The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume I: Volume I
what he needed, Darville reminded himself. A strong war-steed willing to give him a hard ride. The troop of men and officers at his back were soldiers on patrol instead of huntsmen. But the principle was the same, a wild ride through countryside in search of a quarry. Human quarry instead of beast this time.
Raiders had been sighted two days’ ride to the northwest of the capital. Too close. They must be routed out before the capital itself was endangered.
In keeping with his pronouncements to the Council, Darville had taken charge of this expedition. If only his mind were on the task instead of on Baamin’s report, he might just enjoy this battle of wills with the steed.
The old man couldn’t decide if Princess Rossemikka and Mica were one person split by magic into two bodies, or two people, each in the wrong body. A third possibility existed. One or the other was a powerful witch controlling the actions of her twin.
The heather moved again, almost unnaturally. Darville touched the tiny pewter dragon dangling from his right ear. Baamin had fashioned the talisman for him last night. Through the medium of the metal, the magician could armor Darville with protective spells.
Snooty Princess Rossemikka probably wouldn’t like his dragon any better than his cat.
“Just over that ridge, Your Grace, there should be a village. We can water the steeds while we question the folk for signs of strangers.” A middle-aged knight pointed toward a line of foothills. The leader of this century of men looked tired. His comfortable life of privilege, with the occasional ritual of military training, had been thrown into upheaval by this war.
“If the village still stands, then they haven’t seen any outsiders,” Darville reminded the man, the closest thing to a veteran in his army. “The steeds drank at the last stream, and the one before that. We’d best push on until we find evidence of where the raiders were, then follow their trail.”
Sometimes I think I am the only man in the kingdom with a grasp of tactics. What could he expect after three hundred years of peace enforced by the magic border? That he would have troops and reserves standing ready to fight any and all corners without additional training? All of Coronnan had become too dependent upon that border.
“The villagers may still have seen something,” the knight protested.
“Send two men who can be trusted not to get drunk in the local pub to question them. The rest of us will ride farther north.” Buoyant resolve lifted Darville’s spirits. “There are caves in those hills. Excellent hiding places for raiders. Let’s root them out.” Darville spurred his eager steed forward, leaving the others to follow or be disgraced.
Sir Holmes, who had been at the rear of the century, was the only one keeping pace with him. Fred had been to his left, but was now falling behind. If these men had been trained by Rossemeyer, there would be no question of their ability to keep up, or complete their assigned task.
He’d have no troops from Rossemeyer if he didn’t find out the truth about their princess . . . soon. The key to the princess was Mica; that seemed obvious. Darville wondered if his cat was safe in Baamin’s care while he roamed the countryside. Mica was vulnerable to both the whims of the Council and the princess’ venom.
“Your Grace.” A winded officer, about Darville’s own age, drew alongside his galloping steed. “You must not endanger yourself so. Please stay closer to your troops.”
“Then have your men keep up with me!” Once more, Darville dug in his heels. His face stung with the force of the wind. The air whipped past him with the cold bite of autumn. For the first time in nearly five moons, he felt strong and clean. His mind cleared and sought a path as straight as his steed’s.
He knew what he had to do. By the time he proved himself in the field with this expedition, the dark of the moon would be upon them. That was the time to find the truth about Mica and the princess.
Baamin claimed the spell was too risky without further investigation. But not knowing might prove even more dangerous.
“Aiyeee!” A helmeted man appeared out of a clump of heather, whirling his broadsword above his head.
Darville’s steed screamed and reared, pawing the air with angry ferocity. The raider lunged. His huge blade aimed directly for the steed’s exposed belly.
Yanking fiercely on the reins, Darville swung his mount aside. His own
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