The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume I: Volume I

his focus. The staff shook and jerked away from Darville.
    Jaylor fought the staff back to his target. It jerked away again just as braided lights of red and blue, green and yellow, with a strand of purple down the center, sprang from the tip. Magic light encircled the bewildered animal in a loose spiral. The magic widened to include Jaylor and Brevelan. Shock waves rippled through the magician. Jaylor broke off the spell before it went any farther awry. Pain clamped around his chest.
    It was a good thing this was a solitary spell rather than a traditional one. He had ended it with a thought rather than a lengthy recitation of formulae.
    “He laid a trap in the spell,” he whispered. “The staff knew it and refused to direct the magic where I aimed it.”
    Brevelan sent him strength. He stood straighter, but not to his full height. His eyes squinted with the effort to keep them open.
    “But now that I’ve found the trap, I can go around it.” He began his work again. Magic plaited around the staff in vivid colors. It sprang backward through Jaylor, around the cave and over to Darville, twisting in the opposite direction from before. A single arrow of multicolored magic pierced the wolf’s thick fur. Darville took on the colored glow as the power grew and brightened. He shed his fur, grew longer, paler. His legs and arms straightened. His head reared up and his eyes became aware.
    The magic retreated from Darville and surrounded Jaylor. For a moment the magician donned a mantle of golden fur, shot with the red and brown of his own coloring. Then the hair broke free and fell from him in a shower of pinpoint lights.
    Jaylor sagged. His skin took on the tinge of gray exhaustion. Each breath rattled in his chest.
    Instinctively Brevelan reached her arms to hold him up. He clutched the cloak she held against his chest. “If I could sit a moment. I’m so cold,” he whispered. She eased him onto a boulder. When his breathing slowed, she turned her attention to Darville.
    Quickly she assessed the long clean limbs and golden hair of a tall man, crouched on the ground. One long foot lifted to scratch his ear in a parody of a wolf’s gesture. He looked puzzled that the foot didn’t fit, his back didn’t twist, his head hung too high.
    Only then was Brevelan aware that Darville, her prince, was naked. She turned her eyes away even as she held the cloak out to him. Jaylor had known this would happen. That was why he had asked for the cloak, why he had tried to block her vision.
    “You’ll need this, Your Grace.” She held out the garment. He didn’t take it.
    “Darville!” He looked up at her. Understanding began to glimmer in his eyes. Still he crouched on the ground, looking as if he wanted to wag a tail that was no longer there.
    “I was afraid this might happen,” Jaylor said.
    Brevelan looked at him as she spread the woolen cloak over Darville’s now shivering form.
    “He’s been a wolf for many moons. It’s going to take some time for him to remember what it means to be fully human.” Jaylor’s voice gained a little strength. The pulse in his neck still beat in irregular tattoo.
    “Will he remember the time he spent as a . . . as . . . under my care?” Heat crept up her face. During that time she’d had no need for modesty. Darville had been just another animal. Why should she hide her body from him?
    “I don’t know.”
    She turned from her embarrassment to practical matters. “We need to find a place to camp for tonight. I know you are both exhausted, and Mica still hurts, but Old Thorm will come back. Soon. We must hide from his wrath until we are all rested and stronger.”
    “We have to go after that man,” Darville croaked. He stretched his legs and stood slowly. She could see discomfort cross his face as he adjusted to his new posture.
    “We’d waste more time than we’d save,” she asserted, then looked away. She’d forgotten who he was. One didn’t address the prince of the realm in that tone. She should have shown him more respect. That was hard to remember when she had been coaxing and ordering him around for moons.
    “She’s right,” Jaylor groaned. His eyes were shadowed and his skin still had that gray tinge. “I have to rest, to eat. There is no more magic in me and not enough strength to gather more.” He sniffed the air and frowned. “If there’s any magic left.”
    Darville surveyed the cave. His eyes sought every crevice, assessing it as if it were a military