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

by Marsha A. Moore

  Lyra lowered her head. “I’m terribly sorry. I made a bad decision that allowed me to be tricked by a man who stole the opal ring you gave me.”

  Gea gave a sharp snort. “It is he who is fooled. That gift passes through maternal lines, gaining power with generations. It will not serve a male.”

  Looking up with a bit more confidence, Lyra continued, “I hope that’s the case, that he didn’t get what he expected. I think he really wanted my jade brooch, one half of a lovers’ pair. The ring was attached to the pin on its underside.”

  “And it is Sire Drake who holds the mate?”

  “Yes,” Lyra said with a sigh.

  “Once Cranewort informed me of the tragedy, which occurred at the alchemist’s dwelling, I sent for Yasqu. The guards who escorted him to me delivered a scroll from the Imperial Dragon that related the outcomes. We,” she rested a forelimb on her son, “monitored your progression with astrological tracking, my expertise, at which Yasqu is exceeding with natural ability. The icy land of Versula poses dangers you are not equipped to face. We followed the beam of the Aries soulstar to locate you.”

  “Can others find me that way?” Lyra hugged her elbows.

  “That aptitude is quite rare and should not prompt worry.”

  “Good. Thank you both for your help. I need to reach Tarom’s retreat. Can you take us there?”

  “Indeed, but we must travel now, hidden by darkness in these remaining minutes preceding daybreak. Ice drakes and sometimes cimafa vigilantly guard his home at all times.”

  The word cimafa sent a shiver down Lyra’s spine. “I thought we’d be safe if not attacking Tarom. Why those beasts?”

  “He allows safe passage through this land for those who intend him no harm, but the alchemist doesn’t welcome visitors, good or evil.”

  Lyra and Kenzo exchanged a look of frustration.

  “I would have you travel as before, in our forelimbs, to be more secure in the strong headwinds.”

  Once all were arranged, the two dragons took flight again, this time remaining low by following a maze of canyons. With her agile maneuvers into hidden passes, it was apparent Gea knew her way through Versula. The gold dragon’s wings rippled as if she swam rather than flew. The smooth ride allowed Lyra to relax and take in the stark beauty they passed. In many ranges, the dragons sailed around huge mushroom-shaped granite tor.

  They traveled a long time, maybe close to an hour. She and Kenzo alone would have spent weeks, even if they knew this route.

  A hazy light of dawn allowed her to see more details. Farther north, the stone became mottled with dark gray circular patches against a tan background. Statues rested amongst the tor—goddesses in flowing gowns posed with an array of unfamiliar animals. Wings, horns, and fins attached to odd-shaped bodies in unusual positions. What looked like a giant platypus wore short curling horns on either side of its duck bill as well as wings set on its shoulder blades. A child-like goddess stood frozen with her hand stroking the fur on its back, her head thrown back with a wide smile covering her face. Lyra wondered if Tarom ever willed his statues to life since they wore such animated expressions. That would certainly be a playground for the bizarre.

  The odd spectacles held Lyra’s attention and also made her curious about the nature of the man she intended to convince to train her. The stone figures certainly served as road signs, indicating they approached his retreat. But with cimafa as guards, he didn’t have any real need to hide.

  Gea made another turn, and at the end of that chasm stood Tarom’s retreat. An imposing Gothic castle façade sat against a promontory, hundreds of feet above the level they flew. Designed from the local gray granite, it stood apart from the surrounding gloom with its ornate form. Pointed arches made the building seem even taller and more foreboding. Slender towers surmounted lower ones, achieving dizzying heights. A skeleton of flying buttresses flanked the walls. Wide arched windows were festooned with networks of tracery, while leaded glass rose panes decorated the gables. As they drew closer, Lyra saw intimidating gargoyles adorned the junctions of roof planes, serving as waterspouts.

  The sound of laughter, like from a group of happy children, echoed off the walls of the ravine. Lyra snapped her head back and forth, looking for the sources, but only saw immobile granite figures. After hearing more laughter from a deeper, male voice, she fixed her eyes on the walls. At this close distance, many more statues populated the outer grounds of the castle, some made distinct on pedestals, while others stood hidden in inventive ways among outcroppings.

