The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume I: Volume I Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Introduction

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Epilogue

  Praise for Irene Radford’s Dragon novels:

  “Ms Radford’s considerable gifts as a mesmerizing story-teller shine with undeniable luster.”

  —Romantic Times

  “A rousing adventure of magic and treachery.”

  —Library Journal

  “Plenty of popular elements: an intelligent cat, an enchanted wolf, a redheaded witch, a missing prince, the apprentice mage with misunderstood powers, and, of course, dragons.”

  —Locus

  “A big, adventurous, satisfying climax to the trilogy by one of the more interesting new voices working with the traditional quest story.”

  —Science Fiction Chronicle

  “This action-packed plot makes for engaged and thoughtful reading. The author manages to keep the story clear, and the characters interesting to follow. Several themes interplay successfully, with the reader caring what happens. Not surprisingly, the volume resolves one conflict, but keeps the door open for continuing obstacles. This reader, for one, is eager.”

  —KLIATT

  The Dragon Nimbus Novels

  Also by Irene Radford

  The Dragon Nimbus

  THE GLASS DRAGON

  THE PERFECT PRINCESS

  THE LONELIEST MAGICIAN

  The Dragon Nimbus History

  THE DRAGON’S TOUCHSTONE

  THE LAST BATTLEMAGE

  THE RENEGADE DRAGON

  THE WIZARD’S TREASURE

  The Star Gods

  THE HIDDEN DRAGON

  THE DRAGON CIRCLE

  THE DRAGON’S REVENGE

  Merlin’s Descendants

  GUARDIAN OF THE BALANCE

  GUARDIAN OF THE TRUST

  GUARDIAN OF THE VISION

  GUARDIAN OF THE PROMISE

  GUARDIAN OF THE FREEDOM

  THE GLASS DRAGON

  Copyright © 1994 by Phyllis Irene Radford Karr

  THE PERFECT PRINCESS

  Copyright © 1995 by Phyllis Irene Radford Karr

  eISBN : 978-1-101-04111-6

  DAW TRADEMARK REGISTERED

  U.S. PAT. AND TM. OFF. AND FOREIGN COUNTRIES

  —MARCA REGISTRADA

  HECHO EN U.S.A.

  S. A.

  http://us.penguingroup.com

  Introduction

  Welcome to a world where dragons are real and magic works. If you are new to the Dragon Nimbus, pull up a chair and join us as we revel in tales that have touched my heart more than anything else I’ve written under any pen name. If you are returning after an absence, I am very happy to have you back.

  This is a world that began with a Christmas gift of a blown glass dragon. The dragon sat proudly on the knickknack shelf for several months, loved and admired, reluctantly dusted, and totally inert. Then one night at dinner my son remarked, “You know, Mom, I think dragons are born all dark, like that little pewter dragon, then they get more silvery as they grow up until they are as clear as glass.” The dragon came to life for me.

  Out of that chance remark came first one book, then three, five, seven, and finally ten. I built a career on these books and loved every minute of the process. These characters still live in my mind many years after they jumped into their stories and dragged me along with them.

  Many thanks to DAW Books and my editor Sheila Gilbert for reviving The Dragon Nimbus a lucky thirteen years after they first debuted.

  With this omnibus volume and the two that follow, you can read about the dragons with crystal fur that directs your eye elsewhere yet defies you to look anywhere else. Wonderful dragons full of wit and wisdom. Magic abounds. Magicians and mundanes alike learn about their world and special life lessons as they explore dragon lore past and present. The books will be presented in the order in which they were written, and the order that makes the most sense of the entwined tales.

  So, sit back and enjoy with me.

  And may reading take you soaring with Dragons.

  Irene Radford Welches, Oregon

  This book is dedicated to

  Karen, Judith, Laurie, and Barbara,

  who taught me how to search for dragons.

  Prologue

  Coronnan is dying. Isolation, imposed upon us by the magic border, is the cause. This kingdom needs to be jolted out of its lethargy. No one is willing to grasp the tremendous power of this land, save me.

  Our king is spineless, incapable of decision. My father was just as useless. So I killed him. My brothers, too. I used the king as long as I could. But he is so weak he cannot act, even with my prompting. The time has come to eliminate him for good.
<
br />   Only I have the resolution to save this land. The great winged god Simurgh shall guide me. I shall make a sacrifice to him. What shall it be? A spotted saber cat? A great gray bear? Or perhaps a kahmsin eagle.

