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

by Marsha A. Moore

  “Why is that the most difficult?” Lyra asked.

  “Because the extra aura makes such a large load, many are not powerful enough to return the combined mass into their own minds. They lose their auras inside the beast.”

  Lyra stared across the lake, realizing the potential dangers of her quest. She needed instruction in fascination or time to apply her own studies from texts. She didn’t have either a teacher or time.

  The Unicorn sighed, looked at the ground, and continued, “There are many magical creatures, both good and evil, who dwell outside the Dark Realm in the neutral wastelands of Dragonspeir. I will now give you an overview of those. It’s unlikely you’ll enter those harsh environs for extended periods since the climates alone would prove torturous, but knowing them may make a real difference to you.” He continued illustrating various creatures and magical residents until Lyra wondered if she could keep them all straight.

  Finally, he lifted his horn. “There are many more, but these are the most important allies and foes of the Alliance. Your success will largely depend upon how well you associate with other kinds outside our territory.”

  She bowed. “Thank you for the lesson. I hope I can remember all your advice.”

  “You will as it is needed. I have faith in you, Adalyra. The sun is beginning to set. Let’s return you to Sire Drake’s cabin in the Meadow.” He dropped to his knees for her to mount.

  They took off, battered by the same turbulent winds Yord faced, but within the Unicorn’s aura Lyra remained unaffected, like the times she rode him during the past summer. As he turned over the edge of the lake toward the Meadow she heard soft music, barely audible, a haunting tune with a harp accompanying a woman’s angelic soprano. It came from the same mist-covered forest she saw before Yord landed. Again, tiny lights flashed momentarily, then faded back into the fog. She watched and listened until they grew dim. That region lay neither in the Dark Realm or Alliance, not useful to her quest, but still lovely. If only she could share that beauty with Cullen. She buried her face into the Unicorn’s mane to suppress her anguish and pain.

  Chapter Twenty: White Cranes of Dawn

  Lyra’s breath turned to vapor, and her nose went numb inside the frigid air of Cullen’s forest cabin. She wrapped the magic cloak tighter around her chin, considering what incantation would set ablaze the living room fireplace. Sharp gales pelted ice down the chimney. Extending her hand, she exclaimed, “Aduro!” Not strong enough to overcome the brisk winds, she tried another, more forceful declaration. “Inflammo!” When satisfied with the growth of the flames, she added, “Caleo!” to radiate the heat throughout the tiny dwelling.

  While the room warmed, she peeked around the edge of the heavy drapes out the picture window for Yord. She saw no sign, but wing beats overhead gave hope. And a chill of fear. She could never tell the difference between the whoosh-whoosh flight sounds of blue dragons and cimafa. She held her breath, but was soon relieved when her guard sailed over the porch into the glade. He circled the frozen lake and returned to settle on the ground.

  Lyra hurried to the door. “Thank you for agreeing to protect me tonight!” she waved and called out, stepping past the threshold.

  The enormous blue stretched out his wings and folded them to his sides. “I’m pleased to serve my Scribe.” He gave a low bow. “Go inside and be secure. I’ll see you before dawn for your lessons.”

  “Goodnight to you!”

  Back inside, the warmth comforted her although the cabin seemed too quiet. Not only did she miss Cullen, but also the rest of his friends, Kenzo, Bero, and Noba. Yasqu likely stayed at the lair, but what about the others? She thought they were her friends too. Kenzo was right to blame her for the attack on his master. If the owl knew what she gladly accepted to do in order to save Cullen’s life, wouldn’t he join her journey? Only the Guardians and her teachers had been informed about her quest. She wished she could tell Kenzo. It scared her to go alone. She hugged her arms around herself. Self-pity served no purpose, and she let go. Frightened or not, she accepted the dangers that lay ahead without jeopardizing anyone else.

