The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume III: Volume III

the parapet and sat below it, aiming his spell upward. Three deep breaths sent him halfway to the void. Another three breaths and the stars sang in his blood. All of his senses hummed in harmony with the world. He drew power from the stars, from the stones, from the ancient trees.
    “If this doesn’t work, I’ll try probing the walls.”
    He took another three breaths for courage. “Like seeking like, flame to flame, glass to glass, my mind to a receptive mind. Heed my call of distress. Hear my plea for release.” The rhythmic words poured from his mouth and his mind through the glass into the flame.
    Reluctantly the flame pried itself loose from the candle and soared upward, much diminished in size and intensity. It flew beyond the walls, beyond the spell that bound it to Robb. It arced high and wide, flying on and on until Robb lost all trace of it in his glass and in his mind.
    The candle guttered. The glass fell from his nerveless hands. He collapsed in a heap upon the stones, utterly exhausted.
    The chill of morning dew awoke him. Automatically, he reached for the precious piece of glass. Pain slashed across his fingers. He yelped and jerked his hand away from the glass, sucking on the bloody cut. His glass had shattered when he dropped it.
    His glass. The very symbol of his magical talent. His most precious tool along with his staff. A part of him. Broken. Shattered into six fragments too small to use for even the simplest of spells.
    “S’murghit!” he yelled at the top of his lungs. “Bloody, tartarian Simurgh!” He threw the largest piece as far and high as he could, then the next shard and the next. When he still needed to release more energy, he grabbed the piece of gold in his pocket and threw it.
    The world shattered. Light blazed. The stones at his feet tilted and whirled. Two heartbeats later his senses righted and he looked out at the world with a new clarity.
    The gloaming retreated downward, leaving him above the haze.
    “What the . . .” He retreated cautiously back down the staircase to the ground level. The coin glinted at him from the vicinity of the gate, enticing him to return it to his pocket where it belonged.
    Robb raced down the stairs to retrieve the coin before he lost it. He paused in the arched entryway of the stairs. No one yet stirred in the monastery. He could retrieve the coin without observation.
    He took fifty silent paces across the courtyard. Then stooped, about to place the little bit of treasure in his pocket—protected, out of sight. Hoarded.
    The rising sun glinting through the crack in the sagging gate caught his attention.
    “Just once more. I’ll try the gate just once more.” Holding his breath he pushed against the heavy panels. They creaked open.
    Hastily, he looked over his shoulder to check if Marcus or Vareena came to investigate. The courtyard remained empty.
    One more deep breath for courage and he—
    Stepped through the gateway into the outside world.
    Astonishment kept him pressed against the gate, afraid to step away lest his knees give out.
    “I’m free?” he whispered to the winds. Two steps away from the stout walls confirmed it. He could walk away from here. Send help back for Marcus and Vareena. He could tap the formerly crazy ley lines that now ran straight and thick. He could . . .
    He had to go back.
    Marcus would disintegrate, physically and emotionally without him. He owed it to Marcus to go back.
    The coin greeted him upon his return.
    “So you are the culprit.” He gritted his teeth and picked up the shiny piece of gold. “And my guess is your original owner was a miser. A miser who refused his next existence rather than give you up.”
    Once more the world tilted and light flashed, momentarily blinding him. When he opened his eyes again, a misty veil lay over everything.
    “Coronnan has waited years for the return of the dragons. A few more weeks will not make so much difference.”
    “Robb, is everything all right?” Marcus appeared at the doorway to his cell, running his fingers through his tangled hair and blinking sleepily.
    “Yeah, Marcus, everything’s going to be fine.” If I can figure this out, so can you. You need the success to bolster your luck more than I do. I’ll wait until things get really desperate to show you the truth—if you haven’t figured it out by then.
    * * *
    “Get that cat away from me!” Margit screamed as she jumped away from Amaranth for the fifth time.
    “What a sweet creature,”