The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume II

the back of Nimbulan’s shirt and lifted him. Nimbulan scrambled to get his feet under him, balancing on his staff. He needed to regain some semblance of control.
    “Breathe, Nimbulan. You’ve got to get your lungs working again.” Quinnault slapped the magician on the back, hard. Almost too hard. Something seemed to snap between Nimbulan’s ribs.
    Deep coughs racked his body. He spewed more fluid, from his belly this time. When the spasms tapered off, each breath seemed less painful than the one before.
    Instantly he was back in his memories of Druulin’s tower. Boojlin and Caasser opened their mouths in protest as the cold water from Nimbulan’s booby trap hit them from above. Both bullies breathed in too quickly, taking water into their throats and up their noses. They coughed and choked. Caasser’s face took on a funny gray-and-pink tinge.
    Instantly remorseful, Nimbulan jumped to slap Caasser on the back, forcing him to expel the water.
    “Not so hard, Lan. If you break his ribs with your pounding, you’ll only make it worse,” Ackerly had warned him, only half seriously. He and Nimbulan had suffered much at the hands of the larger bullies. Returning some of the pain and humiliation brought satisfaction to Ackerly’s grim smile.
    Nimbulan shifted his attention from hitting Caasser’s back to forcing the boy’s arms over his head with a firm grip on both elbows. The shift in posture seemed to open the taller boy’s air passages. His convulsive coughs tapered off. Nimbulan waited for Caasser’s gasping to ease into long sobbing breaths. Part of him wanted to pull Caasser’s arms back, hard; to prolong the boy’s pain in retribution for all the nasty tricks he’d played on Nimbulan and Ackerly.
    The part of him that was growing up and assuming more responsibility knew that if he did, he risked making a lifelong enemy.
    He released Caasser and rubbed his back and shoulders to ease his breathing more. The pranks and tricks might not stop, but Nimbulan had earned Caasser’s trust.
    They had eventually become friends and battle comrades. Until that fateful day when Nimbulan and Ackerly hadn’t joined Druulin and his assistants in their last battle.
    An older and more experienced Nimbulan recognized his vulnerability while he gasped and choked. Quinnault’s rough handling emphasized his determination to get Nimbulan upright and breathing again. Nimbulan shifted his back and ribs, assessing any damage. Nothing permanent, maybe a bruise or two.
    “My thanks,” Nimbulan wiped his streaming eyes on his sleeve. Caasser hadn’t been so generous.
    “Come along now, Nimbulan. We have an entire island to survey.” De Tanos marched forward. He strode easily through the high underbrush, long legs stretching over small shrubs and hummocks.
    “We need to build a fire and dry out before we catch the lung rot.” Nimbulan hastened to catch up. The slight effort started a tickle in his chest again. He swallowed it and kept moving.
    “Nothing dry enough to burn, except maybe some old furniture inside the monastery. Did you bring a flint?”
    “I’m a magician. I don’t need a flint to start a fire. Even exhausted and half-drowned, I can start a fire just by thinking flames into the wood.”
    “Then we’d best get under cover and dry off. The sun is coming out, but it’s too weak and too late in the year to be much help. You need a drink? You sound a little hoarse.”
    “No I do not need a drink. I’ve already drunk half of the river.”
    “There’s a well in the monastery. We’ll have to test the water to make sure it’s still sweet.”
    “Well, I won’t test it by drinking it, that’s for sure.”
    “Stop complaining, old man, this is the start of a truly great adventure that could change the history of Coronnan.” Quinnault fairly bounced over the rough ground.
    “I’m an aging magician, not an old man. That gives me the right to be as crotchety as I want.”
    Quinnault stopped short and stared at his companion. “Crotchety, yes. Interfering and stagnant, no. I hope you have something solid to experiment with. Coronnan needs innovation. Soon.”
    “Hmph,” Nimbulan snorted as he passed the lord on the narrow trail. He glimpsed stone buildings within the dense overgrowth. Eagerness replaced his preoccupation with small ailments. He forged ahead faster than his abused lungs could manage.
    He paused to catch his breath just as a ray of sunshine broke through the cloud cover. Brilliant