The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume II

wasn’t the last tent within the perimeter of the camp, but very near the edge, as if the owner were a latecomer or wished a rapid exit.
    “And look at Moncriith.” The little girl stood up, hands on hips, an expression of outrage on her face. “He’s cheating. Look at his aura. He’s amplifying the emotions of the crowd following the sniffers. He’s the one crying for blood and making them think it’s their wish.”
    “Rollett is down there.” Myri remembered clearly that Nimbulan had sent the young man, Lan’s most trusted journeyman, to spy on Moncriith yesterday afternoon. Rollett had been eager to test his skills as an observer, as well as his ability to disguise himself. A simple delusion, altering only hair and eye color, required enough magic to alert a witchsniffer. “How, Shayla? How can we help him?”
    A prickling on the back of her neck warned her of danger. She ducked, drawing Kalen and another girl back down to the grass. An arrow of magic whizzed past them, speeding directly for the tent that must belong to Rollett.
    The shimmering spell spun as it flew, sending out tiny rainbows. It paused briefly, turned abruptly, then plunged faster and faster toward the tent. The silent impact sent shards of colors radiating into the air like a sunburst. When the tiny points of light drifted to the ground like colored snowflakes, the tent was gone. Vanished in an eyeblink.
    Above them, Shayla heaved a sigh of relief.
    Myri looked closer with all of her senses. A dome of transparent magic now covered the space where the tent had been. Its presence was discernible only by the distortion of light around it—like looking at a dragon.
    The witchsniffers paused in their seeking. Their arms began a new dance of sweeping wide circles. They’d lost their prey and now sought a new direction, following a similar dome of transparent magic that drifted to the east of camp.
    “We have to provide a diversion, or they’ll find him for sure.” Kalen jumped up again. She closed her eyes and frowned in concentration as she drew energy from the Kardia.
    Myri felt the pull of a ley line to the north of them. She, too, drew on it to fuel a spell. Land in the next valley, Shayla, and mount Rollett on your back. No one in the camp will see you. They’ll all be looking at us, she said to the dragon.
    (Agreed. Amaranth will guard you until I return for you.)
    Beside Myri, Kalen wove a delusion around herself. With each heartbeat she grew taller, broader. Her simple leather tunic and trews shifted toward red tones, stretched into a blood-red robe. Her features took on masculine coarseness. In a moment, an exact replica of Moncriith stood on top of the hill. Then Kalen, beneath the disguise, raised her hands, palms outward in a traditional gesture of benediction. Only the slightly downward curving little and third fingers indicated that she captured threads of the Kardia and wove them together to create her appearance.
    The witchsniffers looked up, their seeking arms stopped circling. Fingers and noses pointed accusingly at the new Moncriith on the hill, in a direct line with the original figure. From the vantage point of the mob, the sniffers were pointing at their leader as the source of magic they should seek out and murder.
    “Oh, you wicked child!” Myri laughed.
    “I can’t hold it very long. I don’t know how to . . .” The delusion collapsed. Only a very tired little girl in scratched journey leathers remained, hands to knees, head bowed, panting raggedly.
    The witchsniffers faltered again in their quest.
    “If you can’t sustain the delusion, I’ll have to try.” Myri gathered the threads of energy in her fingers and spun them around her. From memory she painted a portrait of her enemy on her own face, recreating his signature robes and untrimmed hair and beard.
    The seekers found the scent again and marched forward, a confused and angry mob in their wake. They surrounded the knoll where the real Moncriith stood, hands held out in mute appeal. He screamed something at his followers. Fear laced his tones.
    Myri fought to sustain the spell. Fatigue threatened to drag the delusion back into the Kardia where it originated. She only needed to hold the spell a little longer. A little longer. Just until Rollett escaped.
    Her contact with the ley line drained away. The threads of magic she held within her fingers threatened to tangle.
    She gritted her teeth and found the strength to hold the spell. Sweat broke