The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume I: Volume I

held over the princess’ recumbent form. With a pass of the hand, the candles flared to life. Another wave of the hand and the ninth hovered in the air above Mikka’s forehead without support.
    “Now, Rossemikka, breathe slowly, ever so slowly. In, two, three. Hold, two, three. Out, two, three. Hold, two, three. Again. In, hold, out, hold.” Over and over again the Song guided Mikka’s breathing until the unnatural rhythm took on new importance and her body knew no other sequence.
    Breathing became a dance, slow, stately, magical.
    With each breath Mikka’s muscles relaxed a little more. Her mind drifted, separated from her body, and observed.
    “Think of the cat. You are Mikka, she is Rosse. Together you are Rossemikka. You are one being. Woman-cat. Cat-woman,” Janataea intoned.
    Mikka’s other self watched as the two images on the narrow cot merged into one blurry lump of variegated brown and gold. The image took on the iridescent glow of Rosse’s gorgeous fur, instead of Mikka’s own dull brown.
    “Bring the cat into yourself. Take yourself into the cat.”
    The images blurred further, separated, and blurred again.
    “Keep the cat within you.” Janataea sprinkled a little powder from her pouch over the entire length of princess and cat. The candles flared high. “Step away from the cat. Take her body away from her.” The governess clapped her hands three times, spun in place three times, widdershins again, and repeated the clap as she sang the instructions.
    Waves and waves of sound rolled around and around the circular room. The mysterious powder erupted into cold flame, unnatural red flame that turned hair and fur to burnished gold. Janataea’s magic fire flashed and bounced from girl to ceiling, to floor and back again. Mikka’s consciousness was yanked downward with unimaginable force.
    And the deed was done. Mikka blinked her cat’s eyes at the distorted images around her.
    “From time to time you will remember who you are.” Janataea’s voice sounded strange and distant. Her words didn’t quite make sense, but Mikka understood them. “As time goes by, your memories will dim and you will truly become a cat. You may never again be a princess, unless both you and Rosse are embraced and willing.” Janataea smiled as she caressed the hair of the reclining princess.
    At dawn, a tiny brindled brown cat slipped from the castle while a brown-haired princess with a single white streak at her right temple slept.
    A long time later, the little cat found a clearing that called to her, comforted her, and protected her in the mountains west and north of Rossemeyer.

Chapter 15
     
    L IFE bursting with colorful emotions. DEATH with all its pain and sorrow. Grief, joy, love, hate, vengeance, lust, hunger, replete.
    All the emotions of thousands of capital inhabitants burst upon Brevelan before she fully emerged from the void. The baby moved restlessly within her womb. She wasn’t sure if the child was as uncomfortable as she amid the onslaught of emotions, or if he sought closer contact with the life all around them.
    Her feet touched the stone floor. She drew one deep breath through her mouth and held it until she opened her eyes. Even without the passage of air through her nose, she was aware of the cooking odors that permeated this portion of the building. Many animals had died to feed the population within these walls. At least she hadn’t known any of the creatures, hadn’t treated their small ailments. Their deaths weighed upon her, but not heavily.
    Life bloomed too vibrantly within her to dwell on death outside herself.
    “Jaylor?” Brevelan sought her husband.
    “Here.” His voice was weak and shaky. Had the transport affected his heart in some adverse manner?
    “What’s wrong?” She touched his mind with comfort. The empathy twisted to despair and bounced back. He was heavily armored.
    There was enough light seeping into the room from the kitchen hearth to discern his shaking figure sprawled in the corner beside long shelves of cleaning supplies. Two wine cups sat on the floor in front of him. They appeared to be full.
    She knelt beside her husband and reached a tentative hand to encircle his fists, clenched upon his knees. Her touch was repulsed before she made contact. His armor extended through his entire body, not just his mind.
    “Are you ill? Did the spell harm you?” She peered closely at his face. Lines of sorrow were etched from his mouth to his chin, from his eyes to