The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume II

husband.
    “Moncriith?” Yaala mouthed the name without sound. “He helped persuade Yaassima to murder my father and exile me. He always meant to take over Hanassa. Now that he has killed the Kaalipha, he can.” Her words were soft and bitter.
    “Be quiet. Bind them.” The mercenary leader gestured for his men to come forward. They hesitated and shuffled their feet.
    “We have to get out of here, Nimbulan,” Scarface said under his breath. “Moncriith is smart enough to follow us through the gate.” He deepened his breathing in preparation of a spell.
    “Not yet. We have to know the battle plans,” Nimbulan said harshly. “Then we have to relay the information to King Quinnault. We can’t fight King Lorriin if we don’t know his tactics.”
    Myri gripped his arm with both hands. Her long fingers clenched and released spasmodically. The swordsmen fumbled with ropes that hung from their belts rather than approach magicians.
    She absorbed and understood their hesitation. Moncriith wasn’t there to protect them from magic they didn’t understand. The archers wavered in their aim a tiny fraction. Their uncertainty could make them release their arrows without thought or true aim. She retrieved Amaranth from her husband. The baby’s best protection lay in keeping Nimbulan’s hands free to work magic.
    Maia tried to slink behind the nearest tree. Another soldier with nocked arrow met her at the side of the tree trunk. She backed up, joining the troop of refugees.
    Myri deliberately gathered the soldiers’ malice and compounded it with uncertainty. When the negative emotions churned in a heavy knot in her gut, she swallowed her misgivings and broadcast them back on a tight line to the aggressors. Her talent rebelled, bouncing back to her, compounding the negative emotions within her. She wanted to whimper and cower behind any cover she could find.
    She had never used her empathy for anything but healing. This attack was against everything she had ever hoped to achieve with magic.
    To protect her children, she swallowed the rebounded emotions and added fear to her broadcast.
    At the first sign of wavering arrows, she turned, putting the baby between herself and her husband.
    “Demon magicians!” The lead soldier hissed through his teeth. His still outstretched arm shook slightly. “Lord Moncriith ordered death to all demons.” He raised his arm to signal the archers to fire.
    “Wait!” Nimbulan commanded.
    Myri had heard that tone of voice before—on the battlefield when an entire army and the full Commune of Magicians looked to him for leadership. She dropped her replay of bad emotions. The lead soldier’s hand wavered in the up position. Myri held her breath.
    “When I left Hanassa, Moncriith had just hired my band of mercenaries to join your ranks,” Nimbulan said. “Kill us and you risk the wrath of your leader.”
    Myri peered closely at Nimbulan’s face and aura. Untruth flickered around the edges of his statement. Not a total lie, but not the truth either.
    “ Lord Moncriith don’t hire no magicians,” the soldier averred. “And where’s your band if you be a true captain? Women and babies can’t fight a war.”
    “We merely seek shelter for our families before we join our band.” Nimbulan dismissed the man’s misgivings.
    The witchsniffer didn’t look as if he believed Nimbulan.
    “What makes you think we are magicians?” Nimbulan asked in a reassuring tone. “We carry no staffs, nor do we wear the blue robes of the Commune, Lord Moncriith’s true enemy.” He held his arms out to his sides, palms out, as if inviting trust. At the same time, his arms came in front of Myri, urging her to seek protection behind him. His fingers curved slightly over his palms, he prepared a spell with that habitual gesture.
    Myri sensed no ley lines in the immediate vicinity. Had Nimbulan gathered enough dragon magic when Shayla was here to neutralize the dozen or more men? She looked at Powwell and Scarface. They also prepared to defend with magic but waited for Nimbulan’s lead.
    Yaala and Maia huddled together as far away from the magicians and the mercenaries as they could. Carefully they inched toward a tree that might give them cover. If the mercenaries didn’t stop them.
    “You still haven’t told us where to find your band of mercenaries. If you truly have one, magician, ” the sergeant accused. He looked back down the path he had recently traversed. No reinforcements seemed to be