The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume II

plucked a piece of bark out of the baby’s hands.
    Nimbulan reached for his winter cloak. No one would be able to enter the clearing without Myri’s permission. He shouldn’t worry. But he’d spent too many years as a Battlemage not to worry about unannounced visitors.
    “It’s Powwell!” Myri cried, reaching for her cloak at the same time.
    Together they dashed out the door to meet the boy at the boundary of the clearing.
    Nimbulan didn’t see the magical boundary swirling bright pastel colors as it parted to admit his former apprentice. One second he saw only trees. The next, Powwell stood in the arching shadow made by two leaning trunks of the Tambootie.
    “You’ve grown! You have a beard. You’re taller than I.” Myri fussed over the young man.
    Fifteen now, Powwell stood broader of shoulder and longer of leg than Nimbulan remembered.
    “Are you hungry? Of course you are. Supper is nearly ready.” Myri hugged her foster son.
    “I’m fine, Myrilandel. Just a little weary.” Powwell hugged her back.
    Nimbulan watched the boy’s hands clench. An air of heavy sadness bent his posture.
    “What has happened, son?” he asked joining Myri’s embrace of him.
    “I figured out how to get into Hanassa, but I need help. I can fetch Rollett back for you, Nimbulan. But you’ll have to go with me.”
    Excitement leaped in Nimbulan’s heart. A chance to rescue the journeyman he’d had to leave in Hanassa so many moons ago.
    Myri stiffened within Powwell’s embrace. She said nothing. Nimbulan didn’t need magic to know she waited warily for her husband’s response.
    “I’m sorry. I can’t, Powwell. My place is here.” He held Myri tighter. “I promised I’d never leave you again, Myri, and I won’t.” Disappointment threatened to choke him. “I wouldn’t be much use to you anyway, Powwell, not without my magic.”
    “I’ll go,” Yaala said from the doorway of the hut.
    “The trip will be dangerous, Yaala,” Powwell warned.
    “That doesn’t matter. Hanassa should be mine! The time has come to reclaim my throne.”
    “We have to leave immediately. The gateway at the city will only be open for short periods this winter.” Powwell stood straighter, adjusting his pack.
    “It will wait until the snow has stopped and you have packed some provisions,” Nimbulan said, ushering them all toward the warmth of the hut.
    “Have you also thought of a way to find Kalen in the void?” Myri asked so quietly Nimbulan almost didn’t hear her.
    “Of course.” A big grin creased Powwell’s tired face. “That’s why I waited so long. I had to find a way to free both my—sister and my fellow journeyman. Finding the right opening into the void is going to be chancy. That’s the gateway that will only be open twice this winter and for very short times.”
    “Then you have accepted Kalen is your sister?” Nimbulan had to ask.
    “The dragons say she is. I have to believe them.”
    “Go with our blessing, Powwell. You, too, Yaala.” Nimbulan almost choked. His instincts screamed to keep these vulnerable people close. He’d lost so many good friends and students he couldn’t take a chance on letting Powwell and Yaala go into danger alone.
    (A journeyman must quest to become a master. A quest by nature must be taken without a mentor,) Shayla reminded him.
    “Shayla, I can hear you! Has my magic returned?”
    “No, love,” Myri said quietly. “The dragon spoke through my voice. You are still mundane. Are you terribly disappointed?”
    “Not really. Your love and the life of my daughter is magic enough.” Together they ducked into the hut.
    Amaranth squealed in delight at sight of them. She let go of the woodpile that supported her and toddled toward him. She giggled as she wavered and nearly sat down again, but she kept walking until she clutched her father’s cloak for balance.
    “Up,” she demanded.
    Nimbulan lifted her high over his head, laughing and rejoicing in his life and his loves.