The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume III: Volume III

by Irene Radford

  “How dare you!” they screamed.

  “How dare you destroy our heritage?” Tears streamed down Wind-drift’s face. “I tried to make you see reason. I tried, but you would not listen,” he sobbed.

  A dozen hands, led by Rollett and Powwell, rushed to douse the flames with water or blankets. The heat of fire in the tower drove them back before they could get close enough to extinguish more than a few sparks.

  Katie hid her face against her husband’s chest. She bit her fist to keep from crying out. Quinnault held her tightly. His jaw trembled atop her head with suppressed emotions.

  Cheers as well as gasps of dismay rose from the throats of all but a few gathered around the courtyard. The common people who watched from the fringes added their voices to the others.

  Allow these few books and shadows of books to burn. Your helpers have saved many more of them. A masculine voice Katie did not recognize came into her mind.

  Who? She looked up to see if a new dragon had joined Shayla and her consorts who hovered above the fire.

  None of them responded.

  “I can no longer trust you, Master Aaddler,” Quinnault said quietly. “While you remain Senior Magician of the Commune, I cannot trust any member of the Commune, except these two brave souls. You are all forbidden the Council chamber until another, more moderate man leads you.”

  “And so the alien queen will be your sole adviser,” Scarface sneered.

  “I value the advice of my beloved wife. But I also value the wisdom of a magician. I value the balance in my government provided by magicians, lords, and myself. You would upset that balance in your quest for total control of myself and the lords. Master Rollett and Master Lyman will be my chief advisers, with assistance from Masters Wind-drift and Whitehands.”

  “Rollett is no master! Only I can confirm a journeyman worthy of master status”

  “Incorrect,” Lyman intervened. He looked exhausted beneath the layer of grime on his face. “Any master may elevate a worthy journeyman. I am the oldest master among the Commune. Rollett has completed his master’s quest set for him by Nimbulan, his mentor and the Senior Magician who sent him on that quest.”

  “I was not informed of this quest!”

  “But you were there in Hanassa with us, when I charged him with certain tasks to facilitate our escape a year ago,” Nimbulan added. He and Myrilandel stepped up to stand beside their king. “And you made every effort to ensure I left him behind rather than risk your chances for escape. He has returned in spite of you, Scarface.”

  The old man paused to allow his words to penetrate to the farthest reaches of the crowd. “Rollett survived Hanassa the city and aided in the destruction of Hanassa the renegade dragon. He saved the lives of his companions. I deem him worthy and a master,” Lyman declared. “Powwell, too, is ready for elevation, but lacks years and book learning. He is a worthy Senior Journeyman.”

  “It matters not.” Scarface grounded his staff and faced Quinnault proudly. His face and posture took on an air of grim determination. “The books burn.”

  “I’ll not have you in Coronnan challenging my every move, Aaddler,” Quinnault said, just as sternly. “I banish you to the same monastery you exiled many aging masters to for the simple reason they owed loyalty to Nimbulan. You will be gone from the capital within the hour.”

  “I command too many master magicians for you to force me to do anything,” Scarface sneered.

  “We seem to have reached a stalemate,” Kinnsell added from the back of the crowd. Katie’s three brothers flanked him, holding blaster pistols. And behind them all stood a dozen armed and armored marines from the mother ship.

  “Oh, no,” Katie moaned.

  “The king doesn’t trust the magicians, the magicians don’t trust the lords, and the lords don’t trust the king. Your balance is destroyed. The only solution is for a new, neutral party to step in and take over. I offer my services to one and all.” Kinnsell stepped forward, hands open in a gesture of calm reasonableness. “I have the weapons to subdue you all, including the magicians and the dragons.” He waved a hand and one of the marines fired his blaster rifle at the bridge connecting Palace Isle to the University. It disappeared in a shower of sparks and thunderous noise.

  “Oh, no, you don’t, Daddy!” Katie marched up to face him. “You are the renegade here. You and your total disregard for anything but your own selfishness. Go back to Terra now, while you can. We of Coronnan will never succumb to your tyranny.” The knot in her mid-region threatened to explode with anger, with loneliness, with grief.

