The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume III: Volume III

forcing the essence of the tree to flow into Kinnsell.
    “My skin becomes your skin.” His entire hand burned with the binding.
    “My heart beats for your heart.” The rhythm of his pulse stuttered and started up in a new pattern to match Kinnsell’s erratic and weak beat.
    Slowly Powwell’s heart beat stronger, more regularly, forcing healing blood to circulate through Kinnsell, pushing the man’s heart to assume a matching rhythm.
    Powwell watched his blood seeking out the damage in lungs, heart, liver, and kidneys. At each vital organ he pushed dissolving tissue back into place, binding it to the organs with Tambootie glue and his own healing blood.
    Drop by slow drop, Powwell pulled the tainted blood into his own body, replacing it with his own. The Tambootie in his system surrounded the seeds of the disease, making them inert and ineffective. He used every bit of the residual healing properties of the tree of magic and still tainted blood flowed back and forth between his body and Kinnsell’s.
    The blackness of the void encroached on Powwell’s inner vision. He dove deeper into Kinnsell’s lungs, desperately trying to repair enough damage for the man to breathe on his own. Powwell’s own breathing became ragged, incomplete, clogged with blood. Weakness assailed his heart.
    “Powwell, come out of it. You’ve gone too far,” a voice urged him from afar.
    Something shook the body he’d left behind on this long journey into another man’s life. He didn’t care. That body belonged to another existence, another person. He hadn’t the strength for anything but to follow the pulses of blood through choked vessels.

    Afternoon, inside Kinnsell’s shuttle, city of Hanassa
     
    Rollett watched Kinnsell closely for the first signs of rousing from the coma. When his eyelids fluttered in dream sleep, he allowed Yaala to kneel beside Kinnsell and Powwell’s now twitching body.
    The younger magician remained unconscious. Rollett hoped they’d get out of here in time to rouse him with Tambootie before the plague damaged him beyond repair.
    “Your body is younger than mine, Rollett, your mind more receptive to change,” Lyman said. “Perhaps you had best do this, while I keep watch on that mob. They sound ugly, near riot.”
    Rollett nodded his acceptance. If Yaala failed to absorb enough information, he might be able to fill in the gaps.
    “I need to keep one hand on your face here.” He placed the fingers of his right hand on Yaala’s temple. “The other hand will link me to Kinnsell’s mind. But you need to touch my temple the same way. That will link our minds together. I am just the vessel for passing knowledge from him to you. Do you understand, Yaala?”
    She nodded mutely, never taking her eyes off Powwell. Her right hand kept reaching toward him, in comfort, in love.
    “Concentrate, Yaala.” Rollett grabbed her reaching hand and placed it on his own head. “If we are ever going to get out of here and get help for Powwell and all the people Maia has exposed to this plague, then you have to concentrate on learning how to fly this strange dragon out of here.”
    “For Powwell, for my city.” She lifted bewildered eyes to his face. “For us, for this strange ’tricity that flows between us.”
    Several fists pounded fiercely on the portal to the mechanical dragon. The vessel shook violently.
    “We haven’t much time,” Lyman warned them. He left his post behind Powwell to glance out one of the small round windows. “The crowd is turning violent. The Rovers are retreating into the palace under a rain of stones and offal.”
    “Feed us! Feed us. Feed us,” the people chanted over and over. “Save us from the kardiaquakes!” The muffled voices penetrated the walls of the vessel with increasing intensity.
    The dragon trembled under the impact of their blows, much as the kardia had shaken within the pit.
    Rollett drew on his last reserves of physical strength and took himself into a deep trance. Before the void could claim him, he dove into Kinnsell’s mind. A wall of armor repelled his first assault. A second and third try weakened the man’s natural defenses but still repelled him.
    Slowly. Go slowly and ask politely, Powwell told him. His mental voice was weak and distant.
    Rollett didn’t question the boy’s instructions. He was linked to Kinnsell in a stronger bond of blood and magic than Rollett could hope to achieve with only a touch.
    Please, he asked Kinnsell. Please let us