She needed a way to calm her mind, which was running frantically in dozens of directions.
He understood and moved next to her. His touch eased her tension. Whether from love or magic of the jadestone, it didn’t matter at that moment.
With no difficulty, she selected her question—How do I safely enter and exit the Black Dragon’s lair? She focused on the surface of the golden stone. It sparked high, nearly blinding her. What she viewed through that star of light appeared immediately before her in the next second—a white crane.
Chapter Twenty-Five: The Black Lair
One of Cranewort’s birds flew directly toward Lyra. Was she about to die and it came there to take her soul? Trembling, she looked in every direction for danger. It flew closer, but no dragon soared near or even noticed the crane. It landed and deposited a tiny parcel at her feet.
She picked it up and untied the twine around the box. Inside, she found a note and a gemstone ring. Turning it in the light, the milky white stone sparkled a rainbow of hues.
Tama leaned in to take a look. “What is it?”
Cullen snapped impatiently, “Read the note. This bird came from Cranewort. The gift is an opal, amazingly rare here. Who sent it?”
Lyra unfolded the parchment and read, “Adalyra, you have already done a service for me which I cannot repay. Cranewort’s clairvoyance showed me what you need most right now to succeed—the opal of invisibility. Wear this on your finger when you wish to be invisible. Hold to others to extend its scope. This gift gains power with tradition, passing through maternal family lines. It is from me and from Brigid. For now, I must remain nameless, but know I give this to you with all my heart.” She turned the paper over, looking for a clue. “Who could it be?”
“No idea. Someone Cranewort trusts enough to share his view of our progress. No doubt, this is what you need to get past those drakes,” Cullen replied.
“Do you know how this stone works? Is it safe? Will any be able to use their powers to see me?”
“I doubt it. I haven’t seen its magic before. Slip it on to test.”
It fit perfectly upon her right middle finger. “Well? I can see myself.”
“I can’t see you. Let’s find out what happens when I touch you.” Cullen took hold of her arm. “I can see you, but maybe…”
“I can’t see either of you now,” Tama said. “The drakes have all delivered their kills for the Black Dragon’s feed. We can enter now.”
“The three of us should go in. Noba, Bero, and Taz can watch for the owl,” Lyra said.
“I’ll go tell them and have the buck give a bleat to signal Kenzo’s return,” the fox said as he slipped away along the rock face. When he rejoined them, they set off, touching to maintain invisibility.
They slipped past the drakes, staying close to the stone walls to avoid being hit by their flipping tails. The large mouth of the cave, which served as the Black Dragon’s lair, stood fifteen feet high and forty some feet wide. It narrowed to a dark passageway, lit by red torches.
More drakes rushed out, nearly running the trio down in the tunnel.
Finally, they reached the main chamber, which was dotted with water pools. Dampness hung in the air, thick with a sickening smell of rotting carcasses.
Nox stood sentry while his master slept, and added to the stench with his foul dung odor. Dead eels and fish floated on the surface of the basins, brought by drakes to be eaten by the dark leader.
There, the colossal beast lay with his head down, resting on his front feet. Although tremendous, his frame was smaller than his nemesis, the Imperial Dragon. If not more physically threatening, the Black Dragon was certainly more terrifying, with a grim, skeletal body. His eyes lay in deep sockets between two great horns, curving forward and down. It frightened Lyra how the flesh of his face hung in shreds, partly decomposed. She knew from her literature studies that all black dragons breathed poisonous, burning acid. Acidic slime dripped down his eroded chin.
Nox stood, his hulking ten-foot dragon body fully alert. His eight human heads waved wildly in the air. Each one displayed a different emotion. One grinned and rolled his eyes like a madman. Another’s mouth gaped, drooling and laughing. Yet another whistled; the noise made her head ache, more so than even the evil power in the room. One head studied the entrance with keen eyes, although her group passed undetected. His scaled serpent tail thrashed wickedly. Somehow they needed to get past it to reach the Black Dragon. Did her companions know how to play jump rope? If not, they’d have to learn fast.
