The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume II

parched their throats, and drained their bodies of sweat.
    Myri saw what they saw, but with a curious transparency. None of the illusions of heat and arid air touched her. But her empathic talent forced her to share their emotions and pain.
    Desperately she clasped the silver cord attached to her heart with both hands, trying to communicate with her husband. It had never worked over this great a distance before. Maybe danger would fuel her pleas.
    Nothing. She looked around for another avenue of escape from the raiders and from her own empathic link to them.
    One man stood free of the illusion. He grinned at Myri and stalked toward her, swinging his club and whistling a jaunty tune—the same tune he’d whistled as he thrust a knife into Nimbulan’s gut last spring. Televarn. The Rover chieftain who oozed lies and tricks with every word he spoke, every magical spell he wove.
    Shayla added the image of a blessed oasis with a creek to her illusion. The people stumbled into a real creek, pressing their faces into the refreshing water. Shayla pushed the image of a shallow pool, no more than half a finger-length in depth.
    The true creek ran nearly as deep as half a man. The dragon increased the sun’s temperature in the vision, urging the evil men and women to press their faces deeper, deeper into the water. Relentlessly she pressed the dragon dream into their minds.
    Air evaporated from Myri’s lungs in empathy with the men and women around her. Fleeing villagers as well as the dark-haired, dark-clad raiders staggered in the imagined desert heat. Only Televarn remained upright. He continued his approach toward Myri.
    She tried to run. A new cramp stopped her. Powwell and Kalen weren’t there to help her. They, too, rushed toward the creek to drink.
    Shayla! Myrilandel shouted. Stop the dream. They die. They will all die.
    (And so they should. They dared harm you. They must die, by their own foolishness.)
    If they die, then I will share their deaths. I am linked to them by my talent. I feel what they feel.
    (You will be free of them in a moment. You need not share their fate.)
    Televarn, their leader, is immune to your visions, as am I. He continues his pursuit of us. The children can’t flee with me because of the dragon dream.
    The vision evaporated.
    A harsh blow to the back of Myri’s head shot pain down her spine. Black spots crowded her vision. She stumbled. Powwell recovered enough to catch her. Kalen dragged her forward.
    (Not that way. Evil men await you there!)
    “Yes, this way, it’s safe. I know it’s safe,” Kalen insisted.
    Myri tried focusing on the trees around her and the path Kalen followed. Two of everything swam before her.
    Two Televarns grabbed her harshly by the neck. She flailed against him. He tightened his grip, threatening to choke the life from her.
    Other men bound Kalen and Powwell with stout ropes. Powwell kicked at his captor. Piedro punched him in the jaw, smiling vilely. Kalen screamed and thrashed. Abruptly she ceased, staring ahead with blank eyes.
    Myri lurched forward, trying to get to her daughter.
    “One more move, and I slash your belly open. I have no use for another man’s child, Myrilandel,” Televarn hissed in her ear.
    She stilled her struggles.
    “That’s better, cherbein. I always knew you loved me best. As soon as you are rid of Nimbulan’s brat, you will be my mate again. For all time.”
    The trees seemed to double. The colors shifted and swirled into a mighty vortex. Had Shayla superimposed another form of vision on her eyes? What did it all mean?
    “I can’t have you remembering the way to your new home, cherbein. ” Televarn laughed as he pounded something into Myri’s temple.
    The silver cord connecting her heart to Nimbulan’s dissolved. Just as blackness enveloped her, she heard Shayla bugle her distress to every mind that could hear.
    (The Covenant is broken!)
    No, Shayla. Don’t break the Covenant, she sobbed. Don’t desert us when we need you most.

Chapter 2
     
    I ntense magical power swirled around Powwell in ever tightening eddies. Pain assaulted his joints. A great roaring filled his mind.
    His talent cried out for the opportunity to tap the surging power and use it. Almost instinctively he drew the power into himself as if gathering dragon magic. The special place behind his heart where he stored magic couldn’t hold the energy. It coursed along his nerve endings and erupted from his fingers and toes and the ends of his hair to