The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume III: Volume III

one side. “We ga get oot ah here,” he slurred, holding his head and shoulder.
    “I’ve got to help Kalen. Take care of Yaala.” Powwell drew his knees up under him. The battle still raged around Old Bertha. Lyman crouched on one side of the old generator. Hanassa drew on Kalen’s magical talent and created a geyser directly in front of the old librarian.
    In fine Battlemage fashion, Lyman channeled the spurt of hot water back into the broken pipe that passed above the lava core. Boiling water built up within the rusted metal, forcing a new opening. Steam shot out of a dozen rust holes in a variety of directions.
    Scalding water struck Hanassa in the face as she crept forward. “Yieeee!” she screamed and dodged back behind the shelter of the machine.
    Powwell crawled quietly toward her. He winced for her as she pulled her hands away from her face. A long red weal ran from her left temple to the corner of her mouth. Big tears dribbled from her eyes. She blotted them away from the painful burn, crying more at the pain of touching the wound.
    Don’t hurt my body. I need it back! The wraith added her own mournful cries to the noise.
    Powwell needed to go to his little sister. He didn’t know how to force Hanassa out of the body and keep her out short of killing the body. Hot moisture prickled the backs of his eyes.
    “Leave her, Powwell,” Lyman insisted in a ragged whisper. Exhaustion made his eyes droop and his shoulders sag. “You can’t win this battle. The only way I can defeat Hanassa is to kill her—if I can. But I do not yet know the cost. Take your friends and get out of here now.”
    “The dragongate. It’ll open soon. We’ll go out the dragongate.” Powwell looked longingly toward the little tunnel that opened onto the lava core.
    “Over my dead body, boy!” Hanassa jumped up in front of him. Her fingers arched and flexed. Her very long nails looked more like dragon talons than human digits.
    Powwell didn’t doubt she could render his flesh into slender strips with little effort.
    Get it out of my body! The wraith pleaded on a sob.
    Powwell reached a tentative hand toward the misty form that circled him and Hanassa.
    “Powwell, feel the hot wind!” Rollett called. “The gate is opening again. The gate is opening.”
    “I’ll be free at last! You can’t stop me. I’ll bleed this world dry.” Hanassa turned and ran into the little tunnel.
    “Stop her. We can’t let Hanassa leave this place,” Lyman gasped. He wiped his face wearily with a shaking hand.
    Powwell scanned his companions. Lyman was exhausted. Rollett tried staggering to his feet and sat back down heavily. No help from either of them. Yaala, his dear friend, lay unconscious, blood trickling from her temple.
    Hanassa skidded to a halt at the edge of the pit. The gate swirled in a kaleidoscope of colors. Green dominated the forming image. The green of Coronnan?
    “I’m sorry, Kalen, I’ve got to close the gate forever. Thorny and I have got to close it.”
    Noooooooooo! The misty form darted after Hanassa at the end of the tunnel.
    Thorny hunched and bristled his spines. Powwell couldn’t tell if his familiar reacted in gibbering fear or thought this was another setup for blood magic—the only magic left to them.
    “No, Powwell. The gate is our only hope of escape from this hell,” Rollett reminded him. The older journeyman crawled toward him, holding out his hand in entreaty. “Please, Powwell, in the Stargods’ names, I beg you, don’t close the gate. That’s home out there. We can be home in two moments.”
    “Yeeees! I’m free,” Hanassa screamed in triumph. She looked up at the wraith rather than forward into the gate. The scene solidified (liquefied?) into storm-tossed waves.
    Powwell grabbed one of Thorny’s dried spines from his pocket and jabbed it hard into his hand. “Yeeow!” He held his yelp of pain deep inside his chest, letting it grow with the flow of blood from the deep wound.
    Power grew with the pain. Each drop of blood increased the magic singing in his veins. He knew every grain of dirt and mineral within the cavern. His magic invaded every crack and crevice. His mind flowed outward, melding with the cavern until he couldn’t tell where the tunnels ended and he began.
    “I’m sorry, Kalen. I’m sorry, but this is the only way to keep Hanassa or anyone else from controlling you and your destiny.”
    He sought the weakest point within the tunnel and pulled—
    The tunnel