“It’s an early symptom of the pestilence. It can kill your unborn child long before you.”
Jeldan offered her the ladle, still half filled. “Take it, Mita. I want to see my niece or nephew.”
She squeezed her brother’s hand and looked at Cullen. “Are you sure the cure is safe for my baby?”
“I’m certain your brother is healthy and that your baby will die by tomorrow’s sunset if you don’t take it,” Cullen replied, taking hold of her other hand.
She hesitated, looking to her brother for guidance.
“Allow an old, frail man to add more proof for the young lady,” Denkus said from where he leaned against a boulder.
“Very well. Thank you, Denkus.” Cullen delivered water to the elderly man. He stooped and cradled the man against his torso, then lifted the ladle to his mouth.
Denkus’s pale, thin lips sputtered. He coughed violently and collapsed into Cullen. Air rushed into the old man’s lungs and expanded his chest. Even from where Lyra stood, she saw the twinkle of magic in his yellowed eyes. After several ragged breaths, he lifted his head and shoulders. Like with Jeldan, a healthy, warm color replaced his sickly pallor. He looked toward Mita and said with a toothless grin, “That should make proof enough if an elder like me can survive.”
She nodded, but raised an eyebrow. “I hope the violent coughing reaction won’t harm my baby.” She took the ladle from her brother and swallowed the remaining treated water. Her other hand clenched into a fist, she set her gaze on Jeldan.
All conversation stopped as they watched Mita.
An odd feeling swept over Lyra. She reflexively looked at the horizon and witnessed the rise of the fire star of the spring sky, Regulus of Leo. It sparked a thin, sharp beam onto her and delivered a burst of power. A tremor shook her body from head to toe and, with heightened clairvoyance, she perceived vibrations of Mita’s emotions running along her own skin. In the next instant, Lyra moved toward the young woman. She didn’t take time to fully consider her own instinctive reaction, although she clearly sensed Cranewort’s agitation from a few miles away at the Crossroads.
Chapter Six: Dark Vengeance
“Agh, help me!” Mita screamed, bending double in pain just before Lyra reached her. The young woman looked up with a helpless expression, her arms holding underneath the small bulge of her belly.
Many in the crowd gasped and drew closer.
Cullen’s hands moved hers away to assess any injury while Jeldan helped her to sit on the ground and supported her back. “I don’t feel any damage to your organs, but the baby lies in a dangerous position and convulses.” He moved his hands under her tunic, touching her bare skin. He shook his head, and sweat beaded along his brow. “Lyra, please assist me,” he directed without taking his eyes off the woman.
Lyra placed her hands on top of his. That would combine their powers through the magic of their paired lovers’ jadestones. “I feel the baby.” She channeled her aura deeper.
“How did you …You moved the birth cord from around—” Cullen stated.
“There are two more loops.” She scrunched her face, trying to channel between the folds of tissue within Mita.
Cullen moved Lyra’s hands underneath his.
“I need your power. Keep contact with me,” she directed him. Finally, her aura got hold of the crushed and twisted tube and uncoiled it. “The baby is free now.” Lyra kept her hands in place to monitor the fetus and held her breath. Nothing. No movement or heartbeat. In those seconds, she gathered and regathered portions of her aura she intended to transmit to the baby, a shock to restart its nervous impulses. She couldn’t decide how much to send. Usually, she used too much since her power often overwhelmed her. But that was more a problem with powerballs than direct channeling. She felt Cullen’s aura coursing through her fingers, less strong, but thankfully much more precise and controllable. Once more, she scaled back. “Mita, I want you to hold very still.” Lyra fixed her eyes on the woman.
Mita’s eyes were wide, and her face was drained of color, but she nodded.
Still no beat. Lyra closed her eyes and let the mass of power channel to the fetus. She kept her aura there and connected it to her own heart rhythm, now pounding in her ears.
Moments later, underneath her own beat, she detected a soft thumping sound, slightly off from her own cycle, speeding up and then slowing down. She cautiously withdrew the connection to her heart. “There’s a heartbeat!”
