Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Introduction
THE DRAGON’S TOUCHSTONE
Prologue
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
Epilogue
THE LAST BATTLEMAGE
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 Radord’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 Vol. II
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 DRAGON’S TOUCHSTONE
Copyright © 1997 by Phyllis Irene Radford Karr
THE LAST BATTLEMAGE
Copyright © 1998 by Phyllis Irene Radford Karr
THE DRAGON NIMBUS NOVELS VOLUME II
Copyright © 2007 by Phyllis Irene Radford Karr
All Rights Reserved.
Interior map by Michael Gilbert.
DAW Book Collectors No. 1425.
DAW Books are distributed by Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious.
Any resemblance to persons living or dead is coincidental.
First Paperback Printing, December 2007
DAW TRADEMARK REGISTERED
U.S. PAT. OFF. AND TR. AND FOREIGN COUNTRIES
—MARCA REGISTRADA
HECHO EN U.S.A.
S. A.
eISBN : 978-1-101-04112-3
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 these omnibus volumes, 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, OR
THE DRAGON’S TOUCHSTONE
For Benjamin Colin
my little baby boy
who knew all about flywackets
before I did.
Prologue
A lovely rising thermal current caught Shayla’s wing as she glided one last time from the mountains to the Great Bay. A hundred dragon lengths below her, white-caps danced on the gentle spring breeze. Sunlight sparkled on the water, reflecting rainbows from her nearly transparent wing.
Mandelphs darted in and out of the water in a game of catch me if you can. One youngster leaped through a rainbow, laughing.
Join us, crystal-furred dragon. Play with us, the intelligent water-dwellers chirped. Dragons cast interesting shadows and offer new hurdles to leap over and dive under. More interesting since you are nearly invisible.
(Thank you, friends
. Not today,) Shayla declined. Her lair was a long way away and the twenty babies growing inside her had become too large for her to be confident of her mobility. Tonight she would feast on a fat cow and build her nest. For the next few moons her five mates would feed and pamper her while she could not fly. At any other time, except during mating, she wouldn’t tolerate the presence of her consorts within her hunting territory. The male dragons wouldn’t tolerate each other except during the cooperative effort to support their gravid mate.
She widened her circle of flight inland, enjoying the changing air temperatures against her wings. The Great Bay dissolved into a chain of islands then merged into a solid landmass split by a mighty river.
Curiosity sharpened her FarSight to spy on the humans who inhabited this land. A bustle of activity in a wide-open space below drew her attention. She dropped lower to spy on the strangely intelligent, yet sadly immature race who had invaded this planet several millennia ago.
One of the humans below threw a ball of bright magic across a field. The ball arced upward and burst into thousands of glittering shards.
Sharp burning pain snaked from the tip of Shayla’s tail up to her haunches, numbing her muscles as it progressed. Without the maneuvering balance of her tail, she fell into a downward spin. Startled, she didn’t immediately compensate with stretched wings and extended limbs.
Too late! Another pain spiraled around her left rear leg. Muscles jerked out of control. She lost another dozen dragon lengths in altitude.
Too low. Dangerously low. The humans came into sharper view without the aid of FarSight. A cloud of magic residue hung above them. As this fact registered in her mind, more magic flashed across the field, adding to the residue. She barely escaped a responding flash that hurled upward from the edge of the meadow before it fell toward the opposite side of the open space.
A magic duel! How dare these puny humans battle with forces they couldn’t control!
Flame burst from her mouth with a roar of rage. She refocused her FarSight, seeking a victim to atone for this outrage against her body and the forces of nature.
Spells of varying complexity and strength continued blasting back and forth between the men. None looked up to see the source of her flame. They ignored her fair warning.
She dropped heavily through the air as a new pain reminded her sharply of the weight within her womb. No! Her babies weren’t ready. No nest awaited them in her distant lair.
A new spell lanced upward. She veered sharply right, barely avoiding it. Fire burst forth as she bellowed her outrage. She folded her wings and plunged into a dive.
Her wing membranes snapped open at the last minute as she shifted and fought to regain height. Her flames drenched the field, turning the entire army, stubble, and nearby trees
to ash. No sense of triumph followed the obliteration of the threat. The pain in her womb enveloped all thought.
Shayla swung upward, slow and unwieldy with the extra weight in her womb. Greedy flames from the burning battlefield singed her belly. The babies twisted and fought for exit.
Not yet. Not until she found safe haven.
Where? Oh, where could she go? If she accessed the void long enough to find her lair, the babies would never survive the birthing. The void between the planes of existence would choke crucial air, light, and warmth from both her and her babies.
Who could shelter her? None of the males. Their lairs were small caves, barely large enough to secrete a single dragon; all of them too far away.
(I come,) an ancient dragon voice hailed her.
Iianthe. The oldest dragon of all and the only purple-tip known to have ever existed.
Shayla stretched her wings a little under the guidance of the telepathic voice, and she gained a little more control. But she kept dropping. She had make headway. East. Where the mountains met the sea. Iianthe’s lair, huge, designed to house many litters of baby dragons.
Barely skimming the tops of the trees, Shayla forced her wings to keep going. Her belly cramped in time with her downstrokes.
