The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume III: Volume III

armor wouldn’t keep out a mouse let alone a woman who needs to know what transpires in this University. They don’t like women, so they pretend I’m not here. Though they’ll scream loud enough if I’m two heartbeats late with their meals. Now scoot. Just find my girl and make sure she’s safe.”
    “I’ll do that, Guillia. For you. For both of us, I’ll find Kalen and I’ll find Rollett. Then we’ll come back and take care of Scarface.”
    “Just find Kalen. I don’t want my little girl left alone without family or friends.”
    “No one deserves to be without family. I just hope Bessel is as lucky as I am to find both when he’s forced to leave here.”
    “I’ll watch over him while he’s here, lad. Though I suspect he’ll leave, too, ’afore long. All the boys here are like sons to me. As long as Scarface lets me stay, I’ll watch over all of them.”

    Early spring, a mining village in Balthasaan, South of Coronnan City
     
    Bessel trudged up the hill toward the mining village and his parents’ home. He didn’t want to be here. But Scarface had insisted he come. The message from home requesting his presence had been urgent.
    Bessel stared hard at his father standing in the open doorway of the family home. Old memories of pain and loneliness clouded his awareness of here and now.
    Spring sunshine warmed his back but he might as well be facing the winter blizzard that had shrouded the village the last time he saw it. The snow had masked the black dust that permeated everything for miles around. But it hadn’t hidden the blackness in his father’s heart.
    Bessel would never think of him as his father again.
    “So you’ve come back,” Maydon said tersely. The squarely built man Bessel had once called “Da” blocked the doorway. His stance did not invite Bessel within, despite the urgency of his message.
    Maydon balanced his weight on one leg and crutches. He’d lost the left leg from the knee down years ago. Now he looked as if he’d rather use the crutches for weapons than walking aids.
    “I was told to come back.” Bessel looked toward the path he had just followed to the house, wishing he could reverse directions. New growth of flowers and grasses poked through the pervasive dust. Soon they, too, would be coated in the awful stuff.
    Bessel wanted to cough just thinking about the dust.
    “And you always obey orders, I suppose,” Maydon sneered.
    “You ordered me away from your home eight years ago. I obeyed you then. Now I obey the Senior Magician of the Commune of Magicians. He ordered me to visit my mother on her deathbed.” Bessel’s oath of loyalty and obedience meant a great deal to him.
    He’d skirted disobedience in helping Powwell access the void last winter. No one had heard from Powwell since then, five full moons. Now Bessel followed orders without question rather than risk exile from the fellowship of the magicians.
    He couldn’t walk away from the home and family the Commune represented as Powwell had.
    “Why did you request that the Commune release me from my important studies for this visit?” Bessel asked Maydon after a long moment of hostile silence.
    “Book learning never served anyone but greedy magicians. Besides, she asked for you.”
    “Then I’d best go inside and see her.”
    Neither man moved.
    “Aren’t you going to use your s’murghin’ magic to force me to back up?” the one-legged man challenged his son, never letting his contempt lessen in his voice or posture.
    “No.”
    “Why not?” Surprise loosened Maydon’s fierce grip on his crutches a little.
    “I won’t contaminate my mind or my honor by touching your ugly thoughts,” Bessel replied. He wanted to believe that his family had become hostile toward Bessel’s magic talent because they didn’t understand it. They’d never encountered a magician before, other than the Battlemages attached to the armies that periodically pillaged the mines and the village.
    “Watch your mouth, boy. I’m your da, your family.”
    “You ceased being my father the night you threw me into the teeth of a winter storm to fend for myself.” For the first time, Bessel noticed that his father’s stocky frame, formerly rotund, had wasted to tough sinew and bone. His eyes looked too bright, and an unnatural flush rode high on his cheeks and brow. His hands were swollen where he clutched the crutches.
    The once substantial stone home looked as frail and neglected as its owner. But then, Maydon had