  “Come now, Katie. You are one of us. Surely you are tired of all this magic nonsense by now. I’ll bring central heating and indoor plumbing to this benighted backwater.” Her father reached out to pat the top of her head as if she were no more than a quarrelsome child.

  She backed away from him, standing as tall and proud as she could. Majesty came from more than height.

  “There are many more important things in life than those conveniences.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like love,” Quinnault said.

  “And loyalty,” Nimbulan added.

  “Like honor.” Wind-drift shouldered Scarface aside as he added his voice to his king’s.

  “And justice,” Lord Balthazaan remarked.

  One by one all those who had been separated by the issue of the book burning banded together to face this new threat.

  Only Scarface remained outside the new circle of unified leaders. A few more books disappeared from the bonfire while everyone was distracted by this new threat.

  “You see, Daddy? You’ll have to defeat us all to win this war. What will that leave you? A bush world with no one to work the land or mine the resources. Starting up a new colony here will bankrupt you.”

  Jamie Patrick signaled his brothers to lower their pistols. A smirk brought a twinkle to his eyes. Or was it merely a reflection of the fire that still raged.

  “She’s right, Pop,” he said.

  “I’m not actually going to fire on another human being. You said this coup would be bloodless.” Sean Michael holstered his weapon.

  “Didn’t Dad say he saw a dragon?” Liam Francis asked with a mischievous smirk that matched the grin Katie tried to swallow. “When he called the mother ship from his illegal pocket communicator, he said he had flown on a dragon from the mountains to the capital.”

  “Sounds to me like you are just a little insane, Kinnsell O’Hara,” Jamie Patrick agreed. “Let’s take him back home for a nice long rest in a secure hospital.” The eldest of the siblings clamped a hard hand on his father’s shoulder.

  “That will take him out of the line of succession. Parliament will never elect him emperor when Gramps dies,” Katie reminded them.

  “One less to vie for the title.” The brothers shrugged in unison. “Two less since you won’t be returning with us, Katie.”

  “Be glad of that, boys. She’d give you all a run for your money if she decided to leave this benighted backwater,” Kinnsell said quietly. A half grin tugged at the corners of his mouth.

  “I’ll miss you.” Katie had to blink rapidly to keep back her tears.

  “You know us, Katie. We’ll be back to check on you.”

  “No, you won’t. You can’t.” She sobbed briefly, her next words closing her throat. Quinnault touched her hand and she found the courage to speak on, though tears ran down her cheeks. “Coronnan, all of Kardia Hodos must be off-limits to everyone from Terra. Everyone. We can’t take a chance that you’ll bring a new mutation of the plague, one that we can’t combat. We can’t take a chance that you will bring technology and pollution that will give the plague a breeding ground.”

  Her brothers dropped their heads. When Jamie Patrick looked up again, his eyes looked very moist. “We’ll miss watching your daughter grow up. We’ll miss you, Katie.”

  “We love you, Sis,” Sean Michael said quietly.

  Liam Francis looked decidedly rebellious for a moment, th
en he stepped forward, gathering Katie in a tight hug. “Good-bye, Katie.”

  Each of them dropped a kiss on Katie’s cheek. Then Kinnsell came forward. “You are right, of course. The most sensible one of the lot of you, and she wants to stay here. She’d make the best emperor, boys. Good-bye, Maarie Kaathliin O’Hara de Draconis.” He swallowed convulsively and turned to leave, escorted by his three sons.

  Kinnsell turned for one last look at Katie. In time, Daughter, you will appreciate the gift I leave with you. When you could not unite Coronnan and your balanced government looked about to crumble, you all united against me. You’ll bicker for a while, but you will settle your differences. Help Quinnault govern with wisdom and raise a healthy horde of grandchildren for me. Teach them well the lessons of love, loyalty, honor, and justice so that they may pass this legacy through the generations of our dynasty.

