The Silent Dragon: Children of The Dragon Nimbus #1 by Irene Radford

ground and guide his magic.
    Frantically he searched the Kardia for a hint of a silvery-blue ley line. He wasn’t supposed to tap rogue magic energy, but this was an emergency. Ah, he found a little one shooting straight and true beneath the copse of trees. A shift of his feet and the spindly tendril granted him a bit of reprieve. Not enough.
    Fred caught him just before his knees collapsed. “Don’t you think you overdid it a bit?” the bodyguard asked.
    Glenndon looked up, following the line of Fred’s pointing finger. A bright ball of blue and gold magic roiled across the sky, just beneath the light cloud covering. It continued south, traversing the land without anything to block it or break it apart.
    If Da sees that he’ll come after us and knock me senseless.
    “Your father is there, just crawling upward.” Fred shifted his point to a tall man with silver-tipped gold hair. He had managed to get to his hands and knees, shaking his head clear of the magic backwash. Beside him stood a dark-haired girl about the same age as the twins.
    She shifted position, scouting the field of fallen soldiers and frightened steeds trying to break free of their restraints. Her feet shuffled until they rested atop the same ley line he had tapped. Did she know she did that?
    Then the sun caught new highlights of color in her hair. No two strands seemed to be the same. An aura as multicolored as her hair, in shifting shades of rust, gold, and brown encircled her. A lovely girl, graceful in every movement, confident in her carriage.
    His heart flipped over as he drank in the sight of her.
    Who’s that?
He couldn’t be sure he sent that thought correctly. He was so tired the ideas slurred and blended together.
    “There, beside your father, my boy, is your sister, Princess Royale Rosselinda de Draconis.” Fred steadied Glenndon, making sure he could stand on his own before heading off toward the king and his daughter with long strides. “I think you’ve got some explaining to do,” he called over his shoulder.
    Did I save Shayla?
    No one answered.
    He took one cautious step forward, then another. His stomach growled and ached with emptiness. Chills crept up his spine from his belly, befuddling his brain. He needed food, and fast. Absently he pawed through his pack for the emergency rations all magicians carried. Throwing magic was a lot of hard work. His fingers closed around a packet of jerked meat mixed with berry pulp and some hard journey bread. One bite tasted like the best food ever concocted. The second bite eased the chill. He’d eaten half the rations by the time Fred reached his king and helped him to his feet.
    Should he save the rest for the next emergency? He didn’t know when he’d get the chance to eat again, and his mother wasn’t here to provide for him.
    His mother.
    His middle ached even more at the thought of leaving her behind.
    He looked at the bread and decided to save it. He needed the jerked meat to replenish his body now, or he’d never walk as far as the center of the vale to meet the king, let alone back to the city.
    He was just about to begin the trek down the hillside when the soldiers began to recover. Three of them, more richly dressed then the bulk of the men and each carrying a sword instead of a crossbow or pike, turned to face him. Angry scowls marred their faces.
    He needed to get out of here, now.
    He had no magical reserves. Another transport spell was far beyond his strength.
    “You there! Who are you and what did you do?” a robust middle-aged man called. He kept his sword at his side, neither sheathing nor raising it.
    Glenndon here.
His greeting left his mind in a bright flowery image designed to assuage any fear or mistrust. He made sure the image was clearer than usual and carried the scent of fresh roses.
    It careened back into his mind in a blinding flash of shattered crystals.
    He winced and dropped to one knee, clutching his temples and clamping his eyes shut. That didn’t