The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume II

of Kardia Hodos. They will find more ships and mercenaries even if they have to buy them from the Varns.”
    Nimbulan chuckled briefly. The mythical Varns weren’t due to appear in the port cities for another fifty or sixty years. Even then, no one ever bought anything from them. The Varns bought food, vast quantities of grain, produce, and livestock. The only currency the mysterious beings recognized was diamonds.
    Rossemeyer wasn’t likely to find a source of shipping from the Varns—or anywhere else.
    One less worry. He still had to get back to Quinnault and avert this new threat to Coronnan. After he rescued Myri.
    “You said that Yaassima appears magically upon the dais after everyone is assembled?” He prowled around the stage, carefully avoiding the hideous altar in front of it.
    “One minute the space is empty. The next moment she appears in all her glittering cold beauty.”
    Nimbulan pressed against the tapestries covering the back wall. His first encountered resistance long before he expected. He stepped back and examined the perspective of the woven pictures of a mountain meadow ringed by mountain cliffs. A waterfall seemed to tumble over a pile of boulders near the center.
    He’d been there before. That was the meadow Shayla, the female leader of the dragon nimbus, had chosen to educate Nimbulan and Myri into the mysteries of dragon magic.
    Something was wrong with the angle of the water spilling down into a creek that meandered along the meadow.
    He touched the threads depicting the water with a single sensitized finger. Harder to do that now. His reservoir of dragon magic was gone. He had only the strength of his body to fuel his inborn talent. His stomach growled, reminding him he needed more fuel, and soon.
    The silvery threads of the tapestry parted as he thrust his finger, then his entire hand through the weaving. He stepped back in surprise.
    “Come look at this,” he called to Scarface. He plucked at the loose threads hanging free of the woven picture. They parted to reveal another tunnel snaking up a spiral staircase.
    “I bet this leads to Yaassima’s private quarters,” Scarface said. A grin twisted the straight line of the scar.
    Nimbulan looked at his heart cord. No clues. “Up those stairs,” he whispered.
    Scarface shrugged and hurried toward the narrow staircase. The steps were shallow and well worn, the edges rounded and slippery. They spiraled sharply around a metal center post. Damp residue clung to the black metal. It had been in place a long time. The passage became narrower and each step higher.
    “Are you sure this is the right way?” Scarface asked. his low tones echoed in the confined space.
    “Yes.” The silver cord tugged at Nimbulan now, urging him to climb faster. Myri awaited him at the end of that cord.
    He remembered the days right after she had partially healed him, almost a year ago. The cord had sprung to life, keeping them close together and dependent upon each other. They had both resented the bond, thinking it sprang from the other as a means of control. Gradually Myri had recovered from the draining healing spell. Nimbulan had healed enough to function on his own. The cord hadn’t evaporated, merely stretched. They had found love then, and the cord strengthened each day as did their emotional bonds.
    Until it snapped moments before Shayla announced the covenant with dragons was broken.
    That must have been the moment Televarn kidnapped Myri. Despite Nimbulan’s wrenched knee and aching shoulder, he increased his pace, taking the stairs two at a time. He stretched his legs and his love to reach forward to his wife.
    He rounded the final curve. A long corridor with many doors stretched before him. One door at the far end was taller, broader, than all the others. Heavy bronze panels, embossed and hinged with gold, blocked the entrance to an important suite. In front of the majestic door stood a grim-faced guard in black. Nimbulan counted at least six knives and a cudgel on him.
    The guard hunched his shoulders and widened his stance a fraction. His hands flexed, ready to grab a weapon.
    Nimbulan stopped abruptly, holding his staff ready to focus whatever defensive spell came to mind. If he had the strength to throw it.
    That’s Nastfa, Scarface whispered in his mind. He was kicked out of the assassins guild in Maffisto. Then Yaassima recruited him to lead her personal guard.
    He probably knows six dozen ways to kill us before we get close enough to