The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume III: Volume III

as he shares everything with her. They are friends despite her separateness from others. If Nimbulan, Quinnault, and the journeyman magician experience what terrorizes my people, they will act upon it.
    (For a dragon dream this troubling, I must land.) Shayla worried gravely for the future of her humans should this dragon dream come to pass on Kardia Hodos. She positioned herself so that sunlight arced rainbows through her all color/no color wings as she circled and landed.
    The dragonets would nap a while longer. And if they woke, hungry and screaming for more food, they would have to wait. This dragon dream needed to be imparted soon, or it would be too late.
    The other humans jumped up, pointing toward her. Joy filled them as they rushed to greet the dragon. Amaranth, Myrilandel’s daughter, clapped her hands and crawled toward the pretty display of colored light refracting through the dragon’s wings.
    “Shayla, I would like to introduce you to Marilell, my daughter.” King Quinnault bowed deeply, gesturing to the infant in Katie’s arms. “Katie and I ask your dragon blessing on our firstborn.” He draped an arm around his mate and female child, pulling them close to his side. With his free hand he caressed Shayla’s muzzle.
    The dragon allowed her eyelids to droop as she leaned into the king’s caress. She savored his affection, knowing how the dragon dream she was about to give him might frighten him into ending all further communication with dragons.
    Myrilandel lifted Amaranth onto Shayla’s outstretched forearm. The physical resemblance between Myrilandel and Quinnault had grown stronger since Shayla’s daughter had borne a child and forgotten her need to fly with dragons; her silvery-blond hair had become more golden and her long, sharp facial features had softened with maturity and pregnancy. But Shayla knew that the spirit of a purple-tipped dragon still resided in the body of the king’s sister. A spirit that would always demand release. She had survived one such near transformation due only to the love of her mate.
    Yaala, too, could experience the need to become a purple-tipped dragon, though a dozen and more generations separated her from her heritage. Was that why the young woman stood back, refusing to approach another dragon?
    Shayla peered at the infant Queen Katie held. The new mother bit her lip a little.
    “You’ll get used to dragons, dear. Their size is intimidating, but their hearts are pure,” Quinnault chuckled.
    (My daughter calls you friend. The king my nimbus has adopted as one of our own calls you lover. You may trust me with your daughter,) Shayla reassured the queen.
    The fledgling magician edged closer. Shayla sensed the man-boy drinking in the magical energy she emitted. She needed him closer yet.
    Yaala lingered by the distant tree. So be it. She would not live the vision of a dragon dream whether she stood close or far.
    (The child Marilell is worthy of her parents. She will make a strong leader of your nimbus,) Shayla announced to all who could hear her. She kept an eye on Powwell, willing him to draw closer while she chatted with Quinnault and Katie.
    Quinnault raised an eyebrow at that suggestion. So did Nimbulan after the dragon message was passed on to him verbally. Shayla allowed herself a moment of humor. One day, humans would learn that females could govern unruly males quite well.
    Al last Powwell stepped within a dozen talon lengths of the others. Close enough.
    Once more Shayla dipped into Katie’s mind and wrested the awful memory from her.
    Immediately the humans plunged into another world. A stifling world of stale air tainted by artificial materials and chemicals. A filthy haze kept them from seeing the sky. Some kind of unnatural barrier stood between them and the haze. But the barrier trapped clean air, made it stale despite mechanical beasts that scrubbed it and stirred it in imitation of the wind.
    More mechanical beasts grunted and whined in a wild cacophony of sound. Humans walked around cautiously, eyes searching every corner for danger. They wore strange clothing, like artificial skin in muddy colors that flattered nothing and highlighted many unattractive features. Across their muzzles they had draped coverings in the same vague colors as their clothing. Each step was listless, hesitant. They kept their arms close to their bodies rather than swinging them freely in confident strides. As they approached buildings or other people, they shied