The Silent Dragon: Children of The Dragon Nimbus #1

by Irene Radford

  “Without the Council, they could decide to break into factions and begin warring against each other . . . or us,” Darville said. He bounced to his feet and began pacing, hands behind his back, head and shoulders thrust forward. His blond hair, with a few traces of silver at his temples, flew behind him in the wind created by his forceful passage around the room. His queue had dispersed some time ago.

  “Father, did you know that the aura of a golden wolf follows you?” Glenndon asked, surprised at his boldness.

  “Yes, I do. And you’d best learn to curb your tongue now that you’ve found it. The less the mind-blind nobles know of that the better.” The king did not slow his pacing as he issued his reprimand.

  The words cut at Glenndon. He chose not to speak of the stories passed around the hearth on dark and dreary winter evenings. Stories told by his mother and his father of how they met, how they saved a golden wolf from the prison of enscorcellment, how a princess and a cat had exchanged bodies, and then both inhabited the human body. A little brindled cat with fur in many iridescent shades of brown, red, and gold—the colors of autumn, like the queen’s hair, and her daughter’s.

  “We have to make plans,” the queen said. She dropped her feet to the floor and sat tall, seemingly recovered from the exhaustion of guiding the spell. “We have to be ready when the Council come to their senses.”

  “Glenndon, can you summon Jaylor?” Darville asked. “Linda, while he is doing that, I will need you to write many letters for me. Maisy, I trust no one else to listen in on the lords’ discussions. They will not notice you.”

  “Yes, Your Grace. I’ll just take myself off to the servants’ quarters. Best I use the back ways, the bleak and narrow ways that no respectable man knows about but us servants use all the time . . . Now where did I put my pins and that bit of trim Princess Josie wants mended for her hair ribbon? Oh, I’ll find it soon enough. Soon enough.” She wandered into the queen’s bedroom, appearing absentminded, simpleminded, and unremarkable because she was always underfoot.

  “I will need a candle flame and a scrying bowl,” Glenndon said through chattering teeth. A chill invaded his bones, he knew not from where. His hands shook as he hugged himself to ward off the sudden ailment.

  Linda mimicked him.

  “Shock,” Mikka said. She looked sharply at Linda. “Lady Anya, blankets and hot broth for both of them.”

  “They should be in bed,” Darville added, suddenly stopping his restless prowl. He stood over Glenndon, placing a firm but comforting hand on his shoulder.

  “No.” Glenndon forced himself not to stutter. “I can manage. I just need the flame and the bowl.”

  “They both threw a tremendous spell to remove the magic from Glenndon’s wound. They had to join mind and body,” Mikka said. “They need food more than anything. And rest. But I trust no one outside of this room. I’ll not risk them going off to their own rooms alone.”

  “Agreed,” Darville said.

  “P’pa, M’ma, could we sit on your couch with our feet up on the table?” Linda asked through her own chattering teeth. She reached her uninjured left hand for Glenndon’s. The moment they touched, his shoulders eased and a tiny bit of warmth crept up his arm. This must be what the twins felt like when they had been separated for a while and joined back up again. Neither one complete without the other.

  “Stargods, I need a drink.” Jaylor said, standing in the middle of the big room of the family home. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I have broken every rule that reason and experience have taught me!” His hands trembled as he scrubbed his face with them. More like burying his face in them so he didn’t have to face Brevelan.

  Valeria and Lillian cringed behind him. Lukan had taken himself off up the mountain rather than deal with the aftermath of what he had witnessed. So like Lukan. When he knew that Glenndon would be on the receiving end of anyone’s temper, the younger brother watched gleefully. When he became involved, he disappeared, like a dragon in sunlight, there but not visible.

  “A circle that does not involve trust is as broken as . . . as you have unmade it,” Brevelan said quietly. She actually put down the bit of sewing that had occupied her when they all burst into the room. Three yampion pies baked in their covered iron pots beneath coals in the hearth. Jule and Sharl sat at her feet, suddenly quiet, all eyes and ears. Jule’s thumb crept into his mouth as he clung to his mother’s leg.

