The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume II

sank to the floor.
    Wiggles squirmed out from beneath Televarn’s vest and stretched along the length of his right thigh, head resting on his knee. He stroked the ferret’s fur as he breathed deeply.
    A light trance settled over him. Resentment churned in the back of his mind. He shouldn’t have to work this hard to touch the mind of one of his own. Every member of the clan was connected to him, mind, body, and soul, by the magic rituals unique to Rovers. Only Erda could dissolve bits and pieces of the control.
    Kalen had steadfastly remained outside of those rituals for several moons before Televarn laid the trap for Myrilandel. Even Nimbulan had been easier to control than that willful child.
    He suppressed his anger before it rent great holes in his trance.
    Slowly he released a thin tendril of magic. It resonated against the mineral deposits in the volcanic rocks of the cavern. He heard the magic shift its vibrations until it hummed in harmony with the Kardia. He matched his voice to the solid note. Maintaining the one-note chant, he built a picture of Kalen in his mind. Her brown braids laced with auburn came easily to him. He traced an outline of her hair in the air before him.
    Bright green lines followed his finger, leaving a bare sketch of a head behind. He added wide, gray eyes and a snub nose. With tender care he dotted a spray of freckles across her nose. The last detail eluded him. How to draw her mouth and chin? They faded from his memory. All he could see in his mental picture of the girl were her eyes, big, innocent, gazing up at him with awe.
    Enough. The eyes were more important in identifying her. They were also a place of entry for his probe. He withdrew his tracing finger and attached his magic to the drawing.
    Then he willed the magic to find the one whose image he had drawn.
    The magic uncoiled into a slender arrow and darted through a crevice in the cave walls. Wiggles leaped from his lap, following the probe into the depths of the mountain.
    “ S’murghit! There goes my only true link to the girl.”
     
    Myri tugged at the heavy necklace Yaassima fastened around her neck, careful to make her movements sluggish. The gold links, each the diameter of her little finger, settled against her collarbones and wouldn’t move from there. The dragon pendant rested firmly between her breasts, tightening the fabric of her gown to outline their shape. She started to lift the necklace over her head. A painful whistle sounded deep within her ear.
    She dropped the necklace and grabbed her ears, trying to block the sound that stabbed at her mind like a knife.
    The dragon pendant glowed brightly.
    The whistle and the pain ceased as soon as Myri dropped the gold links. All traces of eldritch light faded from the crystal dragon as the gold links quietly caressed her neck.
    An audience of guards and servants paused in their routes through the palace to watch the spectacle of the Kaalipha’s favorite receiving an unprecedented gift. Yaassima grinned at them, obviously enjoying her display of power over Myri. Kalen was nowhere in sight.
    Myri looked at the pendant where it settled between her breasts as if it belonged there. With one finger she flicked it until it swayed. Her skin burned through her shift and bodice as if pierced by a branding iron wherever the beautiful jewel touched her. The only time she was comfortable was if she ignored it.
    “You needn’t bother trying to remove it.” Yaassima draped Myri’s hair over her shoulders, creating a frame for the jewelry. “My great-great-grandfather had it made for his mistress after she tried to run away. The next time she attempted to escape, the necklace kept shrieking inside her mind until blood vessels in her brain burst and she died.”
    Myri ceased moving, stopped thinking. The purple-tipped dragon, Amethyst, had only been able to take over Myrilandel’s body because the little girl was thought dead from bleeding in the brain. The dragon’s vitality had allowed the little girl to heal the broken places. Myri’s innate healing talent knew the vessels were still weaker than normal. The necklace would kill her quicker than most humans.
    “Now that the necklace has found a home on your beautiful neck, Myrilandel, no one will be able to remove it until you die.” The Kaalipha let her hand linger on Myri’s cheek.
    Myri forced herself not to jerk away from the caress. Yaassima had trapped her with a magic-infested slave collar. No matter how