The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume I: Volume I

talk about death now. His own hovered too close. But he had to give these two people, the only people in the world he dared call friends, the slight comfort of the news. “Simeon had her murdered.”
    Fraank swallowed deeply several times as if Tattia’s death had just happened, not three years ago. “How do you know?” he finally said.
    “Her ghost sought me out. She was stabbed with a ritual knife by one of Simeon’s coven. The same knife that killed Brunix.”
    Katrina hung her head briefly, then looked up. Relief smoothed the lines of grief on her beautiful face. “Thank you, Jack. I suspected as much. There is a little comfort in knowing she did not take her own life.”
    “Do you remember, the night before she died, Katey. She was almost happy that night. She acted as if she had found something to hope for.” Fraank dashed a tear from his eyes.
    “Sorry to interrupt with bad news. You can reminisce later, Fraank. We’ve work to do and enemies on our tail,” Jack reminded them. A shirt appeared in his hands. He winced as he slid his arms into the sleeves. “Where’s Corby?”
    P’pa shrugged his shoulders. “Haven’t seen the bird.”
    “I hope he’s all right. ’Tis a long flight from the city.” Worry furrowed his brow and marked his posture as he scanned the picturesque vale for signs of one noisy, black bird.

Chapter 37
     
    ‘ O h my!” Katrina whispered. Jack watched her eyes grow round and her mouth open in wonder as two dragonets, Rufan and Amaranth, glided into the valley and landed at his feet. As tall and as long as he, either of the two were enough to frighten away most predators. Only the silvery softness of their fur and the ill-defined edges of babyhood made their appearance less intimidating.
    Rufan greeted him with a joyous nudge of his steedlike muzzle. A nudge that nearly toppled Jack into the pool. The knob of Rufan’s unformed spiral horn pressed painfully into Jack’s still damaged side.
    Amaranth tried to ease Jack’s grimace of pain by fanning him with his silvery wings. The resulting wind sent waves of water from the pool back into the waterfall.
    “Hi, ’gnets. Where’s your mama?” Jack hooked his arm around Amaranth’s neck, effectively curtailing any further pranks. And while he touched the purple-tip, he gathered as much magic as he could to repair and replenish his body.
    He also looked through Amaranth’s memories for the remains of last night’s hunt, properly roasted by dragon fire. A thought brought a hunk of meat, big enough for him and Katrina to share.
    He smiled at Katrina’s rapidly changing expressions. First she tried to giggle at the eager antics of the baby dragons. Then the rippling sound died aborning as Shayla emerged from the lair. The vastness of her crystalline outline reminded them that Amaranth and his companion were still babies after all. Momentary fear, then awe widened Katrina’s eyes until he could see cloud shadows in them.
    (Welcome.) Shayla nodded her head in greeting. (The children missed you, Jack.)
    “I missed them too, Shayla,” Jack said around a mouthful of meat.
    Katrina dipped a hasty curtsy. Her eyes were still glued to the dragon and her mouth slightly agape. But the beginnings of a smile tugged at her lips.
    “I . . . I brought you some lace, ma’am,” she stammered. “How do I address a dragon?” she whispered aside to Jack.
    A little of the strain of the last few days showed in the tight cords of her neck and glazed eyes.
    (We prefer the use of names, Katrina.)
    “Yes, ma’am . . . I mean, Shayla.”
    “Our enemies will follow shortly,” Jack interrupted. “We have to set the patch without delay.” He scanned the skies uneasily for signs of Corby. An entire day and night had passed since he’d sent the bird. How far could one lonely jackdaw fly in that amount of time?
    While Katrina spread her treasure of Tambrin lace out on the grass, Shayla hunkered down close by, wings slightly spread. Katrina kept looking up at the dragon as if she expected to be eaten at any moment. Fraank knelt beside her. Jack paced wearily, stretching his senses for any sign of Rejiia and Simeon.
    “No need to fret, Katey,” Fraank soothed his daughter. “Shayla and her family hid me from Simeon’s agents. They’ve fed me and kept me company. They’ll not hurt you.” The older man fingered the lace.
    Jack scanned the skies once more. He allowed his gaze to linger on the irregular knob atop the cliff. The