The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume I: Volume I

Baamin’s feeble attempts to contain the fight and their enemy Krej as they all spilled into the Great Hall. He felt Shayla’s pain and loneliness, cherished the freedom that was creeping up her back and neck.
    With a mighty twist, the last shower of glass cascaded from her head and horn.
    “Grrooowerrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!” Shayla roared, once more herself. The other animals echoed the triumph of Jaylor’s magic over their enchantment.
    Jaylor slumped to the floor, deflated at the separation from Shayla’s and Brevelan’s mind.
    The magic ceased to flow. Jaylor ceased to breathe.

Chapter 35
     
    “S eize him! Seize him you fools,” Krej ordered his burly guards.
    Three men advanced on Darville, swords drawn and at the ready. The prince moved to stand between them and the doorway to the Great Hall. He had to give Jaylor and Baamin time.
    Slash and parry, duck and dive under the man’s guard. He pushed all of his concentration, anger, and strength into maintaining his position. He’d fought three men on the training field. Three bored soldiers who were afraid to be too aggressive with a prince.
    These three men in red and green surcoats were well trained and eager to please a ruthless lord. They pushed Darville back, closer and closer to the door. One man distracted him with a flourish of fancy blade work.
    Darville answered him stroke for stroke. A second man slipped in under his guard. Blood trickled down Darville’s arm. His mind registered the fact that he was wounded. His body had yet to feel it.
    He clenched his free hand into a fist and slammed it into the face of the man with the flourishing sword. He staggered backward into the arms of the third man. That left only one to deal with.
    Then the cut began to burn and so did his mind. With renewed fury and bared teeth Darville slashed and lunged until the bigger man and his partner were pinned against one of the long tables. The third man seemed to be out cold on the floor.
    A woman screamed and overturned her chair as she backed away from the fight. Servitors and nobles alike ran or scurried into dark corners for protection. Strong men cowered and weak women stared at the blood on his arm and the blood on the throat of the guard in fascination. The other guards hesitated in a semicircle around him. Darville didn’t know what kept them back. Had Baamin thrown some kind of armor? A little late if he had.
    “Swear your loyalty to me!” he commanded the man pinned beneath his sword. “I am your prince, soon to be your king. Swear your loyalty or die.”
    The guard gulped loudly. The sword point scratched his throat as the words worked their way up. “I swear,” he croaked.
    “And you, all of you as well will swear.” Darville swung around to face the crowd. A few of the nobles were already on their knees murmuring the words of fealty.
    “Forget this puny princeling. I am your rightful lord!” Krej screeched, half blinded by the witchbane.
    No one answered him. Hands covering his face, the Lord Regent turned and ran toward the Great Hall.
    Darville saw the move and lunged to capture his cousin in a cruel grip. “Call off your men, Krej!” he commanded.
    Krej continued to hold one hand over his eyes but said nothing. Darville realized his cousin’s magic was neutralized, or he would never have been able to touch the man. The witchbane had worked.
    “Very good, your grace,” one of the ambassadors applauded with voice and hands.
    “We believed your people weak. You have just proven yourself a warrior worthy of our princess,” the other ambassador bowed low. He still cradled Mica in his arms. The traitorous cat looked all too content to stay with him.
    “Look at him, you traitors!” Krej bellowed. “Look at how he bares his teeth and his hair stands up, just like a wolf. He is still part wolf and can never be trusted. Is this the man you wish to be your ruler?” With a mighty jerk, Krej pulled away from Darville and lunged once more for the tapestry that masked access to the Great Hall and Shayla.
    Darville bounded after him, sword at the ready. The entire crowed followed.
    The woven drapery tore down the middle and slipped to the ground in limp folds.
    No one noticed a weary royal messenger, spurs clanking on the stone floor, limp into the banquet hall.
     
    “SHAYLA!” Brevelan commanded with voice and mind. The great dragon head swung back and forth in anger, mouth agape, sparks dripping from her teeth. Her gaze pinned Krej and Darville