  With renewed determination, she removed her cloak and lit several candles at a study table beside the bookcase. Knowing exactly what she wanted to review, she pulled numerous volumes off the shelves—everything she could find about fascination, as well as any that might contain advanced knowledge of magical creatures. Flipping through one of the latter, she wanted badly to learn what made the lovely song from the mist-covered woods near the Lake of Cogadh. Finding nothing, she returned the book and decided to give up her search to get some dinner. She had far more important things to do with her limited time than concern herself with happenings in a neutral region of Dragonspeir. Restoring Cullen’s life interwove with the complex battle between good and evil in this land. She needed to keep her mind on that.

  In the kitchen, ice struck the window of the back door, sheeting down the pane as it melted. An idea hit her. She needed a shallow basin to collect the precipitation. Eburscon’s wicked lesson at least taught her something—celestial dew. Gathered under the night guidance of her birthmate star, Hamal, those powers could help during her journey. Especially, if the dense woods of Silva Nocens blocked her view of the constellation.

  Conjuring the exact weight and shape could take multiple tries, so first she looked through the cupboards. In the back of one she found the exact style. On her knees, she strained to reach into the far corner and withdrew a dust-laden, ceramic bowl. She blew off the film. It looked to be handmade. The pattern of swirling glaze spiraled magically before her eyes. Running a finger along the moving design told her it was used before for what she intended. Then, she conjured an amber storage bottle and funnel to transfer what she hoped to collect.

  With the bowl in hand, Lyra turned the door knob. A gust crashed the door into her and nearly knocked the bowl free. Holding carefully to the threshold, she inched onto the tiny back stoop and positioned it on the lowest step. When she let go, the fierce wind lifted the rim and threatened to overturn it. Strands of hair whipped in front of her eyes, and her feet slid as she crouched to steady the bowl. The other hand clawed at the snow-covered ice to brace her precarious position. Hurriedly, she gasped, “Fervefacio!” For an instant, the ceramic base melted the ice, then nature refroze the liquid, bonding the basin tight. She rose cautiously and grabbed onto the door frame to keep her balance while stepping inside.

  Lyra shivered. Something warm in her stomach would help. She conjured a bowl of piping hot chili and carried her meal to the work table beside the bookcase. With a throw wrapped around her shoulders, she selected the top book in the stack, turning pages between spoonfuls.

  She devoured book after book, then sorted them into two piles—leave and take along. The basic concepts of fascination seemed easy enough, utilizing direct physical contact to extend her aura for mind control of the other being. Advanced levels gained deeper connection and more details, but required sending her power through the air. This worried Lyra. Her ability to send power out of her body needed work. Also, getting close enough to contact put her at greater risk. Hours passed as she searched for how to best perform techniques of fascination.

  Occasionally, she heard wing beats over the cabin. Each time, she bolted upright. Once, the whooshing sound grew louder, followed by a prolonged shrill screech. The stealth dragon’s black shadow blocked the moonshine through the window above the table.

  Lyra jerked and let out a scream. The fingertips on one hand burned, covered with hot wax. A rivulet dribbled across her page of notes. She righted the tipped candle and jumped from her wooden chair, sending it crashing backward off its legs. Again, lifting the edge of the drape at the front window, she found Yord folding in his wings from a recent landing. Only a dream—no, a nightmare.

  The candles burned now as stubs, the hour probably late. She shrunk the pile of useful references and placed them into the inlaid box. Lyra looked wistfully around Cullen’s library, saying a silent
prayer they would someday return together. After blowing out the lights, she headed upstairs.

  Heat didn’t radiate as well into the bedroom. She quickly stripped off her outer garments and crawled under the comforter. Although exhausted, her racing thoughts prevented sleep. She imagined the down to be Cullen’s arms holding her close…her mind let go.

  ***

  Up before dawn, Lyra took no time to bathe, dragging on newly-conjured underwear and yesterday’s sweater, jeans, and boots. The Unicorn hadn’t seemed bothered by the fact she wore jeans rather than a customary skirt, and she certainly wasn’t in the mood to dress up. Cleaning up would wait until evening at the lair. Her unwashed hair billowed in all directions, so she twisted it into a rough braid.

