The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume I: Volume I

name. Every hare, squirrel, bird, goat, and chicken within the clearing had names for themselves. But the wolf was notably silent on the issue. Shayla had given him the name of a prince—Darville, from the city of dragons.
    “You tell me nothing new. You are a very logical and practical creature. So why did you drag me out into that storm when you had not concerned yourself with any human for ten years?” Five breeding cycles Shayla had called the time. She had neither sought a mate nor concerned herself with people in all that time because the villagers had killed two of her litters. Why she stayed in Coronnan was a mystery.
    Protect the golden wolf. The man is the only one who can save him.
    “Why rescue the miserable beast? If you’d had him for supper, your life would have been simpler.”
    And Brevelan would have been even more lonely throughout the long winter months. Now that spring was in the air and Jaylor lingered, she didn’t feel the empty ache quite so desperately.
    Her thoughts stopped. Jaylor. She wasn’t lonely with Jaylor nearby. She couldn’t dwell on those impossible ideas. She had to press Shayla for information. “Why did you give the wolf a royal name? Is he the leader of his pack?”
    What else should I call him?
    “You could call him Wolf, or Puppy like I do, or any one of countless other names. You could name him Lord Krej or even call him Simurgh.”
    No! Shayla’s roar of protest almost shattered Brevelan’s mental ears. The roar continued, echoing in her head and around the foothills. Never. Never consider the evil one. Do not even think of him.
    A wind rose and whirled about the clearing. It whipped the trees into a fury and drove all the small creatures toward shelter. A huge shadow passed overhead. Shayla was gone.
    Brevelan stood her ground, not even bothering to subdue her swirling skirts. She might have known the ancient god of evil was at the heart of this puzzle. This wouldn’t be the first time Brevelan had suspected his followers lurked within the kingdom. Even Lord Krej was rumored to have had dealings with a coven.
    Three summers ago she had served at his castle for a banquet. All the girls from her village were bound to assist when extra servants were needed. Before the meal, while Brevelan spread fresh rushes on the floor, she had watched Krej in his Great Hall. He touched with fondness each of the six statues he kept there.
    Most of the sculptures were of animals Brevelan had never seen before, did not know the names of. There was one huge cat, bigger than a pack steed, with teeth as long as a saber fern.
    Krej talked to each of the statues. He sounded as though he were reminiscing about the capture of each. When he came to the cat she heard him say: “You led me quite a chase through that forest, special one. The trees hid you for a time. But you could not know they were all Tambootie and so they aided my search instead.”
    Then the cat blinked. Brevelan was sure of it because Krej cursed and waved his hands and the cat was still once more; captured in a prison of bronze.
    “Behave, cat,” Krej admonished the beast. “You have been granted the privilege of being sacrificed to Simurgh. You should be happy to serve the winged one.”
    This was worse than killing an animal for food! That at least had a purpose, sustained life in a way. Krej had imprisoned these beautiful creatures in stone and wood, metal and clay. Imprisoned their bright spirits for all time. She knew instinctively that each animal was still aware of that prison, not sleeping, not dead, but not alive either.
    She had backed away, silently. By the time the banquet was served, Brevelan was at home, physically ill, unfit to be seen at the castle of one of the Twelve members of the Council of Provinces.
     
    Wolf trotted up behind Jaylor. The beast had enjoyed splashing in the water almost as much as Jaylor had. Together they wandered the path back to the clearing in silent companionship.
    “Whaoaar!” the dragon roared above them.
    Strong trees bent with the wind of her passing. A mighty tail lashed across the sky. New leaves and old branches crashed to the ground around them.
    Jaylor covered suddenly numbed ears with his hands. The sound of the dragon’s anger echoed again and again through his mind.
    Wolf merely stopped with one ear cocked as if listening. He showed no fear of the noise, and the unnatural wind did not so much as ruffle his fur.
    When the dragon had passed overhead, her