Unable to speak or make noise, she demonstrated a small jump in place, to help them understand her intentions. They nodded and, as a unit, approached the huge tail which carried a row of sharp spines. It swung toward them and they hopped in unison. Success! They scurried as far as possible toward the dark leader, then paused to jump again when Nox’s tail swished back. Another run and leap and they reached their goal.
When first asked to learn the strength and power of the evil leader, Lyra wondered how to do that, but after her own magic developed, she understood. She must touch it, allow its fire to radiate through her fingers, her soul to measure its force against her own. Knowing how didn’t make it easier. She gulped, held her breath, and placed her open palm against the black scales of its hind leg sprawled out to the side.
Its power swirled around her skin, penetrated the muscles of her hand, and coursed up the nerves in her arm. The heat seared her arm as though it contained a strong acid. She needed to compare it to her own, just a little longer…but the burning grew unbearable. She steadied her aching arm with her other hand while her friends maintained contact. Cullen flinched. The paired jadestones permitted him to also sense the enormous dark magic. Finally, the evil touched her own power.
The Black Dragon’s neck twitched.
Lyra’s heart pounded in her chest. She needed more time and held still, assessing the quantity and quality of the dark leader’s power for a full minute before dropping her aching hand away. She had determined how its magic differed from hers, Cullen’s, and the Imperial Dragon’s. Her task complete, they now needed to escape.
Since Nox presently sat and dozed, tail tucked beside him, retreat would be easier. They huddled together to keep contact, turned, and passed safely in front of the sentry. Lyra breathed a sigh of relief when they entered the first leg of the tunnel, well away from the leader’s chamber.
Suddenly, a man entered from a side path and stood before them—the man from Lyra’s nightmare.
She froze and let out a gasp, then reflexively drew a hand to her mouth in an effort to take back the sound.
“No need to be quiet, I can see you fair lady. Let me introduce myself. I am Tarom, the Icewalker,” the man stated. “Come, Tama. You’ve done well to bring them to me.” He cackled as the undulating hem of his black cloak twisted aside where he held a hand down to beckon the fox. On his extended hand he wore a massive purple ring. His long black hair, streaked with gray at the temples, reflected a red sheen from the torch light.
The golden fox slunk next to him, looking at the ground. Had she and Cullen been double-crossed? She studied Tama, but gained no clue from his behavior.
Tarom fingered his massive, carved staff. A skull on top twirled and grimaced.
Cullen’s hand tightened on his.
With battle imminent, Lyra knew the truth. Whether he intended or not, Tama had led them into a trap. She didn’t dare lose physical contact with her partner; their powers must stay joined. She cast a backward glance at the entry to the leader’s chamber, and was thankful that she heard no noise.
“Hmm, should I wake my leader, so you may see for yourselves just how cruel he is?” The corners of Tarom’s mouth turned up into a wicked grin. “No, I think I’d like to have some fun with the eminent Sire Drake myself. It’s been decades since we dueled. Learned any new tricks?” He lowered his staff, and the eyes of the skull shot red light, setting Lyra’s skirt afire.
Her nerves on edge and her focus pinpointed by adrenalin
e, she waved her hand and instantly doused the fire.
“Well, well. A Scribe with real power. I’ve heard rumors. Even better; imagine the glory I can achieve bringing down both the most powerful wizard in Dragonspeir and a Scribe sharp enough to rival our first. Quite an honor I’d gain.” He whipped his staff in a circle, gathering energy to strike, but Cullen was faster, requiring no preparation.
Already aimed, the sapphire point hurled a blue swath at the opponent’s staff and sent it flying. It emitted its store of strike power upon contact with the cave walls, etching a deep craze line in the rock.
Perspiration formed along Lyra’s hairline.
Tarom’s power was strong, but now unarmed, he was reduced to shooting fire power directly from his body.
Cullen didn’t take any chances. He encircled Tarom with a volley of blue light, which pinned him to the opposite wall.
Behind her, the dragons stirred. She and Cullen needed to get out of the lair right away.
