The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume I: Volume I

called Father had been.
    “It’s not words.” Only Shayla was verbal in her communications. “They look at me. I see into their eyes and feel what they need me to know.” It was difficult to explain the sensation. She’d never found anyone willing to attempt an understanding. A tiny swell of affection for this strange man blossomed inside her. He’d invaded her life and made a place for himself there. Looking back toward her clearing, she tried imagining her home without him filling it. The image eluded her.
    She touched her fingertips to her lips. The memory of his gently persuasive kisses brought a new flush to her face. He had been so tender with her. So unlike the man she had been forced to marry. Her husband had needed her terrified and in pain in order to become aroused.
    “I’ve never heard of any magic that works like yours.” Jaylor headed back to the path with long strides. “When did this start?”
    “I don’t remember.” Brevelan skipped a little to catch up with him. She had trailed behind him for long enough. “Maybe I should say I can’t remember not being able to talk to animals.” Animals didn’t lie and cheat. Only people did that.
    “My magic began like that. I just did it. No one taught me how.” They walked side by side a moment in silence. “Most magicians can’t do much at all until they are twelve or fourteen,” he continued. “Even then they have to be taught to gather magic.” He reached back to help her over a fallen log. Her fingers entwined with his so naturally she left them there.
    “The first animal that called out to me in need was a sheep.” She allowed her thoughts to drift back to her home. For once she didn’t recoil from the pain. Jaylor’s touch kept it at bay. “She was birthing and in trouble. It was late at night and the shepherd was asleep. I never questioned why I got out of a warm bed and trudged through the mud to help her.” In her mind she relived the experience. She hadn’t been much more than a toddler. “My da followed me and did the work. I was much too little.”
    “Was he very angry?” Jaylor stopped again. This time his hand touched her cheek solicitously.
    “Only because he didn’t understand.” She tried to explain. Her mind knew that. Still, she felt the hurt of her da’s rejection every time she worked her healing.
    “My da did the same thing.” Jaylor continued to stroke her cheek. “But I was lucky. We had a full-time priest in our village, not a circuit-cleric. He helped me gain entrance to the University early. At the University, everyone expects you to throw spells to steal apples or turn the letters upside down in a book.” The memory of a smile tugged at his lips.
    She felt that smile all the way to her toes. His hand dropped from her face to her arm and lingered.
    “But my magic is different. I don’t use traditional formulas. Other magicians can’t follow or copy my spells. Nor can they join their magic with mine to amplify our powers.” The smile disappeared to be replaced by a shrug of his shoulders. He started walking again at a furious pace. “Once the masters realized that, they didn’t encourage me much. They wanted me to give up and go home. One of them became so angry he suggested there must have been a rogue among my ancestors. There is no greater insult at the University.”
    “Why is one magician acceptable and another a rogue? As long as the result is for the good of Coronnan, I don’t see the difference.” She wanted to reach out and smooth the lines of tension from his brow.
    “There are two kinds of magic.” Jaylor closed his eyes as if trying to remember a lesson by rote. “The magic taught to me at the University is provided by the dragons. It’s in the air and ground around us. We learn to still and prepare a special place within ourselves. It’s almost as if we have an extra belly, put there for the sole purpose of gathering this magic. We then form it into proper spells and throw it out again.”
    He didn’t have to tell her that women could not have that “extra belly.”
    They continued walking. As the path grew steeper, she became more thoughtful.
    “I can’t say I work my healing that way. I mean, I don’t consciously gather it and then form it. It’s just there.” Brevelan searched his eyes for an explanation. Every time she tried to analyze her ability to heal, her mind went blank. She didn’t know how she did it. People in pain or despair drew the healing from