The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume II

child.
    Maia remained inside the school where she couldn’t spy on the proceedings. Mundane guards made sure she didn’t contact Piedro or any of her clan.
    Myri need not concern herself with her companions and family if something should go wrong with the spell. She knew in her heart and her head that something would go wrong that would change the life path of all those involved in the spell.
    (The silver cord that connects you to Nimbulan will channel your visions to him. Do not fear, daughter. We will guard you well on this spirit journey.)
    Myri knew that. She recognized her questions as a stall. If she released herself to the dragons, she might never come back to her own body.
    Yes. She finally recognized the human frame as her body. She was Myrilandel, a unique blending of the dragon Amethyst and the human girl. She wanted to remain human, to live with and love Nimbulan, to raise her daughter and bear more children.
    Flying with the dragons would jeopardize her anchors to this life.
    (There is no other way, Myrilandel. Nimbulan needs you to be his eyes.)
    “I know.” Myri placed her hand on Nimbulan’s shoulder to physically link herself to him. The power building around the table parted slightly, as if a living being with a consciousness, allowed her hand to penetrate only as far as her husband. No magic or love in all of Kardia Hodos could link her to the swelling communal magic.
    Unconsciously she shifted her feet until she found a comfortable stance. Awareness of the ley lines beneath the paving tingled through her feet. Nimbulan said he couldn’t sense the power within the Kardia any more. She enjoyed the contact with the ground—a solid and firm anchor to the land and her life. He relied on the ephemeral power drifting in the air that she couldn’t sense at all.
    Their magic centers had shifted. A year ago, she sought flight with the dragons, and he found his magic rooted in the Kardia.
    (Now.)
    Myri closed her eyes and concentrated on the thoughts of the dragon mother of the nimbus. A continuous patter of gossipy comments about the weather, the taste of last night’s meal, and the beauty of the clouds dribbled into her mind. With the words, came pictures, wonderfully vivid pictures. Gradually the words faded, and the pictures came to the front of her vision.
    Her focus tilted and spun as her mind gazed down upon the wide stretch of bay glittering in the morning sunshine. Her perspective shifted to an aerial view, and she realized that she looked down upon the string of islands that made up the capital city.
    Shayla flew lower. In their shared eyesight, they saw individuals with recognizable features and auras. A circle of lives around the wonderful glass table. Magic inhabited the men and spilled into the table, growing by leaps and bounds like a living thing.
    One life stood out, separate from the others and the magic and yet . . . connected.
    Suddenly, Myri realized she looked down upon herself, standing beside Nimbulan and the Commune. Beside, not amid.
    Acknowledgment of her separation from the men severed her last mental contact with her human body. She and Shayla flew west, upriver, toward the trading city and the mountain pass where an invasion had already begun.
     
    Nimbulan settled into his trance as he focused on the pattern of sunlight on glass. Waves of different colors and textures of black evolved before his eyes. His magic-heightened senses became aware of all the different minerals that made up the glass. He felt the fire that melted them together into a new, cohesive substance. The dragon flames transformed them into something new, bigger and more interesting without damaging his unique individuality.
    He recognized that communal magic was like dragon fire on sand. Each magician remained an individual, yet bonded and changed into something more powerful and cohesive than a single man. The dragons had given humans a wonderful gift with this new power.
    The first blending of magic always impressed him with this tremendous sense of belonging. All his years as a solitary Battlemage hadn’t prepared him for the sensation. Almost better than sex.
    At that moment he sensed Myri’s hand on his physical shoulder. A different kind of touch than Lyman’s, or his own connection to Aadler. His longing to draw her into the wonderful circle of communal magic almost broke his trance and connection to the other magicians.
    The safety of Coronnan depended upon completion of this spell. He