  “Since the time of Nimbulan, the University has always had a Circle of Masters working together for the good of the kingdom,” Jaylor said flatly. The enormity of his actions sent chills coursing through his entire body, making his knees shake as badly as his hands. “Now I have broken the circle.”

  “Samlan broke the circle when he allowed his jealousy to come between him and his trust of you. Over the centuries many magicians have removed themselves from the University. Declare him rogue, exile him from Coronnan, and continue without him.” Brevelan resumed her rocking and her sewing, lifting the shirt she mended enough so that Jule could climb into her lap. She continued sewing around him.

  “A smaller circle is better than no circle at all. But I’m no longer certain who I can trust.” Jaylor sat on the dirt floor in the place just vacated by Jule. Sharl climbed into his lap. He smoothed her dark auburn curls that nearly matched his own in color and thickness.

  The twins sat beside him, nearly joined at the shoulder, and Valeria placed her hand on his knee. The empathic reassurance from his three daughters brought the pressure in his head down to normal levels and pushed his blood through his whole body, warming him and giving him better control of his shudders as well as his thoughts.

  He wondered briefly if both or only one of them was a strong empath with healing talents.

  “We know who you can trust,” Lillian whispered.

  “We watched, as you told us to,” Valeria continued.

  “We saw whose auras joined with yours.”

  “Who strayed away from you.”

  “Who wavered.”

  “And who came back to your side of the circle . . .”

  “Only after you broke with Samlan.”

  Jaylor watched them carefully, concentrating on their eyes, as if he needed to see the truth within them. “I knew I set you two to watch for more reasons than I thought at the time.” He smiled and draped his free hand around both of them. His family. The best part of his life; as essential to him as his magic.

  “Lukan, you can join us now,” Mama called.

  He poked his head out from the opening into the sleeping loft. So, he hadn’t sought refuge with the dragons after all.

  Jaylor wondered if the entire family thought of the lair high up on the mountain face, nearly at the timberline, as the best place to find sanctuary.

  “We have decisions to make,” Jaylor said when Lukan perched on a stool, back to the hearth. “I need your observations on each of the masters. We’ll start with Marcus, he stood immediately to my left.”

  A thrum of noise, like a cat’s purr but louder and more demanding pulsed within Jaylor’s robes.

  “Stargods, who would dare summon me now?” He patted his pockets until he found and withdrew a small circle of glass.

  Valeria’s eyes grew large as the image of a candle flame burst into life within the depths of the precious object. “Soon, Val, soon you and Lillian will be advanced enough to be found worthy of a sliver of glass for summoning spells,” he reassured the twins.

  “Lillian, Valeria, a bowl of water and a candle. Now,” Mama ordered.

  They obeyed without hesitation. The girls had watched him speak to other magicians, journeymen on journey for the most part. Rarely did they get to see someone summon him.

  “Glenndon? What’s wrong?” Jaylor demanded as he floated the glass in the water and touched it briefly with the candle. He still held the taper of bee
swax rather than setting it across the bowl of water so that the flame reflected in the glass.

  Lillian placed her open palm on the side of the bowl. Valeria did the same. Their fingertips touched. Bound together and to the bowl, they should hear Glenndon’s words even if his image was only a blurry outline within the depths of the bowl.

  “My father has dismissed the Council of Provinces and closed the court,” Glenndon said. He sounded tired, slurring his words.

  Jaylor’s own actions echoed in his memories. He and Darville had always been close. Friends since their early teens. Bound together by magic as well as love. Their lives had taken parallel paths.

  Now this?

  “Why?” Jaylor demanded. Summoning spells took a lot of energy. Glenndon already looked exhausted, face drawn and pale, dark circles around his eyes, hair in disarray. No time for idle chatter.

  He’s speaking! Valeria told them all.

  Real words, not just mind speech, Lillian added.

