The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume II

days after she and her nimbus had departed abruptly from Coronnan City.
    At the same moment as she spoke, Nimbulan’s contact with Myrilandel through the silver umbilical snapped.
    Now he trudged up the path from the village to the clearing. Footsore and saddlesore, he rested briefly against the split boulder with an everblue tree growing out of the center of it. He’d ridden from Coronnan City at a breakneck pace. Five steeds had floundered under his prodding to move ever faster. The last of the beasts had gone lame two leagues outside the village.
    The magical barrier that protected the clearing should be within sight—if the barrier were visible. Winter mud slowed his passage along the trail. More than half a year had passed since he’d said farewell to his wife. Too long. He’d allowed the concerns of the king and Commune to chain him to the capital for too long.
    Hastily he finger-combed his hair, trying to make his weary, mud-splattered appearance a little more presentable. Regretting even that delay, he stepped up to the barrier, closed his eyes, and pushed with his left hand. He met no resistance.
    Puzzled, he stepped across what should be the threshold of the clearing. No tingle of magical energy. No resistance. Nothing.
    He looked through the screening trees. Nothing had changed from the first time he’d seen the place. The thatch on the one room hut sagged in the middle, the door still hung slightly crooked, the kitchen garden was overgrown with weeds. Two flusterhens scratched at the center of the clearing in search of food.
    “Myri?” he called. His voice echoed through the emptiness of the clearing. “Myrilandel,” he shouted louder with both voice and magic.
    No answer.
    (The Covenant is broken!) The dragons were gone. He was no longer connected to his wife.
    And yet the dragon magic persisted in the air. What was happening?
    Why, oh why, hadn’t he made sure Powwell or Kalen could work the summons spell properly before they left Coronnan City? Neither of them had perfected the spell in the last three seasons. Myri had never been able to learn it. Communication had been sporadic and incomplete at best.
    “Myri!” he cried, desperate to see her again and know she was safe. “Myri, Kalen, Powwell. Somebody please answer me.”
    Nothing.
    “Where are you? You can’t be gone.” He dashed into the hut, thrusting the door open so hard he nearly jerked it off its frame. “Myrilandel!”
    Empty. The hut was as empty as the clearing, with no sign it had been inhabited at all in the last year.
    “Where are you?” he whispered into the emptiness. “Were you ever here?”
    Loneliness landed on his shoulders like a lead-weighted cloak. A headache pounded in his temples. He tried to remember her face, her tall, slim body and fine hair so pale it looked like colorless dragon fur. The purple shadows under her fingernails. The way she buried her face into the fur of her black flywacket.
    All the images faded from his mind. He forced them back, holding on to them with the desperation of a deserted lover. The memories slipped through his grasp as if they’d never been.
    His heart ached as tears choked him.
    “Were you real, Myrilandel, or just a dragon dream?”

THE LAST BATTLEMAGE
     
    For Karen, the logical one.
For Linda, the flamboyant one.
For TJ, the action one.
Thanks. I couldn’t write without you.
     
    And to the patient staff of Applebees, thank you for putting up with the critique group from outer space, who never order anything but half-price snacks, and monopolize too much room for hours on end. At least we tip well.

Chapter 1
     
    “A nother moon before your babe is ready,” Karry announced to Myrilandel, holding her hands expertly on the younger woman’s swelling abdomen.
    “I’ve midwifed enough babies, you’d think I’d know how my own baby progressed,” Myri replied to her friend. She rubbed the lower portion of her enormous belly where the baby kicked vigorously. While she looked at her ungainly bulk, she checked the magical cord that bound her to her husband, no matter how far away he was from her.
    A pulse beat against her fingertips. Nimbulan’s life force remained steady and true. She had never been able to delve deeper into the meaning of the unique phenomenon.
    Amaranth, her familiar, mewed at her feet. He rubbed his black cat head against her hand as if adding his caresses to the unborn child. He kept his falcon wings carefully hidden beneath protective folds