The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume II

incredible whine of sound.
    Suddenly the witchfire flashed and died. The hum ceased.
    Nimbulan’s ears rang in the silence.
    The latch clicked open quietly.
    He looked from the latch to the crumpled leather on the floor. Jerked meat and dried fruit spilled from the pack. He bent to touch the journey provisions. They seemed real.
    The door opened a tiny crack. He pushed gently against the panels. The hinges didn’t creak. No dust met his nose.
    He looked closer. Light spilled into a vast room around the edges of many closed shutters. A sense of warmth and welcome surrounded him. He sniffed for magic and found only the special scent of vellum and leather.
    “Books? Lots and lots of books!” He raced to the nearest window, throwing open the shutters. These, too, opened without protest or signs of age.
    He turned slowly, holding his breath with anticipation. Walls and walls of books awaited him.

Chapter 10
     
    “Y ou’ve returned at last.” Ackerly scowled at Nimbulan. He had said he’d return before sunset, and so he had, barely. Ackerly’s anxious waiting hadn’t made the time pass faster, adding to his irritation.
    “You won’t believe the adventures I’ve had today, Ackerly. Lord Quinnault and I found the most amazing treasures.” The Battlemage brushed past his assistant in the doorway to the large pavilion. The glowing aura of the setting sun behind Nimbulan’s back followed him into the tent.
    Ackerly shied away from the energy his friend radiated. That yellow-gold aura effectively barred Ackerly from sharing Nimbulan’s thoughts and enthusiasms.
    “Lord Kammeryl has been looking for you most of the day. Some amazing things have happened here as well.” Annoyance bristled the hair on the back of Ackerly’s neck. Nimbulan positively bounced as he walked. “Will you stop for a moment and listen, Lan? Maybe you need some Tambootie to settle you.”
    “I’ve never felt better, Acker. Send a page for Lord Kammeryl now. I need to tell him that you and I and the boys will be spending the winter away from his fortress. We leave as soon after dawn as Lord Quinnault can send a barge for our books and equipment. Books—” He trailed off in a kind of dazed reverie. His aura increased in size, if that was possible.
    “We can’t leave Lord Kammeryl d’Astrismos! He depends upon you for protection. We depend upon him for employment.” Ackerly’s supper formed a lump in his belly. What would he do for food and shelter away from the lord’s stronghold? The thought of weathering the winter storms outside the snug warmth of his room near the kitchen filled him with dread. No more tasty tidbits pressed upon him by the scullery maid. No more stolen kisses and frantic fumblings with the wenches in the armory. No more gold paid out every moon.
    “I’m taking a leave of absence from Lord Kammeryl to study and experiment, Ackerly. Lord Quinnault showed me an abandoned monastery today. The most amazing place. Intact. Good roof. No signs of wear or decay. Not even any cobwebs.” Nimbulan started throwing books and pieces of arcane equipment into a pack without regard to efficiency or breakability. “Rollett, have you seen my oak wand with the river agate?” he called into the interior of the great pavilion.
    “Your attention is needed here. Nimbulan. Three men reported seeing a flywacket. Three confirmed sightings. Do you realize the significance of that?”
    “Yes, yes. I saw it, too. A wonderful omen that I belong in that monastery. It’s perfect for my experiments. We’ll need to recruit some new apprentices, and send an open invitation to trained magicians who genuinely desire peace. We’re going to find a way to end these wars, Ackerly. I can feel it in my bones.” He scratched his left palm, the one he held up to weave his spells, then moved to another collection of paraphernalia, stuffing it into a large sack.
    “The men swear the flywacket was also the witchwoman’s familiar.” Ackerly dropped his voice, curious to see how his comrade reacted to that bit of news.
    Nimbulan looked up from his frantic sorting of mirrors and powders and mathematical charts of the stars. “Impossible. Myrilandel keeps a black cat. I saw the beast—she called it Amaranth. It bore no signs of wings or beak or talons. Unlike the creature we saw today. What we saw was truly an omen from the Stargods.”
    “What if they saw a true flywacket? What if the shadows the men reported yesterday came from a dragon?”