“Thank you.” Myri kissed his cheek, then rested her head limply against his shoulder. “Knowing you were waiting for me, helping me, almost protecting me, made the job less frightening. I’ve never had anyone wait for me like that.” She looked up as if scanning the ceiling of the pub for evidence of the dragons. They had helped her, too, she had said.
“I will always be here to help you, Myri.” He paused at the doorway to the pub. Both of their stomachs raised loud grumbles at the onslaught of the enticing smells and promise of protection from the storm inside the pub.
Gently they laughed, pressing their foreheads together in wonderfully private intimacy.
“Does that mean you will go with her to the cleansing fires?” Moncriith asked from right behind them.
Chapter 31
Powwell trembled at Moncriith’s words. How had the Bloodmage found them? The dragons had given him a dream that would take him back to Castle Krej.
Beside him, he felt Kalen go stiff with anger. Her eyes opened wide in her innocent act—something she hadn’t done since they’d found Nimbulan and Myri.
“The children led me to you, Nimbulan, so that I can fulfill the vision provided me by the Stargods. When I awoke from whatever enchantment you and the witch put on me and found my men and dogs scattered, nearly witless, I realized I had not killed any demons after all. So I decided to seek the children instead of the witch. Once I remembered that I had kept threads of their old clothing smeared with blood from their small cuts and scratches, all I had to do was link blood to blood and I found them.” The Bloodmage chuckled at his own cleverness.
Guilt washed over Powwell. He should have known Moncriith could find them through the clothes they had disgarded at Castle Krej.
“The witch and her consort must be burned to cleanse this land of demons.” Moncriith raised his arms to the cave ceiling in a dramatic gesture that Powwell had seen all too often. It had no more meaning to him than if the man scratched his backside. But the people crowding the pub looked up wide-eyed and silent.
Only when he saw the cave ceiling did Powwell realize he was underground again. The smoke and smell of too many bodies crowded together, robbed him of air. He felt the weight of all of Kardia Hodos pressing on his head and chest. All trace of magic deserted his body with his growing panic.
He was defenseless, helpless to join his magic with Nimbulan to oust the Bloodmage.
Kalen took his hand in hers. An image of a flower-strewn field open to sun and wind flashed from her mind to his. He relaxed a little and listened.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Nimbulan scoffed. He turned his back on the priest and stalked into the depths of the cave, keeping a half-drowned Myrilandel within the circle of his arms. Powwell noticed how his shoulders had tensed and his grip on her had tightened. Whispers erupted throughout the pub.
“Nimbulan will know what to do. We should stay close to him,” Powwell whispered to Kalen as he breathed a little deeper. The ceiling of the cave still seemed awfully close to his head.
Kalen darted a look at Moncriith that Powwell didn’t understand. “You need to stay by the door so you can breathe, Powwell,” she answered. Resolutely, she eased him through the shadows toward the doorway.
He wanted to rush to Nimbulan. He also wanted to get out of this cave. But Moncriith stood in his way, blocking the entrance.
“You can’t ignore me anymore, Nimbulan. I have the authority of Lord Kammeryl d’Astrismos,” Moncriith shouted as he stepped past the doorway into the pub interior.
A hush grew outward from his words. No one moved. The only sound in the cavern was the crackling of the fire and the swish of Amaranth’s tail against the rough wool of its nest in front of the flames.
“What do you want from us, Moncriith?” A stout woman stepped forward from the center of the crowd. She stood with her ample arms planted on her hips in a defiant stance.
“Out of my way, whore. I have cornered the demon that corrupts all of Coronnan. My vision will be fulfilled. She must burn.”
“Not s’murghin’ likely.” One of the fishermen staggered to his feet. “Myri saved five men from certain death. She saved us when no one else could. Every last person in the village will defend her to the death.” He coughed heavily then stood straighter. His wet hair still dripped into his eyes, and his hands shook with cold where he clutched a blanket around him. His face looked very pale from shock. Powwell had seen men in his condition after a battle.
Murmurs of assent rippled around the room. One old man even raised his fist in defiance and shook it at Moncriith.
