The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume II

pointedly ignored each other. Myri strolled at an easy pace. Her longer legs kept her physically closer to Nimbulan than the Rover woman. Neither of them ever got close enough to the Senior Magician to allow him to touch them, or help them over the increasingly cold and rough path.
    At least they’d been able to take warm clothing and a few supplies from the patrol. They would survive in this low pass through the Western Mountain Range. If they stayed ahead of Moncriith’s men.
    What about you, Kalen? Where are you now? Do you live? Powwell prayed that the dragongate had sent her elsewhere at the last minute. He couldn’t forget the sight of the hungry lava burning through the bones of a dead man his first day in the pit.
    No, Kalen. I won’t believe that happened to you.
    He turned his gaze back to the top of the hill where the trees leaned together to form an arched shadow with the pile of weathered rocks. The sun continued to rise, shrinking the shadow to a slim line.
    He stumbled again. Moisture gathered in his eyes. Even if Kalen escaped the pit, she couldn’t come here until the sun rose again in the morning to create that arch. Desperate to get away from the boiling lava, she might plunge into one of the hostile environments of desert, storm-tossed sea, or frozen wasteland and perish before she could get back to Hanassa.
    His mind kept shying away from those last moments in the dark and close tunnel. He didn’t want to think of the weight of the Kardia pressing on his shoulders or of the way Kalen had run after her familiar, finding the smelly ferret more important than her own safety. He forced himself to remember all the details, as if he memorized a spell he had read in one of Nimbulan’s many books. He reached for Thorny, forgetting to speak to his familiar before touching. The hedgehog hunched in startlement. His spines pierced Powwell’s hand. Five drops of blood oozed onto his palm. He sucked at them, letting the sting draw more tears from his eyes.
    “Just before we stepped through the portal, the guards said ‘There they are! Get the Kaaliph.’ ” He muttered quietly, dredging the memory out with difficulty along with all of the others. “He said ‘Kaaliph,’ not ‘Kaalipha.’ Yaassima must have been captured or killed by Moncriith.” This time he let the others hear his words.
    “I think I would have felt her death,” Myri said, stopping abruptly. “Hers or Televarn’s. I . . . knew them both very well. I watched the pit engulf her in that vision, and I sensed nothing.”
    “Moncriith as Kaaliph of Hanassa,” Nimbulan said, tasting the words as if seeking poison in them.
    Myri lost all color in her normally pale face. She shuddered.
    Kalen! Powwell shouted through the void to his friend. Kalen, please live. You have to live.
    No one answered. A cold ache started in his throat and spread outward. “I have to go back! I have to know what happened to her.” Powwell started running back up the hill toward the portal. Scarface blocked his passage. The strange magician held his shoulders tightly, preventing him from going any farther.
    Powwell beat at him with clenched fists. Desperation turned his breath to sobs. The hands on his shoulders remained firm but gentle.
    “The gate is closed and the patrol is waking up, Powwell. You can’t go back through the dragongate.” Scarface shook him slightly, forcing him to think beyond his immediate desire. “I know what you are going through. I lost my family during the wars. They were attacked by the troops of our own lord. He suspected we harbored an escaping soldier from the enemy. Their Battlemages made me watch, wouldn’t let me help my family. I was spared because I was too valuable as a magician. Later I escaped to Hanassa. It’s a pain you never get over, you just learn to live with it.”
    “I can’t leave Kalen in Hanassa!” Powwell added mental blasts to his attack on Scarface.
    Scarface only shifted his hold to encircle Powwell’s throat from behind.
    “Think, Powwell,” Nimbulan soothed. Think with your head, not your heart. Getting yourself killed won’t help Kalen.”
    “She loved that damned ferret more than me!” Powwell cried. All of his strength dribbled out of his limbs. “And Wiggles got her killed by Moncriith.”
    “You know the bond between a magician and a familiar is very special, Powwell,” Myri said. “Imagine how you would feel if Thorny left you for more than a few moments. Kalen must have