  No. I shall offer up the greatest sacrifice of all. The last female dragon.

  Chapter 1

  “The only way to catch dragons is to hunt ’em when they’re young. Still silvery, you know,” said a one-eyed derelict.

  A half dozen heads nodded in the dim, cavelike pub.

  Jaylor sucked in his breath, as shock drained what little energy he had left from his thin spell of delusion. Didn’t these people know that dragons provided everything that was good and safe and free in Coronnan?

  He’d encountered suspicion and distrust of dragons before. But never out and out hatred. The University of Magicians needed to know about this strange little village.

  “Yeah, if you wait ’til dragons’re growed, there ain’t no way you can see a s’murghin’ one of them.” The middle-aged man next to Jaylor smelled of stale fish and salt brine. “About ten years ago we had to root out a whole nest of the blasted monsters. They was eatin’ all our fish.”

  Green smoke from the crude hearth burned Jaylor’s eyes. He kept them half closed, avoiding direct eye contact with the half-drunken men who shared his table in this cave that served as the tavern. As long as these local gossips viewed his body and not his eyes, they would see only a long lost friend. A different friend to each man.

  “Lord Krej has the right of it. Told us we didn’t have t’ provide nothin’ for dragons. They can feed elsewhere. Can’t afford a tithe to the dragons and another tithe to lord, too.” The derelict’s one eye glittered and probed from the depths of his grizzled and wrinkled mask of a face. Jaylor looked away nervously.

  “We can’t afford to anger the dragons though. The witchwoman’s in league with them,” another man added. He was covered in wood dust and wore an apron with more pockets than Jaylor bothered to count.

  “Netted a big male in the nets last time we hunted. Couldn’t kill him, but after he escaped he never came back.” The fisherman leaned across the table toward the carpenter. “The old witchwoman deserted us then, and we did fine without one for nigh on ten years. Then last summer a new one shows up, and the dragons came back. I say we burn ’em both out.”

  “Without a witchwoman we have to depend on University healers. Who among us can afford a healer? If we could even get one to leave the comfort of Lord Krej’s castle to come all the way down here,” the carpenter argued.

  Shouts of agreement and argument rose around Jaylor. The noise covered his recitation of a strengthening spell.

  “Young’uns are cunning hunters. Only feed at night.” Old One-eye continued to stare at Jaylor’s unkempt appearance.

  Nervously the young magician finger-combed his unfamiliar growth of new beard and long hair. It was so unlike his habitually clean face and fashionably restrained queue, he wondered if he’d ever get used to it.

  He halted the gesture in mid-comb, afraid to call attention to his discomfort. He wished he could see the old man’s aura, but the delusion blocked his inner sight.

  He turned his combing gesture into a signal to the man tending the cask of ale. Somewhere across the bleak cave, the barkeep caught his gesture for more ale.

  Awful stuff. It tasted more like . . . Jaylor decided he didn’t want to think about what it really tasted like. It slaked the thirst of weeks on the road. That was all he asked.

  “Young dragons’re the same color as moonlight, slip in and out of shadows like a dream. Make a more interesting hunt that way.” Old One-eye’s intense stare drew Jaylor’s gaze once again. The spell of delusion slipped a little more.

  Stargods, he was tired. Carefully, he reinforced the spell. Just a little longer. He had to keep these provincials believing he was a local just a little longer, until he had the information he needed. Then he could slip away and rest his depleted body in preparation for the next stage of his quest.

  “Sometimes you have to go after dragons at the source. Clear out all the juveniles and sucklings in the nest and the ma goes away, too.” One-eye continued rubbing his grizzled jaw with a scarred hand. Jaylor’s own chin itched in sympathy. He resisted running his fingers through the new growth again. “If you let ’em get too big, they’ll rob the whole province.”

  “Worse than Rovers stealin’ our young’uns.”

  Jaylor sat up straight and listened closer. There hadn’t been Rovers in Coronnan in, oh, three hundred years. At least. Not since the magic border had been established. So, why were these people familiar with Rover habits?

  Jaylor willed the conversation back to dragons. He needed to hear about the dragons.

  The barkeep finally wound his way around the darkness of the cave interior. “Heard tell of a new nest up in the mountains.”

  “Last year’s little’uns ought to be coming out for their first hunt right about now.” One-eye threw out that information as if it were bait. For Jaylor or the rabble-rousers beside him?

