The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume I: Volume I

of magic poison. The slipping crown crashed to the stone floor of the parapet as the dart sped past his ear.
    The thread of magic holding Mikka dissolved.
    “I love you, Darville!” Mikka’s cry soared downward.
    “I claim your life in forfeit for my wife!” Darville rammed his sword deep into Janataea’s throat. Blood sprayed outward, coating his hand and arm. Magic permeated the life fluid; magic generated from decades of rituals. The Tambootie she had ingested continuously for weeks sought a new host, like a parasite.
    Darville jerked back his hand. The forgotten Coraurlia in the corner couldn’t protect him. Janataea’s tainted blood burned him to the bone, traveling upward seeking his brain and his soul.

Chapter 34
     
    I mages of Mikka’s life passed before her mind’s eye in agonizing slow motion, while the treacherous teeth of rocky pinnacles rushed toward her with increasing speed. In less than an eye blink, she saw her happy youth with her doting parents. Her father’s death and her mother’s retreat into tears stabbed her once more. The years with Janataea, and the night of her treacherous transformation flashed through her memory too fast for regret.
    Then there were the many moons of travel southward to Brevelan’s clearing. Contentment. Darville, as a wolf. Darville, as a man. Jaylor transforming Darville back into a wolf, as he leaped from their hiding place to defend his father’s honor.
    “I don’t want to die,” she sobbed. “I want to live for Darville!”
    Transformation, Rosie reminded her.
    Cats can’t fly.
    But a kahmsin eagle can.
    Mikka spread her arms in a desperate attempt to slow her increasing speed toward death. Sharp spires of rock jutting up from the sea reached for her hungrily. The waves pushed closer and closer, ready to swallow her broken body.
    Her injured shoulders protested the movement. The wind generated by her passing pounded against her, resisted her. She fought to extend herself. Desperate to survive, she forced every hint of magic in her life to obey her will. She twisted on a tendril of warmer air. Her limbs moved more freely this time.
    “I will live!”
    Power surged through her. Feathers replaced her garments and hair. Her eyes slitted and focused. Sharp talons retracted. Wings caught the wind, mastered it, and guided her upward.
    The kahmsin eagle of Rossemeyer flew, as free as a dragon. She pushed downward, once, with huge wings and sailed higher, higher yet. The soft mist of a low hanging cloud greeted her. Wings leveled, she glided on a current of moist air.
    Through the veil of cloud she spied the land below. Eyes focused on tiny details, a rabbit in the grass, a sparrow in a tree, bay crawlers on a shallow strand at low tide. Hunger assailed her. Neither the rabbit, the sparrow, nor the crab would feed her. This was something different, something special and wonderful.
    Need filled her heart. Her mate called to her. Her mate needed her. Kahmsin eagles mated for life. If one partner should die, the other never sought another.
    She must land. One particular perch called to her. The man’s pile of stone looked intriguing. She dropped into a dive, wings tucked back against her body. As the opening to the aerie came level, she spread her wings to stop her flight.
    Caution kept her back. She drifted on the currents of air while inspecting the figures who shifted in rapid jerky movements. She should be suspicious, hold back. Yet she needed to be in there. This was her aerie, she knew that. Her mate was within, and he was in trouble. The sparkling circlet in the corner needed to be attached to her mate before the trouble would go away. She seemed to be the only one to notice its absence.
    A neat back wing and extension of her talons brought her to the ledge.
    “Mikka?” her mate called weakly. He lay on the stones, injured. One wing was burned clean of coverings. He’d never fly again.
    “Is that you, Mikka?” His weak cry tugged at her emotions.
    “Aieeek?” She hopped down beside his neck and nuzzled him with her beak. Get better, she thought. I can’t live without you.
    Her mate fell back, no longer able to stay awake. The pain was too great.
    Mikka cried her distress, fanning her mate with her wings. A man approached, she shied away in fright.
    “Don’t let her fly away!”
    Blackness surround her. A net. A totally dark net covered her. Harsh claws gathered her into the folds of the dreaded net.
     
    “Mikka?” Darville called