The Icewalker chuckled madly. “Good show, Sire Drake. You do, in fact, have a new trick. I should have noticed those paired jadestones. You work with her power boosting your own—nothing I can match. An enjoyable lesson, nonetheless, like old times. The reward of exaltation for overpowering you both has escaped me. I have no use for you, so now I’ll pass you along to my master as my duty demands.” With his only mobile extremity, he hurled a finger’s stream of red light ricocheting off the walls into the private chamber.
“Run and keep hold of my hand! Now!” Cullen ordered.
Behind them a beast grunted, but Lyra didn’t take time to find out which one.
Terror powered her legs. They raced down the passageway.
A horrific roar came from deep within the lair. Footfalls thundered so loud, she was sure the Black Dragon charged after them.
Lyra prayed he couldn’t see them. The air burned her lungs; he gained ground, breathing acid at them. She stumbled on a dark projection on the cave floor. Her hand came loose from Cullen’s. She looked over her shoulder and saw the Black Dragon’s eyes change to a fiery red.
Cullen dragged her to her feet, shot back a spray of thick, blue smoke to hinder the beast.
Enraged, the dark leader shot more acid.
Her lungs were on fire. They ran onto the landing rock outside the cave’s mouth. Lyra bent double and coughed from the acid vapors.
Blasts of fire zipped in all directions as the drakes attacked blue dragons, which were hovering, waiting to take them away. Her ears reverberated with roars and wild screams. Odors of burnt flesh mixed with the harsh acidic smell.
Cullen’s cloak caught fire. Busy shooting bolts at the drakes to make some landing space, he didn’t bother with the flames moving upward along the fabric. He cried in pain.
The Black Dragon roared and spat a dense cloud of acid. “Drakes, stop her!”
From down on her knees, choking and blinded with acid, Lyra held her palms up to what she thought was Cullen and dampened the flames.
Bright lightning bolts shot down from the blues above her toward the lair.
Someone lifted her from the armpits. “Step up in front of you.” It was Cullen, guiding her foot onto the tendon of a dragon wing. “When I boost you, throw a leg over.”
She could only see outlines and had no idea where her leg would land. Her thigh hit a spike and tore her skin, but she was seated.
He mounted behind her, and the blue lifted off.
“Adalyra, you will know my revenge,” the Black Dragon’s voice boomed out after them.
Chapter Twenty-Six: Party for Peace
Bolts of fire from the drakes zipped all around, but Lyra’s mount agilely avoided those that passed his way. Other blues on either side safeguarded them. “I can’t see far. Where are the others?”
“I’m flying beside you, Lyra,” the owl’s voice sounded to her right. He glided forward a bit.
She made out a silver blur and gave a wave. “Thank you. Thank you, Kenzo for bringing these blue dragons.”
“You’re welcome. Glad to do my job.”
Cullen leaned up and spoke into her ear. “The others are riding two blues alongside. None are injured beyond repair. I might be able to mend you a bit now. I can feel your pain.” He cupped his hands over her eyes and proclaimed, “Medicor!”
Lyra jerked; the healing shot prickles of pain through her eyes. Instinctively, she raised her hands to cover his, bringing soothing relief. She lifted both sets of hands, and although watery, her vision greatly improved.
“Hmm, self-healing, an uncommon art. You possess some unusual magic in your genes.”
“I’m not too fond of blood though. Can you repair the cut on my thigh?”
“Certainly.” He pulled up her skirt and passed his hand slowly over the long wound. “Better?”
“Yes. What happened to Tama? Did he set us up or not? I wasn’t sure.”
“He made some kind of shady deal with Tarom and will be fine where we left him. Tarom is not good or bad, but an opportunistic loner. I’ve known him as long as I’ve been a wizard. I doubt the dark alchemist cared whether or not you completed your mission, but more about finding a way to use you to rise in status. Giving the fox tips on how to sneak us into the lair provided a way for him to get close to you. I’m sure you haven’t seen the last of Tarom. I suspected Tama would try to walk the line between good and evil, and he did. After all, he’s a fox. But, that was exactly why I wanted him. No better way to get close to the danger we sought.”
