Enchanted Bookstore Legends (5-book complete epic fantasy romance box set)

by Marsha A. Moore

  Lyra beamed with this appreciation.

  Even the creepy-looking forest dwellers quietly dropped to their knees, eyes open wide.

  Looking over his shoulder at her, the Unicorn said, “Lyra, on the other side of this forest begins the territory newly invaded by the evil forces of the Black Dragon. I will take you to the demarcation and explain your destined path.” With a snort, he turned back and carried her the way he entered.

  Her guides followed close behind. The men of the forest trailed after them and stopped at the tree line, but watched intently.

  In the open, brisk wind lifted strands of Lyra’s hair. The edges of the Unicorn’s white aura spun into coiling wisps that brushed her skin like silk.

  Ahead, a large body of water spread beyond Lyra’s vision. Waves whooshed, rolling in fast with the swift breeze. The tide shimmered with iridescence, like oil on water, where it spread shallow across the black sand. Pitted metallic rocks dotted the beach. Dragons of every color, size, and shape filled the sky. A silvery-blue one dipped low, circling Lyra and her entourage. Only when it drew near did she see the transparent wings, outlined with silver veins.

  “This is the Sea of Cogadh. Good and evil combine in this sea of war, evidenced by the pearly layer, which forever fails to dissolve. You must travel to the opposite shoreline to reach the homes of both the Imperial Dragon, our leader, and his nemesis, the Black Dragon. The waters team with marine life allied with each force.”

  “How will I know which is friend or enemy? Which are those forest people?” She nodded toward the men standing among the trees.

  The Unicorn bent his neck to look back at the woods. “The worags would like to join with the Black Dragon, but fear my wrath more. They will not harm you in my presence.” He turned again to the sea and stamped a hoof into the sand. “You and your aides will work hard to discern and secure passage. None of the Guardians can directly assist you while you are on that water or the magic of your quest will be broken. The Lady of Peace, the Fire Guardian, will never fly near warfare. I am the Earth Guardian, unable to reach you by sea. The Water Guardian, the Tortoise, will greet you at the far shore.”

  He turned to face Lyra. “My Scribe, your time for today’s visit has run out, and you must return home. I will take you to where you entered Dragonspeir. I will be the one to decide whether you have sufficiently completed the first step of your quest and are ready to continue. When that is met, I will help you embark across this sea.”

  “Yes, my aunt needs me to take care of her during the evening. How will I know when I’m ready to return here?”

  “I will address that momentarily.” He nodded to Cullen. “Sire Drake, please mount behind the Scribe.”

  Once he was seated, the fairies flew into his pack, and the rest of the band of friends gathered near.

  The Unicorn lifted his head high, nostrils puffing sparkling magic. A guttural wail rose from his throat. It changed into a deep bellow as he grimaced while raising his power and extending his aura like a thick white fog. When it encompassed them all, his horn shone like a beckon. In a few minutes, the mist cleared, and Lyra was startled to find they had returned to the Crossroads where Cranewort stood as sentry.

  The grand old tree his moved branches in their direction and watched their arrival.

  The Unicorn waited for them to dismount. “Lyra, it’s my function to bring change for the good of Dragonspeir. It’s my responsibility to teach you how to follow your quest. I could not do so in the presence of the worags. Their allegiance is dubious, and this information is not for their ears. In order to return, you must follow these directions. Make a written account of all that occurred today into the beginning of a book. During the quest, you will face many adventures to chronicle. When the volume is completed and read by a person in your world, the Black Dragon will be rendered unable to utilize the red moon to gain the power needed to overtake the noble Imperial Alliance. Only when this first segment is scribed, will Cranewort give initial approval of your reentry to meet with me. Do you have questions?”

  “Will I have to travel the same route through the deafening forest? If so, how will I ever have strength left to cross the sea?”

  He turned his head to direct attention toward the Crossroads nearby. “After you submit your work to Cranewort, he will show you the correct path at the fork he guards, and it will take you directly to the near shore of the Sea of Cogadh.”

  “How will I get across?”

  “I will meet you there and give guidance, once I approve the accuracy of your record.”

