The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume I: Volume I

his side and knew only blackness.
     
    Jaylor ran with the unconscious Brevelan over his shoulder. The backlash from the magic nearly blinded him. He wasn’t aware that he’d thrown the spell. It must have emerged from the depths of his need to protect Brevelan and Darville.
    When his eyes cleared, he saw the wolf collapse under a stony attack. His breath nearly stopped until the wolf staggered to his feet and followed him.
    From somewhere he found enough strength and magic to drop a barrier between the angry men and himself and his companions. He’d been thinking about throwing magic since the first attack but hadn’t had time to think a defense through.
    His steps grew heavier, the path dim. Sweat poured into his eyes and fear clouded his judgment. Then he was into the woods and beneath a dense cover of brush.
    Darville limped in a few moments later. He lay panting where he dropped.
    Brevelan stirred a little and moaned. Blood still trickled from the darkening spot on her temple. Jaylor touched the spot as gingerly as he could. She moaned again and dropped back into the darkness that held her mind.
    Helplessly he held her close against his chest. His stomach turned cold when he touched her pale face. She was so still! He was almost too tired to search for her mind or her aura. Somewhere he found enough magic to examine her more closely. She lived, but her mind had retreated from the raw emotions of the villagers. She was hurt more within herself than without.
    And he was untouched. Guilt cramped his gut. His personal armor had protected him. It had risen so fast, so instinctively, he was barely aware of its presence; he hadn’t thought to extend it to her and Darville. His thoughts had been only to fight, and anger at the cruel superstition that moved strangers to attack an innocent woman.
    Darville’s ear pricked at a rustling nearby. The hair on his back and neck stood up in warning. No sound issued from his throat as he prepared to spring at any intruder.
    The noise stopped. Jaylor reached for the pieces of his staff again even as he extended his personal armor to include his companions. His favorite tool might be useless for magic, but it had proved an effective club.
    “Journeyman?” A small voice whispered from the bushes to their left. “Journeyman, Master Baamin sent me to help.”
    Jaylor relaxed his grip a little as he recognized the kitchen boy who so cheerfully washed the wine cups.
    Darville remained alert.
    The boy emerged from his cover, a leading rein in each hand. Behind him two steeds plodded. They were handsome beasts, well fed and curried. Jaylor couldn’t say the boy was equally well cared for. He was skinny, ragged, and dirty, but older and taller than when he’d last seen him. Boy stood straighter with more confidence, too.
    “Here, sir. It’s the best steed I could steal from Krej’s stables.”
    Jaylor squinted at the ragged lad huddled before him. Why had Baamin sent this boy? Wasn’t there anyone else at the University more intelligent, more reliable?
    “I’ll take the wolf across my saddle. We’ll follow quick as we can.” The boy urged the mounts forward.
    Jaylor tried to capture the boy’s eyes with his own and failed. Boy looked everywhere but directly at him. Mostly his gaze hugged the ground.
    “The wolf will be fine.” He reached to scratch the ears of the exhausted Darville. The wolf returned his gesture with a weak lick across his hand. He was tired and sore but recovering. “It’s the lady I’m concerned about. The steed must carry us both swiftly. There’s a monastery in the inland hills, several hours from here. Do you know it?” Few were aware of the existence of that retreat. The inhabitants were mostly older magicians who no longer had the strength to gather magic and throw spells. They spent their days mapping the heavens for an omen of the Stargods return and painting wonderful images of miracles. These respected elders had one of the best healers in the kingdom at their disposal.
    Jaylor pulled Brevelan’s limp form closer. A large purple swelling was already appearing on the side of her face. No rain penetrated his thick copse to wash her pale face clean of the blood and mud of their attack.
    “I don’t know the place. But I can follow. May I hold her while you mount, sir? You’ve got to leave quickly. The steed will be missed and they’ll chase you.” Finally, the boy looked up. His dark eyes were wide and innocent. They begged Jaylor