The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume I: Volume I

dragon dung brought a smile to his face. He’d have to take more care how he cursed. Best he slip into the city and get as far away from his master as possible for the rest of the day. Jaylor had peered right at Yaakke and known he hadn’t done a bloody thing to save the king. Maybe by nightfall he’d forget Yaakke’s shortcomings.
    He’d have to send a brief telepathic message about the smuggler when he was a safe distance from Palace Isle.
    “It’s a blue-tipped male dragon,” King Darville added to the crowd’s murmurs.
    This time Yaakke couldn’t resist looking up, as he eased closer to the guardroom exit. The outline of the winged creature hovered and shimmered in a shaft of sunlight over the courtyard, almost visible against the dark gray sky. The beast’s crystal-like fur directed light and sight around him, challenging the coronation crowd to look everywhere but directly at him. Yet their eyes needed to linger and seek a glimpse of the dragon.
    “Grrower!” The gray overcast dissipated in the blink of an eye, as if commanded by the dragon’s trumpeting call.
    Sunlight danced across translucent wings and arced downward. Rainbows sparked the Coraurlia with life and color. A giant aura spread around the glass dragon crown for all to see.
    This was the Coraurlia of legend; forged by dragon fire to protect the rightful king and no other.
    Lord Andrall lifted the crown high and turned within the circle of prismatic light to face King Darville. His face glowed with the same wonder Yaakke saw reflected in every face in the court. Warmth and joy tingled from Yaakke’s toes to his ears.
    The dragon shifted. The rainbow followed his wing movement and bathed King Darville and Queen Rossemikka in the light of magnificent blessing.
    The young king and his consort mounted the six steps of the dais amidst applause and cheers. The dancing rainbows seemed to follow them, bursting into bright auras for all to see, magic and mundane alike.
    Yaakke smiled and lingered outside the guardroom. Darville deserved to be king. The few times Yaakke had encountered him, the young ruler had been kind, almost friendly. Rossemikka had to be the most beautiful woman in the kingdom, maybe in the three kingdoms.
    An image of black lashes surrounding huge blue eyes flitted across his memory. Well, maybe there was one girl, almost-woman, more beautiful than Queen Rossemikka.
    The procession followed Darville and Rossemikka, ready for the ancient ritual to consecrate them monarch and consort of Coronnan. An overwhelming sense of pride and joy lingered in the court. In a tradition not seen in living memory, the dragons had validated Darville’s claim to the throne.
    (Come to me.) The dragon voice came into Yaakke’s head.
    “What?” Yaakke whispered. Only royals were supposed to hear dragons. He looked up again, searching the clear sky for a glimpse of wing or tail.
    (You are needed.)
    “Did a dragon speak to me?” Maybe the dragon spoke to someone else and Yaakke merely overheard. He eavesdropped on people’s thoughts easily, why not a dragon’s?
    (Meet me in Shayla’s old dragon lair. Above Brevelan’s clearing, two weeks hence.) The dragon disappeared above the remaining fluffy white clouds.
    “What would a dragon need me for?” He craned his neck in search of one last glimpse of blue-tipped crystal.
    (I know of your parents, Boy. Come to me and we will discuss those who left you with no name and no heritage. Tell no one of our tryst. You must not be followed.)
    “Two weeks? I only need that much time if I bother taking a travel steed. I have the transport spell. I can be there tomorrow.” His parents? Maybe he had a real name after all and needn’t borrow one from history.
    (No. You use the transport spell too often. Danger follows it. Steal a steed if you must, but come in two weeks.)
    “Steal? What if I get caught?” A thrill of danger almost replaced the awe of speaking to a dragon. A real live dragon who spoke to him and wanted to meet with him in secret.
    (You will not be caught. I will tell you of your heritage two weeks hence. No sooner.)
    “If I sneak out through the dungeon tunnels, I can be out of the city before sunset.” Who would miss him? Yaakke lifted the latch on the guardroom door.
    (Don’t be late.) The chuckle in the dragon’s voice reminded Yaakke of Old Master Baamin. Grief touched his eyes with moisture for just a moment.
    Then he straightened his shoulders with pride. “I’ll follow