The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume I: Volume I

name, had just completed the greatest magic spell in the history of Coronnan! Even old Nimbulan, the man who had made a pact with the dragons, three hundred years ago, hadn’t known how to transport himself.
    Exultation made him giddy as he pranced with the fairy lights. He circled the great clearing once, twice. Heel—toe—kick, step, step, turn. Kick—kick—clap. The old, old rhythm of the solstice celebration drummed in his head. He sang the words that seemed so much nonsense, but which he knew to be an incantation in the oldest of languages.
    On his third circuit, exhaustion and laboring lungs brought him to a halt beneath the largest of the sacred oaks. Above his head he espied a dangling limb, broken off by some winter storm and stripped of bark and leaves during the course of the summer. The branch appeared to be just the proper length for a magician’s staff.
    Yaakke’s eyes widened in glee. His master’s staff. Of course. The staff was being provided for him by the Stargods in recognition of his greatest feat of magic.
    With renewed energy he hoisted himself up to the first massive limb. Above him the lesser branches appeared to form almost a staircase leading him to the dangling piece he sought. Up, ever upward he climbed until he was face-to-face with his treasure.
    A wave of uneasy awe made his hand hesitate. What if the staff were intended for someone else and he had merely stumbled upon it prematurely.
    Never! There were no more journeyman candidates at the University. The staff was meant for him. He reached out and closed his hand around the smooth straight grain. The wood vibrated and tingled in recognition of his touch. Ever so subtly, it molded to his grasp.
    Yaakke channeled a thought down the staff. A magic cloud of red, green, blue, purple, yellow, and every color imaginable in between, blossomed from the end of his focus. A casual step from the security of the tree brought him onto the cloud. Another thought and he fell clumsily, arms flailing wildly until his right arm, with the staff still clutched tightly in that hand, caught on a lower branch. He dangled awkwardly above the beckoning grove, sore and embarrassed.
    “Thank you, Stargods, for the rescue!” he whispered to the appropriate powers.
    Silence greeted him. More than just the silence of the forest. It was the utter absence of sound known only to the privileged few who attained a direct encounter with the Stargods.
    The magnitude of his actions hit his head and shoulders. Fatigue weighed him down. He wouldn’t admit any degree of tiredness in front of Brevelan, but here, in the face of the Stargods, who knew everything, he succumbed to the total lack of energy. In the past twelve hours he had performed more great magic than most masters achieved in a lifetime.
    He needed sleep and food.
    He needed to climb down.
    “Now I will go out into this world and do great deeds to save my people from destruction, just as You saved us from a plague a thousand years ago,” he promised, as he fumbled for hand- and footholds.
    But first a nap. Then he had to get off the island. No bridges gave access to Sacred Isle and he was much too tired for another transport just yet.
     
    Rosie stretched and yawned. For the first time in weeks she felt truly refreshed and comfortable. Her night’s rest had been filled with wonderful dreams of warmth and security. If only she could remember the details.
    “How did you sleep, my princess?” Janataea cooed from the window where she threw open the draperies with sharp thrusts. A serving maid hovered at the door with a basin of hot water for washing. The maid was different from the woman who had served her yesterday. She seemed to be absorbing every detail of the room with avid curiosity.
    Janataea pursed her lips in disapproval of the maid’s scrutiny. The governess had evicted more than one of the constantly changing servants who gossiped too long and too frequently about the women from Rossemeyer. Janataea liked her privacy.
    “I slept very well, Janataea.” Rosie stretched again and realized she was naked. She didn’t remember taking off her sleeping shift, now a rumpled mass up by the pillow, nor did she remember scooting to the foot of the bed. Her nose wrinkled as she tried to figure out why she might have done such a thing.
    Strange odors came to her. Someone had been in her room last night! Fearfully, she searched the room for other signs of intrusion. The wardrobe door was firmly closed.