The Silent Dragon: Children of The Dragon Nimbus #1

by Irene Radford

  With that, he marched them through the open gates of the barracks along with a throng of the populace seeking refuge from the approaching army.

  He pushed her forward, cutting off more and more of her breath every time she resisted. He marched her directly toward the flagpole at the center of the courtyard. The stones beneath her feet vibrated with each step.

  Half the archers turned inward, aiming for Lucjemm. One by one they shook their heads, unwilling to shoot their princess in order to kill him.

  Linda doubted mere arrows, with or without flames, could penetrate the bubble the Krakatrice wound around them. She had to separate Lucjemm from his snake.

  They stepped into the circle of paving stones surrounding the flagpole.

  “Do you feel that, Linda? Do you feel the power beneath our feet? The stones confirm my right to rule over them. The only army that defends the center of the world is an old woman, a black cat, and the magician’s young daughter.”

  Glenndon burst through the doors of the old University into the open courtyard. Dimly, he acknowledged that Da had designed the new University to match the old, smaller and wooden instead of stone, but with the same floor plan. He could find his way around the three-story central building and the lower cloister wings if he had to.

  First he saw Old Maisy—presumably with Lyman joined to her mind—holding Lillian’s hand while Valeria, still in flywacket form, stropped her ankles, growling and hissing at everything that moved.

  Half-dressed city folk filled the courtyard, milling about in agitated circles. Men looked anxiously toward the archers along the outer wall. Some carried small caskets of valuables, others wore layer upon layer of fine clothing. Women looked anxiously for their children, or clutched favorite gowns or jewels to their chests. Children screamed in uncertainty. Or raced about in a new game of tag.

  He heard a repeated refrain. “Bloody dragons; where are the bloody dragons.”

  Others shouted: “Kill the magicians. They caused this.”

  Only a few asked, “Where’s the king? Where are the king’s soldiers?”

  A fistfight erupted between two teens with opposite questions. No one sought to quell their violence. Another fight broke out on the other side of the courtyard. This one spread to a dozen citizens. Men flinging fists, women slamming iron fry pans on unwary heads.

  He tried to make sense of the chaos while Da found a bench near the main doorway for the king to rest upon. The archers along the wall looked anxiously at a young couple headed for the flagpole.

  Lucjemm with a stranglehold around Linda’s neck. No wonder the archers dared not fire.

  The stone steps vibrated beneath his feet. His staff tingled against his palm with suppressed magic. The wand glowed, even in daylight.

  “It is like a storm-tossed sea with waves breaking higher and higher but retreating farther and farther to build up momentum to break through the stones,” he said quietly to Da, still keeping an eye on his sister and her unwanted escort.

  He had to rescue her. Too many people were between him and her. He could blast Lucjemm in the back with a fireball, but the boy kept shifting and turning right and left, around and around, moving too quickly to aim and hope any weapon, magic or mundane, would strike him and not Linda.

  Glenndon wanted to wipe away the moisture from the spray of those imaginary ocean waves. His ears roared with the ceaseless pounding, blocking out all other sensation. He forced his mind to retreat, as he would run from an approaching wave. He found something for his mind to cling to in the shaft of iron standing tall and deadly above the sea. “Only the pole is keeping the power from eating the stones away and spilling outward and upward.”

  How many would die if he and Da failed to contain the magical energy?

  It had to be done to revive the dragon nimbus and the Tambootie. It had to be done to save Coronnan from the Krakatrice.

  He had to get that iron pole out of the Well.

  The milling populace stayed outside the circular brick pattern. He watched a young child, no more than four or five, younger than Sharl, step onto the outer ring of bricks. He screamed and hopped about as if burned. His mother scooped him up and retreated to a far corner behind a pillar on the left-hand cloister. A guard on the roof supported by that pillar peered over briefly to see if he was needed, then returned his attention to handing firepots up to the archers on the outer wall above him.

  A roar outside the gate demanded attention. The army approached. All the archers but two turned back to face the enemy. They couldn’t do anything at the moment to save their princess, but they could do their duty and defend the fortress.

