The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume I: Volume I

Darville’s head. Just his refusal to plant a tithe of land in Tambootie for the dragons was enough to remove him from the Council. Practicing solitary magic when such spells were illegal should have condemned him.
    A twitch of an eyebrow sent Jaylor behind the retreating aide.
    Darville pinned each of the lords to his chair with a look. The power of outraged betrayal surged through him, fueling his tirade. “I told you, time and again, that the beast-headed man who ensorcelled me into the form of a wolf could only have been Krej, or employed by him. With me trapped by his spells, he usurped the regency, and still the Council refused to call it treason. Now he has unleashed his rogue powers again and helped a foreign witch to escape. And you call an accusation of treason hasty?”
    Freedom and power coursed through Darville’s veins, like the battle fever that took him when riding patrol against outlaws. He gestured his annoyance and produced his short sword without warning. His blood ran hot at the shock and fear in his opponent’s eyes as he waved the tip of the weapon beneath Holmes’ nose.
    “Only another traitor would defend such a man as my cousin, Holmes. I watched you murder a spy from SeLenicca against my orders. Not only murder, but decapitate, so no magician could read his dying memories. I’ve watched you write reports of my actions—reports you said the Council requested, but which really went to Krej. You were the agent who corrupted the paymaster in order to divert the loyalty of my men. Now, you defend my enemy, the enemy of all Coronnan.” Only a glare from Jaylor kept Darville from plunging his well-balanced blade into Holmes’ heart.
    “Guards! Arrest this man. Place him in a magically armored cell with a member of the Commune and an arms master in constant attendance. I’ll not have my cousin and his witch freeing another traitor.”
    Pain stabbed into his back. Pain that lanced to his heart and numbed his limbs. Darville swung to face his Council. Accusations died on his lips.
    All of the men in the circular room were in their places, all of their eyes were on Holmes.
    The pain died as fast as it flared. Darville sought Jaylor’s eyes for explanation.
    A shriek of despair cut through his concentration. “Mikka!” he gasped.
     
    “You have defied me for the last time, Rosie,” Janataea hissed through oddly blackened teeth. Her body shimmered and shrank into the hideous form of an oily, green-black harpy. She raised extremely long, ragged-looking wings above a bloated bird body that retained her voluptuous human breasts. The nipples tightened with some bizarre excitement, that was echoed in her glowing red eyes. The same eyes that had pushed compulsion spells onto Rosie, yet oddly changed.
    But the face was the same, superimposed upon the scrawny neck of this evil creature. Beautiful in bone structure, made ugly by her malicious sneer and the bleeding scratches Rosie had inflicted just before the drugged dart had taken effect.
    Mikka’s mind shuddered; her body had no sensations left within it to respond.
    “Your willful ways have destroyed years of carefully laid plans. No more. You will come with me.” Janataea’s voice came from nowhere and everywhere. She reached out with long, hooked talons. “And you will pay for scratching me, Rosie. You will be punished, again and again and again!”
    “Never!” Mikka fought the paralysis. Her body jerked and spasmed.
    A new compulsion took over her muscles. Mikka’s body sat upright. Her legs swung over the side of the bed. One resisting hand reached for her nightshift. Desperately, she tried to hold back. Inch by inch she willed her hand away.
    Somehow she knew that her own safety rested in breaking this hold Janataea had over her.
    “Release me, Janataea. Release me and I will request exile instead of death as your punishment.” The words just barely squeaked through her numb lips.
    “Janataea the governess no longer. I am Rhomerra, messenger of Simurgh,” she cackled and flapped her wings.
    Self-will dissolved within Mikka. Without knowing how or why, the shift flew over her head and settled over her body. She stood and waited.
    Icily burning claws stabbed into her back. She jerked upward and back. Pain registered somewhere in her mind, then died.
    “Take her away, brother,” Janataea ordered. “I will join you in flight with our other prisoner.”
    “Don’t take too long. I don’t know how long I can hold this