The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume I: Volume I

Only this time, I intend to win.”
    “You never learn, Darville. I am destined to rule Coronnan. I control the armies and the Council. I even control most of the Commune. There is nothing you can do to prevent me from killing you.”
    “Wouldn’t you rather turn me into a golden sculpture?” Darville edged to his right. The image on that side seemed to be a false one. Krej’s vision might be blocked by the figure.
    “You’ll make a magnificent addition to my collection. Thank you for the idea!” all three images spat, raising their arms to throw a spell.
    “How powerful will you be when your followers realize the extent of your perversions, Krej? My people won’t dismiss the Stargods for the bloodthirsty Simurgh. I’ve already removed your puppets from the Commune. Marnak the Elder and two other lords are in custody. Your power base is breaking down.”
    “I haven’t time to waste on debate with you.” All three images turned so that they still faced Darville fully. The left-hand figure of the saber cat stretched its neck ever so slightly more than the tusker and Krej.
    The tusker lowered its head, as if to charge and gore Darville.
    Darville focused his attention on the saber cat, ignoring the threat of the other two images. “Maintaining the illusions of your alter egos must be a terrible drain on your magic. You also have to keep your armor up. I could have brought reinforcements with me. Then again, I could be alone. You have no way of knowing.” The tusker and man image wobbled and faded.
    Krej emerged from the illusion of the cat. His eyes glowed with renewed energy. Lightning bolts of red and green erupted from his fingers.
    Darville ducked the blasts of fiery magic, keeping his sword up. One by one, the weapon caught the flames with sizzling intensity. Each one crackled and sped the length of the blade, only to hiss and melt as it hit the guard.
    Krej glowered at Darville’s defense. A sword appeared in his outstretched hand. The weapon barely twitched, then fully engaged Darville’s blade.
    The shock of contact numbed Darville to the shoulder. He fought to maintain his grip. Krej shouldn’t have that much physical strength. The power and agility must be augmented by magic.
    Feeling surged back down Darville’s arm in hot pulses. “You’re no swordsman, Krej.” He lunged and attacked with vigor. He couldn’t allow Krej the time to throw a new magic spell.
    Darville had spent a lifetime fighting right-handed arms masters. His dominant left arm was supposed to be a disadvantage. He’d learned more than one trick to make sword play awkward for his partners. He aimed for Krej’s weak backhand.
    “This one’s for Shayla.” Their swords locked and slid to tangle at the hilts. Darville wrenched his blade free and attacked again, without waiting for a reaction.
    “This one’s for the spotted saber cat.” Darville pressed his advantage. Krej retreated, step by step, until his back was pressed against one of the many locked doors.
    “This one’s for Mikka.” As the blades clanged again, Darville knew with utmost certainty that the body of the dead cat in the Great Hall belonged to Rosse. His wife and her cat were joined in body and soul forever.
    The door behind Krej began to vibrate with life of its own.
    Mistake! Darville was suddenly aware of the new energy filling Krej. Something or someone in that room was feeding him power. The next assault would be magic.
    “Never again, Krej. I won’t be your victim again!” The white-hot anger burning in his gut surged upward and outward. The sword vibrated. Or was it his hand shaking? The metal glowed and hummed. “This one’s for me, Darville, King of Coronnan!” Krej’s blade flew through the air and embedded in the door jamb opposite him.
    “Golden wolf, frozen in time. Golden wolf, forever mine,” the magician sang. Balls of glowing magic in marbled green and red appeared in each palm. He thrust them forward.
    Darville caught the magics with his sword and flung them back to their source. Dragon fire from the Coraurlia, in every color imaginable, surrounded the red and green, engulfed Krej, swallowing and neutralizing his magic.
    Without thinking, Darville thrust his sword forward again. He needed to make certain no more souls would be the victim of Krej’s possessive greed. More molten light flowed from the crown on his head through the charged metal.
    “No! You can’t. You are mundane. You can’t kill me,” Krej choked.