The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume III: Volume III

them,” Marcus suggested, his natural optimism replacing the tiny tingles of fear Robb had planted in his mind.
    He took three deep breaths, triggering a light trance. Then he stood with his arms to his sides, palms out, feet braced, eyes closed, and opened himself to the energies swirling through the universe.
    Robb did the same.
    Nothing filled the empty place above his belly and behind his heart where he stored dragon magic.
    Robb shook his head.
    “They aren’t dragons,” Marcus admitted.
    “This isn’t the end of the quest, Marcus. But I fear it is a long and dangerous side trip away from our true mission.”
    “Not necessarily. We’ll just walk out of here. The rain and wind are letting up. We’ll find shelter somewhere else. These folks can bury the old man. They probably know his name at least.” Resolutely, he stepped around the beautiful woman and her elusive protector. He marched across the courtyard with Robb in his wake. The ghostly pair followed, the woman directing, her companion darting blank looks in every corner.
    They entered the tunnel beneath the gatehouse and pushed open the wooden doors.
    Two more steps and they would be free of this eerie old building where darkness seemed to gather. Two more steps to return to their quest.
    At the exit through the massive monastery walls, Marcus hit a solid wall of resistance—like running into a magician with incredibly strong armor.
    He bounced back into Robb. His friend caught him. Without a word Robb stepped around Marcus and extended his hands to test the blockage.
    Marcus jabbed the barrier with his staff. It passed through easily. “I don’t sense anything.” He tried again to step through the doorway into the outside world. Once more he slammed up against a barrier.
    Robb tried and bounced back as well.
    “Looks like your luck has finally run out, Marcus. And I don’t have a plan. We’re trapped.”

    Forces are moving against me. I sense the presence of people who will rob me of my power. But I am not the barely talented clerk I was in my youth. I have true power now. I know how to stop my enemies. I am in touch with all four of the elements as none of these modern magicians can hope to be. A little pressure here, a tug against the elements there and we have a kardiaquake. That should delay those who come for me.

    * * *
    Robb stalked around the perimeter of Hanassa. He knew he’d never been here. Couldn’t remember traveling to this remote corner of the world.
    It’s only a dream, part of him whispered. But the heat of the desert sun, the sour taste of thirst, and the heavy grit that irritated his eyes were too tangible to be merely a dream.
    He swallowed heavily, hoping to ease some of the dryness in his throat. Not enough saliva. Not enough strength.
    The heavy sand trapped his feet. He couldn’t shift them, couldn’t think, couldn’t plan his next move.
    And then the ground rippled beneath him, as if he stood on water like some long-legged bug and the water no longer wanted to support him.
    He froze every muscle and gritted his teeth against the waving motion. His stomach tried to turn itself inside out. His eyes refused to focus, and his body wanted to become one with the water.
    Arrows rained down upon his head. What could he do? No place to hide. No way to move.
    Pain pierced his shoulder. He looked at the source, too stupefied to do anything else. Blood poured down his magician-blue tunic, staining his new, brightly polished boots. He stared at them, aggrieved at the spoiling of the pristine leather.
    But he didn’t have new boots. Marcus did. Why was he wearing Marcus’ boots? But these boots fit. He could barely get his foot inside the ones Marcus stole from the army.
    He should throw a spell. What spell?
    Sweat broke out on his brow and back. The pain in his shoulder doubled, bringing him to his knees.
    Hot oil replaced the onslaught of arrows.
    It burned his skin and hair. He held his hands and arms over his head, trying desperately to block the continuing deluge of boiling oil. His sweat turned icy. Blisters on his face and arms froze, burst, and peeled.
    The new boots couldn’t protect his toes from the icy sand of the desert of Hanassa.
    Bright light penetrated his eyes with blinding stabs. He looked up to see what new weapon the outlaws of Hanassa brought to bear.
    Dark walls surrounded him. Only a single arrow slit window allowed light to escape Hanassa. The world around him turned to darkness. Intensely