  Tears came to Katie’s eyes as she nodded her acceptance of her father’s gift and final farewell.

  What happened, Daddy, to change your mind?

  I met some locals who took care of me when they should have let me die. I owe them. This is my gift to them, to you, and my grandchildren. I leave you to control your own destinies, free of Terran influence. Free of the Varns at last.

  Thank you. Katie swallowed a lump in her throat. She’d never see him again.

  Call me renegade if you must, but please, give up this nonsense of magic and dragons. They are all illusions and fever dreams, Kinnsell added.

  “Live long and well, Daddy.” Katie laughed through her tears. “Someday you will realize that dragons are real and magic works. Even on Terra.”

  Epilogue

  Somewhere in Coronnan City, time and date unimportant

  There are injustices I must correct as I move through the city like a ghost. I must use my magic sparingly lest the Commune discover my presence.

  The Commune still makes rogue magic illegal and maintains the magical border to keep out the unwanted. Wind-drift and Rollett will rule them with a more moderate hand than Scarface, but the law was made for a reason and must be enforced.

  Mostly, I need to manipulate events only a little to right wrongs perpetuated by those who must control others or destroy them. Whenever possible, I shall eradicate ignorance so that the innocent know their choices. If I have to, I can access the hidden books as well as the magicians’ approved library to keep information flowing throughout Coronnan.

  Someday I will settle down and make a family of my own among the fisherfolk. Leauman has the most beautiful daughter. Until then, I have a new life among honest boatmen who don’t ask about my past. They care only for the strength of my shoulders to haul in nets and the sharp instincts of my Mopplewogger.

  Like Hanassa, I have become an exile, a renegade from my own kind. But I choose to work with the dragons and follow the ideals of the Commune, not fight against them just to prove myself in control of my life. I have studied the options, gathered information, and chosen my destiny.

  Good-bye, Nimbulan. Good-bye, my friends. You may see me about and we shall each know that the other prospers, but never again will I share with you the incredible intimacy of Communal magic. I miss you.

  THE WIZARD’S TREASURE

  For my Golden Dragon Grandchild,

  due to be born the same week this book is released.

  Prologue

  The cult of the Gnostic Utilitarians bedevils Coronnan. They proclaim the ridiculous notion that hard work is the only medium of value. Magic, to them, is anathema. While they fight for power in the Council of Provinces and among the common people, the coven has gone into hiding in Hanassa where they rebuild very slowly. The rogue magicians of the eight-pointed star have patience. They have waited generations, creating alliances through blackmail, marriage, and coercion.

  The numbers within the coven increase slowly. Solitary magicians prefer to remain solitary and secretive rather than join with others of their kind. They distrust everyone.

  The University of Magicians still hopes that the dragons will return to Coronnan and restore magic to its honorable place in society—as if the magical energy they emit will automatically force solitary magicians to work together, under the law, with no malice, mistrust, or greed guiding them. They overestimate the honor of men who have tasted power.

  And I sit in my lofty fastness, laughing at all of them. Governments rise and governments fall. This scramble for power is merely an exercise to satisfy individual greed.

  Even Rovers have succumbed to the power-seeking game. Zolltarn, the current self-styled King of All Rovers, betrays his own kind as well as the coven and the Commune. After centuries of seeking nothing more than their own safety through their separateness, the Rovers have suddenly found virtue in exploring the disgusting ideas of King Darville of Coronnan. As if peace, law, and justice mean something.

  Zolltarn has stolen the child who should inherit the crowns of all three of the kingdoms on this continent. This “king” of the Rovers seeks to raise the child to his own traditions, then place him on the thrones, obligated and obedient to Rover will.

  I will remove myself from my protected retreat and intervene if Zolltarn succeeds. Zolltarn and a child with so much political and magical power could rob me of all that I hold dear.

  Rejiia, who thinks she leads the coven, has the potential to discover my power. She has thrown herself into her perverted rituals with vigor and stamina, using her sexuality to increase the magic. But I sense her distraction from the stated purpose of the coven. She has other, more personal goals and uses the coven to gain them.

