The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume II

echoes of the voices.
    Amaranth mewled again, reminding her of the encroaching waves.
    Televarn blocked her retreat back to her cove. She’d never survive a swim to freedom among the rocks and vicious surf of this headland. She had to move forward.
    A ninth wave crashed two finger-lengths from her already cold and wet feet. She turned her eyes away from the fascinating pulse of pale purple blood through the dominant veins of her instep. She’d slung her winter boots around her neck so her bare feet could find the best toeholds across the broken rocks. She tasted salt and felt the sting of the icy water on her face. The next ninth wave would cover them with enough force to drag them into the churning water. The next ninth after that could crush them against the headland.
    She threaded her way through the first low boulders beside the sand and swirling waves. The wind slackened as she rounded the prominence of the headland. A drop in the elevation of the rocks and a stretch of wet sand came into view. The end of the trek was in sight.
    Sharp spines of volcanic rock lacerated the soles of her feet as she hurried toward safety. She barely felt the pain due to the cold. Her gray-green cloak flapped in a rising wind. The wet hem of the long garment tangled with her ankles. Televarn pressed his hands against her back, urging her to hurry.
    Hurry away from the tide. Hurry toward a camp of Rovers. Rovers who never worked at honest labor; who stole and cheated to make their living.
    Amaranth represented a rare prize. How many gold pieces would a magician like Nimbulan pay for a real flywacket?
    (Nimbulan would cherish a flywacket as a wonder. The Rovers will only sell Amaranth.) The familiar voices echoed hollowly around her mind.
    Tears started in Myri’s eyes. She turned to face her lover, desperately needing to know the truth of his motives before she met his people. Why hadn’t she listened to her doubts before venturing onto this dangerous headland?
    She opened her empathic talent to him, making his emotions her own—something she never allowed herself to do except during a healing.
    A flood of greed washed over her, colder than any storm-tossed wave the Great Bay could throw at her. She shivered the full length of her spine down to her toes.
    Move, s’murghit. I don’t want to get killed before I have a chance to spend the gold.
    His thoughts came to her as clearly as if he’d spoken aloud.
    Pressing her balance forward, her shoulders lifted and her free arm spread away from her body. Her cloak caught the wind like a wing.
    Amaranth leaped from her embrace to the cliffside, scrambling up the rocks with agility beyond a normal feline’s.
    “You lied to me, Televarn,” Myri said quietly.
    “Not now, cherbein. The tide will catch us. Tell me all your doubts when we’re safe and dry.” He placed a hand on her shoulder in an effort to turn her around and move her closer to the end of their treacherous journey.
    “You did not armor your thoughts against me, Televarn. I know your scheme. I know your lies. You compelled me to love you so that you could capture and then sell my familiar. The fishnet that snared him was yours!” She thrust his hand off her.
    “Myrilandel, this is not the time. I know you are shy about meeting strangers. But we must get away from the tide. Now.” He grasped her arm in a fierce grip. His fingers crushed her skin through the protection of her cloak and clothes.
    “Let go of me.” She pulled her arm away from him.
    His grip tightened. Blood rushed to the bruises already forming on her arm, swelling them painfully.
    A wave sloshed their feet. She counted it as the sixth.
    Myri pried at his fingers with her free hand. “I said let go.” »
    “When we safely reach the next cove. Now call the flywacket and move!” He pushed her toward his goal.
    “I will not go with you.” She raked her fingernails across the bloody scratches Amaranth had given him earlier.
    He jerked his hand away in pain.
    The eighth wave wet them to their knees.
    Myri reached over her head for the nearest handhold.
    “You’ve come back at last, Televarn. We wondered how much longer you’d allow your new companion to distract you,” a man said from behind her. Strange hands clasped her shoulders.
    Startled, Myri paused in her instinctive seeking of a high place to hide.
    “Come now, we’ll carry you to safety. We’ve a fire and dry blankets in the caves to warm you. Our healer will take care of those