  Something wonderful! Brevelan nearly cried with joy.

  Something dreadful as well, Jaylor finished for them.

  “Our enemy tried to poison the king in the Council Chamber. Hallowed ground. He imbued a small amount of weak and hasty magic in the cup to cast suspicion on the magicians.” Glenndon breathed heavily.

  “And? Why are you so weak? Your spell fades.”

  “Acid laced with magic splashed my hand. The queen and her daughter helped remove it.”

  “Nasty,” Jaylor spat the word that rested on all of their tongues. The pressure began to rebuild in his head. He had to do something. Now.

  What could he do from a distance of eight hundred miles?

  “You must come home now, Glenndon. Coronnan City, court, it’s too dangerous,” he said, knowing it was not enough. He had to protect more than just his boy, his family.

  “The acid splashed me because I knocked the cup from the king’s hand before he could drink from it. Imagine what would have happened had I not interfered. I am needed here now, more than ever. My father requests you come. Quickly. We need you. Now.”

  The image dissolved in a ripple of water lapping over the glass. The constant thrum of the spell fell silent.

  Desperate to maintain contact and know that Glenndon remained alive and unhurt, Jaylor reached a hand to the scrying bowl, trying to hang on to the spell and . . . his son.

  His shoulders slumped in defeat and his blood pounded in his ears once more.

  “S’murghit! I can’t go now. I’m needed here, to rebuild the circle.”

  CHAPTER 35

  “HURRY, LINDA,” Glenndon hissed at her.

  She hopped and stumbled trying to pull on her boots. Her boy’s clothing made the process easier than working around long skirts, but she felt stupid with sleep and her tummy still growled with hunger. “Do we have to go now?” she whispered, afraid of waking the family.

  “Yes, now. While our guards doze,” Glenndon insisted. “You want to learn more about magic and how it works. This is the only time we have free to find the things I need to teach you.”

  For half a heartbeat Linda wished for a return of the silent Glenndon who spoke only a word or two when he absolutely had to.

  “Lucjemm will want to come too. He’s always interested in exploring . . .”

  “He’s mind-blind. Anything we discover will mean nothing to him.”

  “But I like having him around. He makes me laugh.” She would not tell her brother how special Lucjemm made her feel, especially when he kissed her. All warm and tingly.

  “Not tonight.” Glenndon leaned on the wall of her room at the inside corner. The stones groaned as they scraped against each other. “No one has used this entrance in a long while,” he said, leaning harder against the reluctant opening. “We may need to rub some Amazon oil on the joints and pivots.”

  “Is there an entrance to the tunnels from every room?” Linda asked, coming up behind him. She had the boots on, but it felt as if her stocking had twisted around the toes. If she had to walk a great distance she’d have a blister and not be able to wear proper shoes tomorrow.

  “Mostly in the royal apartments. Escape routes in case of trouble.” The wall had shifted enough to allow them to squeeze through. Glenndon grabbed her hand and pulled her beyond the comfortable security of her own room. Good thing M’ma had told Miri and Chastet to sleep elsewhere tonight. Her two friends had already protested how much more time she spent with Glenndon and Lucjemm than with them.

  At the top of the stairs, Glenndon stopped short. Linda ran into his back, having expected him to continue on. “What?” she demanded.

  “Close your eyes and count to three.”

  “Then what.” She wasn’t about to close her eyes on the fat spider that repaired a web across the doorway. They’d split it in two when they opened the stone portal. It sped back and forth from lintel to lintel. Linda swore the beast shot them poisonous stares. “Are you going to light a torch?” A thick mat of spiderweb covered the one with a tinder kit she’d come to expect beside the door, ready for use. She didn’t think the spider would welcome further disruption of its home.

  “I need you to look carefully at the pathway. It will light our way. I have to know what you see. But you can’t see it until you center yourself and ground your awareness in the land.”