  Glenndon looked back at the flagpole. He and he alone had to finish that job before tackling the rebels. Until the Well was opened and restored, he could be of no help to the army. A layer of bricks close to the flagpole began to heave and undulate, ready to blast upward from their resting place. The snake around Lucjemm’s neck and arm rippled in the same pattern.

  Glenndon gritted his teeth at the way his former friend manhandled his sister. He wanted to rip out Lucjemm’s throat.

  “Da?” he called to Jaylor.

  “I see, Glenndon.”

  “Linda!” Queen Mikka gasped.

  King Darville growled something obscene and struggled to get to his feet. Da held him down with some effort.

  She’s scared, Glenndon whispered to Da. But she’s angry too, just waiting for the right moment to claw his eyes out. He kept a part of his mind linked to hers, letting her know that he’d do everything he could to help her. But he had to break through the shimmering aura of power surrounding both her and Lucjemm.

  “Touch your staff to mine,” Da commanded Glenndon. “Ground it well before you join your magic to mine. We need dragon magic to combat land magic.”

  “I can’t find enough dragon magic to join,” Glenndon said under his breath. He cast about for the ephemeral presence in the air. Each probe of his mind and talent came up empty, as did the special place behind his heart where he stored the magic.

  “S’murghit, neither can I,” Da said.

  The wand glowed brighter.

  “There’s magic in the dragon bone!”

  Da smiled. “May I hold one end? You take the other. We should be able to join our magic through it.”

  Glenndon yanked the length of bone from his belt and grabbed the thick end, holding the slender tip out to Jaylor.

  Da folded his fingers around the bone respectfully. You are a strong telepath; link your mind to mine and follow everything I do, exactly as I do it. When I do it.

  Glenndon shifted his link from Linda to Da, alarmed and comforted that she refused to break contact with him while Lucjemm controlled her body. You cannot help this time, sister.

  I can and I must. We must stop the Well from exploding before Lucjemm uses it to control the snakes. They are coming, relentlessly.

  He can’t use the power. He’s mundane.

  Don’t bet on that. He feels the stones vibrating like a drumbeat at a festival dance. He’s humming a tune that matches the rhythm. The song pounded through his head, competing with the waves of magic against the stones in a battle of loudness.

  How can he do that?

  I don’t care how. Just do something before he does!

  “You stop Maisy’s brat by letting others take part of the burden,” Lyman yelled, using Maisy’s throat and mouth, piercing through the fog of magic and shouting and pounding waves of raw, untamable power.

  “Leave my son alone!” Jemmarc screamed from the arched pedestrian gate. He drew his broadsword and charged forward. “My boy has done nothing wrong.” He circled his blade above his head, threatening any who came close.

  Glenndon knew his skills and his ruthlessness.

  CHAPTER 53

  “NOW,
GIRLS!” MAISY/LYMAN YELLED, pushing Valeria and her sister toward the young man she’d seen in the army camp. The boy with the vicious black snake. Lucjemm.

  Valeria braced her hind legs, spread her wings and leaped with all her strength. Her feathers caught air and glided her forward. Claws extended, she shredded the magic bubble around them, the magic inherent in her dragon-inspired body penetrating it easily. Viciously she raked the boy’s face and clung to his neck. Sharp teeth found a vulnerable spot behind the snake’s head. Savagely she bit down and held the creature immobile before it could react.

  It screamed in her head, trying to break free. Valeria cringed away from the piercing noise, but her teeth held. The snake coils tightened about the boy’s neck.

  He screamed and fought both Valeria’s claws and the snake.

  Princess Linda wiggled free of his choking hold.

  Lucjemm jumped and danced about, trying to free himself. He yelled until Valeria’s ears hurt. That made her cling tighter.

  Lillian grabbed the princess’ collar and yanked her safely away, toward the main courtyard. They wavered unsteadily across stones heaving and roiling beneath their feet until they found momentary safety outside the circular pattern in the brick.

