The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume II

set as a single paving stone over the courtyard.
    “I think the explosion threw you here. I followed as soon as the flames let me pass.”
    Low stone buildings with sharply pitched roofs of slate surrounded them on three sides. The fourth side of the square looked upon a narrow causeway connecting the island to a larger landmass about three hundred paces distant. The River Coronnan churned through the passage, eating away at the natural bridge.
    “I must meditate on these events, my lord. But first let’s examine the buildings. The guardian seems to have left us passage to them while denying us access to the pool of ley lines.” Only then did he realize the power no longer flooded his body. He couldn’t see a trace of the spiderweb of ley lines normal to the rest of Coronnan.
    (You must find a different source of magic before peace is possible,) the guardian said deep inside Nimbulan’s mind. No other trace of the spirit remained.
     
    Ackerly watched a knot of common soldiers moving toward Magician’s Square within the army camp. Three uniformed men seemed to lead the growing procession of excited soldiers, officers, and camp followers. Male voices undulated upward from normal bass tones to cracking boyish squeaks. The sound beat at his ears. He pulled his magical armor around him. He might not be able to weave major battle spells, but armor was essential to anyone serving a Battlemage.
    Breathing carefully to maintain protection, he sought another spell that honed and defined the words flying around the volatile group of people. While Nimbulan and Lord Quinnault explored the river islands on some private quest, he, Ackerly, must deal with these petitioners.
    “I saw it. I swear!” A fair-haired young private raised his voice above the babble. ’Twas his voice that squeaked as it gained in volume. He probably wasn’t old enough to have his vocal cords truly settled.
    “You three been sneaking extra rations of ale from the cook’s supplies again?” a grizzled sergeant bellowed. “Heard there was a break-in at the kitchen tent this morning.”
    “We investigated the break-in! We chased the thief.” Fists on hips, a black-haired giant stopped in front of the sergeant, daring the man to doubt his word. Few men would question the man who stood head and shoulders above average soldiers. The breadth of his shoulders and diameter of his upper arms proclaimed his strength. Ackerly wondered if his mind was as muscle-bound as his body.
    The crowd flowed around the tall man and the sergeant until they met the boundary of the magicians’ enclave. They stopped between the hospital and the supply tent, unwilling to enter the area without invitation.
    Ackerly waited to see if they would go any further.
    Some of the men, more curious than brave, nudged the squeaky-voiced youngster and his slightly older companion forward. The two privates stumbled across the invisible boundary. They looked anxiously right and left. The giant joined them. All the others remained firmly on their side of the imaginary line of separation.
    For a brief moment, pride swelled in Ackerly’s chest. The other magicians might look down upon his minor talent, but these people respected him for having any talent at all!
    “What did you see that brings so many to the private enclave of magicians?” Ackerly pitched his voice to carry across the compound and into the ears of all those who babbled as well as the few who had spotted him standing beside the large blue pavilion.
    Silence descended as the crowd stood shocked by his words. Many crossed themselves as they stared at him with gaping jaws and wide eyes.
    I may not be a great magician, but I am far above these mundanes.
    “Step forward, my sons.” He beckoned to the trio of privates at the front of the group. “Tell me your tale. The truth never hurt anyone.”
    “We found the witchwoman stealing supplies,” the middle soldier said. He lifted his head proudly, almost defiantly.
    “Theft is a matter for your sergeant.”
    “But she’s a witch, one of you.”
    “So she is. What did you do when you found her stealing supplies?”
    “We chased her.” The middle private continued to speak. Clearly, the boyish one and the giant looked to him for leadership.
    “And . . . ?” Ackerly allowed a little kindly pink to tinge his aura. He schooled his posture and expression to radiate trust.
    “That black cat, her . . . ah, her familiar was with her. It spread wings and flew.”
    “I