“Good thinking.” She nestled back against his chest and enjoyed the view. “Flying home is much easier, but I understand we wouldn’t have been able to sneak in riding blue sentries.” They flew high above the dense Silva Nocens canopy. She shuddered and hoped to never return there.
Ahead, along the horizon, the Steppe of Ora led into the mountains of the Imperial lair. The sentries glided on air currents, a smooth flight. Ten blues took them home, fast and strong, muscles rippling in their flanks. Their cobalt coloring contrasted with the silver on their undersides.
Images of the past adventure floated through her mind. “Is there some connection with people wearing purple gems or robes, rather than blue or red to show support for good or evil? Eburscon, Glisla, and Tarom all wear those colors. All are shady. Do they have any association?”
“None that I’m aware of. Glisla was appointed by Eburscon, but I don’t see how Tarom could interact much with either. The two alchemists are adversaries. Perhaps the intermediate color gives them personal freedom.”
“You’re right about each being independent. She’s a mystic, and maybe all alchemists think they can control and create the world as they want. But, the similarities make me curious. I’d keep an eye on them.”
“Always do. Part of my job.” He pointed and called out, “Look! I can see the Geminus tree. Please take us on to the Meadow of Peace.” He patted the shoulder of the blue, who nodded in response.
When they sailed over the wide Steppe of Ora, a different tree, closer to the Silva Nocens, now marked the boundary. A good sign for the Alliance, but Lyra still had much left to do to finish the quest. Dozens of dragons filled the sunlit sky, making the turn with their group of blues to form a procession—the Head Guardian leading their flight.
The sentries landed in clear areas, best they could, but still some flowers and sprites fussed at them.
“Wowee! I don’t ever remember this many dragons in the Meadow,” Kenzo exclaimed.
“Not Noba either!” The familiar jumped up and down.
The Imperial Sorcerer and Scribe were surrounded by thousands of well-wishers, happy to have them back safely. Sprites buzzed around Lyra’s head, tucking blossoms into her tangled curls. Fairy dust sparkled in all directions. Several lesser wizards repaired the burned hem of her skirt while others fixed Cullen’s cloak.
The Lady of Peace hovered nearby and soared to the center of the clearing, her blue wings stretched wide. She bowed to the couple and their guides. “You all h
ave exceeded my expectations. May luck continue your way as you record your adventures, Adalyra.” She whirled in place, her tail sparks fanning out like dozens of gold sparklers, bringing cheers from the crowd.
The Unicorn pranced up, his aura glowing far around him and his silvery horn held high. “My Scribe, you have met the worst challenges. Let your writing flow freely in the days to come. Thank you all for your dedication. The Guardian of the Water and Mimio, unable to travel this distance owing to his age, send their congratulations and warmth, urging you to work hard and complete the quest.” He bowed to each of the six travelers.
Lastly, the Imperial Dragon stepped forward. “I am pleased to recognize the service and commitment of each assistant in the scribe’s journey: Sire Drake; Kenzo; Bero; Noba; Taz; and Tis, whose spirit remains with us.” His voice echoed off the surrounding tree trunks. “Each will receive a decoration and token of power added to his aura. Our Scribe, who continues to exceed our expectations, will be decorated upon completion of her written task.”
For many hours after the Guardians’ recognitions, stories were told round and round, small groups chatting up tall tales and laughing. Bero gained much commendation for his strength and dedication as a rescuer. The owl for his bravery, traveling far and alone to seek help. Noba for his loyalty, keeping sight of the ley line. A moment of silence honored the fallen Tis. They spoke of the fox with hushed voices, uncertain of details and his motives. Most of all, the Meadow-dwellers and visiting dragons remarked about Lyra and Cullen’s paired jadestones. How blessed their community was to have the most capable wizard of Dragonspeir and now the Scribe, whose powers amazed all, bonded together, sharing love and magic. Good fortune seemed at hand for the peaceful folk.
Food, drink, and song continued for hours until the sun dipped low. A feast awaited, with choices for every preference: newly harvested tender grains or baked loaves; freshly caught grilled or raw fish; new garden squash, corn, and beans. Plenty of ale and sweet milk was on hand.
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