The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume II

decided to wait a moment more. He’d not lose track of Myrilandel. Not with that pretty silver cord stretching from his heart to hers. What kind of magic had she worked on him? He’d never heard of such a thing.
    He should resent the tie she’d established. Strangely, the connection pleased him. He’d wanted her to stay with him last autumn. Now she couldn’t run away from him. He had the chance to . . . To what?
    “What would Televarn do if he found the storehouse as empty as I know it to be?” Myrilandel looked back at him, as reluctant to move as he. “He’d believe the villagers tricked him, and he can’t allow anyone to trick the great trickster. So he’d watch and wait for another chance. He’d ask questions that would lead him to another storehouse. Only there isn’t another storehouse. Drinking in the pub is the best place to observe the entire village.” She shoved herself away from the tree and took two steps uphill.
    “You know him well.”
    “Too well. Take a drink. You need fluid to replace the blood you lost, then we must move on.”
    Much later Nimbulan could no longer see the crooked rowan. Blindly he set one foot in front of the other—he was no longer sure which foot moved and which was right or left—and bumped into Myrilandel’s back. The silver cord swelled and tugged at his heart when he didn’t move away from the warm sensation of her back pressed against the length of him.
    “We can stop here.” Her teeth chattered as she spoke. “He won’t see our fire from the place where he left you. Amaranth says he’ll bring us more fresh meat. I think he spotted another gray scurry nearby.”
    Nimbulan didn’t care. If his enemy found him now and killed him again, he didn’t have the strength or the will to protest. Anything to end this endless journey.
    (No, you must fight for yourself.)
    “Who said that?”
    Silence.
    He looked at Myrilandel. She stood with her head cocked to the left. Amaranth pointed his nose uphill, to the south, ears alert, tail straight up.
    “You heard them, too?” she asked. Curious shadows elongated her face and fingers. Where had he seen that otherworldly image before?
    “Yes.” He continued to search the small open space for evidence of another being.
    “You won’t see them. They have guided me my entire life. I have learned to trust them, but I have never known who or what they are.” She dropped the pack and began gathering firewood.
    “Did they say it’s safe to stop here?” He reached to his hip where he should carry a knife, but Televarn had stolen it from him.
    “They don’t push me forward now.”
    “I wonder who they are.” He sank down and collected the few dead branches he could reach. Her relaxation of her vigilant attention to her surroundings told him that these mysterious voices were trustworthy more than her words had. He’d never seen this strange witchwomen other than wary, almost feral in her desire to remain unconfined by people or places.
    “I don’t know. But they told me of betrayal and sent me to you. I don’t know if they meant I would be betrayed or you would. Now they push me to climb this hill. There is something up there. . . .” She paused and looked in the direction they had been traveling. Her nose twitched and her eyes brightened. “I think I’m going home. But I’ve never been there before.”
    Three days passed, three days of struggling uphill along a path only Myrilandel could see. Amaranth brought them gray scurries and an occasional striped lapin. On the second day, Myrilandel had enough strength to dig a few roots. Both of them drank deeply from the numerous streams they crossed.
    Finally, at the end of the third day, when Nimbulan was sure he could walk no farther, and could barely lift a hand to push away branches that slapped his face, they both stumbled at the same time, landing flat on their faces. Had the magical cord that bound them together tripped them?
    When he had enough strength to raise his head, a wonderful sight greeted him.
    “An old woodsman’s hut,” he murmured. “The roof is intact.” Shelter at last.
    “A flusterhen coop!” Myrilandel crawled to her feet.
    “We’d best check for people.” He searched the clearing with his normal senses. He hadn’t the strength to look with magic. The place smelled abandoned. But he couldn’t be sure.
    “Hello!” Myri called.
    A flustercock strutted out from the coop in response. He stretched his neck and crowed loudly at