The Silent Dragon: Children of The Dragon Nimbus #1 (36 page)

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

“N
OW, 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.

No one could save Linda but himself.

“I should have known that this creature of magic cannot tell the truth. Just like the dragons. Just like the magicians. Lies. All lies!” he wailed.

The blue rain broke free of the time thrall.

Jemmarc moved toward him, shouting and slashing with his sword any who got in his way. “I will save my son!”

Not fast enough. Jemmarc could not move through the crowd in time to save Linda. Only Lucjemm could penetrate the defensive bubble surrounding the snake. He was bound to the Krakatrice by magic and by blood. She could not keep him out.

He turned his mind inward, seeking strength and the will to do something, anything, to stop the Krakatrice. Something . . . powerful slid away from his mind. He sought again from a different angle, grabbed hold with his concentration, acknowledged it. Defined it and pulled it upward, up, up, and up further into his heart and his soul.

He raised his hands and pushed. The power faltered. He pulled up more. His body grew hot, his fingers burned and still he pushed, channeling the magical power beneath his feet and in the air toward the evil creature threatening his princess.

The Krakatrice jerked her head away from Linda and locked his gaze. He concentrated more power through his eyes, spearing the snake with burning blue light.

It shrieked in pain, splitting the air and his eardrums. He didn’t care. He had to keep her from killing Linda. His Linda.

The smell of rancid burning flesh filled the courtyard. Raw pustules of red flesh and black blood split black skin and erupted along the length of the snake body. Her wings drooped and shriveled like parchment burning and curling in a candle flame. Her own poison consumed her from within.

Her consorts turned to flee. Lucjemm pulled them back with his mind, herding them into the blue rain. Each one slid into the circle and died, slowly, painfully.

Needfully.

He felt no satisfaction as flesh burned and black blood flamed. He did not triumph as their red eyes glazed in death, turned gray, withering into ash.

He had saved Linda.

“What did you do?” Senior Magician Jaylor shouted, shaking off the frozen time.

“How did you do that?” Glenndon added.

“Magic,” Linda gasped. “You used magic. I saw the power rise in you through the Kardia. You are a magician born!”

Magic?

“I am as much a creature of magic as the Krakatrice and the dragons,” he said flatly. The bitter taste of self-loathing in the back of his throat, and a knot in his stomach replaced his need to save Linda.

“I am what I hate. How can I hate myself and live. How can I . . . ?”

He closed down all his senses and thoughts. Slowly, his body crumpled, succumbing to the darkness. Seeking death. The sweet death that would allow him to atone for being a loathsome magician.

Linda was safe. That was all that mattered.