  Finally, she discovered a source of noise. One goddess let out a peel of warbling giggles as she elbowed the shoulder of a half goat, half man beast. Her neighbor raised a hoof to point at Lyra and guffawed as though seeing some hilarious spectacle—not a warm welcome at all.

  Gea slowed for the first time since taking flight.

  A single cimafa patrolled the sky around the promontory.

  The hairs on Lyra’s arms stood on end. No rider or ice drakes accompanied it, but that one could be more than enough trouble. She watched its slender black barbed tail slither up and down. Sleek and armored with spines, it didn’t have Gea’s thick musculature…didn’t need to when its defense was sucking souls away from ill-fated attackers.

  Gea glanced down at her passenger. “Lyra, try to form small wards around you and Kenzo, or at least you, since he can fly from danger.”

  “Contego!” Lyra called out, pointing to the owl.

  He flopped his wings and demanded, “Remove this! I don’t want to be a sitting duck in a battle.”

  Knowing reasoning would be useless with her brave friend, she undid the spell and set a ward around herself.

  As soon as she did, the cimafa changed course and sailed directly for them.

  “Stay behind and alert,” Gea directed her son and then increased the power of her flight, ears pinned back, poised to fight.

  Yasqu dropped back, but held his head and chest high.

  The rising dawn allowed improved vision. The body of the cimafa stretched long and lean, eyes now visibly burning orange-red.

  The two opponents squared off in the airspace just outside the main entrance to the castle. Hovering, they rotated in a circle.

  Although the stealth dragon was only one-third her length, Gea kept it in her direct sight.

  Knowing the ward would only protect against firebolts, Lyra organized and reorganized her internal power where she could reach it quickly. Her pulse raced.

  The cimafa made the first attack, hurling a long flame from his dark mouth.

  Gea easily moved aside and waited to strike back.

  Lyra imagined she saw the corners of the stealth dragon’s mouth curl as it shot a flash of fire at Yasqu. She clenched her teeth and felt Gea’s muscles tighten.

  Kenzo shot out from Yasqu’s foreclaws and landed behind the thick leg of a steer-like statue, peering around its shank.

  Using the owl’s motion as a distraction for her opponent, the gold charged and projected a massive flame.

  The stealth took the hit in the primary mainsail, setting it off balance. It circled a tower while Gea waited. Like the Imperial Dragon, she was a wise and cautious fighter, but ready to kill with a single blow.

  “I’m done with you, you feathered freeloader!” Along the wall below, the steer statue kicked Kenzo and swept him off the pedestal with a large tail fin that looked like it belonged to a shark. Injured from the hoof hitting his wing, he toppled unsteadily downward with only one working wing.

  Instantly, the cimafa seemed to come out of nowhere and hovered near the falling owl. Its eyes blazed and an evil grin lit its snout. The red glow from its irises beamed at the bird.

  “No!” Lyra screamed. She opened a hole in her ward and forced an oversized but well-formed powerball into her hand. Squinting to improve her usual poor aim, she fired.

  At the same moment, Gea slung a terrific mass of fire from her jaws.

  The combination created an explosion of flame
s, sparks, and smoke obliterating Lyra’s view of both the cimafa and Kenzo. She dropped her ward, hoping to improve her vision.

  As the vapors settled, a deep male voice rang clear. “Lady Adalyra, welcome to Versula Solus, my solitary retreat.” Tarom stood at the drop of the cliff outside the main entrance to his castle and bowed low, his straight, black hair sweeping over the edge.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven: Reflections

  Lyra lifted her arm to acknowledge Tarom’s greeting, then scanned the ground below for Kenzo, her immediate concern.

  He sat with the one battered wing outstretched on the rock, but moved his head to face the alchemist.

  At a distance beyond the owl, the cimafa hopped, attempting to lift into flight with shredded wings.

  “Gea, please take me down to Kenzo. He’s hurt and needs to be healed. Where is Yasqu? Is he safe?” Lyra fidgeted in the grasp of the dragon’s hold as she descended.

