Read The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume I: Volume I for Free Online Page B

her left preventing herself from initiating the cross of the Stargods.
    Brevelan covered Maevra’s hands with her own and smiled at her patient. “Give them time. They must learn to trust.” Brevelan released her hold on her patient’s hands.
    Maevra opened and flexed her fingers. “Soon, I hope. I need you with me when little Garvin is born.”
    “I will be there. I promise.” Brelevan hugged Maevra reassuringly. “Come, rest in my clearing. I’ve baked fresh oat cakes, and I think there’s still a little cider left.” She guided her guest a few paces. The path opened and revealed the entrance to the clearing.
    “I’ll never understand why this place is always hidden, unless you show the way,” Maevra laughed nervously. Her hand twitched again.
    “I don’t know myself,” Brevelan admitted. “The clearing was waiting for me when I came here last summer. It protects me and provides for me.”
    “That’s good. Then the magician won’t be able to surprise you.”
    “What magician?” Fear lumped in her throat. Had her family sent a magician to find her and take her back for judgment?
    “A wandering one. He was in the pub earlier asking questions. He was disguised, but Old Thorm saw through it. I swear he sees more with that one eye than the rest of us do with two.”
    Old Thorm, the wandering, one-eyed drunk who was always nearby when there was trouble.
    “What did Old Thorm do to the magician?” Brevelan listened to the clearing. No one came. She was safe for now.
    “Oh, you know Old Thorm, filled him with dragon lore. Then he sent the young man on a wild lumbird chase. Told him to come by way of the road. He’ll never find you.”
    “I hope you’re right, Maevra. But magicians have a talent for dropping in when you least expect them.” The dream image of a man approaching at sunset haunted her.
    Suddenly she saw the clearing from a second set of eyes. Eyes that approached from the west, the image they saw overshadowing her own. Chill dizziness swamped her senses. Her gram used to say that kind of feeling was a hand from the grave reaching out to remind you that all in this life is temporary.
     
    “Baamin always said I was more stubborn than smart,” Jaylor mumbled to himself. “I want answers, and I intend to get them. Besides, I may never again have the chance to visit with a real Rover.” The magic he’d gathered and stored as he walked quivered anxiously. He should avoid this place, these people.
    He listened to the power growing inside him for a moment. The warning was stronger than ever. Jaylor moved forward anyway.
    The lone figure of a tall middle-aged man, nearly as big as himself, appeared before him. Silver wings of hair at his temples made the black mane seem darker, oilier.
    Jaylor caught a whiff of the man almost as soon as he saw him. Musky sweat, days old, with just the faintest hint of Tambootie underneath. His instinct was to recoil from the faint scent of evil. His armor snapped into place.
    He sniffed again to make sure he had caught it correctly. Definitely Tambootie, but not unpleasant. Mixed with the other pungent smells of bruised grass, fragrant stew, evening dew-fall, the essence took on a haunting hint of exotic adventures rather than danger.
    “Welcome, stranger.” The Rover’s voice boomed out over the camp. He held his arms open in greeting.
    “Have you hospitality for a lonely traveler?” Jaylor asked. In ancient times when passage across the border was easy and the people of Coronnan chose to travel, there were traditions of hospitality. Jaylor presumed that Rovers still held to those old rules.
    He leaned heavily on his staff, as if he needed the stout wood to bear much of his weight. Thus anchored to the ground, the staff channeled his extended magic as he continued to scan the area with the extra senses available to him. The staff vibrated and tried to twist away every time Jaylor looked directly at the Rover.
    “The camp of Zolltarn is always open to