  The Commune of Magicians grows stronger. I cannot stop them from this distance, but I can eat away at the trust that binds them together.

  I must take pains to see that none of these players finds my power. None of them know the true source of power—magical and political. None of them shall have it. Only I. I will, and can, murder my rivals most horribly if they try to interfere with my power. I have done it before, without conscience. I shall do it again.

  Men truly seek only the chaos that rules their hearts.

  Chapter 1

  “So this is the landscape of war,” Journeyman Magician Marcus said flatly. “Maybe the dragons should cleanse this battlefield like they did three hundred years ago.”

  “Dragons cannot cleanse this sinkhole unless they return to Coronnan. We cannot afford to end this war with SeLenicca until the dragons are safely returned from there.” Robb, his comrade and also a journeyman magician, argued.

  A long moment of silence passed between them as they contemplated the army camp and their possible passage through or around it.

  “I think the balladeers need a good dose of reality. I don’t see any evidence of glory here,” Robb finally broke the silence.

  “Just mud and blood, chill and boredom,” Marcus confirmed. “Sort of like latrine duty for first-year apprentices.” He flashed his friend a smile at shared memories of hardship and mischief.

  “Where are we going to find me some new boots in this mess?” He scanned the wide plain at the eastern end of the mountain pass. The once lush river meadows had been churned into a sea of red clay mud.

  Marcus shrugged as he wiggled his toes, trying to ease a little of the chill in them from his sopping socks.

  The setting sun cast their long shadows against the mud-lashed stubble.

  “There are too many idle soldiers lolling about. Too much idle curiosity. Beating you in a game of cartes would be easier than getting through this camp,” Robb grumbled.

  “But not by much?” Marcus’ grin widened. “And once we bring the dragons home from the other side of the pass, we won’t have to worry about war or illegal magic for a while.”

  Robb turned his back on the ugly camp and looked out over the green river plains toward home—if an occasional rest in the dormitory of the new University of Magicians hidden in the Southern Mountains could be called home.

  “Cheer up, Robb, we’ve come this far without trouble.�
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  “For a change.”

  “In a camp this big, we’re just two more soldiers out for a stroll. We’ll beg some boots and maybe a bed and a meal from the Battlemages.” He pointed to the far side of the camp toward a small group of huts made from stout logs where a blue flag with a dragon emblem snapped smartly in the evening breeze.

  “Getting to their enclave could be risky. All magicians, including Battlemages and healers—the only legal magicians left in Coronnan—are feared and spied upon. Let’s just find a supply shed and steal some boots.” Robb fell into his usual lecture mode.

  “This shouldn’t be harder than crossing the five miles of no-man’s-land between our army and the enemy at the far side of the pass. Pickets and patrols from both sides could cut us down with crossbows without bothering to ask identities first. Here, the pickets and patrols will at least ask for a password or something.” Marcus thought out loud.

  “But we don’t know the password.”

  “We can find out with a tiny probe of magic.” Marcus flashed his friend another grin, unwilling to give in to depression at the first sign of difficulty.

  “Illegal,” Robb warned.

  “So is stealing boots from the supply tent,” Marcus retorted.

  Robb followed closely in Marcus’ footsteps.

  Marcus shrugged off the difficulties.

  “Good thing you are lucky or my infamous bad luck would have gotten us killed a dozen or more times.” Robb turned his face away. On this subject he never fell into lengthy lecture mode. He didn’t even ask to play cartes anymore to wile away the long lonely hours around the campfire. Marcus always won.

  “I have more lives than a cat, and I bet you my new pair of boots that I’ll beat you at cartes tonight,” Marcus chortled. He slapped his good friend on the back. For a moment he wished Margit, the apprentice magician assigned to spy for the Commune of Magicians within the royal palace, could join them. The tall, sturdy blonde could liven up any game with outrageous stories of the antics of the nobles and royals she watched so carefully.