  “How long do I have to draft this first adventure?”

  “There is no set time, only to complete the entire book and have one human read it by the rise of the red moon. In that way, it becomes part of the consciousness of the other world and breaks the means of the Black Dragon to connect with powers of the red moon. Sire Drake is more knowledgeable about passage of time in your world and can help with this matter. However, he must not write for you. He may only discuss any portions of the journey that are unclear to you. Do you understand and accept the quest? It is very important you follow these rules exactly.”

  “Yes, I do.” This commitment made her shake inside.

  “If you fail, the Imperial Alliance of Dragonspeir will cease to exist, along with its hundreds of thousands of residents and all your dear friends.” He motioned around the circle with his horn.

  Lyra looked to Cullen and tried to calm the shaking she felt inside. “I understand and will write the story accurately.”

  “Good. I will leave you here. Farewell, Lyra. I hope to meet you again soon.” He bowed his horn to the ground and then vanished behind his white fog.

  Lyra looked to her friends. “How will I find you all when I return?”

  Kenzo spread his silver striped wings wide. “Master will alert us. He never lets me get far.”

  “Speaking of which, I have some tandem spells to practice with you tomorrow, so don’t fly out,” Cullen retorted.

  The owl snapped his beak. “See what I mean? Why did I ever sign up for the position of a wizard’s assistant?”

  “Because you’re feathers are bigger than your aura,” quipped Tama, his piercing eyes glinted at Kenzo.

  In a flash, the bird lifted off into silent flight and with talons extended, came from behind to grasp onto the fox’s golden hide. “Let’s see how well your great magic gets you back on the ground,” he chortled, flying off into the woods. Everyone laughed heartily as they heard Tama squeal when Kenzo purposely flew within inches of tree limbs. Even Cranewort broke into a guffaw, branches crackling like he hadn’t done so in ages.

  Bero, Tis, and Taz said their goodbyes and headed toward the Meadow.

  The old tree spoke up, his voice still mirthful, “Adalyra, now that we’re certain you are the true Scribe, I must say I’m sorry I had to treat you sternly earlier today. I’ve missed you. I haven’t laughed this hard since you visited me as a child. Welcome back home, my dear.”

  Touched, Lyra did her best to hug one of his low branches.

  Leafy twigs gently embraced her.

  Cullen stood beside, smiling, just as she remembered him twenty-five years ago.

  “Cranewort?” she asked.

  “Yes? What can I do for you?” he said in a voice so sweet, he seemed a different tree than the angry Gatekeeper she met earlier that day.

  She swallowed hard. “Does Sire Drake belong to this world or to mine?”

  “Why to both, of course. What do you mean?

  “If Dragonspeir is destroyed, what will happen to him?

  “His magic belongs to this world and it has altered his mortality. He would return to whatever his natural state in the other world he might be.”

  Hearing those words, the happiness in Lyra’s heart sank.

  Cullen grabbed a hold of her hand. “It’s time for you to return and care for your aunt.”

  Her head hung down. With difficulty, she said goodbye to Cranewort.

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bsp; “You look sad now. Did I say something wrong?” the ancient one asked.

  Lyra hesitated, not wishing to open her feelings for discussion. The wizard responded instead, “No, only what is true.” He sighed and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, leading her away.

  “I shall see you soon, Adalyra,” Cranewort called after them.

  Tears would not form, nor words either. So much depended on her. It seemed like a formidable task, traveling past evil forces to reach the Black Dragon and learn his dark magic. Then, before time ran out, she needed to record all of her discoveries. If she failed at any step along the quest, Dragonspeir would perish…and so, too, would Cullen. He made her happy decades ago. It was incredible to meet him then. He had given her the will to fight her illness. Her spirits soared on the hope of happiness with him in her life again. Now, that vision seemed to hang by a thread. Overwhelmed and defeated, she trudged toward the passageway to the bookstore.

  When they stepped over the threshold and into the backroom, their clothing instantly transformed into the casual items they wore before.

  Probably alerted by their noise, Sheridan called out, “Hello, in there. Have you returned?”