Cheers rang out through the crowd.
She cupped the baby with her aura and waited a few more minutes. Gradually, the rhythm became more regular and she withdrew. Spent from the delicacy of the task, Lyra dropped back from kneeling and extended her legs. She leaned toward Cullen. “Make another check of Mita to be sure.”
“Yes, certainly.” He traced all along the woman’s torso at key organ locations. “All fine,” he said with a smile and wiped sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.
A glow returned to Mita’s complexion. “Look! My arm.” She rubbed a hand over her opposite forearm where the skin had been bruised. “It’s clearing already. Thank you both.” She bowed her head to Lyra. “Especially to you, Lady Lyra.”
The Imperial Dragon leaned over them and extended a dipper of water to Lyra. “There are more ways than any of us know that you can help us…yet another reason to be safe with your health.”
Mrinx had said the obsidian dust from the steam above her cauldron would only protect Lyra for the short term. So she accepted the scoop, drank it down, and jumped to her feet. “Let’s treat the other men.”
Kenzo and Noba darted past, vying to be the first to deliver water to them.
Now protected by the potion, Lyra helped support their weak limbs as they drank. She watched for a sign within herself, a jolt like the others experienced, but nothing changed. She wondered what that meant and if she was safe.
“Our treatment of the volunteers has proved successful,” the Imperial Dragon proclaimed. “Bero, have your herd saddled with the carriers and transport buckets of this water to those who are the most seriously ill. Cullen and Lyra, please treat the remaining wells. Then report to this main well where we will administer to all healthy pregnant women. Guardians will need to direct the entire magical team to be certain every resident receives treatment or prevention. There is much to be done.”
***
Lyra and Cullen transported to the next well, taking Noba along so he wouldn’t get trampled in the confusion. Kenzo asked to help Bero direct the navy deer herd, and Cullen agreed that was important.
Villagers met the threesome with smiles and cheers as they arrived.
When the wizard uncapped the second bottle, Lyra repeated the incantation. Like before, the potion swirled around the neck of the bottle before it spiraled down to meet water at the bottom of the well. The swell of sparkling steam brought another round of happy exclamations.
“Those here who are healthy, assist the ill. All must drink to be cured or protected. Be warned, there may be a slight tremor or bout of coughing as the elixir performs its function,” Cullen announced in a loud voice to the couple hundred nearby. He repeated his directions to many others who approached as fast as they could travel.
He directed Lyra and Noba to his side and, with a twist of his staff, traveled to the next well.
There, being in a more remote area, only a handful of people gathered. The pair quickly repeated the procedure and helped those waiting for treatment.
Lyra supported each until their tremors passed. When the last resident left the well area, she stated, “I didn’t have any reaction to the potion—no cough or convulsion. Nothing. Do you think that’s okay? Am I protected or could it have done something harmful?”
Cullen’s eyebrows lifted as he studied her face. “I don’t know. It seems everyone has shown some visible side effect.”
“Lady Lyra is not well?” Noba balanced on the stone rim.
“All those who received the treated water were mo
rtals, having little or no afflation. Perhaps you have gained enough afflation to make you immune? That would be a very good thing.”
“How can we know?” she asked.
“We’ve been so busy treating the sick or at risk, we haven’t determined how a magical will respond to the potion.” He dipped a cup in the filled bucket.
Lyra put a hand on his wrist, stopping him. “What if it poisons you?”
“Then you and I may share the same mortality. I don’t want to remain if you perish.”
She released his arm, respecting his feelings. Last winter she came too close to losing him when his aura was stolen by a rider’s cimafa. She clearly understood the pain of separation.
He swallowed and kept his gaze fixed on her. Nothing flashed across his eyes.
“I don’t see anything. How do you feel?” she asked.
“There—I felt a sudden wave of heat passing over my face.” He touched a hand to his forehead. “Only for a second. My eyes? Did you see anything?”
“Nothing. Although you didn’t react like the mortals, you did feel something. But, I had no reaction at all. Why not?”
