The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume III: Volume III

Terra with me. A psychic healer of that strength is worth a fortune in both money and power.
    If the boy survived. He’d taken a lot of the plague into his own system and not neutralized all of it. The boy lay unconscious in the cabin, maybe dying prematurely because he had saved Kinnsell.
    “I may have done a lot of underhanded things in my life, but I intend to repay my debt to you, Powwell.” He fussed with the long-range sensors, seeking a landing place, any landing place.
    “I don’t think Maia was manipulated by Piedro so much as she was a willing partner in manipulating you,” Yaala said bitterly, returning to the previous conversation. “I know her. She uses men and discards them. Then she blames everyone but herself for the men not returning to her bed when she needs their money, their talents, or their protection. She did it to Nimbulan and to Televarn, the last leader of the Rovers.”
    “She mentioned Televarn often.” Kinnsell wanted to know more, but he needed all of his concentration to get the sensors back online. “Lovely woman, but I’m glad she’s out of my life.”
    “My mother killed Televarn with the poisoned knife Televarn used to try and kill her,” Yaala explained. “Maia watched her do it. So did I.” She fell into a silent reflection.
    “Then almost everything she told me was a lie. Or she blocked out the memory.” Kinnsell shrugged. “But then, I knew she lied, and I enjoyed her attempts to manipulate me anyway.”
    The long-range sensors flashed a terrain map into one corner of the viewscreen. “Got it. There’s a plateau ahead. A long way without engines, but we may have enough wind to keep us aloft that long.”
    “How far?” the old man called from the cabin. “Powwell’s in bad shape. I need a dragon to help him.”
    “Dragons, bah!” Kinnsell hadn’t really seen a dragon sitting on top of this very shuttle. He’d been sick, feverish, hallucinating. “Once we land, I’ll show you the miracles of modern medicine. I’ve got scanners and bonesetters and antibiotics. We’ll patch him up almost as good as new. I’ve also got a stash of Tambootie if nothing else works on the boy.”
    “Our healers can do as much with dragon magic to fuel them and more healers to amplify the magic,” Rollett argued.
    “Believe what you will, but shut up now. I need all my concentration to land this without a decent runway.”
    Kinnsell gritted his teeth and memorized the plateau. Then he closed his eyes and visualized how he had to ease the shuttle down. He shed altitude and dropped the landing gear. The vessel slowed to stall speed, except there were no engines to stall. The control panel beeped at his unusual command. “I suppose you burned out the vocal control?” he asked at the third warning beep.”
    “The voice in the control panel?” Yaala asked, still gripping her seat with white-knuckled fists. “Yes, it is gone with the rockets, the jets, and the fuel.”
    “No great loss. My second wife programmed her voice into it years ago. Time to change it anyway. My current wife gets jealous every time she flies with me.”
    He shed more altitude. The wheels bounced off the rough terrain and hopped back up. Too high. He dipped the nose and felt the first scrape of dirt beneath the cabin.
    “Brace yourselves. This is going to be rough!” he shouted, clinging to his own chair with what little strength remained to him.
    The shuttle skidded along the narrow ledge. The ceramic/ metal alloy screamed in protest as rocks scraped the belly and tree limbs lashed the roof and viewscreen.
    Kinnsell ducked instinctively.
    With a wild screech, the left wheel snapped off. The heavy tail end of the shuttle skidded around while the nose kept plunging forward.
    “Brakes, I need brakes,” he yelled at the controls. A confusing array of lights flashed on and off. He couldn’t make sense of what worked and what didn’t. “How do I stop this damn ship?” he asked the air.
    (You must stop now!) A voice sounded inside his head. An alien voice he couldn’t recognize.
    “Who?” he asked the air. “How?”
    Before the words finished echoing in his head, the sound of metal crunching against rock screamed throughout the shuttle.
    Yaala and Rollett held their ears. The old man dropped to the floor, bracing his legs against a bulkhead while he draped himself over the still unconscious Powwell.
    The sounds of protesting metal wound down to an annoying whine. The shuttle struck some