The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume III: Volume III

along the side path. Roussin told her the path had been widened from a deer trail by Rovers who used to camp in the clearing where Kinnsell had landed his shuttle.
    Foam flecked her steed’s mouth around the bit. Sweat gleamed along its neck. But its breathing and cadence remained steady. She’d driven the steed hard since Roussin had shown Myri the location of the bizarre dragon in a small clearing south and west of the city.
    Quinnault led the way through this wilderness. Nimbulan and Myri kept up with them, through Myri looked decidedly green at the corners of her mouth and the edges of her pinched nose. Their mounts showed similar signs of fatigue. The guards lagged behind, but they kept her within sight until just before she turned off the main road.
    Deep shadows darkened her vision the moment they left the road for the woods. She clung to the reins, praying the steed sensed the trail better than she.
    She should have come yesterday, or the day before when Kinnsell first made his threats to bring technology to Kardia Hodos, when she’d first thought Kinnsell might own the ring that choked Marilell. But then Ambassador Jorghe-Rosse had died and caused a diplomatic crisis. By the time she and Quinnault had dismissed the emergency Council meeting, dawn of the next day hovered on the horizon.
    Then they had spent an entire day hearing conflicting testimony and weighing evidence.
    Anxiety gnawed at her. Rouussin said the shuttle was still in the clearing. Where was Kinnsell, and what was he up to?
    Katie couldn’t tell what or who lurked beneath the thick tree canopy. Just enough light filtered through the interwoven branches overhead to allow undergrowth to flourish.
    No time to give in to her fears now. Nimbulan and Myrilandel and Quinnault were behind her. Quinnault rode ahead, slashing at encroaching branches and vines. They would protect her from the childhood monsters that leaped from her imagination into the trees. That wasn’t really a Sasquatch and its mate beneath that oak. The last of the legendary pairs of Bigfoot had been captured and held in a protective zoo just after the first atmosphere domes had been constructed. The pair had failed to breed in captivity so none could have been transplanted to Kardia Hodos with the first terraforming project.
    The shadows were just shadows.
    They pelted up the narrow track for another kilometer—she had to think in miles she reminded herself. They traveled less than a mile. The dense forest opened. More light came through the canopy. The trees were younger, farther apart. Saber ferns and brambleberry bushes filled in the blanks between trunks. The rich scent of thick humus and fresh leaves about to burst forth from winter’s sleep filled Katie’s senses. She slowed the steed.
    Her companions slowed, too. Not far now. Katie searched for signs of the shuttle’s passage through the trees.
    A path of singed branches led the way better than the track they followed. Only a shuttle’s engine could have burned its way through the trees at that level, along that trajectory. Kinnsell hadn’t been careful about damaging the forest when he landed.
    Marsh plants dominated the foliage. Underground springs softened the soil. The steed slowed more on its own, picking its way carefully around treacherous mud.
    A glint of silver caught Katie’s eye. She kneed the horse forward, too anxious to worry about the footing.
    Two tall Tambootie trees, stripped of their leaf buds, formed an archway to a wide clearing. A small pool reflected green light onto the side of the sleek shuttle. The landing pods had sunk deep into the soft ground. Sunk so deep Kinnsell would burn twice the normal amount of fuel breaking free.
    The soft red glow of the alarm light blinked steadily beneath the hatch keypad. No one was within the shuttle. Kinnsell’s footprints had been obscured by rain and the passage of wild animals at least two full days ago.
    “Leave it to Kinnsell to choose his landing for convenience rather than safety.” She almost laughed in relief.
    “Watch the mud, Katie,” Quinnault warned, dismounting before she could.
    “This is indeed a strange dragon,” Myri gasped. She crossed herself, paused, then made the more ancient ward of flapping hands over crossed wrists.
    “But this dragon does not breathe and has no mind of its own,” Katie replied. “It presents no danger until a human enters it and starts the engines. It is but a machine.”
    The wind and rain and