“Well, it proves you have enough afflation to be naturally immune to the pestilence, certainly a good thing. But, it also shows your magic is different than mine, which we’ve seen many times. After all, you’re a Scribe and pursued by many who wish to steal your unique aura. My guess—your power must have overwhelmed the reaction.” He rubbed a hand over her shoulder.
Lyra lifted a corner of her mouth in a half-smile. Their experiment only ruled out some possibilities, but still couldn’t explain her lack of reaction to the potion. If only another Scribe lived who she could ask. Cullen was right; her magic didn’t act exactly like his or like other magicals. She wondered if Lesot’s friend in Terza really owned a copy of Elisabeth’s book. That might give her some answers to this question and many more.
“Lady Lyra is well!” Noba’s cheer pulled her back from her thoughts. “All this drinking makes Noba thirsty too.” He took a long draught of the water and burped. Within moments, he became so disoriented Cullen needed to carry him while they transported. When the blue vapor cleared, Noba flew to the ledge of the next well, happy and well as ever. “Ready to help with this one,” he called back to them, a lovable toothy grin plastered on his face.
***
Returning to the main well, the trio met the Imperial Dragon, the Tortoise, and his assistant Mimio. The leader’s wingsails hung slack against his flanks. The Tortoise rested one edge of his huge shell on the ground. Mimio leaned against the well casing, wiped her brow, and tucked loose strands of silver hair under the brocade fabric of her head-covering. The sleeves of her stained and rumpled fine blue gown were rolled past her elbows.
About four hundred men and women gathered, many sitting and resting with children playing at their feet.
“The few seriously ill women carrying children we already treated, since sorceress Mimio was present. She was able to quiet the couple of restless unborn,” the leader said to Cullen and Lyra.
“Any problems to keep watch on?” Cullen asked the sorceress.
Mimio shook her head. “No. They’re resting comfortably.”
The golden dragon gave a wide wave of his hand to those around the well. “Please gather.”
Many of the men assisted the women to stand and walk toward the forming line.
Noba flew back and forth from the well, helping the Tortoise distribute water samples. Then, the women patiently allowed Cullen, Lyra, or Mimio to evaluate their health and that of their unborn.
When only a few dozen were treated, a huge blue dragon landed in the clearing. Lyra gave a smile and a wave to her good friend Yord as he stepped near.
He tipped his head in a hurried bow toward her, but moved quickly to face the Imperial Dragon. Since saving Yord’s life, he was bonded to Lyra, and they enjoyed their special friendship. She watched him carefully and wondered what preoccupied the sentry.
“My lord, I have an urgent message given to my squadron during our patrol of the boundary at the Steppe of Ora. A green from the Dark Realm delivered it. With their reputation as tricksters, the authenticity of this communication is questionable, but you are to decide and not me.” He passed a scroll bound with black wax to the leader.
“The seal is authentic.” He broke it open and unfurled the parchment. After scanning the document, his pupils rapidly shifted from yellow-green to a fiery red. “When our urgent work here is complete, all Guardians and my High Council must to report to the Crossroads. My lair is too far from these villagers, and I wish to include Gatekeeper Cranewort.” Sparks rimmed his nostrils. “Scribe Lyra, I request your attendance.”
Chapter Seven: Quest for the Lost Volumes
Lyra and Cullen held tightly together as he transported them to the Crossroads. Neither spoke, but she heard his heart pounding in his chest next to her ear. Her head ached from exhaustion and hunger. The day seemed to last forever. Reflecting on all that had happened made her wonder if time magically altered between Terza and Dragonspeir. It did between this world and hers. Anticipating another danger made her feel defeated, and her limbs dragged like heavy weights.
Through the clearing mist, she saw Cranewort’s furrowed expression above them. He didn’t wait for the cloud to settle. “Lyra, I sensed trouble coming for that unborn. I was relieved I taught you my craft, and you were there the moment the mother needed you. I wish I could be happier for that triumph, but vibrations of danger hang in the air once again.”
“Yes, I feel them too, making me even more tired. Clairvoyance isn’t always fun.”
