The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume III: Volume III

Woodpecker grabbed each journeyman by the front of their tunics and yanked them inside the narrow entryway.
    A wave of prickly magic set Marcus’ skin itching and crawling. Then, as quickly as it had come, it left, leaving him in a bright room filled with comfortable furniture, carpets, and a glowing brazier.
    “Where are the others?” Robb asked, peering around.
    “In their own huts. My turn to monitor the scrying bowl for activity on the other side of the pass. Now what is so all-fired important that Jaylor could not trust a summons sent through a glass and candle flame?” Woodpecker demanded, wringing his hands and pacing the room. He paused to peer out each of the large unshuttered windows.
    “Well . . . actually . . . Jaylor sent us on a quest into SeLenicca, and I need new boots before we cross the pass.” Marcus found the shimmer of light across the windows that indicated strong magical armor too distorting to stare at for more than a moment.
    “A bed and a meal would be welcome as well,” Robb added.
    “Is that all? Why didn’t you just steal a pair of boots and a bedroll from the pickets that sleep on duty day and night? Why didn’t you transport supplies from the University? Either course would prove safer than coming here.” Woodpecker ceased his pacing and stared at the two journeymen.
    Robb hung his head. Marcus wanted to do the same.
    I am no first-year apprentice to cower before authority, he told himself sternly.
    “To steal essential supplies from one of our own soldiers would be dishonorable. To transport something as trivial as boots a waste of energy. Surely you have the authority to requisition a pair for me from army stores,” Marcus replied.
    “What stores? Fewer than half our supplies reach us. The merchants in Sambol wear our boots, eat our food, and hoard our medicines. If SeLenicca attacks tomorrow, most of our men will desert to the other side just to get a good meal,” Woodpecker grumbled.
    “How could conditions get so bad? Does the king know about this?” Rob asked.
    “Of course the king knows. Of course Jaylor knows, too. But what can they do about it with the Gnuls overriding every decision made? You’d think they want us to lose the war and let the sorcerer-king rule us!” Woodpecker threw up his hands at that horrible and contradictory thought.
    “We hope our quest will end the war and end the tyranny of the Gnuls,” Marcus said.
    Woodpecker looked at him curiously. “No, I don’t suppose you can tell me your quest. That goes against the rules. Well, I hope you have better luck than the last spy Jaylor sent across the pass. He came back to us in pieces. Many of them missing.” Woodpecker’s normally pale complexion paled further. He swallowed convulsively.
    Marcus tasted bile. Rumors leaking out of SeLenicca for years had hinted that King Simeon—the sorcerer-king—made human sacrifices to his winged demon-god Simurgh.
    Ignorant Gnuls considered dragons modern incarnations of Simurgh. If only they could experience the glory of shared dragon magic, they’d know how much good the dragons brought to Coronnan. He and Robb had to bring the near invisible creatures back to Coronnan soon.
    “Are the enemy troops massing for an attack?” Robb asked.
    Leave it to him to ask the practical questions.
    “Curiously, no. They’re waiting for something. Something big. Something disastrous for us. Well, come along. I’ll take you to the supply hut. I’ll try to keep the quartermaster from skinning all three of us alive for daring to ask for something. Anything.” Woodpecker strode toward the doorway, still muttering.
    Marcus and Robb followed the Battlemage across the camp. They passed dozens of men on the way. All of them moved quickly away to avoid any contact with the magicians.
    “Fear is a wonderful thing,” Woodpecker continued his litany of complaint. “Fear gives us mages all of the privacy we could want and then some. No one interferes with our work. But they won’t help either. S’murghit! They won’t even feed us. Have to do it all ourselves so they don’t taint their precious mundane lives with magic. If I didn’t know that King Simeon’s rule would be worse than putting up with these lumbird-brained fools, I’d desert to the enemy. Or go outlaw. I’d get more respect in Hanassa!”
    Marcus resisted the urge to make the ancient ward against evil by crossing his wrists and flapping his hands. No one went to Hanassa voluntarily. No one