“He’s going to lose this time,” Kalen whispered in Powwell’s ear.
“I have soldiers waiting to follow my orders. Soldiers who will burn this entire town and all of you with it. Will you sacrifice your lives to die with the witch? Will you sacrifice your souls to her? She has already stolen the souls of five men who should have died and joined the Stargods. You think she saved your lives, but she stole them. You will be her slaves in evil for all eternity, never dying, never knowing free will!”
“Steed shit!” the heavy woman shouted above Moncriith’s ranting. “Lord d’Astrismos fought hard to win this village back from Lord Baathalzan and the Kaaliph of Hanassa before that. We provide Lord Kammeryl’s table with bay crawlers and his troops with bemouths. No other village dares hunt those killer fish, though one will feed half an army.” The woman returned Moncriith’s stare measure for measure.
Kalen yanked on the woman’s skirt for attention. “He’s lying. The six soldiers ran away. They won’t return from Castle Krej unless compelled by the lord or magic.” She pitched her voice to make sure the others heard her as well, then scuttled back to the doorway to hold Powwell’s hand again.
“Fetch your soldiers, Moncriith,” Nimbulan said, his voice deceptively calm. “Myrilandel and I will be long gone by the time you return.” He removed his arm from Myri’s shoulders, flexing his fingers. His left hand came up, palm outward, fingers slightly curved, ready to weave a spell—if he needed to.
Powwell walked boldly across the crowded room to stand beside his teacher. The safety of fresh air near the door didn’t compare with his need to stay with Nimbulan. He placed his hand on his teacher’s shoulder and joined his magic to the older man’s. Power welled up within him, ready to burst forth in whatever spell Nimbulan chose.
Myrilandel stood straight and defiant. She seemed to glow from within, like the dragons. Amaranth roused from his nest by the fire and joined her, pacing a protective circle around all of them. His black fur seemed to absorb light where Myri reflected it back.
Moncriith raised a fist in defiance of Nimbulan. He held three strands of Myri’s hair, a few bloody threads, and a long splinter of wood, also bloodied. “I have something from each of you four demons. I bind you with magic. You cannot resist my commands!”
A wave of red energy undulated from Moncriith’s clenched hand. Powwell suddenly felt heavy and sleepy. He needed to drop his hand from Nimbulan’s shoulder to hold up his head. But the decision to move any muscle was too much effort.
Suddenly, a web of light shot from Nimbulan’s hand. A giant fishnet of eldritch power wove around and around Moncriith, containing his magic within the web. The pulses of red energy ceased. The heaviness left Powwell.
He stood straighter with no effort.
“You can’t do that! Kardia magic cannot defeat blood magic,” Moncriith protested.
“We have found a new magic that allows us to combine our powers to overcome any one magician, no matter what source of power he uses to fuel an inborn talent,” Nimbulan explained.
“You’ll never get magicians to cooperate. This battle isn’t over yet, Nimbulan.”
“Leave now, Moncriith. Go back to Lord Kammeryl d’Astrismos and tell him that if he goes to war this summer or any summer, he will face the combined might of many magicians and many lords.” Nimbulan flipped his wrist and wiggled his fingers in a walking motion. The web of magic pulled Mo
ncriith back toward the door. Wind and rain pelted the Bloodmage as he grasped the doorjamb to keep from being dragged outside.
“You haven’t seen the last of me yet. Any of you. I’ll be back with an army and the Lord d’Astrismos. You’ll all die for your sin of sheltering this witchwoman. She’s a demon, I tell you. She plays with evil. Repent now, and follow the path of the Stargods,” Moncriith bellowed so loudly Powwell wanted to put his hands over his ears. The
Bloodmage’s knuckles turned white where he clung to the edge of the doorway. His feet kept pulling him outside.
“If the path of the Stargods means following your sick hatred, I’ll take Simurgh any day.” A grizzled old man crossed his wrists and flapped his hands. The waving of his hands imitated the ancient winged god who demanded human sacrifice. His crossed wrists warded against the return of that particular demon.