The old Gatekeeper pried a knobby root from the soil next to her. “That is very true, my dear. Sit and rest. To possess the craft is to accept huge responsibilities for others. But, your shoulders are strong, and your heart is big. I have faith in you.”
While they talked, Cullen greeted the Guardians and the Warlord, Oasth, as they approached.
The Imperial Dragon arrived last, flying low above the treetops. He landed and joined them. “I took time to consult my air instrumentation at the lair. Gatekeeper Cranewort, have you secured the area for our discussion?”
“I have, my lord. Although, the portal to Terza is only secured with my temporary closure and not the permanent one you will apply using the Axiolite Obsidians.”
“Thank you. That will suffice.” He unrolled the parchment and cleared his throat. “Allow me to read: ‘By proclamation of the Black Dragon: The residents of the Alliance shall remain accountable for the death of my heir until the times of their own deaths. Your recent Alliance victory is small in comparison to the ways your populous can be attacked. I relish the challenge of devising a method to bring even greater suffering than the pestilence, but mark my words, I rule supreme.’ ”
He handed the page to Oasth, who held it for each of the Guardians to read. The fire drake, the only of his kind in the Alliance, nearly burnt the page with his fiery breath before he got his temper under control. From Lyra’s readings and what Cullen had told her, drakes lacked patience. Although born an evil fire drake, an unusual good-natured streak ran through Oasth that likely explained why he left and served the Imperial Dragon. Not black-hearted enough for Dark Realm ranks.
As the Warlord discussed the Black Dragon’s message with the group, Lyra thought she saw the edges of his burgundy scales glow a bit redder. Apparently, he was unable to change his coloring fully to blue but did his best to accommodate with brownish-red scales.
While the paper passed around, the leader continued. “I understand his grief from the loss of his son, but exacting vengeance by bringing suffering to hundreds of thousands is cruel and evil.” The dragon’s head hung down for a few moments. He scanned the circle.
“How did the Dark One learn so quickly of the cure we employed?” the Unicorn asked, snorting silvery aura from his nostrils.
The Head Guardian nodded. “I wondered that very question. Consultation of my instruments
revealed the answer and further disturbing news. Enhanced dark energies are coursing along the magnetic ley lines. The impulses traverse the entire extent of Dragonspeir from poles of concentration in the neutral zones. They travel from the pole west of the Black Draon’s Silva Nocens forest to the opposite pole, at the eastern edge of the Silva Caliga woodlands near the border with the Alliance. That indicates the Black Dragon is studying every vibration of our lives, looking for information and for weaknesses. I routinely check for such monitors and send my own in turn. But, to this extent…I’ve not seen before. Apparently, he had been alerted about Scribe Lyra and Sire Drake’s return and increased his surveillance. I have called this meeting to obtain your suggestions.”
“My lord, I’ve begun to observe an alarming pattern, which now I can explain.” Cranewort adjusted a few branches to allow him to lean more forward. “With my clairvoyant craft, I normally listen for vibrations of dying souls and send my cranes to collect them as they release from dying bodies. I’ve learned of an increase in deaths today. They were from various locales in Dragonspeir, so I didn’t suspect an attack on the Alliance. But, strangely, they all have occurred along those ley lines.”
“How horrible. Those caring beings in neutral zones like Silva Caliga are losing their lives,” the Phoenix said as she twirled into a tight ball of flame.
“Lady of Peace, please remain with us. I know your sensibilities are delicate, but your insight is needed,” the leader urged.
Her spinning slowed, and she accepted the Gatekeeper’s offer of one of his branches as a perch, but her tail feathers still showered hundreds of sparks.
The Imperial Dragon paced around the outside of their circle. “My instruments detected liberations of magic that weren’t dark along those particular ley lines. That explains my observations. Ley lines are normally harmless, humming with vibrations. If beings are killed when near those lines, the Black Dragon is sending huge quantities of power. He is indeed serious about his message.”
Enchanted Bookstore Legends (5-book complete epic fantasy romance box set) Page 63
