The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume II

He had crowed with delight as he watched another witchwoman burn. Myri had used his distraction to escape that village.
    “I ordered armed guards to escort Moncriith and his motley cult from the camp. He won’t trouble you again. Lord Kammeryl d’Astrismos agreed to my orders.” He smiled slightly as his eyes held hers in a gentle gaze.
    “You think me safe while I am under your protection. But what happens when I leave?” She broke the eye contact after a moment, uncertain of his intentions. The voices had promised her a home in the east. How much longer must she travel to find it?
    She rolled to her side and tried to sit up, eager to be gone. Amaranth protested her movement with a squeak. Her stomach bounced and pain stabbed between her eyes.
    “You aren’t going anywhere for a while.” The magician eased her back onto the mattress. His hand lingered on her shoulder. The strength in his fingers reassured her where his words hadn’t. “I estimate at least a week for you to recover enough to get out of bed and move around a little. In a moon or more we will discuss your homeward journey—if the roads are still passable.” His green eyes begged her to agree with him.
    “No. I must leave before nightfall.” She tried to sit up again but couldn’t lift her head from the soft pillow. This time she didn’t break the eye contact with him.
    She’d heard much of this man’s argument with Moncriith, though she’d been deep within her trance at the time and couldn’t respond. Nimbulan, chief Battlemage for the lord. He and his ilk had directed the battle, determined who lived and who died. Many of the injuries in the hospital came from magic. She’d stayed away from those men, unsure how to help them. She knew only how to heal wounds inflicted by accident.
    “I think you will stay, Myrilandel. I will train you to use your talent properly. Coronnan has need of healers.” He stepped behind the shielded candle. His face and aura fell into shadow. “I have other duties of some urgency to attend to now. I’ve left you a little clear broth and a mug of wine. Don’t drink too much too fast. I’ll be back to check on you and bring you solid food when you have rested. Some yampion pie, perhaps?” He smiled with the charm of a little boy trying to wheedle sweets out of a stern parent.
    Myri wanted to smile with him. Stewed yampion roots blended into a sweet custard of goat’s milk and eggs was one of her favorite foods.
    Dizziness attacked as she lifted her head to watch him leave. The same dizziness she’d felt as she ran from the village toward the battle. The sight of women dancing around the Equinox Pylon with only children as partners and a single drum for accompaniment haunted her.
    “Magician,” Myri called to him as he backed into the shadows. “You asked not why I came here, only where I came from.”
    “Why did you come to this particular battle scene when we have been at war for three generations?” He stepped into the light once more. He raised his palm again, almost as if he gathered information through it. His aura glowed blue with honest concern for her. She wanted to trust him. Didn’t quite dare.
    “I was sent.” She had to deliver her message and leave. The voices would guide her to a home where she would be safe from Moncriith and others who needed to hurt her.
    “Who sent you?” His hand jerked closed into a fist then opened again—as if caught in a spasm.
    “I had a vision. I was sent to remind you of the cost of these battles. In the village three ridges south of here, the women must honor the Equinox in unbalanced numbers. There are no more men to partner them. No more men to father new lives, to plow and plant, to fish or hunt. No more men. They have all died in your battles.”
    “ Stargods! The Stargods have sent you?” He crossed himself in the accepted manner and closed his eyes as if in prayer.
    “I think that you as a magician, a man who needs rituals to perform magic, are the one I must tell of this terrible perversion of nature. You know rituals must be performed properly or not at all. The imbalance of dancers and drummers means the coming year will bring famine to all, including your precious army.”
    “This news troubles me. I must think on it.” The magician turned without another word and faded into the darkness. A puff of wind from the doorway told her that he had left the pavilion.
    Relief at his absence relaxed her clenched fists and tight neck