  The fisherman grabbed it, like the voracious fish he snagged out of the cold, blue depths of the Great Bay. “If’n they start robbing our catch again, we’ll have a merry hunt. Soon as the snow clears the pass. This time we’ll get the s’murghin’ beasts ’afore they starve us out!” the fisherman laughed.

  Chills radiated out from a tired place where Jaylor stored his magic. He knew he didn’t like the viciousness of his informants. The disturbance in his magic convinced him not to trust them either.

  “Odd season for first sight of the young.” Jaylor found his voice after coughing out the acrid taste of the ale. “Most animals birth in the spring and have the young weaned by fall.”

  “Not dragons.” The natives of the place chorused.

  The equinox had just passed, though it still felt like winter outside. The last of the snow was still crunchy in the shade. Mud mired the roads so badly the huge, splayed feet of sledge steeds sank up to their hocks. Now was the time for birthing not weaning.

  Jaylor quaffed more of the hideous ale. It was starting to taste good. He’d had too much. Pretty soon he’d lead the dragon hunt with his drinking companions.

  The king’s magicians gathered magic generated by dragons, to be used only for the good of the kingdom. King Darcine ruled by Dragon-right. He sat upon the Dragon Throne and wore a crown of precious glass forged by dragon fire.

  Yet, according to village sages Jaylor had encountered on his journey, no one in his right mind went to see a dragon with less than murderous intent.

  Who ever said a journeyman magician on quest was in his right mind?

  “Go see a dragon,” Old Baamin, the senior magician had ordered Jaylor.

  But how did one see an invisible creature?

  “The dragon nimbus is dying,” said Baamin, defining the quest. “During your search you must listen very carefully for clues to the cause.”

  Jaylor had his answer. These locals hunted dragons for fun and for protection of their livelihoods and their lives.

  Jaylor was also to keep his eyes open for any youngsters with signs of magic talent. University recruits were fewer and fewer each year. Of course (his youthful wisdom dictated), with fewer dragons left to emit magic, there naturally were fewer men to gather that magic.

  “The rest of Coronnan reveres the dragons,” Jaylor prompted the men around him.

  “More fools they. S’murghin’ predators they are.” The barkeep grumbled. “More’n enough dragons in the north to keep them magicians happy. They’re as mean a predator as any dragon.”

  “But if we hunt dragons again, the witchwoman will go away. None of you are sick right now, but who’ll help my Maevra when her time comes?” the carpenter interjected. He looked as if he wanted to agree with his companions but didn’t quite dare.

  “Dragons used to fly over nearly every week during the summer, until we stopped planting the Tambootie for them. You could catch sight of their rainb
ows now and again. Too bad something so pretty belongs to a creature so evil.”

  “Rainbows?” This was the first Jaylor had heard of a dragon having anything to do with a rainbow; though ancient sources said good weather was the result of a strong nimbus of dragons.

  “When the sun hits a dragon’s wings just right, a rainbow arches out and touches the ground.” The barkeep sat to join the conversation. He swilled a huge mouthful of the poisonous ale. “If we see more’n one or two a week, we know it’s time to go on a hunt again.”

  “Prism effect.” Jaylor mumbled.

  “Whism effect?” The one-eyed drunk looked up from his cup. His left eyelid was permanently closed, but it twitched with an emotion Jaylor couldn’t read. He wondered if the eye were really gone. Perhaps, behind the scars, it glittered with the same malice as its undamaged mate.

  Just for a moment Jaylor’s magic vision penetrated the eyelid. He caught a brief image of a tall vigorous man with bright red hair. University red hair. Then the image faded. At one time the old derelict might have been an apprentice magician at the University. If so, he’d know about precious glass and prisms.

  “Prism,” Jaylor explained, “when sunlight hits clear glass at a precise angle the light refracts into a rainbow.” He twisted the crude pottery mug in the firelight. Had these villagers ever seen enough glass, even the muddy colored stuff that was common in the capital, to understand its properties?

  “Glass? Do you suppose a dragon is made of glass?” the barkeep murmured with awe. No one from this village in the back of beyond had probably ever seen true glass.

  But they might have seen a dragon.

  Jaylor wondered what kind of reaction he’d get if he pulled his tiny shard of viewing glass from his pack. They’d probably hang him, or throw him into the deepest part of the Great Bay as fish bait. The glass was barely as large as two of his fingers pressed together. But the mere possession of it identified him as a magician.