The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume I: Volume I

sky as if embracing the moon. Once more his eyes were open, light lancing from the facets.
    (Observe, Jack. Watch your past and learn from the mistakes of others.)
    Cold swirls of blue, green, and red light closed around Jack. He fell through the dancing star points of the jeweled dragon eyes into a void. Falling, falling, farther and farther away from himself through the lives of dozens of people and into the past.
    Endless moments flowed through the wheel of the stars. And still he fell. His body learned the streams of movement through this strange void, stretched out and flew.
    (Now you have enough of the dragon within you to observe the past. Remember the dragon within you and within every magician when next you have a need to visit with those who have gone before. Watch!)
    “Observe what?” A strange/familiar landscape took shape around him. He’d been here before. But not at this moment in time. The trees were not quite the right shape and the sledge-ruts in the road were too deep. “Where are we?”
    He looked around again, sensing and smelling familiarity rather than understanding it. There was a road running toward the southern border, just outside Brevelan’s village, that looked something like this. He scanned the horizon. Yes. The creek plodded along its path beyond the dip in the meadow and on toward the Great Bay.
    The water was clear and clean, not choked with mud and debris from the floods that had plagued Coronnan when last he saw this place. Birds sang in the fully leafed oak trees that should have their roots underwater but sat back from the bank by several steed lengths.
    He measured the angle of the sun against the length of the shadows. Early morning, past the summer solstice. Jack and Fraank had left the mine just after the Vernal Equinox, only a few weeks ago.
    “Maybe I should ask, ‘When are we?’ ”
    The dragon said nothing. Jack looked over his shoulder to where he sensed the beast hovered. All he saw was the dim outline of an old man in colorless flowing robes. Then he looked at himself. Almost transparent and wearing the black trews and vest of a Rover. His shirt appeared to be pale yellow, but so much of the green fields around him shone through the fabric and his skin, he couldn’t be sure.
    (Watch and listen,) the dragon ordered.
    Just then a man and woman riding double on a fleet steed appeared on the road, coming from the north. The steed was black and sleek, bred for speed. Sweat shone on its glossy coat. They might be proceeding at a stately pace now, but just recently, the riders had pushed the steed in an all-out race.
    The man in the front, clad in shiny black leather to match his mount, kept looking over his shoulder for signs of pursuit. The woman, perched behind the saddle, clung to his belt. She rode astride with her brightly colored skirts hiked up above her knees. Shapely legs and bare feet clutched the heaving sides of the steed.
    “Rovers,” Jack spat. Three years ago, Jack had a few encounters with Zolltarn, king of the Rovers and his tribe. Rovers had their own codes of ethics and honor that had little to do with the rest of civilization. Jack was convinced the entire race of wanderers would gladly slit a man’s throat just to prove they could.
    (Dragons observe and learn. We do not judge.)
    “But . . .”
    (Observe.)
    The mounted couple moved past Jack and his guide seeking all around them with their eyes. The young magician started to greet the passing pair and offer them directions. A heavy hand on his shoulder stoppped his angry words. A human hand in shape and size. Prominent blue veins stood out on the backs of that nearly invisible hand, much like the colored veining on a dragon’s wing.
    (We are ghosts in this time. Our souls dictate our forms. They cannot see you. We cannot interact. Only observe.)
    “Who are they?” The couple must be important or the dragon wouldn’t have brought him to this place and time.
    (The woman is your mother.)
    “Mamam?” Jack dredged up a baby memory of the name he called her. He took a step as if to follow her. His body didn’t seem to move. “My mother is a Rover? But Rovers keep their children, even half-breeds and orphans. I was abandoned at the poorhouse.” Confusion dominated the churning emotions within him.
    (Observe her past. You are not yet born in this time frame.)
    “Does she have a name?” Anger and curiosity warred within Jack. Mamam looked so very beautiful. He’d been deprived of that