The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume III: Volume III

Maia. His thoughts focused on her bright beauty.
    He raised his hand from her waist to the swell of her breast. She didn’t pull away. He risked opening his palm to cup her fullness. Her nipple budded tight beneath his fingertips. His heart beat loudly within his ears, pounding out a staccato rhythm.
    He turned her within his arms and kissed her deeply. She opened to him, moaning her pleasure. This trip did have some benefits, after all.
    He stepped off the path into the dense underbrush. They could linger a while. No one would find his ship. They had plenty of time before they had to meet the lords at sunset.
    “This way!” a feminine voice shouted over the sound of many steeds’ hooves pounding the packed dirt of the road. His passion had deafened him to their approach.
    Not just any feminine voice commanded this small cavalcade. His daughter, Mary Kathleen O’Hara, led the charge. Led them straight past him along the path that ran only to his shuttle.

    Late morning, University Isle, Coronnan City
     
    Bessel wasted one heartbeat of time staring at the door Scarface had just slammed in his face.
    The assassin roared in triumph as he dashed across the bridge, sword raised.
    “C’mon Mopsie. Let’s see if you are truly a water dog.” Bessel ran for the nearest river access and dove in.
    Mopsie ran for the assassin, growling.
    Bessel caught a brief glimpse of the little dog leaping for the man’s sword hand. His teeth latched onto the wrist, forcing the assassin to drop his weapon.
    Then cold, muddy waters closed over Bessel’s head. The swift current pulled him down, down, down.
    Bessel let the river current carry him as he swam upward. He shook water from his eyes while he kept his hands and feet moving. He heard another splash and looked back toward the bridge. Mopsie landed in the water in a great spray that dampened the assassin on the bridge.
    “Good boy, Mopsie,” Bessel called to his familiar. “You gave me time to escape.”
    The bedraggled dog paddled strongly toward Bessel. He yipped a greeting and aimed to intercept his master.
    “You are the most pathetic looking mutt.” Bessel couldn’t help grinning broadly at the sight of all that soaking fur streaked with mud. No wonder the dog had looked so forlorn and lost when they first found each other on the docks. Mopsie had been swimming in the Bay while Bessel had tried to rescue the ambassador.
    “Maybe you are a water dog after all, pup.” With determined strokes, Bessel set out for the mainland to the south of the city.
    Mopsie growled a warning. Bessel looked about him for signs of the assassin. He saw the black-clad warrior on the bridge of University Isle shaking his fist at Bessel. Then the warrior scrambled toward the nearby dock where the University kept several boats tied.
    Bessel swam with long strokes away from the continuing menace. The river offered hundreds of hiding places but few landings big enough for a boat. He knew he could escape the assassin as long as he stayed in the river.
    Already the cold water sapped his strength and set his teeth chattering. He had to find shelter quickly. He headed for a series of aits hidden behind University Isle. Some of the tiny, temporary islands had withstood the river and the weather long enough to grow tall grasses and scrubby trees. He might not be able to build a fire to warm and dry himself and the dog for several hours yet. But he’d be able to get out of the water and probably out of the wind.
    Mopsie barked again.
    “What?” he asked the dog, treading water. He had to work at staying in one place in the strong current, but he didn’t dare proceed until he knew the next danger.
    Two quick barks. Bessel automatically looked left. He dove down and away from a heavy tree branch before it connected with his head.
    “Thanks, Mopsie,” he said when he resurfaced beside his new friend. He took a moment to scratch the dog’s ears. “Now how did I know that two yips means left? And I suppose one means right?”
    Mopsie barked once in agreement.
    “Do you know any fishermen we can hide out with until it’s safe to go back to Master Nimbulan?”
    The dog barked one more time.

Chapter 28
     
    Late morning, side trail off the Great South Road
     
    K atie dug her heels into her steed’s flanks. “We can’t be late,” she mumbled to herself. “We can’t be late.” Her words took on the rhythm of hooves striking the roadway.
    She yanked the reins for the animal to turn left