Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume III

by Irene Radford

  “J-join you?” He’d never heard of an enemy openly inviting a spy into their camp. Never heard of Rovers inviting gadjé adults into their camp either. Children they welcomed, not strangers over the age of ten.

  But the invitation made a twisted kind of sense. They could observe him and control the knowledge he gained under their supervision.

  He could get a closer look at each of the children, see which might have fairer skin or lighter eyes than those born to the clan.

  “I’ll be with you as soon as I put out the fire and gather my bloody bedroll.”

  “Watch your language or you will never be allowed near your son.” She frowned at him sternly.

  Lanciar closed his eyes and dipped his head a fraction in acknowledgment of the rules.

  She smiled at him and twitched her hips as she returned to the protection of her clan.

  “I’ve heard they have good wine and ale in Rover camps.”

  “I brew the best ale of all the Rovers,” the young woman replied. “Come and join us. If we learn to trust you, perhaps we will introduce you to your son.”

  “My . . . my son. How did you know I sought my son?”

  “Zolltarn knows everything.” She flashed a smile as big and enchanting as the Rover chieftain’s.

  “Lead me to the ale. I think I’m going to need it.”

  Chapter 21

  Jack came out of the transport spell inside Shayla’s lair. He landed with a jolt to his spine and foot-numbing abruptness. His mind had remained drifting in the void a heartbeat too long. He stumbled and grabbed the closest object to steady his balance.

  He hoped Mikka and Darville had arrived in the dragon lair ahead of him and with more grace.

  Amaranth let out a squeak of distress and jerked away from Jack’s grasp.

  “Sorry, Amaranth.” He petted the bruised and stunted spiral horn bud on the baby dragon’s forehead. “This will all be over soon.”

  The dragonet nuzzled Jack’s side, keeping his sensitive forehead lowered and out of reach. He radiated bewilderment, excitement, and just a touch of fear. Jack cuddled Amaranth a little closer.

  Emotional distraction kept him from adding any other reassurance. He needed to be on the road following Katrina. Jaylor had confidence in Margit’s ability to take care of Katrina. Jack didn’t trust anyone but himself where Katrina’s well-being was concerned.

  Amaranth almost purred under his caresses. Magical power flooded Jack’s being. The dragonet opened his mind to Jack. Vivid images of the dragonet’s daily hunt and swim in the Bay with his brothers filled Jack’s head.

  For a moment he felt like part of the group, a member of the family. He pushed it aside; the only family he wanted now was Katrina.

  But the premature bond he had inadvertently awakened in Amaranth did not allow him to shut out the images or the emotions. Nor could he forget his preparation for the spell with Baamin, the blue-tipped dragon who had been his mentor at the old University in a previous life. He’d always have a family with the dragons.

  “Amaranth, where is Baamin, the elder blue-tipped dragon?”

  (Here, son,) a new voice replied. Soothing, confident, wise.

  Jack breathed deeply, more comfortable with himself just hearing the voice of his mentor. His father—though neither of them had known of the relationship while the old man lived in his human body.

  For Jack, just knowing that Old Baamin lived on in the dragon body gave him a sense of continuity with the past, something that had been missing most of his life. But at the moment he could not comprehend his life extending forward to new generations, not until he and Katrina found a way to overcome her fears.

  “Are you here in the lair, Baamin? Or here in my head?” Jack asked.

  (In your head, Jack. There isn’t room for me in the lair tonight.)

  “Can you check on Katrina for me? Is she safe? Is she lonely?”

  (Yes, and yes. You have time to complete your tasks and then catch up with her. She needs this time alone.)

  Jack nodded his acceptance of the dragon’s words, knowing the old man would read his emotions. Other than himself, he trusted Baamin more than anyone on Kardia Hodos. As long as Baamin watched Katrina, no one would beset her intending harm.

  (Stop feeling sorry for yourself and get on with your spell, boy,) the dragon reprimanded him, sounding very much like the master magician in charge of exuberant and inattentive apprentices.