“Get out of our village and don’t come back.” The stout woman raised her fist as if she intended to plant it in the Bloodmage’s jaw. “Myrilandel is our witchwoman, one of us. She belongs to us, and we’ll take care of her. Go meddle in someone else’s business, Moncriith.”
“You’ll regret this. All of you.” Moncriith turned and exited slowly, as if his dignity and honor hadn’t been questioned.
Chewed up and spat out, Powwell thought. We’ll have to deal with him again. I hope there are more of us then and we know what we’re doing with this dragon magic.
“Thank you. Thank you all,” Myrilandel said shakily. Tears streamed down her face. “I was sure you would join Moncriith in throwing me to the flames. The last village where I lived turned against me and my guardian. They burned Magretha while Moncriith laughed. I ran away, but Magretha was too old and ill to get very far. I watched her burn from a distance and couldn’t do anything to save her. I truly tried, but I wasn’t strong enough to fight Moncriith and the village turned against me. Forgive me for doubting you.” She stumbled into Karry’s open arms, weeping uncontrollably. All of the fear and strain of the past poured of her in a flood.
“ ’Tis we who must thank you, Myri. You saved five good men. Men who will live to fish again, live to provide for their families and the village. Now enough of that blubbering. Time to get some hot soup into you.” Karry escorted her to the padded chair by the fire.
Myri looked back to Nimbulan, needing to draw him into the loving warmth of the village. She saw hot brightness in Powwell’s eyes. Kalen clung to the boy’s hand again. Her chin trembled a little uncertainly.
Nimbulan stood slightly apart from the crowd. He nodded to her then turned to Powwell and Kalen. Myri felt a slight tug on the silvery cord that bound her to Nimbulan with love now, as well as healing. She needed to fold herself within his arms again but knew that would come later. For now she needed to form a new connection with the villagers who had sheltered her all winter and now welcomed her as one of their own.
When the voices had whispered of betrayal, they must have meant Televarn stabbing Nimbulan. These people would never turn on her.
“Where is Televarn?” she asked Karry in a whisper. “I know he was here.”
“Left in a hurry after we told him he wasn’t welcome and we wouldn’t tell him where you were. I think he went to Hanassa. Good place for thieves like him.” Karry spat toward the fire.
“Thank you, Karry. You have saved me from him as well as Moncriith. I am glad to call this place home.”
(You have work elsewhere, child. Dangerous work that only you can accomplish. We will help you in the coming battle. A terrible battle that may cost you the one you love. Only you can save him, but your talent will be useless.)
Myri fingered the wide skirt of the new gown that molded tightly to her breasts and waist, then drifted loosely around her hips and legs. She’d chosen the fabric from Karry’s store because it was the same color as Nimbulan’s eyes; the soft green of new oak leaves. She’d memorized every nuance of his eyes, fearful of losing him. The dragons had warned her.
“Since you are heading back to Lord Quinnault’s stronghold, you could wait and have a real priest bless your marriage there.” Karry smiled hugely as she fussed with the hem of Myri’s new dress. “Not that I want to miss this celebration.”
Amaranth played hiding games with the hem where Karry lifted it slightly to finish the last few stitches.
“I want Myri and the children to have the protection of my name and rank before we set out on a long journey,” Nimbulan insisted. He leaned against the bar of the temporarily empty pub, arms crossed, admiration and love pouring from his glorious green eyes. A brief shadow passed across his face. He blinked and resumed his admiration of Myri in her wedding gown.
“I traveled across half of Coronnan on my own, Lan. The children did, too. I don’t have to take your name for protection. If you want to wait for a real priest, we can.” She met his gaze and nearly lost herself in the intensity of his stare. She still couldn’t believe he had asked her to marry him. Living with him, following him anywhere across the continent, would have satisfied her. For as long as she had him, she wouldn’t leave him.
Amaranth pounced from his hiding place beneath Myri’s skirt onto Nimbulan’s boot. He batted one cat paw at an imaginary shadow. Then he curled up on Nimbulan’s feet for a brief nap, clear proof that he had adopted the magician as Myri’s equal in his affections. Myri saw only the flywacket’s unwillingness to be separated from him.