  Before leaving, Lyra checked on her basin outside. She found it frozen solid, but with a repetition of the previous nights’ incantation, she quickly warmed it and poured the shining golden liquid into an amber bottle she had left on the counter. She shrunk it to fit inside her magic box.

  Yord stood ready with one wing spread across the ground for her to mount.

  She picked her way in the darkness, hands following the edges of his wingsails to locate where to step upon the shoulder. With one swift spring, she lifted a leg wide and settled into the flattened seat between his spines.

  The night air remained bitter, well below freezing, but thankfully the wind now lay calm and the sky clear. After wrapping her scarf, she conjured mittens onto her hands and took a deep breath—the last day before beginning her quest. Two more lessons. Could she stuff more into her crowded brain?

  Minutes later, Yord landed in the Crossroads.

  Lyra dismounted and scurried over to meet her clairvoyance instructor—the grand, ancient gatekeeper tree. Outlined by the teal colors of a new day, his boughs stood taller and wider than she remembered, making him easily the most majestic tree she’d ever seen.

  “Greetings, my little Adalyra.” He bent his upper trunk into a bow, and although his eyes were sleepy slits, the bark of his lips curled into a broad smile. He called to the dragon, “Sentry Yord, will you please come nearer to assist our lesson?”

  “But of course, sagacious Cranewort. For saving my life, I’ve pledged to help our Scribe as long as I breathe.” The great blue bowed.

  “Wonderful. Let’s begin our lesson. I have two topics to share with you. One I will teach at the exact moment of dawn, so I may interrupt our discussion when that occurs. The other topic is the magical skill of clairvoyance. The basics must be learned working over a shorter distance. Adalyra, do you have any prior experience in the craft?”

  Lyra shook her head. “Only what I’ve read in books from Cullen’s library.”

  The old tree touched her shoulder with a gnarled branch. “Quite resourceful of you. That’s indeed of value since his library is exceptional and prized throughout the Alliance, only second to that of the Tortoise.” He gave a raspy cough that shook his branches and proclaimed, “Dawn is come!”

  This roused a flock of a dozen giant white cranes, previously hidden by his large, flat leaves. They squawked wildly and circled high overhead, before separating along the many pathways at the Crossroads.

  Lyra tilted her head back and watched the migration of the graceful birds.

  Cranewort continued, “They are heralding the dawn of the new day, part of my job and theirs. Each day they travel all over Dragonspeir to imbue the new light with bits of energy collected while helping souls pass to new bodies. If you are ailing and see one pass, ask for a gift of energy. They will aid any Alliance member in need. I wanted you to see them in that act at dawn, so you would remember. Now, we shall begin practicing the technique of clairvoyance over short distances.”

  “I’m afraid I’m not very good at throwing power,” Lyra apologized.

  “Not to worry, my dear. For much of what you’ll do, there shall be no need.” He stroked a limb alongside his face. “First, extend a small measure of your aura to your outer edge—bark, skin, scales, feathers, makes no difference. Let it hover there, but no further, as though it rests on the tips of the hairs covering you. It requires delicacy and awareness to maintain it there. Go ahead. Try now.”

  Lyra did as directed. At first, her aura wavered back into her. Once she got it to her skin, she carefully identified the sensation so she could reproduce it.

  At the same time, Cranewort explained, “Correct. Open your eyes and behold yourself. Come to know both the feeling and the appearance.”

  She pulled off her mittens and examined her hands glowing with a pale golden light, the color of her aura.

  “Now from that position, feel for subtle vibrations touching you. When one happens, take in a sample, enfold it in your power, then study it. First, determine who the originator is and what emotions are in the captured energy. Start with that much. Go ahead.”

  Lyra shut her eyes to concentrate on using her aura as another sense organ. A buzzing disturbance hit and bounced off her. She tried to catch it, but it proved too quick. One more got away and then another. Frustration mounted, and she looked at her teacher.

