The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume III: Volume III

magicians.
    “What are you afraid of, Ackerly?” Marcus asked, trying very hard to make his voice strong and assertive. “Afraid that if we join you as ghosts, you’ll have to share something?”
    The ghost moved his head back and forth, looking first at the knife, then at Robb and Marcus.
    “Well, I guess he won’t interfere if we take some of this gold to the villagers to pay for our keep.” Robb said.
    “Gold!” a new voice exclaimed from the doorway.
    Marcus looked over his shoulder, keeping the ghost and Robb still within his perceptions.
    Vareena tugged on the hand of a tall, dark-haired man with wings of silver at his temple. He wore black garments trimmed with garish purple and red. He smiled, and all the light in the room seemed to sparkle off his teeth.
    “Please, sir. You must leave here at once before you are trapped by the ghost,” she protested, trying desperately to keep him out of the library. “The gold is but an illusion. Gold is the source of all evil,” she added another argument.
    “Gold by itself is the source of much pleasure and joy. Only a curse can make the gold evil. Only a curse cast by a Rover can harm a Rover, child,” the man gently disengaged Vareena’s hands from his arms. “Gold!” He turned his attention back to the bags dripping coins of many nations and denominations. “Gold to ensure our freedom, and our welcome wherever we might wander. Now I will truly be king of all the Rovers in Kardia Hodos. We must have a celebration and a coronation!”
    Almost quicker than thought he dashed to the shelves and grabbed a handful of coins. A dozen or more people trooped into the room behind him and each also grabbed as many coins as they could hold in both hands. All of them hummed that obnoxious little tune that still repeated endlessly in Marcus’ head.
    Lightning flashed. The world tilted. The veil of mist flew from the chieftain and the rest of the Rovers, bringing them all sharply into Marcus’ view and dimension. Even the ones who had not yet touched the gold shifted.
    “Oh, no,” Marcus groaned. The gold was indeed cursed. And he and Robb had fallen into its alluring trap. He fingered the gold in his pocket, longing to cast it aside and be free again.
    Then he remembered what he had read about Ackerly, confirmed by the emotions trapped within the wall: a miser who loved his gold more than his life, his magic, or his honor.
    Marcus looked to see if Robb had been watching.
    But his friend’s attention remained entirely on Ackerly.
    The ghost, in turn, stared at the intruders, eyes wide in shock and horror.
    “You have to make your own luck, Robb,” Marcus whispered. “I can keep the secret a little longer until you figure out the answer. You deserve this triumph, if for nothing else than to prove yourself right and me wrong.”

Chapter 30
     
    “S top staring at the dumb steed and mount it!” Margit ordered Jack from atop her own mount. “We go through this every morning and every morning, for the last three, you stare at the beast an hour before you get up the courage to mount. I’m tired of waiting for you. We’ve a long way to travel yet.”
    Margit’s steed pranced closer to Jack. He shied away from the animal as well as from the placid pack steed he had ridden yesterday. At least he’d learned to cope with the double vision and now knew which image of the steed might step on his foot and which was only an illusion.
    Morning had passed halfway to noon. Jack had tried mounting the beast four times and had not yet come close to touching the animal.
    He eyed the steed warily. “I never used to be afraid of these critters. I’ve ridden wilder beasts over the years. Why now?”
    The cat inside him squirmed uncomfortably. Amaranth swooped low upon Margit, laughing at her discomfort as well as Jack’s.
    “Surely you can master the spirit of a cat, Jack. You have the strongest soul of any man I have ever met.” Katrina sidled her steed close enough to Jack to ruffle his head.
    He inclined his neck to lean into her caress. A deep thrumming sound began in his chest and climbed to his nose.
    Why didn’t he retreat from this beast? Because Katrina rode it. He trusted Katrina more than himself at the moment.
    The thrumming deep inside him matched the tingle in his fingers and behind his eyes, almost like the summons spell gone astray. He’d tried for three nights running to anchor the distress call that both he and Margit had intercepted and failed. He