Her heart ached with the knowledge that she might lose him to the next battle. How would she live without him?
She banished the terrible thought, unwilling to let her fears mar the beauty of the day. Her wedding day.
“The marriage will only last a year if you don’t find a priest to bless it before the next Vernal Equinox,” Karry reminded them as she knotted the last stitch in the hem of the dress.
Myri prayed they’d have that year together, at least.
“I’ve not seen any prettier brides, Myri. The color suits you, though it’s the most common of all dyes and most brides want something different and special for their wedding gown.” Karry stood back, assessing the gown and the bride with a huge smile on her face.
“I want this wedding, Myri. I want the laws of man and the Stargods to acknowledge what we already hold dear.” Nimbulan stepped to her side and raised her palm to his lips. They stood together a moment in silence. He kept his eyes lowered to her palm.
Amaranth circled them both, purring loudly. His looping path wove an unneccesary binding spell—or was it protection? Myri touched the silver cord that bound her heart to Nimbulan’s. That simple piece of magic pulsed with vitality. Amaranth merely echoed the bonds already in place.
Myri caressed Nimbulan’s face with her free hand, relishing the warm tingles that traveled from his kiss all the way through her body. Her knees weakened. ’Twas always the same. She had no control when he touched her. If they didn’t get on with the simple village ceremony soon, she’d tear his new tunic and trews from his body and make love with him on the bar. She vowed to herself not to let a day go by without making love to him and telling him of her joy in him. She wouldn’t let him go to his grave doubting her feelings.
“Such scandalous thoughts, my love?” he whispered to her. He raised one eyebrow, as if he also contemplated the quickest way out of their new clothes—gifts from the villagers in thanks for saving Rory and Kelly and the other fishermen.
“You read my mind?” she whispered back. He didn’t do it often. He had said that he hated violating another person’s privacy, yet every once in a while the rapport between them was so perfect he couldn’t help overhearing her thoughts. The magnificence of that rapport and the magnitude of his talent still awed her. She suppressed her fears lest he read those as well.
She didn’t deserve to keep him to herself. All of Coronnan needed him and the new magic the dragons gave him. He must fight the coming battle. She hoped desperately that she had the strength to save him afterward.
“I could read your mind,” Karry sno
rted, repressing a laugh. “You’d think you two were youngsters just discovering the delights of Festival.” She handed Myri a nose-gay of wildflowers. Nimbulan settled a crown of similar posies on her head. He dropped a quick kiss on her lips, a brief promise of more to come.
“In a way, Karry, we are experiencing our first Festival. Our first Festival together.” Nimbulan offered Myri his arm.
She clung to him.
“Save the sentiments for the priest who marries you for all time. He’s the one you have to convince that you want to stay together beyond the first few tumbles in bed.” Karry moved to the doorway, opening it to the morning sunshine. “Remember, this common law ceremony lasts only a year.”
“Its good enough for most people in Coronnan who only see a priest once a year,” Nimbulan replied. “I never considered before what villagers do for religious sacraments or for healing. We must take magic away from the battlefield and bring it back to the people.”
“You’ll have a lot of hard work ahead of you, then,” Karry snorted. “Not much trust of trained magicians. We like our witchwomen better. They belong to us, not to some lord. Granny Katia told of a time when we had a priest. This village was important because of the triple Equinox Pylon. But the wars came, and the lords took our priest to serve their armies ’cause he was a magician of sorts.”
“That must change. Magicians must belong to all people of Coronnan, not just the lords. But we have to start the changes with the lords and end this endless civil war. We’ll leave with the children for Lord Quinnault’s keep right after the ceremony. He has a priest in residence.” He led Myri toward the Equinox Pylon where the entire village, including Powwell and Kalen, waited. Amaranth scampered to join them.
A huge black cloud covered the sun, plunging them all into shadow. Cold darkness descended on the bright morning. Myri shivered at the terrible omen.
Chapter 32
“My Lord Quinnault, I demand justice for the loss of my daughter. These islands fall under your authority. Only you can give me justice.” Stuuvart stalked the length of the Great Hall, speaking in tones that demanded attention.
The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume II Page 31