Iianthe appeared beneath her. His right wing supported the dragging leg that threatened her balance and her altitude. With the injured limb tucked back where it belonged, they gained elevation.
Everblue treetops receded from view. One dragon length, then two and three. They caught an updraft and glided east to safety.
The plateau in front of Iianthe’s lair appeared before her, almost level with her sagging legs.
A heavy, awkward landing sent her nose into the spring beside the cave opening. Exhausted, she lay there, wishing she could cry as humans did.
Iianthe landed beside her, almost as tired as she. Near the end of his span, he’d lived longer than any living dragon could remember. Without moving, he crooned a Song of healing that only she could hear.
She could walk, a little, far enough to get inside the cave where a nest of leaves and soft sheep’s wool awaited. Had Iianthe known she would need the nest?
No matter. She collapsed upon the bed as the first baby dragon squeezed from the protection of her womb into the waiting nest—an undersized mass of wiggling limbs the color of dark pewter. The tiniest hint of red touched its wingtips and the nubs of horns. A male. Alive and squalling for food already.
Shayla licked the last of the afterbirth from her son’s fur. She paused a moment while she panted in rhythm with her labor. The miracle of new life filled her with awe. She stared at the tiny form in wonder.
Two more mewling dragonets made an abrupt entrance. Twin purple-tips. Purples! Rarest of all dragon colors, assigned only to personalities of great power or wisdom. What strange portent did their birth signify?
The cramping pains did not abate.
(My replacement is born. I must die now. There can only be one purple-tip alive at any given time,) Iianthe said from the cave entrance.
Shayla waited through the birth of two more dragonets before answering the hovering dragon.
(Do not fly into the void just yet, wise one. We need your advice. The humans must be punished!)
(Your mates must not interfere. ’Tis not their destiny. This is a matter to be settled between your babies and the human magicians.) Iianthe heaved a weary sigh. (My next existence awaits, I must guard the beginning place of magic. The humans will find it within a century. Only those worthy of the power must find it.)
(The intruders have grown too strong, without the maturity of the centuries to guide them. They weave magic they cannot control,) Shayla reminded him. (The beginning place needs a powerful guardian until humans can use the magic properly.)
(’Twas foretold long ago by Purple Dragons wiser than I that your children must teach the humans what they need to know.) Iianthe’s voice faded as he backed out of the lair entrance.
(But they are twins. Which one takes your place and which must be destroyed?) Shayla panicked. Her babies were too small, not ready to grasp their destiny. Who would take on the task of dropping the extra purple-tip baby from the void into the Great Bay—to live or die as fate decided.
(Seek answers in the void. Until you know the destinies of both purple-tips, do nothing to either. Perhaps they have been chosen by the fates to solve the problem with the humans.) Iianthe gathered his wings for one last burst of energy and disappeared into the void. (I can die now, Shayla. The lair is yours.) Iianthe’s voice faded.
Shayla caught a glimpse of winking amethyst crystal in the distant blackness that opened before her but did not touch her.
Shayla’s wing folded protectively over all six pewter-colored dragonets that lived. Four males and the asexual twin purple-tips. No females. She pushed aside fourteen dead babies. No more infants awaited birth. A new kind of pain swelled within her. She lifted her muzzle in a mournful wail that pierced the silence and echoed through the mountains of Kardia Hodos. The sound lingered and replayed itself a
s sorrow overtook all of the dragons. The future seemed bleak indeed.
Too many dragons fell victim to the wild and aggressive humans who hated and feared all they did not understand.
Shayla nuzzled each of her babies, willing them all to live and grow. She had time to make a decision about the redundant purple-tip. Time to find a way to save both. Time to plot and persuade before dragonkind took drastic action.
Chapter 1
Eighteen Years Later
“Don’t do it, Keegan. Don’t try that spell, boy!” Nimbulan yelled across the din of the battle. He projected his words with magic above the noise of death and destruction.
Keegan, Nimbulan’s former apprentice, ignored the command, if he heard it at all. On a slight mound, opposite the raging battle from Nimbulan, the young man wove his hands in a stylized, intricate pattern.
“That spell draws its symmetry from stars that disappear at midnight! Dawn is but a few heartbeats away.” Nimbulan tried once more to warn his opponent. He climbed onto the stump of a tree that had been blasted by magic gone awry during a battle on this same field nearly twenty years before. No one had survived the fires then. Neither would they survive Keegan’s spell.
False dawn shimmered on the horizon, barely discernible beyond the witchlight that illumined the two armies battling between the mages. If Keegan continued to weave his magic one heartbeat past sunrise, the spell would go rogue with disastrous results.
Keegan’s chant became a steady, rhythmic incantation. It slid under and around the noise of seasoned troops slashing and hacking at each other. Nimbulan watched as Lord Hanic’s men wielded their weapons in time with the words of the spell chanted by Keegan. The front line of Lord Kammeryl’s troops sagged and gave ground in the same rhythm. Nimbulan thought furiously about how to protect Kammeryl’s men. He had to stop Keegan’s spell before it drew too much power from the sun, rather than a balance of moon and stars.