The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume II

join the debris of life circling deosil, the path of the sun.
    Amaranth stalked closer to the dancing Rovers, nearly dragging his belly on the ground. He mewled and prodded the invisible wall around the Rovers with nose and paw.
    Colored lights sparkled across the spell’s armor along a serpentine line. Amaranth’s paw marked the beginning and end of the rainbow flashes. Shades of purple and lavender dominated the sparks. The barrier tore open in a ragged hole just big enough to admit the flywacket into the inner circle.
    Myri pushed at the armor with her own hand and magic. Burning energy pushed her hand away with a painful jolt. Whirling sand crashed against the shimmering wall and burned in a beautiful array of red, green, and blue sparks.
    Only Amaranth was admitted. The spell called him specifically. Amaranth, the rare flywacket who would bring the Rover clan gold, prestige, and honor.
    She had to separate her familiar from the ritual and escape with him without disturbing the Rovers. Mind and eyes clear, she stepped away from the magic’s influence.
    Amaranth took a step closer to the doorway, into the circle.
    “No!” Myri screamed. The sound bounced against the barrier of magical armor and echoed about the cave.
    Amaranth took another step forward, oblivious to her cry.
    Myri opened her mouth again. All of her inborn magic demanded release in defense of Amaranth, her familiar, her only friend, her family. Magretha had warned her against Rovers and their compelling rituals.
    She unleashed a wordless Song in notes so highly pitched human ears could barely hear them. She Sang her love for the pesky black cat. She Sang of the freedom of the open skies he so enjoyed. She Sang of their life together, the two of them alone and separate from the rest of the world. Then she added notes of powerful love reminding him of how they had never been apart, and never should be.
    Amaranth stopped in mid-stride, one front paw lifted to take the next step. The hole in the Rover barrier began to close. The dance inside the magic circle froze; the dancers caught in whatever pose the notes of her Song penetrated.
    Still Singing, Myri grabbed Amaranth and pulled. The magic tugged him back toward the inner circle. Myri pulled harder, grasping her familiar firmly around his ribs, just behind the delicate fold of his wings.
    The old Rover women who led the chant and dance broke free of Myri’s Song. Her black eyes, so like Televarn’s in shape, color, and greedy treachery, locked with Myri’s own. The magic compulsion to enter the circle began again.
    Amaranth and the magic resisted her grasp.
    Myri closed her eyes and Sang again, in quieter tones, lulling Amaranth to accept her will as best for them both.
    The flywacket collapsed beneath her hands. Myri scooped him up and ran from the cave.
    “Stop her!” screamed the old woman.
    “She’s got the flywacket,” Televarn said.
    Outside the cave, wind and rain lashed at Myri’s face and hands. Cold numbed her fingers around Amaranth. Waves crawled forward, nearly to the mouth of the cave. Escape across the headland was truly blocked. The only way out of this cove was up.
    A rude staircase had been cut into the cliffside to her right. That escape route led to a grassy plateau where the Rovers could chase and catch her and Amaranth.
    “Can you fly?” she asked the now squirming familiar.
    (No.) His entire body shook with reaction to the abrupt release of the compulsion spell.
    “Hold tight,” she told him as she slung him over her shoulder. Blindly she let her hands and feet find purchase among the jagged rocks. Up she climbed. Up where she could see and survey the terrain. Up where the Rovers couldn’t follow.
    “Myri, come down from there. You’ll fall!” Televarn called. Charming persuasion oozed from his voice. But she was immune to him now. He had betrayed her.
    He followed her. He was close. Too close.
    She climbed higher, faster, using fingernails and toes to cling to the rocks. Amaranth mewed an encouragement.
    “Myri!” Televarn’s voice contained a note of desperation. “Myri, I love you. Come back to me.”
    “You only love the gold my familiar will bring to you,” she retorted. Tears for a lost dream and the shattering of her love for Televarn blinded her in her quest for a new purchase among the rocks.
    “I love you, too, Myri. We are meant to be together,” Televarn pleaded.
    “You used me. You used magic to compel me to love you so you could