  A circle of magic. A dome of power. Valeria understood these things. At the moment she didn’t need to know more, only that she needed to drive this boy away from Maisy and Lyman.

  And kill the snake. Her jaw ached, and the leathery snakeskin tasted strange. Her need for prey faded in the face of self-preservation. One drop of Krakatrice blood could kill her. I don’t truly have dragon blood in me to counter the toxins.

  She loosed her hold on both Lucjemm and the snake, dropping quickly to the ground out of strike range. The snake snapped open her six leathery wings and lunged toward her.

  Valeria loosed her own wings and jumped, rising high above her enemies.

  A small wedge-shaped stone shot upward inches from Maisy’s feet, followed by a fountain of raw magical power. The mother of all ley lines. At the crest of its jet upward it burst into a rain of droplets that pocked the roiling but intact stones beneath.

  Lucjemm stopped in mid-dance, one foot off the ground, as he stared gape-jawed at the sizzling rain of blue light. He backed up, toward the pole, instinctively, half-shielding his bleeding face from the burning drops of light sprouting upward from another break in the bricks.

  The moment Lillian stepped free of the circle, Valeria flapped her wings and dove for the snake, driving it toward Lucjemm and the raw power erupting from the Kardia

  Lucjemm bled and screamed curses she had never heard before. The snake slithered off, away from him and the burning power.

  “You can’t desert me!” Lucjemm yelled at the snake. “We fight this together.”

  The snake ignored him.

  He followed the exodus outside the circle, gaze searching wildly until he found his father. A pitiful frown of vulnerability crossed his face. Jemmarc dropped his sword and reached out both arms to embrace his boy.

  “Contain him!” Da shouted. A wall of magic sprang from the tip of his staff and of Glenndon’s, encircling Lucjemm before he reached his father. The top of the dome reached a mere hand’s breadth above his head. A stray drop of magic bounced off it and back onto the stones where it ate away at granite.

  Lucjemm screamed more abuse as he pounded at the shimmering blue bubble barely wider than his spread arms. His hands were covered in his own blood. A sizzling sound and the smell of burning meat spread around the dome. He jerked back his hand, sucking at his wounds. Whimpering, he ducked into a tight crouch, burying his head between his knees.

  Jemmarc tried slashing the dome with his sword. The metal blade softened and began a misshapen droop in the middle.

  The crowd drew back from him, pressing against the walls. There were too many of them.

  “Come to me, my lovely. The time has come. I need you!” Lucjemm cried, ignoring his father.

  Valeria searched rapidly for sign of his “lovely.” All she saw was something black writhing in the small gap between the closed gate and the solid ground.

  Enough of an opening for a large snake to flatten itself and slither through. Lucjemm’s pet rose up, greeting her mates, fluttering six leathery batwings; red eyes gleaming in bloodlust.

  The mob screamed in abject terror, pressing back harder, nearly smothering or crushing those closest to the unyielding fortress walls.

  Valeria flew higher on anxious feathered wings. She had to escape this ancient enemy, a creature out of legend. A creature known to devour young dragons.

  She had to go to Lyman. He would know how to protect her. He would keep her safe.

  “Stay back, child!” Maisy screamed from the base of the flagpole. “Stay back!” With her words she raised her hands and shot ten streams of blinding white light at the menacing iron flagpole.

  The pole split with a great groan. Maisy backed away, maintaining a steady stream of magic cutting away at the lethal iron right where it sank between bricks into the Kardia—into the Well of Life. She stumbled on the uneven bricks and fell to her knees. Her magic faltered, withered, and died.

  A new stream of mixed red, blue, and rose gold replaced it. Da and Glenndon pointed their touching staffs at the pole. Together they set a glowing white wand atop their staffs. The colors intensified, flared, and compounded.

  Valeria had to turn her head away from the blinding light. More screams from the mob pierced her ears. Were they more afraid of the magic or the Krakatrice?

