The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume II

rejoin the force that generated it.
    Then abruptly the sensation of being caught in an airless vortex ceased. Powwell’s ears continued to ring in the sudden silence. His body ached as if he’d been dragged through the surf of the little cove by the village.
    An enticing melody hummed within his mind. He knew a compulsion to turn around and reenter the vortex.
    Intense fear of the unknown kept Powwell rigid, with his back to the alluring song.
    Inside his tunic pocket, Thorny, his hedgehog familiar, gibbered in fear. The little animal’s bristling spines pricked Powwell’s chest through his layers of winter clothing.
    With Thorny’s help, Powwell oriented himself to the planet. He located the South Pole of Kardia Hodos. With that position firmly anchored into his consciousness, he knew up and down, right and left, night and day. Only then did he became aware of moving his body.
    Pain throbbed behind his eyes. He tried to raise his hands to press his fingers against his eyelids.
    Something held his arms at his sides, at the same time pulling his hands forward. He twisted a little and winced as scratchy rope bit into his chest where it pinned his arms at his sides. More rope bound his hands in front of him. A dark-skinned man dragged him forward by his wrist bonds. His skin chafed and burned beneath the constant pressure on the ropes.
    Powwell risked opening his eyes a little and stumbled over rubble on a rough path. Black and gray surrounded him.
    He was underground. The entire weight of Kardia Hodos seemed to press upon his head and chest, robbing him of air.
    No. Only his imagination and fear made him breathe so shallowly, fighting for every scrap of air.
    A new noise rushed toward him like surf over the Dragon Teeth rock formation in the cove. Yeek, kush, kush. Yeek, kush, kush. The sound grew with every step forward. It echoed and multiplied until it overshadowed the sound of Powwell’s heart throbbing in his head.
    The air heated until it rasped against Powwell’s throat. He longed for a drink of water—even the sulfurous stuff in the hot spring near the clearing.
    Despair washed over his emotions like a living entity, compounding the heat. He began to sweat.
    He wanted to roll himself into a ball, just like Thorny did, and ignore the world until all this strangeness went away and he was safely back in Myrilandel’s clearing.
    He thought of cool green trees, shaded saber ferns, and clear mountain streams. The heat intensified.
    “Move, move, move. We haven’t much time!” Televarn whispered hoarsely. He prodded the man dragging Powwell with a stick—as if herding cattle.
    Memory returned abruptly to Powwell. Televarn had raided the village with fire and sword. The Rover chieftain had kidnapped the pregnant witchwoman and her flywacket. He’d also snared Powwell and Kalen. Why?
    At least their captor was Televarn and not Moncriith the Bloodmage. With Televarn, they had a chance to live and maybe escape. Moncriith didn’t want any magicians or politicians left alive except himself.
    Powwell hoped the Rovers hadn’t brutally murdered anyone in the village. Moncriith would have burned them all in his obsession to burn Myri at the stake and thus rid the world of demons.
    Quickly, Powwell checked the line of marching bodies in front of him. An older Rover woman, clad in black highlighted by red and purple, pulled on Myri’s bonds, somewhat more gently than the Rover man dragged Powwell.
    Ahead of them, a younger Rover woman, also in black but wearing a fire-green vest and blood-red trim on her skirt, yanked at Kalen until the little girl fell flat on her face.
    Powwell almost cried out in protest of the rough treatment.
    Kalen appeared nearly unconscious as the Rover dragged her to her feet. Myri moved in the same disjointed daze.
    Televarn ignored Powwell, as if he expected his captive to be unaware as well. The Rover wanted them dazed and obedient for a reason. Just before the massive field of magic had engulfed him, Powwell remember Televarn saying something about not knowing the way to their new home.
    Powwell kept his eyes half-closed. He could still see, but Televarn couldn’t tell that he was awake. He needed time to gather information and plan.
    A dour-faced older Rover yanked on Powwell’s bonds. He stumbled forward on nearly numb legs. Two half running steps later, full sensation returned abruptly to his body. His legs felt like tree sap in the grinding heat. His head pounded more fiercely