The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume I: Volume I

“Your false magic won’t be able to negate my powers. If I allow you to live long enough to try your puny spell, that is.”
    Could the man read his mind? If so, Jaylor had to bury, very deeply, all thought of his rogue powers. Thorm mustn’t know that Jaylor might be able to counteract any spell that was thrown.
    “What substance best suits a life-sized sculpture of a dragon?” Thorm mused rhetorically. “My gray bear is pewter, and the spotted saber cat was bronze. But then I had to let the cat go as bait for Darville.” He whirled to face his captives. “Nice touch that, turning the prince into a wolf. It suits his personality.”
    Jaylor felt Darville’s growl echo through his body. Was it possible some sentience was returning to the prince now that he was confronting his enchanter? Jaylor hoped so. The wolf’s cooperation would make escape and the spell reversal easier.
    “But for a dragon,” Thorm continued his gleeful monologue, “I think glass would be proper.” He snapped his fingers in delight. “Yes, glass. You can see through dragons as well as the best glass, and only those of Lord Krej’s rank deserve that wondrous substance. Glass, smooth, clear, and yet it reflects light in a myriad of colors. Wonderful glass.” He almost sang it.
    As the words took on a lilting quality, the air became heavier, filled with the stench of rotten Tambootie. Magic filled the confines of the cave. Clear and colored eddies swirled around the silent figures, over the piles of rock, and through the carefully constructed nest. Waves and waves of thick magic combined, pulled apart, and flowed with the rhythm of the spell-driving music.
    A blue vortex grew and swirled into a tower of wind. Lightning flashed within the artificial tornado. It grew taller and broader, filling more and more of the cave. Then it moved around the perimeter of the cave in one huge circle.
    A second vortex of green sprang up and circled the cave in a tighter circumference. Green combined with the blue and they twisted faster. Red, yellow, and purples joined in turn. With each new color the violent storm of whirling magic flew faster, higher, wider.
    The magic wind sucked leaves and bits of fur from the nest into its central vacuum. Small pebbles lifted and darted about with more and more debris. Faster and faster yet, the eerie winds circled the cave.
    Magic engulfed the figure of the dragon. Shayla’s hide took on the color of the Bay in sunlight as the first unnatural storm swirled around her. Then she absorbed each color in turn until all the colors of the spectrum glowed together. All colors became no color. Blinding, piercing opalescent glass.
    Jaylor watched in awe as the spell matched the chanting words in intensity and speed. Everything in the cave was sucked into the magic, even the existing magic. The green in the haze engulfing Jaylor thinned. His eyes cleared and he saw the same thinning around Brevelan and Darville. He tried to move his hand. His finger twitched, barely.
    Concentrate, fool! he admonished himself. Use the Tambootie in the air to shatter this immobility just as I used the timboor in my blood to remove myself from the Rover camp.
    His eyelids closed with effort. He turned his thoughts inward, gathering strength. A coil of stored dragon magic was ready for release. He pushed it aside and sought a different source. It was hiding where he had put it when he banished all thoughts of rogue magic.
    Jaylor drew the thin line of magic upward to his eyes. His mouth wouldn’t move enough to speak the words, so he created them in the front of his mind, for his imagination to read. The line sped from his eyes to the imagined letters, wrapped around them and then shot, like a barbed arrow, straight for the enemy’s heart.
     
    Darville couldn’t move. Panic filled his body. He tried to growl in response to what he could not understand. The deep rumble vibrated in his chest, but he couldn’t hear it as he should. This curious fog surrounded him, blocking his view of Brevelan and Jaylor. The evil one remained in his sight.
    His ears heard the other noises about him with their usual keenness. His nose worked, too. He associated the curious smoky smell with the evil one. He growled again.
    The faintest of sounds reached his ears. His fur bristled again, the way it should. Brevelan looked closer than just a moment ago, clearer. Jaylor, too.
    “Glass! My pretty dragon is made of glass,” the evil one chanted.
    His words