The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume II

danger one and all sensed. Even the dogs had ceased their digging and yelping. They stood with their neck ruffs erect and teeth bared in silent growls.
    A huge shadow blocked the sun.
    “Yikkiiiii. . . .” The lead dog tucked his tail between his legs and ran downhill. The others burst from the thicket, pelting in different directions as if Simurgh himself pursued them.
    “A—a dragon, Sieur!” A guard pointed upward. All color drained from his face. His mouth flapped open and shut several times before he could speak again. “It’s hunting, Sieur. Hunting us.”
    “Nonsense.” Moncriith tried to present an aura of calm. Lumbird bumps erupted on his skin and his mouth went dry. He followed the guard’s pointing finger and nearly fouled his trews.
    He saw the outline of a dragon above the trees.
    “Stargods, preserve me.” He crossed himself again and again. The shadow did not go away.
    A sense of peace flooded his mind, replacing his anxiety. The frustration of the past days of searching vanished. He smiled in triumph. He had already killed all the demons and Myrilandel and Nimbulan. He must return to Castle Krej with the good news. Immediately.
     
    Nimbulan searched the skies for signs of Shayla in flight. A few moments after her departure, the female dragon flew back into the meadow with a wild screech that sounded oddly triumphant. She clutched the carcass of a tracking dog in her front paws.
    Nimbulan looked questioningly at the bloody animal.
    (This creature picked up your trail with its sensitive nose. It led men too close to this meadow. We cannot afford an interruption until you have learned what we have to teach you.)
    “How close?” he asked. Televarn? Only a Rover as tenacious—obsessed, Myri had said—as Televarn had the audacity to follow them into the wilderness.
    (The one who pretends to priesthood cannot find you. The other dogs have scattered in fear. The men wearing the clothes all alike ran with them at sight of me. Only the one in new red persists, and I have given him a dream that will take him back where he started from.)
    “Moncriith!” Myri paled. “He will remember. He has no other reason for living than to watch me burn.” She stared at the dragon with less effort than Nimbulan could.
    (If he remembers outside the dragon dream, then you can, too. You must remember how to gather dragon magic.)
    “Why me? I can’t do it, but Nimbulan and Powwell can. Why me?”
    (You are the one we trust. We have guarded you for many years, waiting for you to forge a covenant between dragonkind and humans.)
    “If you want her to remember, then she must have done this before,” Nimbulan mused. “If she did it before, she would have a memory, but all her memories come and go, as if she were breaking through a spell. A very strong spell that is renewed each time she tries to break free. Did you impose the spell?” Nimbulan forced himself to look Shayla directly in her eye. With effort he maintained his sense of self and kept the dragon within view.
    (Dragons have limited magic. Our defenses have always been in our size, our flight, and our fire. Against human magicians these are not always enough.)
    An old grief assailed Nimbulan. Reflected in Shayla’s eyes he saw men battling across a wheatfield near the River Coronnan. At first he thought he saw the battle last autumn when he had been forced to kill Keegan. Then, he noticed the style of uniforms dated back twenty years—to the time when an out-of-control spell had burned the field and all who stood within it. Druulin, Boojlin, and Caasser had died in the hellish fires that day.
    Nimbulan and Ackerly had escaped death only because Nimbulan had finally broken Druulin’s binding spell on Ackerly the night before. The cunning old man had known that Nimbulan could break any spell placed upon him. But the spell placed upon another—especially one that held death in the breaking would defy him for a long time. Druulin also knew that Nimbulan wouldn’t leave without Ackerly. So the spell had been placed upon the lesser magician. Nimbulan took ten years learning to break the spell. They had run away to take service with Kammeryl d’Astrismos the night before the fateful battle.
    His perspective shifted to an aerial view. The Kardia no longer supported his feet. He looked around and discovered himself flying alongside Shayla—arms outstretched like wings, the wind buffeting his face and keeping him aloft. His stomach lurched with the