The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume I: Volume I

swatting him away from his kill. “At least I’ll be warm and less likely to feel the rain.”
    He shrugged his shoulders in preparation for the spell that would hit him square in the back if Jaylor used the staff. Without the focus, the magic engulfed him in a cloud. He didn’t even flinch as his form shifted into that of an oversized golden wolf.

Chapter 30
     
    T he inn smelled wrong. Too many strangers here. Darville couldn’t sort their scents. He sensed fear and greed. Illness, too, but he didn’t know which smell belonged to which person.
    He paced beside Brevelan, keeping her between himself and Jaylor, pressing closer to her with each step. His neck bristled with disquiet. A growl boiled just below his throat, not quite ready to emerge. He was prepared for anyone, anything that might attack her.
    Thwack! A water jug shattered on the beaten ground beside the well. A woman stood hunted still, her silent stare jerked between them and her broken jug. Then she ran back toward the inn. Brevelan took a step toward the woman. Darville followed, keeping his place between Brevelan and the inn.
    He showed his teeth and allowed the growl to travel up his throat. The woman had smelled of fear and betrayal. He could almost taste her emotions on his tongue.
    “Mama?” Brevelan sounded strangled. Jaylor held her close. Darville growled again.
    “Go away.” The woman looked over her shoulder from the doorway of the inn. “Go quickly. You killed him. The Stargods have cursed us because his death went unpunished. The elders will burn you.” She bent her head and turned to flee. “Only when you are dead will this rain stop and crops grow.” This time she looked Brevelan in the eye.
    There was sadness dwelling in her as well as a burning anger.
    “Don’t be ridiculous.” Jaylor pushed Brevelan behind him. “The entire kingdom is cursed with too much rain, not enough sunlight. It’s part of a natural weather cycle.”
    His words were brave, his actions wary. Darville growled again.
    “They will burn you.” The woman stepped away from them.
    “Why are you here, Mama? The wife of the headman should be at home.” Brevelan reached a hand to stay the woman’s retreat.
    “Because you killed a man and went unpunished, there is no bread, no crops, nothing to feed my family. I’m here to earn a bit of bread so the babies won’t cry all night and the men will have enough strength to wrestle some kind of crop from the ground.” Her bitterness poured out of her. Brevelan stepped back from it.
    A tear trickled across Brevelan’s cheek. Darville pushed his head against her leg, offering her comfort.
    “Yikiiii!” A stone hit Darville’s flank. It was weakly thrown and dropped without damage. But it hurt. He spun in his tracks looking for his attacker. No stone must be allowed to penetrate his guard and reach Brevelan.
    Angry men streamed out of the inn. They were all around them now. Some with stones. Some with torches.
    Brevelan was frightened. Jaylor was, too. They were all in danger. Darville kept his guard.
    “The witch and her lover have returned to taunt us with our misery. She’s bastard born, no get of mine. See how she consorts with familiars.” A man at the front of the pack shouted.
    “Da, please listen and understand!” Brevelan pleaded.
    The crowd moved closer.
    “Kill them! Burn them all. It’s the only way to stop this cursed rain.” Another man waved his torch, beckoning the others forward.
    Darville sprang at the man. His teeth sank into the arm that carried a torch. Another man kicked him. He bit that one on the leg.
    Shouts and kicks from every direction. His teeth sank into flesh here and there, front and back. He tasted blood and knew satisfaction.
    Part of him knew that Jaylor struck out with fists and the pieces of his staff, even as he backed away from the crowd. They both worked to keep the angry men away from Brevelan.
    Then a chance stone struck her. Blood trickled from her temple. Jaylor caught her. Darville spun to find the throat of her attacker. Brevelan was down and he had to rip out the man’s throat.
    A torch followed the stone. He smelled burning cloth. “Back, Puppy, back.” Jaylor’s words penetrated his battle-maddened mind. He knew they had to retreat.
    Still he fought the people who pressed him. There were fewer now. He lusted for the blood of one of them, any one of them.
    Suddenly he was flung backward. A flash of light blinded him. He landed with a thud on