  Where did all those words come from? Glenndon rattled them off as easily as Linda did. Maybe a lifetime of silence had bottled them up and they needed to come out all at once before he settled down to . . . to whatever was natural for him.

  “Close your eyes. Breathe deeply. Think about the land beneath your feet.”

  “I’m standing on twenty feet of dressed stone.”

  “Where did the stone come from? It was once deeply embedded in the Kardia, part of a mountain, pieces of the whole planet.” He droned on and on about how every stone was connected to every grain of dirt, to every worm and mole and tree root and . . .

  Linda closed her eyes, shutting out the actual words, listening more to the soothing rhythm, thinking about his hand cupped around hers, how she was connected to him and he to the Kardia and together they had magic.

  Her eyes fluttered open when his words wound down to a whisper and then silence. Deep abiding silence. Not a lack of words, just no need to speak.

  A dim path opened before her, leading downward into the dark. “Blue,” she gasped. “Silvery blue. A path of sorts,” she said quietly, awestruck, afraid of disturbing the wonderful vision of a magical path dancing ahead of her, sometimes on the floor, sometimes along the walls or the ceiling, but always ahead of her.

  “That is a ley line,” Glenndon said with reverence. “They crisscross all the land.”

  “What do they do?”

  “They are energy. Power. A source of magic.”

  “But I thought the dragons . . .”

  “An alternative. Not always available. This is older, more primitive. Not everyone can gather dragon magic. Not everyone can tap a ley line. Few can do both.”

  “Can you do both?” She wanted to look into his eyes and watch the truth of his words. But she dared not take her gaze away from the wondrous path of silvery blue light.

  “Yes, I can. And so can my Da. Women can’t gather dragon magic. If they have any talent at all, they can use the energy in a ley line to fuel their spells.”

  “Why can’t women gather dragon magic?” She thought about Shayla and how her big body shimmered in the sunlight, not always truly visible but still there. Very much there and tuned to royal blood. If any woman could gather dragon magic, Linda thought she should be able to do it.

  Except that members of the royal family were forbidden magic. Except that they all had some magic or the dragons and the Coraurlia couldn’t protect them. Except that the Council, all the Counc
ils going back to the first one, needed to separate magicians from nobles and kings. Except that . . .

  “This is confusing.”

  “Only because you are overthinking it,” Glenndon said gently.

  “That’s part of my role in life as P’pa’s heir. I need to look at an issue from all sides before acting.”

  “For now we have to trace this line back to its source. We need to know the source of this magic. There is a Well of Power. I can feel it singing in my blood and my brain. But I can also feel the numbness, the darkness drawing closer. Something is wrong with the Source.”

  Indigo appeared at her side. He half-purred, half-meowed an agreement as he rubbed his face on her leg. His eyes never left the fat spider with the broken web.

  “The Well of Life no longer feeds the Tambootie trees properly,” Glenndon continued, bending slightly to scratch Indigo between the ears. “Indigo says that without a proper Tambootie crop the dragons do not thrive. Shayla cannot breed again until the balance is restored. Dragon numbers decrease. I have to find answers. Will you help me, sister? Linda, my friend.”

  “Yes.” She couldn’t say or do anything else. She’d follow him anywhere. Do anything for him. After the binding during the spell to heal his hand, she knew they were more closely allied by blood than she’d thought.

  “Linda? Where are you?” M’ma called from the other side of the door. “Linda!” Her voice rose in panic. “Stargods help us. Darville! Darville, come quickly. They have kidnapped our daughter.”

  Her mother’s pain stabbed Linda in the middle. Reluctantly she dropped Glenndon’s hand and turned back to reality. “Here, M’ma. I’m here. I . . . I needed to explore this entrance to the tunnels in case I ever need to escape.”

  Glenndon slipped away without her, leaving her alone, incomplete, and nearly blind without his magical vision to open her inner eye and guide her.

  I have followed Glenndon through the tunnels often enough to know how to eavesdrop without him seeing or sensing me. My lovely tells me how to mask my presence behind stone, and still listen.