The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume II

tucked a blanket around her. He looked back to Nimbulan. Awe and concern flashed across his eyes in rapid succession.
    “Two more. There are two more men out there!” Myri cried.
    “You can’t save the last two,” Nimbulan said as he cradled Amaranth against his chest. Kalen threw another blanket over them both.
    Myri struggled briefly against Yoshi’s tight hold of her, then collapsed, a limp, dead weight.
    “They’re dead. It’s too late,” she said, looking regretfully back to the angry waves.
    “You did what you could. You saved five men who would have died without you.” Nimbulan brushed wet hair out of her eyes with his fingers. Briefly he regretted Yoshi easily managing her weight. Then common sense asserted itself. He was in no shape to carry her. He’d be lucky to make it up the cliff path without help.
    “Five. Only five.” Myri moaned her grief.
    Villagers rushed forward with blankets and chattering concern. Nimbulan allowed a stout woman to take Amaranth. She wrapped the cat in the folds of rough wool, rubbing his fur dry, pushing her face close to the animal’s while she cooed praise and comfort.
    Yoshi set Myri back on her feet as Kalen and Powwell draped a second blanket around her shoulders. All three of them rubbed the coarse weave against her arms, back, and legs to stimulate her body’s natural heat.
    Another woman gave Nimbulan a dry blanket and ushered all of them toward the warmth and shelter of the pub. The smell of hot soup and cider drew him to the pool of light spilling out from the doorway.
    “Thank you.” Myri kissed his cheek, then rested her head limply against his shoulder. “Knowing you were waiting for me, helping me, almost protecting me, made the job less frightening. I’ve never had anyone wait for me like that.” She looked up as if scanning the ceiling of the pub for evidence of the dragons. They had helped her, too, she had said.
    “I will always be here to help you, Myri.” He paused at the doorway to the pub. Both of their stomachs raised loud grumbles at the onslaught of the enticing smells and promise of protection from the storm inside the pub.
    Gently they laughed, pressing their foreheads together in wonderfully private intimacy.
    “Does that mean you will go with her to the cleansing fires?” Moncriith asked from right behind them.

Chapter 31
     
    P owwell trembled at Moncriith’s words. How had the Bloodmage found them? The dragons had given him a dream that would take him back to Castle Krej.
    Beside him, he felt Kalen go stiff with anger. Her eyes opened wide in her innocent act—something she hadn’t done since they’d found Nimbulan and Myri.
    “The children led me to you, Nimbulan, so that I can fulfill the vision provided me by the Stargods. When I awoke from whatever enchantment you and the witch put on me and found my men and dogs scattered, nearly witless, I realized I had not killed any demons after all. So I decided to seek the children instead of the witch. Once I remembered that I had kept threads of their old clothing smeared with blood from their small cuts and scratches, all I had to do was link blood to blood and I found them.” The Bloodmage chuckled at his own cleverness.
    Guilt washed over Powwell. He should have known Moncriith could find them through the clothes they had disgarded at Castle Krej.
    “The witch and her consort must be burned to cleanse this land of demons.” Moncriith raised his arms to the cave ceiling in a dramatic gesture that Powwell had seen all too often. It had no more meaning to him than if the man scratched his backside. But the people crowding the pub looked up wide-eyed and silent.
    Only when he saw the cave ceiling did Powwell realize he was underground again. The smoke and smell of too many bodies crowded together, robbed him of air. He felt the weight of all of Kardia Hodos pressing on his head and chest. All trace of magic deserted his body with his growing panic.
    He was defenseless, helpless to join his magic with Nimbulan to oust the Bloodmage.
    Kalen took his hand in hers. An image of a flower-strewn field open to sun and wind flashed from her mind to his. He relaxed a little and listened.
    “Don’t be ridiculous,” Nimbulan scoffed. He turned his back on the priest and stalked into the depths of the cave, keeping a half-drowned Myrilandel within the circle of his arms. Powwell noticed how his shoulders had tensed and his grip on her had tightened. Whispers erupted throughout