  “He’s perched on the end of the ridge behind us, unharmed.”

  Lyra craned her neck to verify the information.

  When they landed, the cimafa flapped wildly, lumbering up to the rock ledge surrounding the castle.

  A squadron of a ten ice drakes took their first patrol of the day around the tower. Their sleek bodies, covered with metallic frost-blue scales, flashed in the slanted rays of dawn. Spotting the newcomers, their heads dropped and eyes narrowed as they aligned into formation. They accelerated into a dive in perfect unison.

  Lyra’s heart leapt into her throat as she kneeled beside Kenzo. She glanced up at the alchemist on the ledge, who stood motionless and watching. Lyra couldn’t believe he allowed another attack after welcoming them.

  The head drake screeched and pinned his ears back.

  Gea stepped calmly in front of Lyra. Only when the golden dragon’s jaw twitched, preparing to fire, did Tarom finally throw his arm into the air and boom out, “Halt! Leave them.”

  Lyra’s legs wobbled, weak and rubbery from fright. Moving slowly around her protector, her eyes fixed on this man who seemed completely illogical. She wondered how she would reason with him.

  He motioned to her with a wave of his arm. “Lady Adalyra and associates, please join me in my quiet abode.”

  She tossed her hair over her shoulder and resumed healing her friend. His fanfare to scare them didn’t impress her. She wouldn’t be hurried through fixing the broken wing. If the great alchemist wanted her respect, he could earn it honestly.

  Gea waited patiently at her side, with a calmness that must have come from the wisdom of her years.

  Yasqu flew down to join them. He fidgeted, peering curiously at the ice drakes. Perched on tors dotting the basin around the castle foundation, they resembled oversized white gargoyles.

  Lyra didn’t give Tarom the satisfaction of even one glance. She tended to her business with strict dedication, tracing her fingers over and around all edges of the owl’s wing. Only when his trial flight around Gea proved successful did Lyra rise and grant the alchemist her attention. She gave a slight bow and seated herself once more for flight.

  Once landed, she stepped across the wide ledge to the alchemist, stood tall and faced him, without courtesy of a formal greeting. She refused to cower.

  Kenzo took the hint and sailed to a swift landing beside her.

  Tarom stared at her, dumbfounded. After a few seconds, he broke out in a peel of hearty laughter. “Please excuse me.” His hands opened wide, and his black eyes glinted. “I find I have been mistaken. Although it is my usual manner to deter guests by various means, guarding my solitude, I intended to enjoy a bit of a game with you. I took you for a simpleton, an overachieving apprentice of my good friend, Sire Drake.”

  “I am not here to play games,” Lyra snapped. She kept sharper words to herself because she needed his help.

  “You carry yourself with determination, clearly knowing yourself and what you want. This confidence obviously earns you many respectable friends.” He waved a hand past the three who accompanied her, with a special bow to the golden dragon. “Gea, it is an honor.”

  Returning the gesture, the dragon lowered her long neck. As she rose, she said, “Woe to you if you underestimate Lady Adalyra.” She turned her head toward Lyra. “We will stay and provide you safe exit out of Versula when you are ready.”

  “Indeed.” His eyebrows rose with interest.

  “You are correct. I am here with a specific purpose. I need you to teach me advanced fascination craft.”

  Tarom folded his arms and scowled.

  “Sire Drake was scheduled to teach me those lessons, but he was severely injured—”

  He dropped his arms and interrupted. “What? That’s hard to imagine, with his skill. One of the disadvantages of self-imposed isolation is not being informed of important happenings. I have been in retreat for some weeks now. Come. Let us talk.” He waved one arm toward the main door of his castle and the other swept behind Lyra, as if to touch the small of her back for guidance.

  Lyra quickly stepped forward, uneasy with letting a man into her personal space who had attempted to kill her.

  One of the massive, carved wooden doors creaked open ahead of them. As she passed, a brass eagle talon, serving as a doorknocker, clawed the air. Inside, she expected to find more of the same, a maze of weird and frightening challenges, like a sadistic funhouse.