  “Is everyone here?” Jack asked the assembly in the lair. He counted noses: at least ten master magicians and a horde of journeymen and apprentices, Shayla and the two purple dragonets, Jaylor and Brevelan near the slightly raised platform that usually held Shayla’s nest. Brevelan sat on a boulder that seemed molded to her slight frame. She held one of her newborn twins, the tiny quiet one that everyone feared might not live, a small scrap of life who held everyone’s heart and concern. Queen Mikka sat beside her on another boulder holding the other baby, a squalling, squirming bundle of aggressive humanity with an aura big enough for two. King Darville leaned over his queen inspecting the baby. A look of wistful regret passed between the king and queen. They’d lost five babes before Mikka could carry them to full term. The cat spirit within the queen’s body caused an imbalance that affected her ability to produce the long hoped-for heir.

  “After tonight, maybe you’ll have your own brood of sons and daughters,” Jack whispered.

  Shayla must have banished the other ten dragonets to keep them from interfering with the spell. Ten curious dragon babies could wreak havoc on the simplest of activities. He almost chuckled at the antics that had greeted him the first time he’d encountered the dragons in a cave hidden behind a waterfall deep within the mountains of SeLenicca.

  Jaylor came out from behind his wife with an outstretched hand, greeting Jack like an equal. He beamed proudly. Of his two sons, Jack saw no sign. Good. Amaranth’s clumsiness created enough chaos in the lair. Two rambunctious and under-cautious young boys would only add to the confusion Jack was about to create.

  Jack did not envy the four apprentices assigned to sit with the boys this night. They needed four adults to handle the two boys. Four apprentices or Brevelan.

  With one arm draped around Amaranth’s neck—to keep him from falling into the campfire ignited for the humans’ benefit, Jack nearly stumbled again with an awesome sense of having done this before. And failed.

  No. He forced himself to remember that this time he had the backing of the full Commune of Magicians. He had a purple dragon to give him extra magic that he normally could not gather. Never again would he be as alone or lonely as he had been before he met Katrina.

  He’d needed Katrina and her Tambrin lace to truly heal Shayla’s wing. Tonight he needed Katrina by his side to anchor him, give him reasons for succeeding.

  “Your Grace, time to convince your pesky cat to find a new body.” Jack bowed to Queen Mikka. “Is everyone ready?”

  “Will it hurt?” Mikka asked.

  “Perhaps. I don’t know, Your Grace.” Jack shrugged his shoulders.

  “Very well. Let us proceed.” Mikka stood up and handed the bawling baby back to Brevelan. As she turned to face Jack, she presented a regal calm. Her multicolored hair, like a brindled brown cat’s fur, flowed smoothly about her shoulders. As tall as Brevelan was short, she radiated authority and determination as well as acceptance of tonight’s procedures—complete with risks.

  Precisely the queen Darville needed to help him govern the fractious lords who sat on the Council of Provinces. The couple ruled by the grace of the dragons. But the lords no longer respected the dragons.

  Jack sensed the other magicians arranging themselves around Amaranth in a circle. Shayla nudged Iianthe, the second purple-tipped dragonet to join them. Iianthe held back. He’d always been shy around Jack.

  That other time Jack had used a purple dragon to give him extra magic to heal Shayla’s wing, Amaranth had willingly joined him. The spell had awakened their unique rapport before t
he dragonet was mature enough to understand or control it. Iianthe had hidden rather than participate in something new.

  “We need symmetry with the original spell that bound the queen and her cat into the same body,” Jack announced. He tapped several of the master magicians on the shoulder and indicated they should leave. “That means eight men working around a center point. Your Grace, if you will take the center with Amaranth.” He beckoned the queen over. Jaylor followed her.

  Four years ago, Jaylor had been the center of the spell. The Rovers had agreed to straighten out his warped magic. Their massive working had involved an eight-pointed star, dance, music, and fire. Mikka and her cat had been on the sidelines then, along with Brevelan and Darville. As the Rovers unraveled Jaylor’s talent and then bound it back into his body, the cat had crawled into her mistress’ lap and the two had been caught in the spillover of magic.

