The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume II

looked at the boy, the older of the two, straight in the eye. Most people blinked and stammered when he challenged them with direct eye contact. Not this child. The boy returned the stare and kept his mouth shut. His arm stole about the shoulders of his sister in a protective gesture that said much about them.
    Moncriith presumed they were brother and sister. They possessed the same mud-brown hair and gray eyes with incredibly long lashes. The spay of freckles across their noses fell into almost identical patterns. He’d seen those gray eyes before. Where?
    The girl kept her eyes lowered. She darted shy glances to right and left. Her mouth opened slightly in awe. Her innocence tugged at Moncriith’s heart.
    He vaguely remembered meeting her somewhere in his travels. Probably the boy, too. That was why the eyes looked so familiar. Why hadn’t they heeded his sermons and become too frightened of demons to ever work magic again?
    “This honest farmer also tells me that you frightened his plow steed with witchlight. I have forbidden all witchcraft within Lord d’Astrismos’ land.” He had to remain stern, make an example of all witches. Their magic would attract demons. He would not tolerate rival magicians in his province, no matter how beguiling the children could seem.
    “We didn’t know that, Sssieur. We were hungry and cold. We only did what we had to do to thurvive,” the girl said quietly, very meekly.
    A solitary tear moistened her beautiful eyelashes, threatening to spill over onto her cheek. Moncriith wanted nothing more than to rush forward with a clean handkerchief to brush the tear aside so she could look up at him with thanks. He adjusted his estimate of her age downward.
    “Hush, Kalen. He won’t listen. He’s like all the other witchhunters. He doesn’t care about us. Only about his laws.” The boy pulled her closer, still protecting her.
    “Master Magician Ackerly sent word that two of his students had run away.” Moncriith shook his shoulders to rid himself of his foolish emotions. He had to maintain control here. “Witchchildren run away from the witch school, only using enough magic to survive. Perhaps Myrlandel’s demons haven’t found you yet. I may be able to redeem your souls after all.”
    Among the d’Astrismos soldiers and retainers he already had commitments from two hundred people—he’d worked hard all winter recruiting those commitments. Soon the weather would allow him to take his crusade farther afield. By the time the fields were plowed and planted and the men could leave home, he’d have control of the lord’s army. Control of all Coronnan would soon follow.
    The children exchanged a glance. Communication without words.
    “Speak with words, not magic!” Moncriith roared.
    The farmer backed out of the room with undue haste. Moncriith ignored him, though he should have taken the time to reassure the man he had nothing to fear from Moncriith, being an innocent mundane. Only the abominations who used demon magic had reason to fear Moncriith and Lord d’Astrismos’ justice.
    “Sieur?” The boy leveled his gaze on Moncriith once more. He used the respectful title reserved for honored priests, but his eyes were more seeking than respectful.
    Moncriith had the eerie feeling this child could read him to the depths of his soul. No one could do that anymore. No traditional magician could penetrate the armor he’d erected when . . . when he realized how vulnerable to demons he’d become. Not even the priests in the temple with their coercive methods could force their way into his mind.
    “Speak freely, child. I’ll not harm you.” Moncriith added another layer of armor to his mind.
    “Sieur, we don’t think we want to stay with you. We’re on a quest. An urgent quest.”
    “Now that Nimbulan is dead, the cult of Battlemages will die out, child. And without the Battlemages, the wars will cease. You need not worry about quests anymore. Soon I will return you to your parents and we will all live in peace.”
    The children exchanged another of their deep glances. Moncriith drummed his fingers on the arm of his throne in frustration. Why did everyone question and doubt the truth?
    “But Master Nimbulan ithn’t dead, Sssieur. And we have to find him. It’s important. Very important,” Kalen said. Finally, she raised her eyes to him. Determination overshadowed the innocence and beauty he had seen in her, leaving only a willful child who must be disciplined.