The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume I: Volume I

to the wall near the entrance.
    He must pay for his evil. Shayla’s voice once more filled Brevelan, after weeks of absence. Even with the anger, Brevelan felt a little more complete now that her dragon was with her.
    “Not here, not now, and not by you.” She fought for control.
    I am the one wronged.
    “But restored.”
    My young?
    Brevelan pushed her awareness to the tiny life forms within Shayla. Eleven of them, where before there had been twelve. Sadness at the one lump of inanimate flesh filled them both. But the others were fully formed and nearer readiness than they should be.
    It is too soon! Shayla wailed with a spittle of flame from her gaping muzzle. They will be born out of cycle.
    Brevelan sought to contain the fire. “They will live. And so must you. Kill my father now and this crowd will gladly watch you die. Your brood with you.”
    Another morsel of flame ripped toward the growing crowd huddled against the interior wall.
    “No, Shayla. If you kill my father, you kill me as well.” Brevelan knew it in her heart. She was tied by blood and magic to the one man in the entire kingdom she wished she could disown. Blood of her blood, flesh of her flesh. She would feel his death, share his pain more fully than any but Mama. If the death of an unknown squirrel in the meadow pained her, Krej’s death in the same room as she would kill her.
    “Grrrooowerrrrrr!” Shayla belched forth one more burst of defiant fire. She whirled about the room, seeking escape. Her tail lashed back and forth, sweeping a pathway. Yet it kept free of the recumbent form of Jaylor, her deliverer. The one time she came close to his body she almost curled her tail around him in a protective coil.
    The magician loves you. The words came to Brevelan with typical dragon abruptness. Then there was only silence.
     
    Darville sagged with Shayla’s silence. There was a momentary hole where his heart used to be. He pulled Brevelan tight against him to fill the void. The world righted for him again.
    As long as Brevelan was at his side, he was complete. He was in command.
    “A live dragon, ensorcelled in your own Great Hall, Lord Regent?” Darville almost spat his question. He whirled to face his cousin, pointing his sword at Krej’s throat. He wished he could murder the rogue magician on the spot and get away with it.
    “You are in no position to question anything, wolf-man.” Krej eyed him levelly. Though shorter and older than himself, Krej was still a commanding presence.
    “Rogue magic was outlawed three hundred years ago for precisely these reasons,” Baamin reminded them all. “Magic cannot be allowed if it is used for the sake of greed and power. It must be controlled by the Commune and used solely for the good of the kingdom.”
    “The statues were present in my hall, yes. But you will never prove that I am a magician, nor that I did anything more than accept great art from a stranger. No one in his right mind will want to prove anything else,” Krej reiterated. “I was the only one capable of organizing a fragmented kingdom. I brought forth the army. I defended our borders. Even as we speak, Lord Wendray is retaking the border city of Sambol.” He paused long enough to look his fellow councilors in the eye. “You will all stand with me because I am the most able to continue to rule.”
    Shayla roared her disapproval of that. Her wings flapped and she prepared to exit, but her tail still encircled Jaylor’s body.
    Darville wondered if he should go to his friend, see if he still lived. Why else would the dragon protect him, as she had protected Darville last winter?
    But Darville couldn’t afford to remove his attention from the Council members just yet. Krej was so very sure of himself, so very compelling in his belief that he was in the right. How could the Council disagree?
    “And what happens when the war is over or when my father dies?” Darville forced himself to think like a king, plan for the years to come and not just for the moment’s need and the grief he continually thrust aside. His spine took on the formal posture and regal bearing he had been taught as a child. It came naturally now despite his longing to bare his teeth and growl his frustration.
    He hardly noticed when Brevelan turned away from him, skirts kilted to her knees as she ran to Jaylor’s side. She would be back when he needed her. Of that he was sure.
    “We will address that issue after the war or when Darcine finally dies. He