The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume I: Volume I

blue-tipped male still perched there, surveying the vale.
    (I will keep watch, Jack. You may work your spell and then we will all flee to safety,) the blue-tip said.
    What about the babies? Can they fly well enough to reach a safe haven? Jack kept half his attention on Katrina and Shayla as they examined the lace. He kept munching the meat, refueling his body, even after the venison had lost its first savory appeal.
    (We’ve been practicing flying in the void. Don’t worry about dragons. Worry about yourself and your lady.) A chuckle rippled from the male dragon’s throat.
    Jack was about to contradict the dragon about his status with Katrina and changed his mind. Arguing with dragons just wasted breath. They never changed their minds.
    Where’s Corby? he asked, focusing his mental words on a tight line to the dragon.
    (I cannot find him.) The dragon sounded puzzled but not worried. (He is a wild bird and did not bond with you easily. He fought my compulsion to aid you with many temper tantrums. He may have returned to the wild now that your quest is nearly finished.)
    “I hope so. I’d hate to think Rejiia managed to capture him after all. She is the more powerful of our two enemies. Simeon’s obsession with the runes within one piece of lace has narrowed his power. He sees only one objective and ignores all other possibilities and dangers.”
    Dragon thought exploded in Jack’s mind. (Runes! What runes?)
    “Part of a design Katrina’s mother wove into one of those pieces.” Jack gestured toward the selection of lace spread out on the grass in a prearranged pattern for attaching to the wing. “Nothing important.”
    The blue-tip spread his wings and glided from his perch into the meadow. The wind from his passage scattered the array of lace like sea foam on the beach of the Great Bay.
    Shayla stretched her undamaged wing protectively over Katrina and the frothy lace. Her high-pitched hiss of reprimand pierced Jack’s ears. He slapped his hands over the offended organs.
    Too late he realized the temporary deafness obscured another sound born on the wind.
    But the dragonets heard it and greeted the invasion of their peaceful vale by a flock of noisy crows with mock anger. Ten baby dragons took wing, eager for a new game of chase and harry.
    The crows were being herded by a purpose more fearsome than a dozen playful dragons. Scout birds broke away from their arrowhead formation and flew in the opposite direction, screeching defiance. The dragonets left the main flock to pursue the individuals. Deep within the birds’ ranks struggled a wounded member of the flock. They all dived together for the pool at the base of the waterfall.
    “Quickly, Katrina, get the patch set. Anchor it with a Song and the glue. Shayla, as soon as you can get air under that wing, take Katrina to safety. Brevelan’s clearing will shelter you until it’s healed. One of your mates can carry Fraank. Take the babies with you. Especially Amaranth and his twin. We can’t take a chance that Rejiia will trap them and gather their magic!” Jack barked orders right and left as he erected his personal armor and settled himself for the battle of his life.
    “What about you, Jack?” Katrina asked as she shook out the largest piece of lace in the collection. The shawl wasn’t large enough to cover the hole in Shayla’s wing. She would need many of the smaller pieces to complete the patch.
    “I have to delay Rejiia and Simeon here. They’re right behind the birds. They probably followed the trail of our earlier transport. They can’t be allowed to follow Shayla.” He turned his back on the patching procedure.
    The squawking flock of black birds zoomed downward with increasing speed. They were close enough now for Jack to pick out the weakest member. A larger, stronger bird flew directly beneath it, preventing it from falling when its wings failed. Other birds circled it in tight formation, protecting it from the worst of the wind.
    As the mass of birds, a hundred or more, swooped low, Jack fought the urge to duck. At the last moment he opened his armor and caught the wounded bird with a touch of levitation. It dropped into his hands, exhausted and shivering. Above its eyes were two bald spots where tufts of white feathers should be.
    “Corby?” Jack caressed the sleek black head with a gentling finger.
    The bird tried to tuck his head beneath his wing. The effort of movement seemed too much. “Caged! Caged, caged,” he croaked.