The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume II

position.
    “The Kaalipha has given me the freedom of the palace, and I vouch for my men. None of them would betray me.”
    Moncriith turned and glared at the phalanx of men behind him.
    All of them thrust a clenched fist forward in salute. “Death to all demons. Long life to Moncriith the demon slayer,” they chanted as if in thrall.
    The guards nodded acceptance.
    “Alert the Kaalipha. I have found the foreign magician she seeks and brought him here for justice,” Moncriith ordered. The guards nodded again in compliance.
    A long tunnel widened inside the entrance. Torches placed at random intervals along one side of the rock walls lit the way. They rounded a curve and marched into a side tunnel. A particularly long stretch of shadowed darkness stretched before them.
    The palace gate and the four guards were out of sight. This walkway seemed deserted.
    Nimbulan grabbed his staff away from Rollett’s custody. Scarface retrieved his own staff from another mercenary.
    “Now!” Nimbulan shouted. His bonds fell away from his hands.
    Moncriith turned to see what disrupted his march forward. Seven men held swords at the ready, all aimed at his gut.
    “You won’t get away with this, Nimbulan,” Moncriith warned. He flicked his wrist. A long knife slid down his sleeve and into his palm.
    “I think I will.” Nimbulan leveled his staff to counter any spell the Bloodmage might weave.
    Moncriith took a step back as his hand closed around his naked blade. The Bloodmage flinched slightly as his sharp knife sliced his palm. Blood dripped onto the weapon.
    “Watch him, he’s got the power of blood to fuel his magic,” Rollett warned.
    Nimbulan matched Moncriith step for step, pushing him toward the shadowed wall. The other men pressed closer. Eagerness to end Moncriith’s tyranny showed in their bared teeth and determined grip on their weapons.
    A bubble of armor draped around the Bloodmage. Nimbulan could barely sense it with his own diminishing reserve of magic. Moncriith stepped back again and ran into the wall.
    Nimbulan closed his eyes and brought forward the last of his dragon magic. Rollett placed his left hand on Nimbulan’s shoulder. Power swelled and multiplied within him.
    Quickly, before the reservoir of magic was used up, Nimbulan pierced Moncriith’s armor with the end of his staff. He flipped the tool horizontal again and rammed it across Moncriith’s throat.
    The Bloodmage’s face turned dark with rage. He grabbed the staff with both hands and pushed against the magic and the staff with all of his might.
    Nimbulan pushed back with the amplified dragon magic.
    “You can’t do this!” Moncriith croaked.
    “I just did it,” Nimbulan replied. “You are no match for communal magic. Take his weapons and bind him with mundane and magic ropes.”
    Carefully, he kept his enemy pinned to the wall with the choking staff while Scarface and the other men bound Moncriith.
    “You’re going to leave him alive?” Scarface asked.
    “If Yaassima has enough magic to control this city, she will be able to sense his death. We can’t afford to alert her to our presence.” Nimbulan clenched his fist and rammed it into Moncriith’s jaw. The Bloodmage slid to the floor. “Hide this trash in the next alcove. Add another blow to his temple to make sure he’s out. Then wrap him in armor so he is invisible to mundane guards. We have to find Myrilandel before the guards alert the Kaalipha that we are in the palace.”
     
    Quinnault paced the long corridors of the new wing of the palace. He couldn’t sleep. Every time he thought about tomorrow, his heart raced, heat filled his veins and his head felt like it floated.
    Tomorrow he would wed Katie.
    After she passed judgment by the dragons.
    After the Council recognized this marriage would benefit the entire kingdom.
    The palace was quiet tonight. Usually someone was about at all hours, checking torches, using the privy, raiding the kitchens. He met no one on his prowl past Katie’s bedchamber. If only he could see her, watch her sleep for a while, he might be able to relax enough to snatch a brief rest before dawn.
    He eased closer to her door. No one stirred within. He pressed his ear to the heavy wooden panels, hoping to catch the sound of her soft breathing. A murmur of voices, anxious and intense rose behind the panel.
    Who? Who had invaded Katie’s bedroom in the dead of night?
    He reached to lift the latch, barge in, and demand explanations. Shouted