Her delicately shaped hands rested on her hips, her lower lip quivered. Her eyes, slitted just like the cat’s, held him captive. Beside him he felt Jaylor also squirm under her gaze. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps Brevelan was the strongest of them all.
    Silence settled over them. Mica broke her defensive stance by cleaning her front paws while still atop his shoulder. Darville felt just a little weak-kneed when Brevelan finally looked away. He stiffened his spine to correct for the weakness.
    “Now,” Brevelan took command once more, “we need more dry wood and clean water.”
    Darville stomped off the path in search of any bit of old wood hidden beneath something that would have kept off the worst of the rains. He needed to move quickly and strongly to shake off the lingering effects of Brevelan’s control. A control that came from her own strength and his love for her, not from any magic.
    He kicked himself for allowing her that much power over him. As prince of the realm, he had to learn to be independent of outside influences. A strong king listened to his advisers, weighed the merit of their words, and then made his own decisions. Something his father had never learned.
    And he, Darville, would never, ever, be as weak as his father.
    But Brevelan had been right. He and Jaylor, and Brevelan, too, couldn’t afford any petty bickering. But he should have been the one to make that decision. He should have noticed the enchanted pathway would not only lead travelers astray but disrupt their unity as well.
    It was classic military strategy. He’d learned it from ancient textbooks before he was ten.
    Divert. Disrupt. Demoralize. Destroy.
    This was a lesson he would remember when the time came to rescue Shayla.