  Jack couldn’t let that happen again. Carefully, he positioned two journeymen in front of Brevelan and the babies. Then he beckoned Darville to stand behind them as well. “I want a full bubble of armor around the nonparticipants the entire time,” he whispered to the journeymen as he returned to his core of magicians.

  Quietly he chalked the important points and junctions of an eight-pointed star on the ground. “We’ll need a second fire over there, to balance this one. I don’t want the fire in the middle. That will destroy the balance.”

  Amaranth obliged by igniting the pile of reserve firewood. It blazed merrily and the dragon bounced back to Jack’s side.

  The spell was taking shape.

  “Where’s Zolltarn? He needs to be here.” Jack looked around, blinking slightly as he roused from his deep concentration and memories.

  “He did not respond to our summons.” Jaylor shrugged.

  The Rover Chieftain obeyed his own rules—rules he made up as he went along.

  “He designed the original spell,” Jack half protested.

  “He’s your grandfather, boy,” Old Lyman half sneered. “The blood tie is complete.” The elder librarian hobbled about the cave with the aid of his staff. Jack was glad he’d kept the old man out of the spell.

  Three years ago the Rover spell had put too much strain on Baamin’s heart and hastened his death. Jack did not want to be responsible for that happening with Lyman.

  Old hurts. He needed to put them aside and make new memories. With Katrina.

  “Let’s get started.” Jack squared his shoulders with new resolve. The sooner he completed this duty, the sooner he’d be on the road, following his love. No matter that departing abruptly, without explicit permission would look like a repeat of his youthful misdeeds that had led him to SeLenicca and Katrina the first time.

  Jaylor could not hold him. Only Katrina could do that.

  “Amaranth, into the center with Queen Mikka.” Jack pushed the dragonet from behind.

  Amaranth hung his head and dragged his tail. He knew something strange was about to occur and feared it. Jack was afraid, too. Afraid of failing yet again, afraid of losing Katrina forever. Afraid of hurting his friend, the baby dragon, and the queen.

  He couldn’t let his fears govern his actions. He had to impart some measure of reassurance and love to Amaranth.

  “I need you to help the queen, Amaranth. Only you can do that.” The dragonet’s head came up, and he emitted a bit of pride. “Remember, when this is over, you get to stay with me forever, as my cat.”

  (Be your familiar?) The baby dragon looked at him with hope and adoration.

  “My familiar?” A peculiar warmth untied itself from his inner knot of loneliness. “Yes, if you like.” He half smiled. Something good might come of this night’s work after all. He’d have Amaranth’s help while he tracked Katrina. He’d have another to share his hopes and fears, to plot and plan, to dream with.

  Reluctantly, tail and muzzle drooping, Amaranth trudged to the center of the circle. He paused to look back at Jack three times before he settled on his haunches at the queen’s side.

  “Touch the dragonet, Your Grace. You need a conduit for the cat to follow out of your body.”

  She rested her left hand on Amaranth’s head, behind the stubby horn, and gently scratched his ears. He began to hum, just like a cat purring.

  “Iianthe, here, beside me.”

  The other purple-tipped dragon slunk behind his mother.

  “Shayla.” Jack looked toward the mother dragon. Exhaustion seemed to feed upon every little setback in this procedure. He needed to be gone, in search of Katrina. He took a deep breath and continued addressing Shayla. “If Amaranth is to become the flywacket, I won’t be able to gather magic from him. I can only gather magic from a purple-tipped dragon, unlike my companions. I need Iianthe to complete this spell. We need the augmented power of dragon magic to make this work. Solitary magic isn’t enough.”

  The other master magicians looked at Jack with small frowns of disapproval.

  By the laws of Coronnan and the Commune, he must be able to gather dragon magic or go into exile. But the situation had changed and Jack’s solitary magic had saved the Commune more than once.

  He frowned back at them. All but elder Librarian Lyman looked away in embarrassment. That old man made his own rules and set his own standards of acceptability. He slammed his staff into the dirt as a prompt to get the spell moving.

  Iianthe retreated farther behind his mother. Amaranth began to shift his weight uneasily beside Mikka.

  All of the magicians looked at each other blankly.

