The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume I: Volume I

couldn’t bring myself to kill another man tonight. I don’t think I ever could.” Perhaps his nightmares were only the product of his overactive imagination. Now he knew deep in his soul he could never kill another man, never transform him into anything less than a man.
     
    The road curved west to avoid a rampaging stream. Jaylor considered the obstacle carefully. It was too wide and fast to ford. They must follow the road and hope for a bridge.
    Darville threw a rock into the frothing water. “Is there any place in the kingdom that is dry?” He looked up to the heavy clouds. The rain washed some of the travel dirt from his face and beard.
    “It’s possible this bad weather is caused by a lack of dragons.” Jaylor slumped. He was tired. They were all tired. They’d been on the road for more than a week and had traveled only a little over two leagues.
    “Do you hear voices?” Brevelan reached a hand in front of her, testing it, weighing it for emotions carried on the wind.
    “I don’t remember a village in this vicinity on my journey south.” Jaylor pointed his staff along the road, focusing on its vibrations.
    Darville took several cautious steps. “I don’t think we should be seen.” He sniffed the air. The hair on the back of his neck stiffened. He bared his teeth. “Into the bushes.” He dragged Brevelan with him, expecting Jaylor to follow.
    “That won’t be necessary.” A strange voice spoke behind them.
    As one, they whirled to face the hidden speaker. “Zolltarn!” Jaylor cried in alarm. He stepped in front of Brevelan, putting a barrier between her and the stranger.
    The Rover looked older than he had a few weeks ago. But the wings of silver slashing through his blacker-than-black-hair and the whipcord lean strength of him were the same. Though worn and threadbare, his garish red shirt, his trews and boots as black as his hair, were carefully mended and clean. Around his lean waist was wrapped a brilliant sash of purple.
    Brevelan peeked around Jaylor’s broad back for a better look at the man’s face. Jaylor felt her curiosity but sensed no fear.
    “Ah! my young magician friend.” Zolltarn narrowed his eyes as if assessing Jaylor and his companions. His wary stance belied the amiable voice.
    “I haven’t time to linger in your camp, Zolltarn.” Jaylor was equally on guard.
    “Perhaps your friend would be willing to aid us as you could not?” The Rover’s black eyes scanned Darville.
    “My friend is needed elsewhere as well.” A new hardness came into Jaylor’s voice. He clutched his staff tighter, prepared to aim a paralyzing spell at the Rover.
    “What kind of aid should I give to people exiled from Coronnan?” Darville sounded wary. As he should.
    “You don’t want to know, Roy.” There was a time when they would have laughed at the kind of aid needed by the Rovers. Since they had shared Brevelan’s bed, assisting Zolltarn in rebuilding his clan seemed betrayal.
    “But he is young and strong. My tribe could benefit greatly from his services.” Zolltarn smiled with a wicked leer. “And I am sure he would draw great pleasure from the duty.”
    “Does he mean what I think he means?” Darville asked.
    “He does.” Jaylor didn’t need to share his friend’s thoughts to know he had guessed Zolltarn’s purpose. “Not this time, Zolltarn. We must be on our way.”
    “When we reach the capital, we will find you, maybe continue this discussion.” The Rover stepped closer.
    “You go to the capital?” Brevelan sounded apprehensive.
    “We were invited by the new Lord Regent. He needs many men. We need to search for one of our own who was stolen from us.”
    “You won’t like Krej’s idea of duty, Zolltarn.” Darville finally spoke. “He needs men for an army to fight raiders and invaders on the western border. Some of those he asks you to fight might be your own kin. You won’t be allowed to search for anyone, least of all one of your own who is lost.”
    Alarm spread across the older man’s face. “Then perhaps we will find a different road to follow.” He placed one friendly hand on Jaylor’s shoulder; with the other he firmly grasped the staff. “Can we at least offer you a night’s hospitality?”
    “Zolltarn?” Brevelan dared address the man. He turned to her, releasing his grasp on Jaylor’s shoulder but not on the staff.
    “You have questions, little beauty?”
    She blushed under his admiring appraisal.
    “Why are you being so kind?