The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume III: Volume III

retreated. Fire sought its opposite, ready to do battle, and fled her fingers to ground itself harmlessly in the Kardia.
    “Aid me, Air, reignite my Fire,” Rejiia called, still spitting water from her mouth. She emerged sputtering from the rapidly dissipating Water, hair drenched and scraggling in thin and tangled tendrils. Her once elegant black-and-silver gown hung upon her body in ugly, misplaced lumps. Her skin looked pasty. The boost to her magic given by the Tambootie was wearing off.
    Air ignored her, rushing onward.
    “From North, South, East, and West and the lesser points between, I call upon the coven to come forth. Aide me, brethren. Defeat our enemies now and forever,” she called, turning a full but wobbling circle with her arms outstretched.
    Again the magic fizzled as soon as it left her body.
    “They aren’t coming, Rejiia,” Lanciar taunted her. “Your summons never left the compound.”
    She raised a fist and shook it at him in anger. Some of her lumpy padding dislodged and settled near her waist.
    Lanciar giggled slightly. “All those tempting curves were nothing more than cotton padding,” he said. A touch of magic projected his words to the farthest corners of the embattled courtyard.
    More giggles rippled around the crowd, many of them from the throats of villagers. Much of the anger that had propelled them dissipated, much like the water retreating toward the well.
    “You can’t do this to me!” Rejiia screamed. Frantically she pushed at the lumps in her clothing, only misplacing them more. Her hands trembled. A convulsive shudder vibrated her entire body. She looked as if her knees would no longer support her.
    At that moment Jack realized that humiliation was the one weapon Rejiia could not fight—especially not with her magic drained and an exhausted body. She’d not restore herself soon without more Tambootie. He detected no more leaves in her possession.
    “She couldn’t even bother enhancing her appearance with a magical glamour. She just used the common artifice available to any mundane woman,” Jack chortled.
    “I’ll show you magic!” Rejiia raised her hands again. This time she held half a dozen metal stars in each palm. When accurately thrown, the wickedly sharp points could take out an eye, or penetrate to the heart.
    Jack sobered immediately. He needed to be in the courtyard, standing atop one of the ley lines to command enough magic to wrap Rejiia in a bubble of armor strong enough to contain those stars. He edged forward, Lanciar in his wake.
    “Merawk!” Amaranth screeched from atop the tallest tower. He spread his wings and swooped down, talons extended. Sunlight hit his feathered wings, making them glisten purple. He seemed to grow, to shed the light his black body absorbed. He skimmed over Rejiia’s head, grabbing several tufts of her dripping hair.
    “Yieeeeee!” Rejiia’s screech echoed and amplified as it bounced off the stone walls that confined them all. She dropped the throwing stars to clutch her scalp.
    Amaranth shrank back to normal size as he swooped about, displaying his trophy.
    The weasel rose up on its hind legs and nipped at the flywacket’s tail feathers.
    Amaranth screeched, compounding the noise. He flew higher, scattering tufts of Rejiia’s hair.
    A bald spot showed clearly just off center of her head.
    “Krej is nearly free of the spell,” Zolltarn gasped. “We must stop him from running.”
    “Or transforming back to a man,” Jack added.
    “I don’t want to go back to the days when he was regent,” Robb said as he ran up from the gate area. The fray at the entrance had given way to astonished gasps and stares.
    “I don’t think he can become a man again,” Lancier said, pointing to the now animate animal. “His humanity is so deeply buried within the tin, it will take magic to bring it forth again. He’s been a weasel for three years. A weasel he will stay.”
    Jack had the impression of dozens of people frozen in mid-scramble across the barricade of bardos. Their anger dispersed, much as Rejiia’s magic had.
    Some of the villagers scuttled away, crossing themselves repeatedly, making the flapping wrist ward against Simurgh in between each invocation of the Stargods.
    Then he realized that the Rovers were much easier to see. The haze had thinned. Sunlight began to penetrate to the courtyard.
    “The gloaming is fading. We have to finish this now, before Rejiia manages to escape again,” he said to Lanciar and