The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume II

wouldn’t be available to battle you and your armies.”
    “Some of the lesser lords would have to offer me alliances to maintain order. Me, instead of de Tanos,” Kammeryl mused, counting on his fingers. He stopped at eight—Quinnault’s four and four others who wavered back and forth with their loyalty. The exact number of lords Moncriith figured would flock to Kammeryl’s side for protection.
    “Alliances lead to unity. Six small lords command more troops and land than any one of the major lords. Begin now, before the campaign season and by the time the fields are planted, no one lord could stand against you.”
    “What if they band together against me, like de Tanos is trying?”
    “They can’t if all their peasants desert them for you. Only I can make certain they do.”
    “Why should I trust you to convert these people to me?”
    “You must learn to trust someone, or your reign will never be easy. Trust the Stargods, Kammeryl d’Astrismos. Your family name means ‘son of the three stars.’ You are the only legal descendant of the Stargods. Trust me. Trust the vision the Stargods have given me.” Moncriith followed the lord, whispering seductively in his ear. Power, after all, was as much an aphrodisiac as all the virgins in the world.
    “You can’t carry the true word of the Stargods. The priests threw you out for working blood magic.”
    “They exiled me from their ranks because they are afraid of me. Afraid that I alone was granted a true vision of the demons that truly rule Coronnan. If they accepted me, they’d have to acknowledge the demons that possess them and kill themselves to be rid of them.”
    No sense in letting Kammeryl know that the priests had removed Moncriith from the temple because he refused traditional methods of magic. He could use those methods but chose not to. He’d seen how traditional magic caused death and destruction while promising life and healing. He preferred the honesty of drawing blood to fuel magic rather than inflicting murder as a result of magic gone awry.
    Priests of the temple were now so sheltered from life that their only contact with magic included meaningless rituals and passing apprentices through the trial by Tambootie smoke.
    Moncriith shuddered in memory of his own trial.
    “You pursue only a vision born of your imagination, Moncriith.” Kammeryl resumed his restless wanderings.
    “My vision was born of the Stargods and their desire for peace in Coronnan. When all of Kardia Hodos fell victim to the plague so many generations ago, the Stargods came here, to Coronnan. They gave our people the cure for the plague. We are their chosen people. Think how they must grieve at the way we ravage the land and each other with these endless wars. Think with your heart and your head; not your dick, Kammeryl. Think and know what destiny of greatness the Stargods offer you through me.”
    “What do you suggest as a first step?”
    “First, we destroy the magicians. Lord Quinnault’s School for Magicians is a good place to start. Nimbulan is dead. They no longer have a strong leader to rally them against you. And if you kill Quinnault at the same time, his alliance of minor lords will fall apart. Then, we offer a marriage alliance with Lord Sauria. His lands border Quinnault’s. He longs for access to the Great Bay. You can divide the islands and the trade profits between you.”
     
    “Magic isn’t fun anymore,” Kalen complained to Powwell.
    Ackerly leaned closer to the door that separated him from his two most promising students. The tone in the girl’s voice and the absence of her lisp alerted him to trouble. He heightened his senses a little with magic so he could hear the entire conversation.
    “Magic isn’t supposed to be fun. It’s work. Hard work,” Powwell returned.
    The children were supposed to be sweeping the floors of the bedrooms in this wing. Powwell had already discovered that brooms pushed by muscles didn’t tire him as easily as brooms pushed by magic.
    “Well, I don’t want to do it anymore. I’m tired, and I ache, and my head spins when he gives us those drugs.” A thump followed that pronouncement as if Kalen plunked herself down on the floor, arms crossed in her usual pouting position. Ackerly had come to dread the times Kalen resorted to a pout. Underneath the innocent charm, the little girl hid a stubborn streak that taxed the patience of all fifty inhabitants of the school. Not even her doting mother or her coldly