The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume I: Volume I

deep breathing in preparation for the ordeal before him. From Brevelan’s raspy tone he guessed his time was limited. Shayla’s imprisonment would kill the dragon very soon. Her freedom would see his own death.
    He was resigned to it now, after days of worry and depression. There was a lightness in his mind and body. His life, and death, had a purpose.
    The magic beneath his feet vibrated through his being in rhythm with his respiration. He nurtured the flow for several counts until he felt full to exploding with raw power. He raised the mended staff over his head until the magic pulsed within it too. With luck, Brevelan’s splice would last through this one last spell.
    He didn’t want the magic and the power raw. It needed to be refined and fine-tuned to imitate Krej’s original spell. In his mind Jaylor relived the scene in Shayla’s cave.
    Once again he saw the beast-headed rogue capering to his own chanted spell. He had used the chant very much as Brevelan, his daughter, used her music.
    The magic vibrated again, in time with the remembered chant.
    There had been words, too. Words describing the desired result of the spell. Jaylor didn’t like words. They tended to be imprecise, ambiguous, compared to the very vivid pictures he created in his mind. But this spell had been created with words, so it must end with words.
    “Precious dragon from glass.
Precious glass from sand.”
     
    The magic hummed louder within him. He felt the pressure of people at his back, anger, fear, and the clash of steel. He didn’t care. Nothing mattered but the power of the music inside him.
    “Ordinary sand from the sea.
Nurturing sea from creator air.”
     
    Brevelan sang the tune beside him. It filled him to overflowing. The staff glowed. With great effort he contained the magic within him. The spell was not yet complete.
    “Blessed wind from air.
Purifying air for freedom.
Freedom for dragon made of glass,
sand,
seA,
aIR,
WIND!”
     
    With the final words he pictured that glorious flight with the dragons playing with the wind, soaring above Coronnan in an exquisite cherishing of the ultimate freedom. There were no chains to the ground, no compulsions to eat of the Tambootie, no restrictions, and no pain.
    Colors burst forth from his staff in a glowing storm, red and blue and copper in a braided shaft arrowed toward the back corner of the room, bounced and fled straight into the heart of the dragon, green and red and the elemental copper flowing in a hazy halo about the sculpture. Blue and red balls bounced about the room, landing on each of the other sculptures, himself and Brevelan. All the colors of Coronnan split into a bright haze that filled the huge hall. Then they wove back into braids of magic that twined with each of the sculptures.
    The sound of wild gusts of air pushed the magic into the directed targets.
    Bits of copper broke loose from the braids of bright colors. The element sought and surrounded tiny morsels of emerald and dark ruby encased in the glass.
    Krej’s life spirit contained in the spell faded and fled to the far reaches of the hall.
    Freed from the restrictive traps, Jaylor’s magic burst loose. Just barely, he kept it within his control.
    His overworked lungs and heart stuttered. And still he drew more power up from the bowels of the planet, fed more and yet more magic into the spell.
    The magic of Coronnan pulsed through his veins, tore through his body mercilessly. With a mighty effort he turned the staff to the dragon’s tail. It twitched. With the tiny movement, glass broke and tinkled to the floor. That small amount of freedom generated a greater swipe of the mighty tail.
    Farther and farther up the dragon’s spine the glass fractured, splintered, shattered. With each release, Shayla’s tail slashed farther and farther. It beat at the glass on her hind legs and belly. It flogged the metals encasing the other animals nearest her. Those, too, began to shatter. Then her front legs shook free of the ensorcellment.
    Jaylor heaved his staff forward to Shayla’s broad chest and neck.
    He was the power, the Power was Jaylor. He mastered the Power and was mastered by it. Nothing existed except the Power.
    He saw the dragon as she had been; he was with her, in her, her mate and herself all at the same time. Through her eyes he saw himself and the quaking Brevelan, who touched the dragon’s mind. He saw Darville fighting for his life with a purloined sword against three hefty guards, and