Read Online The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume I: Volume I by Irene Radford - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Irene Radford
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crossed the path. Exuberantly, he bounced into the chill water, rolling into an icy splash with a playful lunge. The cold couldn’t penetrate his thick winter fur. His tongue lolled out in pure delight. He flexed his hind legs and bounded from the stream.
Instinctively, he shook water from his coat. The spray bounced back into his face. He wanted to share his joy in the shooting drops of water. Brevelan wasn’t here. So the trees and ferns received the gift of his shaking. A little farther along Darville caught a new scent. Hare. He tasted and savored it. Just enough for a tasty meal, without any leftovers to distress Brevelan.
For a moment he wondered why the feelings of a woman should matter. They never had before. Brevelan’s approval and goodwill were as essential to his being as was the dragon who flew the skies above. He’d never owed his life to a woman before. The least he could do was respect her wishes.
In the meantime he would take pleasure in the power of his body, the keenness of his senses, and the beauty of the day.
A short time later he licked the last morsel of hare from a bone just as a new sensation enveloped him.
Fear. The smell of it, taste of it, was thick in the air. It lapped at the pit of his belly.
Darville channeled all of his alerted senses into his search for the source of that mind-numbing fear. There. Into the wind, he found it. Brevelan was afraid. His muscles bunched and propelled him forward. Brevelan. He had to save her, just as she and the dragon had snatched him away from death last winter. Whatever threatened her would die. Shayla might help. But he no longer knew how to call her.
Darville raced along the path in the most direct route to the clearing, crashing through the undergrowth. His passage disturbed the homes of several creatures. He didn’t care.
His breath came quick and sharp, his heart beat and beat, pumping blood to make him fast and strong. He had to protect Brevelan!
There at last was the clearing and Brevelan, his beloved. She stood, hunted-still, staring at a man with a walking staff. Her fear beat around Darville in waves. It echoed and reverberated through his bones.
Darville could almost taste the hot blood from the man’s throat as he cleared the last few strides. This man would die. Brevelan would be safe.
Instinctively, his front paws fought for traction while his hind legs bunched and coiled. Teeth bared, fur bristling, he leaped.
He hit a wall. Bounced. Fell. Pain. PAIN. Blackness.
A flying ball of fur crossed Jaylor’s vision.
His arm came up, automatically, in a gesture of warding. The words of a spell rippled along his tongue.
“No!” the witchwoman screamed.
Time slowed. Jaylor could see only dripping fangs, sprouting from a gaping muzzle. Fangs meant for his throat. The wolf’s body hit the height of its arc and kept coming toward him. He could see the anger, the hunger in the animal’s eyes. And still it kept coming.
Jaylor looked into the golden, hate-filled eyes. He tasted the same hot blood, the same sense of urgency.
The wolf recoiled against Jaylor’s armor and dropped to the ground. His huge golden body crumpled in the grass.
“No!” The witchwoman screamed again as she ran to the fallen beast. She knelt beside the wolf, hands gently probing the slack body.
“Get away. He’s in pain. He’ll bite anyone.” Jaylor tried to pull her away from the head and lethal teeth. “He’ll savage us both before he’s fully conscious again.”
“My Puppy would never bite me. Never.”
“I don’t know much about animals,” he argued. Most of the last ten years he’d been isolated at the University. “But I do know wild animals can’t be trusted, especially when they’re in pain. Stay away from his teeth!”
She ignored him. Her hands caressed the wolf’s fur and a soothing hum rose from her throat.
This beast must be very special to the woman. A companion. Or a familiar? One-eye’s description came back to haunt
Instinctively, he shook water from his coat. The spray bounced back into his face. He wanted to share his joy in the shooting drops of water. Brevelan wasn’t here. So the trees and ferns received the gift of his shaking. A little farther along Darville caught a new scent. Hare. He tasted and savored it. Just enough for a tasty meal, without any leftovers to distress Brevelan.
For a moment he wondered why the feelings of a woman should matter. They never had before. Brevelan’s approval and goodwill were as essential to his being as was the dragon who flew the skies above. He’d never owed his life to a woman before. The least he could do was respect her wishes.
In the meantime he would take pleasure in the power of his body, the keenness of his senses, and the beauty of the day.
A short time later he licked the last morsel of hare from a bone just as a new sensation enveloped him.
Fear. The smell of it, taste of it, was thick in the air. It lapped at the pit of his belly.
Darville channeled all of his alerted senses into his search for the source of that mind-numbing fear. There. Into the wind, he found it. Brevelan was afraid. His muscles bunched and propelled him forward. Brevelan. He had to save her, just as she and the dragon had snatched him away from death last winter. Whatever threatened her would die. Shayla might help. But he no longer knew how to call her.
Darville raced along the path in the most direct route to the clearing, crashing through the undergrowth. His passage disturbed the homes of several creatures. He didn’t care.
His breath came quick and sharp, his heart beat and beat, pumping blood to make him fast and strong. He had to protect Brevelan!
There at last was the clearing and Brevelan, his beloved. She stood, hunted-still, staring at a man with a walking staff. Her fear beat around Darville in waves. It echoed and reverberated through his bones.
Darville could almost taste the hot blood from the man’s throat as he cleared the last few strides. This man would die. Brevelan would be safe.
Instinctively, his front paws fought for traction while his hind legs bunched and coiled. Teeth bared, fur bristling, he leaped.
He hit a wall. Bounced. Fell. Pain. PAIN. Blackness.
A flying ball of fur crossed Jaylor’s vision.
His arm came up, automatically, in a gesture of warding. The words of a spell rippled along his tongue.
“No!” the witchwoman screamed.
Time slowed. Jaylor could see only dripping fangs, sprouting from a gaping muzzle. Fangs meant for his throat. The wolf’s body hit the height of its arc and kept coming toward him. He could see the anger, the hunger in the animal’s eyes. And still it kept coming.
Jaylor looked into the golden, hate-filled eyes. He tasted the same hot blood, the same sense of urgency.
The wolf recoiled against Jaylor’s armor and dropped to the ground. His huge golden body crumpled in the grass.
“No!” The witchwoman screamed again as she ran to the fallen beast. She knelt beside the wolf, hands gently probing the slack body.
“Get away. He’s in pain. He’ll bite anyone.” Jaylor tried to pull her away from the head and lethal teeth. “He’ll savage us both before he’s fully conscious again.”
“My Puppy would never bite me. Never.”
“I don’t know much about animals,” he argued. Most of the last ten years he’d been isolated at the University. “But I do know wild animals can’t be trusted, especially when they’re in pain. Stay away from his teeth!”
She ignored him. Her hands caressed the wolf’s fur and a soothing hum rose from her throat.
This beast must be very special to the woman. A companion. Or a familiar? One-eye’s description came back to haunt
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