The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume I: Volume I

formed at the end of the magic spear. The monster’s eyes narrowed and he waved his own staff—straight grained with lumps at irregular intervals down its length—in a wide arc.
    Jaylor stood frozen in place, arm still raised, staff in hand. His red and blue arrow melted to mist.
    Darville growled and gathered his hind legs beneath him for a lunge. Saliva dripped from his fangs in his eagerness to taste the magician’s blood.
    Thorm raised his staff again.
    Brevelan leaped in front of her pet. She had to protect Darville from any further hurt at the hands of this monster.
    Darville swung around Brevelan and lunged for the enemy’s throat. A reddish haze spread over and around Thorm as he laughed once more. A wall of magic stopped Darville’s lunge. He tore at it with teeth and claws.
    Jaylor broke free of his paralysis. A second braid of fire erupted from his staff and met the same fate as the first. His intended victim only laughed, that taunting, high-pitched laugh he’d heard at the rockfall.
    “I penetrated your style of magic long ago, University man.” Thorm sneered. He made it sound as if the hallowed institution of learning were merely a refuse pile, its students so much dirt and offal. “I can stop any spell you throw. Dragon magic is useless against a true magician!” he crowed.
    Jaylor stepped toward Thorm, staff raised, and stopped, frozen in place again. A hazy green bell pulsed and swallowed him.
    “NO!” Brevelan screamed. The force of Jaylor’s mental pain at the paralysis nearly knocked her from her feet. She launched herself toward him to break through the magic. “Stop him, Shayla. Stop him before he hurts someone.” Another pain assaulted her. From behind her she felt a crippling agony in her legs and arms. Shayla! Her beautiful, wonderful dragon was hurt.
    Instinctively, she sent forth all of her strength and courage to support the dragon. Another wave of despair rocked her. She matched it with a high piercing note of healing song.
    “Shayla!” The music echoed and reverberated back to her. “Fight for your life, Shayla!” The notes died in the vast emptiness of the cave. There was no mind or soul there to receive her healing.

Chapter 18
     
    B revelan turned to look for Shayla with her eyes when she could no longer find the dragon in the place within her heart.
    Her movement must have attracted Thorm’s attention. The air crackled with energy. She could smell it, taste it, almost wade through the thick wall. A haze of green magic enveloped her, just as it had Jaylor.
    The confines of that nasty bell of red and green shimmering lights held her body frozen. Trapped with her was the reek of Tambootie smoke.
    “Jaylor!” she called. The words echoed within her mind, for no sound erupted from her body. She called again with her magic, pouring as much emotion as she had left into her cry.
    Just a faint tickle of responding fury reached her through the spell. Jaylor lived!
    “Puppy?” If the wolf were still free, perhaps he could divert the magician’s attention long enough for Jaylor’s magic to release them.
    The wolf’s response was stronger, but still masked. She forced her eyes to move to her right where she had last seen him.
    Teeth bared, neck fur on end, he was crouched to spring for Thorm’s throat. She could hear his deep, menacing growl, muffled by yet another magic barrier.
    “Think you can wreak revenge on me, Wolf?” Thorm sneered with Krej’s voice. “You’ll have to be faster and stronger than that.” He laughed. The irritating waves of his cackles echoed around and around the cave.
    Brevelan sought Shayla again. Her mind reached nothing. Her eyes found only a dim outline of the magnificent body. The dragon, too, was captured in the web of magic, unable to move. But unlike the others, her mind was as frozen as her body. Horror gripped Brevelan. She tried again and again to find a glimmer of the dragon, in her mind or in her heart.
    Nothing.
    Something within her died. She went limp, no longer resisting the magic. The disguised rogue was too strong. He held their defeat within the sweep of his knobby staff.
    A forceful personality intruded on her despair. Mica clawed her way into her awareness. Stay with us, Sister! The command came along with a large dose of courage and strength.
    What was this? Mica, her sweet little kitty, was supporting her, Brevelan, with words and empathy. The cat had never spoken to her before. But then, she hadn’t needed to.