The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume I: Volume I

with the rocking ground beneath it. Jaylor plummeted back into his own senses. He heard shouts and screams from the villagers outside. Through Shayla’s eyes, but his own body, he could see them running from the fingers of flame licking their heels. One man rested while flames tickled another’s backside. Then, before he could contemplate safety in another’s pain, the first man felt the heat of Shayla’s wrath again.
    “Why does she just toy with them? She should flame them and be done with the menace.” Jaylor spoke to thin air.
    Brevelan opened her mouth to answer. Her voice cracked with a giggle that bordered on hysteria.
    “Are you seeing this, too?” Wonder flooded his senses. For a moment they had all been linked into the mind of a dragon.
    She nodded. Her eyes were still huge in the firelight.
    “Shayla will never harm a man, even though these are the same ones who slaughtered her litters. Dragon pride compels her to honor the pact.”
    “The pact with Nimbulan—three hundred years ago?” Jaylor asked.
    Brevelan shrugged her shoulders. “Shayla only said there was a pact, made with all of Coronnan. She can send dragon-dreams to lead the dangerous ones astray. But to her, our lives are sacred and must be preserved.”
    Superstition in the village had become perverted over the generations. That perversion now endangered all of Coronnan. Had it been directed by a single man—a lord with red hair?
    “I’ll get you yet, you monstrous beast from hell! My magic will defeat you.” A loud voice boomed across the clearing in defiance.
    Cleared of disguise, the educated accent and condescending drawl became very distinctive to Jaylor’s ears.
    Through Shayla’s eyes once more they saw the faceless rogue at the edge of the clearing. Gone were the trappings of the one-eyed beggar. They watched him gather a ball of dark red and green magic energy in his hands. With a mighty effort of broad shoulders and strong arms, he hurled it toward the sky.
    Shayla sent forth a magnificent burst of bright green dragon fire. Flames engulfed the magic ball, then shattered it into myriad starry sparks. The pinpoints of light drifted harmlessly to the ground.
    Puny man. Shayla dismissed him with another lick of flame. The rogue disappeared into the sheltering trees. One last lashing of flames followed him away from the clearing.
    “Thank you, Shayla.” Jaylor formed the words in his head as he spoke. Brevelan’s eyes were closed and he sensed her joining her gratitude to his.
    We must settle this. Bring the golden wolf to my lair.
    “Can’t you just land in the clearing?” Brevelan asked.
    The evil one may return. I am not safe on the ground. Bring the wolf to me. Close the path behind you.
    “How will we find you? The mountain is huge, the trails difficult.” Brevelan’s voice shook.
    Follow the path that only you can find. Blur your trail so he does not follow. Shayla’s imagery disappeared from both their heads.
    Jaylor looked to Brevelan and the wolf. She still clutched the animal to her. Wolf seemed perfectly happy there, his head nestling between her breasts.
    If only she could learn to love Jaylor as much as she did this scruffy beast.
     
    “Call your journeymen home, Baamin.” King Darcine basked in his flower garden the morning after the ball. The spring sunshine flooded the bench he had chosen for this interview with his magician.
    “Is that wise, Your Grace?” Baamin hedged.
    “The dragons are protecting my son. They will return him when the time is right. I am well now and have the kingdom under control.” The king closed his eyes as he turned his face to the source of the warmth. He looked like a contented cat napping in the sunshine. He’d gained a little weight this past week, lost a little of the gauntness.
    “When did you learn that your son would be returned by the dragons?” Baamin mistrusted any predictions that didn’t come from his own glass. A glass that had been dark and silent since the appearance of the beast-headed monster. The monster couldn’t be the same rogue who plagued Jaylor’s footsteps. No magician, no matter how powerful, could traverse such distances so quickly. Nimbulan had bewailed his inability to transport himself after he’d had to exile his own wife.
    How much of the king’s “control” was mere illusion created by the rogue?
    Baamin’s magic faded more each day. He could probably summon enough magic to throw a truth spell at the king. If he