The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume III: Volume III

stones.
    “We’re heading toward safety.”
    “But the pass is back that way.”
    “Later. We’ll go after the dragons later.”
    Marcus dodged a real arrow followed by a knife aimed at his back. “I think my luck just ran out.”

Chapter 2
     
    “T hree wizards and two Rovers beats your two dragons and three turnips!” Vareena laughed loudly. A deep ripple of mirth warmed her heart. She didn’t laugh often enough. “That’s the first time I have beaten you at cartes, Farrell. Now hand over your treasure.” She peered through the misty light of her witchball at her ghostly companion who faded in and out of her vision.
    “My concentration slips, Eena,” Farrell excused himself. “Since this last fever, I have become quite forgetful.”
    “Very forgetful, indeed,” Vareena said around her smile. “You seem to have forgotten that you bet three acres of land in the Province of Nunio against my two cows and three chickens.” She had no hope of ever claiming her winnings. She and the ghost had played this game before. He always bet the same three acres and she always lost the same two cows and three chickens.
    Although her ghost required food and medications, blankets and shelter from the weather, he had no need of her dowry. Once trapped inside this ancient building, her ghosts never left.
    “Promise me, Vareena, that when I finally pass into the void between the planes of existence, you will take the amulet from around my neck and carry it to my family in Nunio.” Farrell paused a long moment, breathing heavily. His hand stole to his throat where he fingered the leather thong that held the silver-encased amethyst. After a moment he shifted his hand from his only treasure to lay it flat upon his chest. He closed his hand in fierce spasm three times, as if clutching the pain of his worn-out heart.
    Vareena saw the pulse in his throat beat more rapidly in an irregular rhythm. She wished she could rest her wrist against his forehead to test for fever. A barrier of stinging energy separated her from each of the ghosts who had found refuge here.
    “Tell my sister’s sons that you are my heir,” Farrell resumed when his breathing and pain eased. “Tell them what happened to me, how you and only you have cared for me these past two years. The amulet is the deed to the land. My nephews will care for you and the land.”
    A moment of hope brightened within Vareena. When this ghost died, her duties here in this abandoned monastery and within the village would ease. She’d be free to do as Farrell asked.
    “I would like that very much, Farrell.”
    “Promise me, Vareena. Promise that you will leave this cursed place and never return.”
    Vareena shifted uncomfortably upon her stool. She did not want to lie to her ghost.
    He reached out to grab her sleeve. As always, the wall of shocking energy repulsed him before he came in contact with any part of her. ’Twas always the same. He was a ghost and she still human. They were destined never to touch until one of them died.
    “Women may not own land.” A safe answer.
    “King Darville changed that law three years ago.”
    Vareena lifted her head in surprise. She shouldn’t be surprised, though. If such a drastic change had taken place, her isolated village near the western border of Coronnan would be the last to hear of it. The women of the village would hear of it later still. The men here did not like change. They did not like her ghosts. They did not like her. They did not like much of anything.
    A measure of hope warmed her heart. She clamped down on it, afraid to allow it to grow and be drowned later.
    “I have duties here, Farrell. My family, the village, this monastery. I do not think I will be allowed to leave.” She hung her head, refusing to meet his gaze.
    “They feed off your generosity, Vareena. They need to fend for themselves. You must leave this place. As you have so often dreamed.”
    “But . . .” He was right of course.
    “For the friendship we have shared these past two years,” Farrell pleaded, “promise me that you will leave this place before it curses you, as it has cursed me and countless other men over the centuries. Leave and follow your heart, Vareena.”
    “My brothers . . . They need me to care for them as my mother did before her untimely death. The villagers . . . I am their only healer.”
    “They can all tend to themselves if forced to. You do not belong here, Vareena. Your spirit is too bright and loving to be