  Instead, the foyer stood at the base of a slender tower. Although the walls were of drab granite stones, the atmosphere was inviting, with the ceiling open to the apex of the structure. Many windows let in light, which refracted through hundreds of crystals hung in the air. Varied shapes cast an array of patterns and colors. Some oscillated and their rainbows danced over the walls and floor. The movements and designs captivated her. She wanted to remain there for hours reclining on one of the curved chaise lounges that lined the perimeter of the circular room.

  Kenzo cautiously flew upward to investigate, but after a few collisions with crystals he landed below.

  Outside, Tarom spoke to Gea. “Please show yourself and the young bronze male to the guest dragon quarters on the side. You’ve stayed there before.”

  After a few moments, their host joined them. “I see my refraction studies are to your liking. He briskly circled the room, his strong footfall in tall black boots resounded off the tower walls, and his mane of jet black hair swept behind him. From the back, he resembled Revelin except his shoulders were less broad. He wore a black cloak identical to what Revelin wore…and the rider of the cimafa. The image of the rider still strong in her mind, the association gave her a sharp chill. Although she’d been told many men of the Qumeli tribe also wore that style garment, Lyra wondered about a connection.

  He paused at one of four archways leading off the foyer. “I have four main rooms, each corresponding to one of the four energies used in alchemy. This one pays homage to fire, which has led all the previous Scribes and most likely you as well, am I correct?”

  Lyra nodded and followed.

  “I’m anxious to hear what has happened to Sire Drake, but first I want you to feel at ease in the room of your element.”

  The room was large, but the dark red walls created a warm, inviting environment. At a quick glance, it appeared to be a gallery filled with artwork and comfortable red leather chairs arranged for viewing. Recessed lights illuminated vivid paintings, and pendulum spots hung above a grouping of statues in a bed of ivy. A slight sulfurous odor hung in the air.

  “Let’s have a closer look in the center. I think you’ll find this intriguing.” With a single snap of his fingers, a bronze sculpture of a dragon, about three feet tall, spewed a red flame at a low angle onto the base of a huge iron cauldron. Within seconds, a second dragon, with an even more gruesome head, spit his orange flame into the center. A third, caught writhing on the floor, coughed a sickly yellow blaze. Following around in a circle, a total of seven metal figurines of dragons shot flames representing the colors of the rainbow.

  Lyra walked around, admiri
ng the details created by the sculptor. Like pseudodragons or small firedrakes, they resembled Noba in size and shape, although she couldn’t imagine Cullen’s familiar ever looking as fierce as those beasts. “Remarkable. A frightening, but beautiful collection. The sculptor was talented.”

  “Thank you. They are my creation.” He looked down, appearing uneasy with praise and oddly humble for a man who publically sought recognition.

  “Really, they are amazing works.” She was stuck by the complexity of this man. No wonder Cullen admired him.

  “Pardon me. I receive few guests with whom to share my personal ambitions.” He met her eyes with a sincere gaze. “With alchemy I create and convert metals from one type to another. Working metals into art is a relaxing extension of my craft.”

  Liquid in the cauldron bubbled, and wisps of steam rose into a wide glass collecting cylinder.

  “This will now demonstrate how the four degrees of fire work together as a collective. Liquid is volatilized, releasing the central fire within the matter, where it then becomes part of the energy of the air to regenerate celestial fire.” He pointed to where the cylinder peaked into a U curve. “Then celestial fire coagulates. Inspissation imbues celestial energy into water droplets. The divine spark or quintessence is hidden to some degree within all things. Here it transfers back to this ground ivy.” His hand traced the air along clear filaments, channeling streams of water down to the planting bed.

  “Quintessence…Eburscon mentioned that when he taught me about alchemy, before he tried to...” She hesitated. Although Tarom seemed to be genuine, he did have a dark side. She didn’t know if he supported the men wanting to steal her soul.

  He chuckled and shook his head. “Eburscon. I hope you’re not training as his apprentice, although he needs one. He’s not getting any younger.”

  Lyra studied his face. She cast a quick glance at Kenzo, hoping he observed something in Tarom’s manner she didn’t.

  The owl responded with a shrug he disguised into a refolding of his wings. No help.