The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume III: Volume III
Another with a mission. Shall I release him from his tin prison so that his gold will become real and cease to flake? I could possess the gold then. But that would deprive him of his life.
I sense that soon this ghostly man will separate from the tin statue that traps him. If he is not released before then, both the inert beast and animated spirit will drift forever in time, unanchored in any reality. He will cause havoc in all realities if that occurs. He has not much time.
But this place is a strange meeting of vortexes. Anything can happen, and time moves differently here. That is how I know my children live though three hundred years have passed. They must survive. Otherwise all I did for them is worthless.
I will know this man’s true heart so that he can not betray me as others have.
As long as I have the gold, I can accomplish anything. Gold is power.
Chapter 31
‘ K atrina!’ Jack sent a magical probe into the steed’s mind, forcing it to remain in place. He gulped down his fear and grabbed the reins, yanking them down hard to keep the steed under control. His stomach heaved in fear of the steed and for Katrina’s safety. His magical bond with Amaranth stretched thin to the breaking point.
“I am stronger than this!” he muttered through gritted teeth. “First things first.” He lifted Katrina free of her skittish mount. He cradled her in his arms, soothing her shock and pain. A cursory examination of her bleeding hand showed him deep cuts from the leather.
“I don’t have the healing touch, love, but I’ll do what I can,” he apologized. “It’s going to hurt terribly, but I have to wash it.”
She nodded, white-faced. “I trust you,” she whispered so softly he wasn’t certain he heard her as she clung to him with her free hand, resting her head upon his shoulder.
He kissed her temple and carried her to the creek beside the road.
Margit wheeled her horse and galloped back to them. “I’ll take care of her. You go after that demented cat of yours.” she said. “We can’t afford to lose the supplies on the steed.” She swung her leg over the saddle horn and dropped to the ground in one swift movement.
Jack released Katrina reluctantly. He took off running after the steed that was rapidly disappearing in the distance. “Stop, s’murghit, ” he panted. He couldn’t call up his FarSight or enter the beast’s mind while he put all of his energy into running. He didn’t dare stop running lest the steed and Amaranth got too far away.
The steed would not cease its blind flight until Amaranth stopped shrieking and flopping about in panic. He could still hear his familiar protesting in the distance.
Quiet, my friend. Quiet, he whispered directly into the flywacket’s receptive mind. The bonds between them guided his words. Hush, little one. He repeated the lulling words over and over, all the magic he could muster while maintaining his ground-eating lope.
At last, winded and nearly doubled over, gulping in huge draughts of air, he sensed that Amaranth worked his talons free of the tangled mane and the padded leather of the pack saddle. But the steed plunged on and on.
Jack repeated his quiet litany, seeking the equine brain. Steeds usually responded to humans, being nearly as physically compatible as cats. This one’s panic blocked all of the normal channels of communication and control.
He sensed Amaranth launching into flight, having had enough of the steed’s wild thrashing through the thickening woods.
Track it Amaranth. We can’t afford to lose it! he called to his friend.
Amaranth swooped onto Jack’s shoulder instead, barely digging in his claws at all. He kept his feathered wings half engaged, flustered, frightened, and bewildered. His voice reverted to baby shrieks. No telepathy at all.
“Go after the blasted steed, Jack!” Margit ordered him with mind and voice.
“Go, Amaranth. You can do this. The steed did not hurt you. Hunt it and show it to me as you fly.”
Amaranth rubbed his face along Jack’s cheek, heaved a sigh, and pushed himself into the air.
The absence of his weight on Jack’s shoulder left him feeling terribly alone, almost empty. He stared after his familiar for several long moments, then returned to the women.
Katrina sat on the creek bank with her head between her knees, and her left hand held out for Margit’s ministrations. Margit knelt beside the water rinsing a bloody rag. Mud and everblue needles stained the knees of
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