  His gnarled limbs shone an ethereal greenish-blue, emitting from the cracks in his bark. Veins in his leathery leaves pulsed with the same shimmer. If only she could hold her concentration like that. One of his eyes fluttered, then fully opened on her. “What is happening?”

  “I can’t catch one. How do you get a hold?”

  “Many deflect. Don’t bother yourself with those. Wait for a greater disturbance. Try once more as I observe you.”

  Again, she set some of her power at the edge of her skin. She let the small stuff pass away, and in a few minutes a strong burst brushed the length of her arm. Easily enough, she pulled a bit of it within her. She read a few emotions immediately—concern and frustration. They belonged to her blue defender.” Her eyes flew open. “I read Yord’s feelings!”

  “Excellent!” The tree beamed, his leathery leaves smacking together. “You’ve picked up the craft quickly. That’s the very skill you’ll need at the pivotal moment during your quest—to assess the exact moment between death of the heir’s body and mind, in order to harvest Sire Drake’s aura.”

  “Were you told, or just read that information?” she asked.

  “Both. The Imperial Dragon met with all your teachers, so we could guide our lessons correctly.”

  Yord’s head jerked, as though startled by the information of the true nature of her quest.

  The old tree continued, “With practice, you’ll be able to extend your sampling distance. Especially if you have something belonging to the one you wish to read, to use like a talisman.”

  “Do you or the Guardians have anything of the heir’s?” she asked the old tree.

  “I put that question out, but found none. Now, let’s resume our lesson and see if you still have the sample. If not, select another. Then turn it over and study it. Tell me what message you detect.”

  The collected bit was still tucked in a pocket of her aura. With inspection, cracks and crevices dented the surface. Every edge contained meaning. Each told of ways the blue dragon considered to make himself available to her along her quest, outside the boundaries of the Alliance. She gasped and stared at Yord. “No. I can’t let you put yourself in danger to help me. Stop those thoughts. I won’t have anyone else hurt because of me. I should never have allowed Cullen to go along for my lesson with Eburscon.”

  The dragon reared up on his haunches, smoke and sparks spurting from his nostrils.

  Before he could respond, Cranewort interjected, “Those aren’t his active thoughts, like one reads with fascination. They’re his subconscious intentions, amorphous emotions rather than organized thoughts—feelings that he may soon act upon. Those deep ideas were hidden to him, as you see how he startled.” He gazed at the blue. “Sentry Yord, we will not share this knowledge unless to help avoid serious danger. Your intentions are most noble, ones I would give my life to follow.”

  Yord bowed his head
in silence. The Gatekeeper did the same. Tears trickled down in rivulets following the cracks of his bark.

  Lyra stared for a moment, needing no magic to feel their pain and love. She rushed to the wise tree and flung her arms around a portion of his trunk. “You’ll be with me in thought, my dear friend.”

  “Indeed I will. Count on that, my little one. I’ll post alerts to any who may aid you. It’s time for you to go with Yord to your last lesson. Learn well and be brave.”

  Lyra gave his trunk a last squeeze and pulled away.

  Yord extended a front claw and gently guided her to mount.

  Chapter Twenty-One: Destiny of the Stars

  Lyra trembled as she walked down the wide corridor in the Imperial Dragon’s lair. Emblems and banners with insignia of the Alliance hung on the stone walls. These reminded her of her grave responsibility to both Cullen and the Imperial Realm.

  Mimio took her hand. “I feel fear in your fingers.” She lifted their joined hands and gave a weak smile. “We all share your fears and would challenge each other to be the one to accompany you if we could.” She led Lyra into a large room lined with full bookshelves, five times the size of Cullen’s library.

  The Tortoise worked in the center at a specially-designed low table. It reminded Lyra of those at Japanese tea rooms. He raised his wide, craggy face from the book before him. Round-rimmed spectacles sat low on his nose, and he peered above them. “Welcome, Adalyra.” He nodded to a floor cushion. “Please be seated. My area of expertise and role as a Guardian is maintaining the history of Dragonspeir. The lesson I present will focus on documents related to scribal experiences similar to your own. May we all learn from knowing that history.”