The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume III: Volume III

hundred years.” Marcus stared up at the top of the wall, a good twenty feet above their heads.
    “We’ll know soon enough. Looks like a gatehouse tower jutting out from the main wall on the next corner. Of course we walked the long way around before finding it.”
    “We walked deasil, as we should. Walking widdershins is bad luck.”
    “First time I’ve ever known you to care about your luck. Prepare yourself for anything. An entire band of outlaws could be hiding within these walls.”

Chapter 6
     
    R obb shifted his grip on his staff and brought it forward, ready to channel magic down its length or flip it and use it as a mundane weapon.
    “We’d know if there were hostiles within this building,” Marcus said. “I only sense one life. Feels mostly mundane, not a magician at all. Strange. One life with a minimal magical talent I’m guessing; enough power to call a ball of witchlight, but not enough for us to sense.”
    “Or someone with incredible armor that allows us to sense his presence, but not his magic. Solitary magicians, raised outside the dragon magic tradition, are known to be quite cunning. He could be lulling us into dropping our defenses so as to make us easy prey.”
    The gatehouse rose out of the walls like a huge malignant growth—nearly a quarter of the wall’s width and twice as high. The two young men slowed their steps and crept around the corner.
    “This place is defended more like a castle than a monastery,” Marcus whispered.
    “What do you expect? It was built as a refuge when civil war tore the land apart for three generations.”
    Marcus shushed Robb with a finger to his lips as he peered around the next corner, staff at the ready.
    Robb shrugged and crept forward, peering through the thickening gloom. He kept his larger body in front of his friend. In a fray his brute strength was well teamed with Marcus’ agility.
    Marcus peeked over Robb’s shoulder. The formerly stout wooden doors hung askew on weary hinges. The wind made them creak with each new gust.
    The dense air almost seemed to pour out of that gate. What kind of ghosts and demons hid within it?
    Silently, they edged closer. Robb led them through the gap in the doors. Thick oak had shrunk away from dozens of bronze bosses that had reinforced the wood. Green corrosion brushed off on his cloak like soggy mushroom spores. The hinges protested mightily. They both froze in place, waiting, wary.
    No one challenged them.
    Breathing a sigh of relief, Marcus pushed forward to lead the way across the broad courtyard. They faced a two-story building shaped like a squared-off steedshoe. Thick columns supported the second story where it hung over the first, creating a sheltered passage. Two of the pillars lay broken in the courtyard.
    Robb sighed wistfully. He wished people had more respect for these old buildings.
    “That way.” He pointed to the glimmer of light creeping under the door of one of the ground-floor cells in the southern wing.
    A number of long paces took them across the courtyard. They climbed six steep steps from the courtyard to the colonnaded passage. Marcus rested a hand on the wooden panels, seeking. “One life force, barely stronger than the witchlight,” he whispered. “Stargods! He’s dying!” Marcus pushed hard against the door. It flew inward, banging against the wall to their left.
    Robb followed closely, alarmed and ready to defend them both with spells and mundane strength. The sight that met his eyes chilled him more than the storm.
    An old man, wasted to skin and bones, lay crumpled upon a stark bed that was pushed right up against the narrow cell’s wall, barely made comfortable by a thin pallet and blanket. His image flickered in and out of view, like a dragon in sunlight. His long white hair and beard were matted and yellowed with illness and neglect.
    A little ball of blue/white/red witchlight nestled in a window niche high above his head. The light did not flicker or cast shadows. So why did the ancient man fade in and out of reality?
    Half the time he looked as transparent as a ghost, but his chest continued to rise and fall with great effort. He hadn’t passed into the void between existences yet.
    “Start a fire. He needs warmth,” Robb ordered. He thrust Marcus aside as he raced to the side of the narrow stone bench that served as a bed. “What ails you, elder?” he asked respectfully as he pulled pouches of herbs from his pack.
    Marcus busied himself throwing kindling