The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume II

Slowly, very slowly, not making a sound, she stood, allowing her eyes to adjust to the dimness. Sharp-cornered boxes emerged from the shadows to her right. Lumpy sacks to her left. Grain? By feel, she found a corner of one of the sacks. She held her pouch beneath the corner as she slit it. Slowly the cereal siphoned into her container.
    “What are you doing in here, soldier?” a male voice challenged Myri from the front of the tent. “There’s plenty to eat outside for honest men. You planning on deserting?”
    No time to argue. No time to search for more food. Myri dove for the opening. A hand grasped her ankle as she slithered toward the shadows beneath the sledge. She kicked back with her free foot.
    “ S’murghit, you little demon get!” the man grunted and let go.
    Come! she commanded Amaranth, not daring spoken words. She crawled from the cover of the sledge and began running. Amaranth burst from his hiding place in a flurry of glistening black wings.
    “A dragon. The dragon came back!” a guard cried.
    “After them. The magicians will pay plenty for a real dragon.”
    “That’s not a dragon. Too small. Maybe a flywacket.”
    “They’ll pay more for one of those!”
    Myri escaped while the men argued. Her heart beat loud and fast. The rolling hills and grasslands promised no concealment. Nothing to climb. Nowhere to hide. This wasn’t a game anymore. Myri willed her cloak to blend in with the morning mist. She locked her muscles.
    Movement would betray her. She had no choice but to run. If she didn’t, Nimbulan would keep her prisoner, make her a slave to the hospital. She had delivered her message and done what she could for the wounded. Now she must continue her own quest for a home—a safe haven.
    Help me, please! she pleaded with the mysterious voices.
    No answer.
    She prayed she hadn’t offended them by diverting her path to help a few of the wounded.
    Amaranth circled above her, mewling his concern.
    “Stop! Thief!” Heavy feet pounded the ground behind her.
    “Who cares about the thief. Catch the flywacket,” one of the guards yelled.
    She ran, clutching the precious pouch of grains to her breast. She wished she could spread her arms and fly like Amaranth. But she had to protect the food. Above her, Amaranth flew higher into the clouds and safety.
    Please, save me from the magicians who would enslave me, and Moncriith who would burn me. I’m going east now, as you commanded.
    No answer.
    “Where’s the blasted flywacket?”
    “Can’t see it. But it will follow the thief. Catch him, catch the flywacket.” Her pursuers came closer.
    She ran faster. Up to the first ridge. Down the steep escarpment on the other side. Her bare feet slipped on the wet grass. The men slipped, too. First one man fell, knocking into another, then a third. Together all three guards tumbled down the long hillside.
    Myri collected her wits and balance before the others. She ran. She dodged hummocks that appeared in her path, jumped across a stream, and rolled behind a boulder that spread across the hillside with a tumble of other rocks.
    “Hey, where’d she go? No one could just disappear like that,” the youngest of the men asked.
    “She’s a witchwoman. What do you expect?”
    “That flying thing was probably just a crow,” said the tallest of the men as he stood, brushing himself off.
    “Them nasty birds are a nuisance, always snatching at any food left untended,” replied another.
    “Think we could catch a crow and dress it up to look like a flywacket?” asked the third.
    The men wandered around the hillside more slowly, reluctant to move too far from camp. They looked directly at Myri and didn’t see her. As soon as they turned their backs to retreat to the protection of their fellows, Myri ran on.
    Uphill again, over the second ridge, and onto the third. A trade road wandered through the next valley. Where there was a road, there would also be villages.
    Two armies had marched through here a few days ago. The warlords probably recruited men as they traveled. Any village on this road would have been deprived of all its men. The few people who remained might welcome her where they would shun more soldiers.
    She slowed her pace and steadied her breathing.
    Amaranth, where are you? A dark shadow within a shadow circled above her head.
    “We’re safe now, Amaranth. Come. Come to me.” She patted her shoulder in invitation.
    The shadow dropped lower, took on form and resolved into a flying