The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume I: Volume I

the power to act for him,” Andrall interjected. “We can raise and provision an army, order the magicians to summon the dragons, if necessary.” His voice calmed much of the turbulent emotion in the room. Scrawny was prompting him.
    Wasn’t he? The “nudge” didn’t feel right, didn’t carry Scrawny’s signature. Baamin peered around Krej to get a better view of his colleague. Andrall’s magician was staring at Krej as if enthralled. Slippy was actually prompting the Lord of Nunio. Law specifically forbade a magician to advise any but his own lord. And why was Krej’s magician prompting the one lord likely to stand up to Krej?
    “What dragons?” Krej thundered. His voice echoed about the room in ominous thunder rolls. All were stunned into quiet.
    “Have any of you ever seen a dragon?” Silence greeted that question. “What good is a creature of myth? Where is the magic they are supposed to give us? We must act now, elect a leader.” Himself no doubt. “And send what is left of the army to fight the raiders. Let that be their training ground for the conflict to come with the trained troops and mercenaries our neighbors can summon.”
    “Our king still lives,” Andrall reminded them. “We don’t need to elect a leader. As long as we are in accord, we can function for him.”
    “Read your history, Lord Andrall,” Krej sneered. “Do you know what happens when you try to run a war by committee?”
    Several men in the room shuddered, including Baamin. Stargods! Krej was right. The last time that had happened, Coronnan had dissolved into fifty years of civil war.
    “In view of the circumstances,” Lord Wendray from the border city of Sambol stood and addressed the assembled Council of Provinces, “very shortly I will be in dire need of an army. The raiders grow stronger every hour. Even now I should be home organizing defenses. Gentlemen, I am a merchant, governing a merchant city on the western border, not a warrior. Give me an army to defend the vulnerable western reaches. But give me an army led by a capable general.” He leaned heavily on his pudgy fists.
    “There are several capable generals in our army,” Lord Andrall argued.
    “But none of them has ever seen real combat,” Krej countered. “For that matter, no one within the kingdom has ever seen combat.” He stood behind Scrawny for a moment.
    Baamin watched their auras merge and grow. Scrawny! His oldest friend, the magician he trusted most, was in league with Krej. The joined aura of red and green magic expanded to include five lords and their magicians. All five men were linked to Krej by marriage or betrothal to one of his children. All five were weak, malleable men. None of their magicians—three of them old friends who had demonstrated rogue abilities—resisted the illegal magic persuasion.
    Couldn’t any of the other magicians see the magic? Why weren’t they fighting it?
    “You are the youngest, most fit and best educated of all of us.” Lord Marnak, whose son was to marry Krej’s fourteen-year-old daughter next moon, spoke in an enthralled monotone.
    Hastily, Baamin summoned his own magic in a counter spell. Illegal though it might be, he had to break Krej’s command over the Council.
    Power rippled through his body. He massed it, allowed it to strengthen, then threw it at the buzzing aura of red and green haze. The power erupted from his mind in a silver-blue dart. He aimed it at Krej’s heart. The illegal aura buckled a fraction under the assault. Krej closed his eyes in concentration. The red and green haze reformed around the shattered pieces of Baamin’s magic.
    Deep within the inviolate aura, Krej smiled. His eyes narrowed, evilly. Baamjn didn’t have to hear his mocking laughter to know who had won this minor skirmish.
    “Lord Krej is the best qualified to lead us out of this entanglement. He is the strongest and the closest relative to the king,” Marnak mumbled on. “We must make him regent.”
    “I disagree!” Andrall stood in protest. The aura rippled around him but did not cover him. Who was Protecting the Lord of Nunjo if not his own magician?
    “You have been outvoted Andrall,” Krej drawled. “I am now regent of Coronnan and I command you to be quiet while I make plans for our defense.”

    “You must rest, Brevelan.” Darville’s hands gently pressed her shoulders back against the thin pallet on her cot.
    She shook her head in denial. “I can’t.” The words came out a croak. She