  “I’ll get him,” Jaylor heaved a sigh. He might be Senior Magician, but except for Jack, he was the youngest and strongest among them.

  Shayla nudged Iianthe forward with her muzzle. A touch of her long spiral forehead horn applied judiciously to his rump brought him abruptly to Jack’s side.

  “Everyone get ready. We may not have a lot of time once I start,” Jack warned.

  “Perhaps one of us should take over the managing of this spell,” Slippy said. He’d taken his name from the eels that nestled near the shore of the Great Bay. Cooked properly, they had a sweet nutritious meat. Handled incorrectly, they poisoned all they touched.

  “None of you were there during the original spell. None of you have the feel of what happened,” Jack asserted.

  “Jaylor was there,” Slippy corrected him.

  “Jaylor was the object of the spell. As such, he was a passive participant.”

  Silence greeted his assertion.

  “Look, nothing would please me more than turning over the entire procedure to one or all of you. I have business elsewhere. Pressing business. But you chose me for this spell. Me. The rogue who was too stupid to have a name, and too irresponsible to follow orders. Me. I developed the transport spell. I saved the entire Commune from Rejiia. I found the dragons and brought them home. You chose me for a reason.” Jack clenched his fists in a serious effort to keep from shouting and throwing flashes of fire from his staff.

  “What do we do?” Jaylor asked. He ignored the tension that grew almost tangibly among his master magicians.

  “Link together, Jaylor to my right with Iianthe between us. Each of you stand on a point of the eight-pointed star.” Jack forced his hands to relax as he gently caressed Iianthe’s horn bud. Unlike Amaranth’s, this one had grown. It had started to spiral into a sharp point.

  Shayla crooned in the background. The baby dragon coiled his tail around himself. At least it wasn’t sticking straight out and elevated in preparation to bolt.

  “Rovers induce a trancelike state through music and dance. They then draw magical energy from all life by reaching out and touching it with their heightened senses,” Jack reminded the other magicians. “That’s how the original spell began.”

  There’d be no dancing to recreate a Rover spell tonight. Jack had to remain rooted beside Iianthe in order to gather dragon magic.

  But the men of the Commune could sing and move their feet while standing in one place.

  Jack gave out his
instructions quietly. No sense in spooking Iianthe. He reached for the shoulder of the man to his left. Jaylor placed one hand on Jack’s shoulder to complete the circle of eight magicians.

  They chanted the poetry of the Rovers, words Jack had dredged up from his memory and sent to the other men to memorize earlier in the day.

  And then they marched in place, keeping time with the rhythmic repetition of the song.

  Iianthe shifted uneasily beneath Jack’s hand. He sped up the chant and the march. His eyes crossed as the power rose within him. It grew, expanded, writhed like a living being in a myriad of colors representing each of the magicians in the circle.

  Jack drew a deep breath and grabbed the power, molding it to his will. Between one heartbeat and the next the auras of every being within the circle took on the lavender-and-silver overtones of his magical signature.

  Amaranth responded to the compulsion within the chant, shrinking, collapsing in on himself, absorbing all the light his silvery hide normally reflected. He darkened as he shrank until . . . until . . .

  A black cat, so dark its fur reflected purple lights stood beside the queen. It yowled loudly and fluttered black-feathered wings. A flywacket. A creature of legend and prophecy.

  In that instant, Jack grabbed at the source of the queen’s double aura and yanked.

  Amaranth yowled again.

  Iianthe reared up, breaking Jack’s contact.

  The circle of magic dissolved.

  Jack doubled over in exhaustion with a curious pain in his gut. Strange afterimages showed around everything he tried to focus his eyes upon.

  “I’m free!” Mikka shouted as she sank to her knees. Her head looked too heavy for her neck to support. “I’m free of that blasted cat.” Tears of joy streamed down her face. Her husband rushed forward and knelt beside her, scuffing the marks of the eight-pointed star. He cradled her against him, kissing away her tears.

  “Are you hurt?” Darville cupped her face in his long-fingered hands.

  “A curious emptiness. Tired. A little dizzy—disoriented.” Her strength gave out. She collapsed in a faint. Darville caught her.