The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume I: Volume I

and that wouldn’t last long.
    “What do you mean by that, boy? ” Rejiia approached Jack, looking as if she would spit on him. Anger blazed from her eyes and some of her control slipped, changing her beautiful face into a mask of ugly hatred.
    “I mean, that if Simeon isn’t your father, then he’s your father’s brother. He’s obviously your lover, you stink of him. Or don’t you care about such things?” With the clarity of pain and knowing he wouldn’t survive much longer, Jack saw it all.
    Queen Rossemikka, who had been a victim of Janataea’s and Krej’s manipulations, had warned the Commune of the coven’s dynastic plans. Royal marriages and births throughout the world had been arranged and scheduled along with appropriate assassinations. Generation after generation of alliances came down to one or two people eligible to claim multiple thrones.
    Simeon claimed descent from Rossemikka’s much older, exiled, half sister. Thus he should rule Rossemeyer. His marriage to Queen Miranda of SeLenicca had produced a princess who could claim both thrones. If she married the heir to Coronnan, the entire continent would be united under one crown.
    Rejiia shared a common great-grandfather with Darville of Coronnan. She, or her child, could claim the Coraurlia, the dragon crown, if Darville and Mikka had no children. Jack wished he’d taken the time to catch up on current events since leaving the mines. He had no idea who was alive and well and who wasn’t.
    What seemed most important, now, was that the coven would control Queen Miranda’s daughter, Jaranda, and whoever inherited Coronnan. Stargods help them all if Rejiia passed off a child of an incestuous relationship as heir and mate to Jaranda, another incestuous relationship.
    Greedy madness shone in Simeon’s eyes. He, like Krej, was too ambitious to wait for the coven’s plans to come to fruition. He wanted to rule and exploit for himself and not the coven.
    I have to end this madness, Jack thought. No matter the cost, I have to stop the coven.
    A jolt of memory rocked his mind away from Rejiia’s spitting indignation. Years ago, Jack had claimed the name of “Yaakke.” A name out of legend. A name of power and great reverence.
    A thousand years ago, Yaakke, son of Yaacob the Usurper, had united three clans in northern Coronnan to form the first kingdom. Yaakke had met the Stargods in the sacred clearing and vowed eternal fealty and reverence if the three red-haired brothers would save his wife and child from the plague. The plague was banished and Yaakke charged with the duty of eliminating the power of the winged demon Simurgh. He had succeeded but only after bitter and bloody battles. Yaakke died two days after the last battle.
    Now Simeon’s coven was attempting to reestablish the bloody rituals of Simurgh as the one true religion. Once more, the duty of preventing the deaths of innocents fell to a man named Yaakke.
    If he was ever to earn the right to a name, Jack had to complete this quest, even if it brought him an ugly and painful death.
     
    Katrina tripped on the slimy steps into the dungeon. Her guards grabbed the chain binding her wrists and yanked her upright. The strain on her arms and shoulders made her cry out.
    “Careful o’ t’at one. His Majesty wants her undamaged,” warned a jailer who was missing at least three teeth. He caressed a long iron bar in his arms, as if it were a beloved pet.
    “I know. I know,” groused the guard who still hauled upward on the chain. “Won’t be no cuts or bruises. Just enough pain to keep her in line.” He pulled hard on the chain and Katrina stumbled forward in his path.
    She had been brought to the same manor house on the outskirts of the city as she had been that night three years ago when King Simeon gave her to Owner Neeles Brunix. Apparently the king didn’t want to soil the palace with dungeons and torture chambers and prisoners who would eventually be sacrificed to the coven.
    The odors of sweat and fear, of midden that had never been flushed clean, and blood—lots of blood—assaulted all of her senses. She swallowed heavily to force calm on her stomach.
    She stumbled again. This time she dropped to her knees, unable to hold herself upright any longer. Her hands rested on the straw-covered stone floor. A vibration passed through her hands, much like the one that had shaken the factory just before she was taken by the guards.
    Alarmed, she looked up at the grim-faced men,