The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume II

natural for dragons to be together. We will change our society only if you change yours.)
    Quinnault ran across the causeway, splashing through the puddles left by the receding tide. He tucked his shirt into his trews as he rushed to join Nimbulan and the dragons. A servant ran behind him, proffering bread and cheese to his lord.
    “I still don’t understand why your dragons are suddenly concerned with the affairs of men when they have remained hidden and elusive for centuries.” Lord Quinnault stopped abruptly behind Nimbulan. His eyes and mouth opened in awe as he stared at Shayla.
    “They aren’t my dragons. Myri is the one they listen to. They only tell me what they want me to know. With her they communicate freely.” Together they watched Myri caress a young red-tipped dragon’s cheek as if she petted a docile steed—a steed as large as a hut.
    “He says his name is Tssonnin,” Myri said over her shoulder to Nimbulan. “They always accord others the honor of using their names.”
    “Did I tell you that we rode dragonback from the Southern Mountains?” Nimbulan asked Quinnault, suppressing yet another yawn. “Shayla spoke to Myri the entire trip. They discussed all manner of issues, dragon and human, female and general. Myri rode directly in front of me, and I heard only her words. Nothing from the dragon. I think the young dragons spoke, too. Again, I was not privy to any of their comments.”
    Quinnault cringed as Tssonnin bent his head to scratch behind his steedlike ear with the barbed tip of his wing. The red-tipped spiral horn on his forehead came dangerously close to spearing Kalen who had crept up to be closer to them. “They will hurt her.” He moved to pull her away.
    “Doubtful.” Nimbulan held Quinnalt back. “They adore children. And Myri has claimed Kalen and Powwell as her own. Myri is the one the dragons trust. She is the one they sought out and waited for.”
    “But why now? Why not when the wars first started?” The lord looked as if he barely restrained himself from dashing to rescue Myri and Kalen.
    Amaranth joined the women and clambered up Tssonin’s outstretched foreleg to perch on his shoulder. His long talonlike claws didn’t penetrate the tough dragon hide. A few crystalline hairs fell free in the flywacket’s wake. They glinted in the early sunlight. Three apprentices dashed forward to gather the hairs as souvenirs.
    “Look, my lord, the children have no fear of the beasts. They seem to know instinctively how much the dragons treasure young ones. Now we must get to work. Do you wish to join us in the exercises to gather dragon magic? You might have a talent for it.”
    “I have so little magic my efforts will add nothing to your schemes.”
    “Perhaps. Perhaps not. This is an entirely different technique. I find it more exhausting than drawing energy from the ley lines. But you can’t see ley lines, so maybe gathering dragon magic will be easy for you. Come. Try, at least. Sharing magic is an exhilarating experience. I just wish Myri were able to join us.”
    “Nimbulan?” Myri turned sharply. Her spine stiffened, and she looked as if she needed to flee. “Lan, Shayla says there is an army approaching from the south. A day’s march away. They move only at night and remain hidden during the day so that Quinnault will have no time to prepare. Moncriith is with them.”
    “Wisp of flame, burning bright
Travel far beyond my sight
Bring to view the other true
Pass the word of magic might.”
     
    Nimbulan listened to the apprentices and masters chant the words of his simple communication spell.
    Why did they take so long learning a simple rhyme? He’d never perfect the technique of joining their magic if they took hours on the easiest of spells. Kammeryl d’ Astrismos and his army came closer with every tick of the water clock.
    He hoped Rollett was able to infiltrate the enemy army soon enough to learn some important tactical information to aid Quinnault in the coming battle. The young journeyman magician would have to be careful and stay out of Moncriith’s way.
    Patience, he told himself. You didn’t learn magic in a day. He remembered the years he’d struggled to create his spells. Old Druulin had made him keep his incantations and pieces of poetry to trigger those spells private, even from the master and Ackerly, his best friend. Druulin had stolen the rhyme for a simple invisibility spell and used it to sneak up on Nimbulan. The old man had