  In no mood to converse with a glib locust, Lyra remained quiet.

  Cullen answered, “Sheridan! We’re back.”

  Out in the main store, the insect demanded, “So tell me everything.”

  Cullen glanced at Lyra. “Later, my friend. I need to escort her home now.”

  “Hmpf. Isn’t she special.”

  The furnishings had rearranged again while they were gone. On the end of a bookcase near the door hung the portrait she studied before. Now she saw the man was Cullen, dressed like a wizard, and she was the young girl. They wore infectious smiles while seated on a picnic blanket in the Meadow, playing games with the magical flowers. Remembering that day brought her a grin, although the pain in her heart quickly dampened her joy.

  Turning a skeleton key within the lock of the massive door, Cullen said, “Come on, I’ll walk you home. You’ve had a trying day.”

  Before he opened the door, she asked, “What if I can’t save Dragonspeir? I will lose you.”

  “Try not to worry.” He ran a hand across his brow. “Our friendship will always remain with you. You won’t forget.”

  “I don’t want you as only a memory,” she chided. Hot tears flooded her eyes and streamed down her cheeks. “I’ve lost everyone—my parents, my husband, and now my aunt is gravely ill.”

  He pulled her against his chest. “I will do all in my power to help you succeed, and work on strengthening what magic might be my own apart from Dragonspeir, just in case.”

  “I don’t want to lose you,” she gasped, her throat now clenched.

  “We’ll face this quest together. I promise.” He stroked her hair.

  She pulled back and nodded, trying to muster strength.

  He opened the door, and they passed into the street. Surprisingly, they were in the same location, but she no longer wished to stop and purchase jasmine fragrance from the perfumery. She only wanted to find her bed. Sleep would be welcome to block out worry, stress, and confusion.

  They walked in silence for many blocks, hand-in-hand. At the corner of Walnut, they paused for short kiss. Cullen stepped back and said, “Take care and get some rest tonight. Don’t worry about writing the day’s events. I’ll call tomorrow.”

  “I’m tired, but worried I’ll forget important details.”

  “It’ll come. Goodnight, my lady.” He turned with a wave and walked back in the direction of the store.

  Lyra stood watching him for a minute or two. Although exhausted, she resolved to force herself to at least journal some notes tonight.

  Inside, she endured Nancy’s run-on monotone. Dinner was simple, just leftovers for herself. Aunt Jean slept, hooked to an IV and tired from chemo. Lyra would much rather have her aunt well and able to enjoy a good meal with her. She kissed the old lady’s forehead and retired to her room. Lying on the bed with journal and pen, she began making notes.

  Thunder clapped outside and awakened her. The diary lay beside her. She was still dressed in street clothes. Lightning glinted across the sky, reflecting from the lake water. As she rose to draw the drapes, an image appeared outside the window—a dark outline of a dragon’s head scowled at her.

  Chapter Nine: Following a Trail of Roses

  The mouth gaped, baring wicked teeth, and the fierce stare of its eyes cut through her. Her heart skipped a beat. Terror arrested her breath. Lyra forced her eyes away from the window to locate the draw cord of the blind. She yanked it furiously. The demon face roared at her through the adjacent pane of the bay window. A chill coursed along her spine as she grabbed onto the next cord and whipped it downward. The demon followed to the third window section, gnashing its teeth. Weakness spread through her limbs, and she struggled to close the last shade. The monster glided down ahead of the leading edge while it laughed at her difficulty.

  When fabric finally blocked the apparition across the entire set of windows, she exhaled in short, ragged bursts. Her airways were tight and constricted. Her legs buckled and forced her to drop onto the foot of the bed. Lying still made her more aware of the violent shaking throughout her body.

  Outside the storm raged. Thunder cracked so close, it seemed to be in their backyard. The lamp shook on her writing desk by the window. Bursts of lightning flashed from under the edges of the blinds. She jumped at a sudden flash inside her room. Lifting the glass pendant, her gift from the Phoenix, the tip of the feather seemed to glow slightly and then extinguish. Or had it? It was so faint she couldn’t be sure. If it did, was there a connection to the face outside the window?

