The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume I: Volume I

staggered and nearly fell beneath the feet of a frightened steed.
    The rider hauled back on the reins. The beast reared. Iron-shod hooves lashed out.
    Katrina dove for Jack, rolling with him out of harm’s way. “Idiot. You’ll be killed. You can’t make it alone.”
    “Got to.” He heaved himself upright again and pushed his way to the edge of the mob.
    Katrina clutched his hand rather than be separated from him. “A piece of lace isn’t important enough to risk your life. We’ll come back when this is over.”
    As if to emphasize her words, the Kardia shook again. The roof of the manor they had just left collapsed, taking the walls with it.
    “My life isn’t important anymore. The dragons are. I’ve got to send the wing patch to Shayla now. Before Simeon can get to her again.”
    Fear tugged Katrina back into the crowd and the path to safety. But something more bound her to Jack and his cause. He was right. Their lives meant nothing if they allowed Simeon to continue in his insane path. The sorcerer had to be stopped. The only way to do that was to remove his dragon from SeLenicca.
    “This way. I know a shortcut back to the river. If the flood hasn’t destroyed the building. If Simeon hasn’t found the stash of lace already. If we aren’t killed along the way . . .”
     
    All is undone. The land rebels against Simeon. His insane obsession with the lace shawl prevents him from stopping the earthquakes. The shawl he stole did not contain the runic message he fears will prove him a bastard—not even a royal bastard. While he screams and strikes out at all near him, the walls crumble. He has drained SeLenicca and its people of life. They can no longer serve him.
    I would abandon him and this cursed land, but I still need him. He can gather dragon magic in great quantities. I cannot. His dragon magic must be turned back upon its source to destroy the dragons once and for all. Only then will I feel safe enough to return to Coronnan and demand my rights as blood heir to Darville.

Chapter 36
     
    J ack endured the trek back to the lace factory in a haze of pain, eased only slightly by Katrina’s unfailing support. Broken cobblestones tore his feet. Panicked citizens jostled his smashed ribs. Each collapse of an old ley line stabbed through his magic into his heart. He lost all sense of direction and time. Purpose alone carried him to the edge of the river.
    He wished he dared summon a purple dragon. But the collapsing city and frightened citizens would be a greater danger to Amaranth than they were to Jack.
    “We’ll have to use the warehouse door,” Jack grumbled as he eyed the rubble, including half of a wall from a neighboring factory, piled against the once proudly clean front door of Brunix’s factory.
    Inside, all was confusion. Laborers looted the crates of lace intended for export. Barter goods against hard times to come. Two stories up in the workroom, lacemakers rushed about, packing their pillows, bobbins, and patterns—the most precious possessions they could claim. With lace equipment and patterns, they could earn a living in any city in the world.
    “Brunix cheated me time and again, snipping off arm-lengths of lace and not counting it in my wages,” one woman screamed. “I claim the velvet pillow and bobbins in his flat!” She dashed up the last flight of stairs.
    “The outland bastard demanded I sleep with him time and again without extra pay. The law says he had to pay me extra. I claim the patterns he hides up there!” another woman said as she, too, headed up the stairs.
    “No.” Katrina protested. “They’ll find the stash of Tambrin lace!” She abandoned Jack to race after her rivals.
    Just then, another tremor rocked the city. The staircase shook and the railing split. The lacemaker highest on the flight clutched at the cracked wood for balance. Her weight broke the remnants of the railing. She flailed her arms and crashed to the landing by the workroom.
    Katrina and the second lacemaker stopped dead in their tracks. With the railing gone, neither dared test the stairs for stability.
    Jack limped over to the fallen women. He didn’t need to test her pulse to see if she lived. The awkward angle of her neck and the blankly staring eyes pronounced her dead.
    “Katrina, I need the lace shawl made of Tambrin. We’ve risked our lives to get here for it. Where is it hidden?” he asked in the mildest voice he could muster. She couldn’t freeze in panic now. They had to