The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume II

He’d helped save Coronnan from invasion. Another contradiction of priorities. When would he ever be able to put his own needs above those of others?
    “But Master Stuuvart said . . .” Haakkon’s protest brought Nimbulan out of his loop of self-defeating thoughts.
    “I run the school, Haakkon. Now get into the refectory and take your classmates with you. Oh, and have someone fetch parchment and pens from my room. His Grace and I have some plans for ferries and loading docks to organize while we eat.” He clapped his hand on the king’s good shoulder. He needed to appease Quinnault’s enthusiasms, or he’d never take the time to see a healer. Nimbulan wanted the king’s health in good order before he left on his quest.
    He half smiled to himself, realizing he’d already made up his mind to leave on his quest today. Before dawn if possible.
    “I’ll bring you the supplies myself, Master Nimbulan.” Haakkon ran up the narrow stairs that curved toward the residential wing.
    “Wait, Haakkon, the door is locked,” Nimbulan called to the boy. Stuuvart’s younger daughter had never arrived with the treatise on naval warfare so many hours ago when he had requested it. Why not?
    Stuuvart had probably found other more “important” chores for the child. More important to Stuuvart and no one else.
    Nimbulan eyed the pesky trail of water where it crossed the threshold of the school. Tiny, damp pawprints ran beside the water. Where did the tracks go from here? How long had the water been trickling toward its destination, perhaps filling some unknown reservoir?
    A glint of moisture on the stairs told him.
    “Haakkon, come back! Haakkon?” he called anxiously. He mounted the steps without thinking.
    A sleek form slithered past him, brushing against Nimbulan’s leg. Then, the creature—a ferret?—was gone, so quickly it might have been only his imagination.
    A scream split the air.
    “Haakkon!’ Nimbulan rushed forward.
    Darkness streaked down the stairs in the wake of the animal. The thin trickle of water swelled to the width of the stairs. His foot slid on suddenly wet stone. A loud roar echoed through the stairwell. Torches sputtered. Darkness filled his mind and his eyes.
    The water swelled and rose in a wave, washing over him. He forced himself to relax in the surge of water, as Myri had taught him.
    Myri! He couldn’t die without seeing her again.
    He kicked upward, striving for air. Iron bands crushed his chest. Only water, he told himself. Heavy water seeking its home.
    Air. He needed air. Fight one element with another.
    I can’t swim. I’ll drown. Then his head broke the surface and life-giving air filled his lungs. He almost sobbed with relief.
    Hard stone jabbed into his back, nearly knocking the blessed air from his laboring lungs. Walls. Steps. Air. He lay half on the first stair, half in the landing, still breathing. Water exited the building and retreated along the path of the original little trickle.
    Nimbulan shook wet hair out of his eyes and waved the torches back to life. He surveyed the damage. Water dripped from every surface, traveling with some urgency back to the primary stream. Every last drop left the stairs and landing. Definitely the work of an elemental.
    Nimbulan wiped his face with shaking hands. “Quinnault, are you all right?” The king sat against the wall, somewhat dazed and very damp.
    A quick survey revealed the corridor to the refectory remained dry. The trapped element sought only to return to its home, not to spread.
    “Haakkon!” Nimbulan turned over, ready to crawl up the stairs. “Answer me, Haakkon!”
    Only then did he become aware of something heavy resting against his shoulders, crosswise on the steps just above him.
    Haakkon lay there, eyes wide open, limbs tangled, skin pale as the underside of a fish.

Chapter 13
     
    “S o many deaths. When will it stop?” Nimbulan cried as he cradled Haakon’s slack body. In his mind he saw Keegan’s face replace Haakon’s immature features. Nimbulan had been forced to kill Keegan, his former apprentice, almost two years ago. The boy had run away to become a Battlemage before his training was complete. He had known his new patron would challenge Nimbulan’s patron in battle. Keegan had come close to defeating his teacher in that battle. But inexperience had made him more bold than wise. In order to keep the boy’s spell-gone-amuck from destroying most of Coronnan, Nimbulan had been forced to kill the