  The flagpole groaned again, tilted, and then succumbed to the pull of the Kardia. It fell to the ground, bounced and rolled, coming to rest across the bricks, nearly half of it on the paving outside the circle.

  The ground rumbled and roared in triumph, shooting a thick stream of blue light upward.

  Valeria held her breath, knowing what was to come when the raw power fell back to the ground. As all things must return to the land.

  “Run free, Maisy. Lyman, help her run free!” Princess Rosselinda screamed aloud and into every receptive mind.

  Valeria sensed the princess breaking free of her frozen position outside the brick circle, dashing to help the old woman.

  Glenndon snagged her arm before she got two steps away. The bubble restraining Lucjemm wavered as Glenndon’s concentration shifted.

  (You must rely on yourself and your twin, now, Valeria. Remember to cap the Well, but do not seal it. A cap of clay when all the iron is removed. The Well must breathe,) Lyman told her, his voice a mere whisper of pain and . . . and resignation.

  The magic fell, engulfing the old woman’s body and the ancient dragon spirit in living blue flames that ate at everything within the circle and followed the iron pole to reach beyond to the crowd of people frozen in horror.

  The snakes held their position, tongues flicking, eyes narrowed, assessing, waiting, coiled to strike.

  Lucjemm’s mind cleared. From his crouch he watched the Krakatrice retreat from the blue energy pooling beside the iron pole, like water seeking a path around an obstacle. Only this wasn’t water, it was pure, raw magic.

  The snake didn’t like the scent of power that was stronger than she.

  “But this is what we need!” he protested to her. “The Well is destroyed. Without the Well the dragons and the Tambootie will fail as well.”

  Her forked red tongue flicked in and out. She wanted the body of the old woman, wanted powerful blood, not ordinary people. The crowded mass of humanity was easy prey but not worth her bother.

  “Take the two magicians. Surely their blood is more potent than the ancient ones,” Lucjemm coaxed.

  Only the princess will do, royal and magical. Leathery wings fluttered and the snake shifted direction. Or you. Cousin to royalty by your father. A magician by your mother.

 
Lucjemm cringed. “No! I have no magic. I hate magic. Magic is . . . evil! You told me so. You wouldn’t lie to me.”

  The snake flicked her tongue at him in disdain, then shifted again toward Linda. His Linda. The more powerful blood.

  “No. I have promised safety to my princess!”

  The deep thud of a battering ram against the closed gate punctuated his words. The rebel army, advancing upon his orders. Orders to kill anything magical and/or royal.

  Linda.

  “Take the king and his queen if the magicians are not to your liking.”

  Six writhing male snakes followed in her wake, spreading out in an unstoppable phalanx. The biggest male bit and tossed aside a child that did not run away fast enough. Three men and two women met the same fate. Ordinary blood, not worthy of a Krakatrice.

  Surprisingly, the archers did not shoot. They stood upon the wall as if frozen in time, arrows nocked but bowstrings not stretched. As did the king and his queen.

  The magicians still fought with all of their magic and concentration to contain the stream of power shooting skyward.

  The female snake undulated closer. Her entire body rippled with sleek strength and terrible beauty.

  “I fed you with my own blood when no one else would. I cherished you, protected you when you were young and vulnerable! I order you to leave my princess alone.”

  Her tongue came closer to Linda. Linda did not see the new menace ten feet from her. She looked only at the old woman by the flagpole, while she struggled to free herself from Glenndon’s fierce grasp. The Krakatrice bared fangs dripping with poison. Each tooth longer than Lucjemm’s hand.

  “Glenndon, save Linda!” he screamed. “Archers, shoot the snake!”

  Only the snake and her tongue moved. Time stopped for all but Lucjemm and his rebellious pet. She oozed ever closer. All else in the courtyard was frozen in time. Even the blue rain paused in its relentless fall back to the Kardia.

  The thudding of the battering ram halted. A quick glance in that direction showed a long split down the middle of the right-hand panel. It sagged on broken hinges, but none of his army moved to step through the opening.