  What was the demon head? A delusion? Her thoughts were crowded from all she experienced today. Mental stress might be playing tricks on her. A phantasm? Could this cottage be haunted? It was old enough, over one hundred years. The islanders spun plenty of ghost tales of men who died at sea, their bodies washing ashore. A prank? Not likely during such a violent storm. A demon? What she feared most. Her heart pound faster in her chest. Was that the Black Dragon, angry she intended to block his power? Or more probable, his likeness sent by means of dark magic to scare her away from the quest. Her thoughts jumped from one idea to another.

  Finally, the violence outside slowed. The light show and noise moved out across open water. As the storm quieted, Lyra analyzed what happened. She hoped it was merely a creation of her tired mind, but seemed possible it came from the Black Dragon. She shivered. If he could reach out of the fantasy land to this world, she couldn’t be safe anywhere.

  If only she could talk to Cullen, but her bedside clock read three. She didn’t want to wake and worry him, and resolved to go over to his store first thing during business hours. She dressed for bed and took refuge under the covers, pulling them tight under her chin despite the warm summer temperatures.

  She lay for hours, waiting for the miracle of sleep to rest her shattered mind. She forced all thoughts out, save for one. Inhale…exhale…as slowly as possible.

  ***

  Wednesday morning found Lyra curled tight into fetal position, clutching a pillow. Only six o’clock. Her active mind awakened her early.

  Cautiously, she peeked outside from the half-inch gap at the side of one window shade. She sighed. Soft morning sunlight shone on the damp lawn and robins hopped about looking for easy meals of worms flooded to the surface. She shook her head. Did she dream the apparition? Her legs wobbled as she headed downstairs.

  She checked on Aunt Jean and found her still asleep, despite sunlight streaming in and casting a rosy glow on the pale pink walls. The monitor levels and tubing lines hanging from the rented hospital bed all indicated normal function. The steel-framed industrial bed looked ominous compared to delicate lines of the Queen Anne bureau, armoire, side table, and paired occasional chairs. Jean’s raspy breath worried Lyra, but all screens appeared stable, so she headed up for a quick shower.

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nbsp; The warm spray and smell of coconut body wash enlivened her spirits. The tropical scent reminded her of her home in Florida. Although she enjoyed the warm locale, problems and loneliness awaited her there, at the end of summer. But not yet. She wasn’t ready.

  She dressed hurriedly in whatever was handy, shorts and t-shirt. She needed to settle into writing on the back porch before Nancy arrived. If she didn’t appear busy, the nurse would talk for an hour, droning on and on about nothing in particular. She’d waste Lyra’s writing time and clutter her mind with small talk when she really needed to focus on details from yesterday.

  The remodeled kitchen featured new hickory cabinets and charcoal granite countertops, but an old Sunbeam toaster she remembered as a child was a welcoming sight. After starting the coffee, she got an easy breakfast of cereal and fruit. Local Michigan sweet blueberries were a treat she savored. Just as she headed out back with a warming plate, Jean stirred. “Lyra, is that you, dear?”

  “Yes, Aunt Jean. Good morning.” She stopped in the doorway to the master suite. “Let me plug in this warmer on the porch for the coffee and I’ll be right back. Would you like a cup? You’re allowed to have some according to your nurse’s list.”

  “Yes, please, and find some creamer in the fridge. And hurry along, since I think anything other than black is forbidden by my guard, Nancy.” Lyra laughed, glad to hear her aunt’s dry humor, in spite of her pallor. A dull gray had replaced the sparkling blue in Jean’s eyes.

  In the kitchen, Lyra filled two mugs, one with a small dribble of creamer, and returned to the bedroom. “Here you are, one coffee with just a smidgen of the forbidden substance.” She placed the coffee on the nightstand and propped her aunt up with a few pillows before handing the cup to her. “Careful, it’s hot.” She didn’t mind taking her writing time to spend with Jean, her only living relative other than distant cousins she didn’t even know how to find. “How do you feel today? Any better?” She lowered the rail on the hospital bed and sat on its edge, in case Jean needed assistance handling the cup.