The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume II

terrible sounds. Nothing existed but the noise.
    He’d heard those sounds before.
    “You’ll get used to it,” a husky voice penetrated the noise and Powwell’s mind.
    He opened his left eye a slit. If he opened his right eye, the noise and the light would stab it out.
    A dirty face looked back at him. Hard to tell if it was a young male or female. The voice gave no clue to gender either. A dirty kerchief knotted over the left ear, Rover style, covered the person’s hair entirely.
    “Pretty soon you won’t notice the noise at all. Even the heat will seem tolerable after a few moons. I’m Yaala.” A feminine name. She held out a hand in greeting, palm up. A masculine gesture.
    “Powwell.” He raised his left hand slowly to place on top of Yaala’s. His right arm seemed to be pinned beneath his body. Every muscle in his back and shoulders protested. He winced. Sweat poured off his body in the tremendous heat.
    Thorny was in his right pocket! He rolled over, groaning with the movement. He probed Thorny’s hiding place with his thoughts and fingertips. His tunic pocket was empty. Thorny!
    Chip, chip, mmmblr, grmmmblr, came the muffled gibbering reply from nearby. Powwell couldn’t understand his familiar’s emotions, only that the little hedgehog hadn’t been hurt.
    “Did they beat you?” Yaala seemed to be squatting in front of him, quite comfortable on her heels.
    “Not much.” He mentally inventoried the sorest points on his body. The dull ache in his gut and jaw where the guards had punched him to subdue him, and the sharper throb in his right temple made themselves known right away. The rest of his misery seemed to be reaction to those pains.
    A small biting irritation on his right calf told him that Thorny clung to his flesh with his tiny claws. The hedgehog must be trying to find a safe hiding place in Powwell’s trews pocket. Powwell’s discomfort eased a little. His familiar was safe for now.
    “Here, drink this.” Yaala pressed a metal cup to his lips.
    Powwell drank greedily, unaware of his thirst until he swallowed. The taste of rancid eggs fouled his mouth and set his eyes and nose to running. He spat out the tainted water. Some of it sprayed on Yaala’s thin shirt.
    “Drink. You’ll get used to it.” She laughed at his discomfort. “It’s all you get down here. The heat leaches the sweat from you in no time. You’ve got to drink a lot or die.”
    “We’re dead already,” Powwell grumbled. Cautiously, he sipped at the awful tasting water. He clung to his last communication from Kalen. If anyone could get him out of the pit alive, it was Kalen. He’d have to make the effort to stay healthy and vital until she got here, despite the water.
    “Depends on how you look at things.” Yaala twisted her legs beneath her and sat on the rough ground. And who’s on guard duty this shift.”
    “Enlighten me.” Powwell laid his head back on the ground, urging Thorny into the pocket. The effort of sitting up seemed too much in the oppressive heat. His ribs throbbed painfully. He wanted to bathe them in cold water to reduce the swelling. The hot, red light only aggravated them. He couldn’t see any colors, only shades of blacks and grays, overshadowed with the strange red-yellow haze. The light and heat drained everything of vitality and color.
    He had to fight the despair that radiated from the pit. Kalen would rescue him. Come quickly! he urged her.
    “Yaassima never comes down here,” Yaala said. “She trusts her elite guards to keep us in line. Not all of her guards are trustworthy.”
    “That’s something positive,” Powwell replied.
    “The assassins she sends down here either treat us nice or they wind up having an accident.”
    “They might not kill us, but heat and neglect will,” Powwell replied. The feeling of hopelessness wiggled in his gut. Thorny pricked his thigh with his sharp spines, jolting Powwell out of accepting the defeating emotions.
    “You’d be surprised how long people can live down here, as long as they remember to feed us.” Yaala looked back over her shoulder toward the next chamber. “I make sure they do remember.”
    Powwell sensed movement in there. He struggled to sit up again. “Is there a chance they’ll forget to feed us?”
    Kalen had told him to endure. She’d find a way to get him out. But if he starved to death in the meantime . . .
    “Not s’murghing likely. There are too many of us with family and friends on the outside. They