The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume II

Almost instantly his mind moved inward, seeking the source of the wound. Dimly he watched with physical eyes as Lyman placed both hands flat against the creature’s skull at the base of his single spiral horn.
    This spell has to work. Stargods, please help me do this right.
    The silver cord that bound him to Myri sprang to life. It tugged at his heart almost painfully. The hair on the back of his neck stood up, sensing danger. He didn’t have time to reflect on its sudden reappearance. Amaranth was dying.
    Blackness as deep as the void between the planes of existence invaded Nimbulan’s inner vision from Amaranth’s wound. He pushed it aside, seeking healthy blood and energy to combat the growing infection. Down, down, he sought a beginning place. He needed a fragment of healthy tissue near the wound to strengthen and begin pushing back against the disease-ridden magic. He hadn’t the specific healer’s gift, but a lifetime as a Battlemage had taught him much about field surgery for physical and magical wounds.
    The blackness raced ahead of him. Propelled by magic, the evil grew thicker as it spread, slowing his probe. He pushed harder. Like wading in freezing honey, he forced his vision forward to the strong wing muscles, hoping the magic would follow him there and stay away from the vulnerable heart.
    Thicker and thicker, the black magic encapsulated him, crushing him, robbing him of air. His heart flailed against his chest, fighting against the taint spreading from Amaranth’s body into his own.
    The void opened before him. Nimbulan searched the black nothingness for a trace of Amaranth. He might be able to separate the essence of the purple-tipped dragon from the magic that killed it, then return them both to their physical bodies.
    (The void is forbidden to users of dragon magic.)
    Nimbulan ignored the warning. He had to save Amaranth.
    A tiny amethyst jewel winked at him in the distance. Purple, like Amaranth’s wing veins and horns. He dived after the spirit-light. It eluded him, always keeping just ahead of him.
    Nimbulan concentrated and reached forward with senses that dissipated in the void. Closer. He came closer to the dragon spirit. A black aura surrounded the jewel-toned light. The blackness of evil magic.
    He fought his revulsion and tried to push the blackness aside with his mind.
    A blinding flash of pure white crystal erupted between him and Amaranth’s spirit. Thousands of shards of all color/no color light blasted his senses.
    Don’t die, Amaranth. Oh, please don’t die, Myri’s unique mental voice pleaded. Each fragment of crystal seemed to vibrate with her need to save her familiar.
    “Break it off, Nimbulan!” Lyman shook his physical body. “Let go of Amaranth. He’s gone, you can’t help him anymore. Amaranth is dead.”
    With a jolt that nearly robbed him of consciousness, Nimbulan dropped back into his body. The blackness receded from his mind, a little. Pain exploded from every pore in his body. He pressed his fingertips against his eyes. Star-bursts of light appeared on his eyelids. He pushed the pin-pricks of light together until they filled his vision.
    At last the blackness fled out of him, unable to withstand the light.
    “Myri! I have to go to her. She’s in the void. I heard her. I have to go back to her.”
    “No. The void is forbidden to users of dragon magic. You have to wait and find her by other means.”
    Nimbulan shook his head in denial. The movement broke his void-induced thrall. The reality of battle preparations crashed into his frayed senses. The need to stay and protect the city warred with his need to go to Myri.
    He prayed to all three Stargods for his wife’s safety.
    “Amaranth, Stargods! What did they do to you?” he cried.
    “He lived long enough to tell me something of Myrilandel.”
    Lyman’s words broke through Nimbulan’s emotional dizziness. “Where? Where is my wife, Lyman?”
    “In Hanassa.”
    Chill raced up Nimbulan’s spine. Hanassa lay deep in the Southern Mountains, within a dry caldera. There, hidden from the rest of the world, outlaws, Rovers, rogue magicians, and other criminals had built a city. Secret passes and tunnels were said to lead into the heart of the mountain. Few people who entered Hanassa, who weren’t invited by one undesirable sect or another, left it alive.
    “Myrilandel was twin to Amaranth before taking a human body.” Nimbulan shivered in distress. Myri’s plea across the void haunted him. “She