Magic and Shadows: A Collection of YA Fantasy and Paranormal Romances

by T. M. Franklin

  He’d stood tall and commanding on the balcony, looking at his people gathering from far and wide for a blessing her mother was to perform. A ceremony he’d said was needed, for Ryca quivered on the edge of disaster.

  “How can land quiver?” Tamara had asked.

  “All is not right with our world, Tam. It shakes and shivers and I don’t know how to heal it.”

  “You can do anything, Papa,” Tamara had replied with the confidence of a thirteen-year-old.

  He’d given her a kiss on her cheek. “How could I not, when you expect me to do no less?” He’d said with deep indulgence, but also a promise, or so she’d thought. Then he’d allowed his brother to knife him. Leaving her and her family to fend for themselves in a world turned terrifying.

  Had he missed her as much as she’d missed him? His appearance switched from the father of Tamara’s youth to that of a wise old man. He wore a white robe cinched at the waist and stood on an open field of green, the sky a blinding blue. He frowned, his fists resting on hips, much like he would whenever her mother brought her to him to be punished for being disobedient.

  Only, he never ever punished her. Once her mother left the room, her father would throw her into the air and tell her to not do that again or next time he wouldn’t catch her when she came down. The idle threat always sent Tamara into a fit of giggles.

  What are you doing here? He sounded angry, not indulgent or playful.

  Tamara frowned, and suddenly, Halla, too, was with her, staring with surprise at her father.

  The world turned upside down and they fell.

  Skye screamed. Jarrod’s grip across Tamara’s abdomen tightened into a band of steel.

  Fane shouted across the roaring wind and spinning lights. “What’s happening?”

  They fell out of the between places. Halla flapped her wings to keep airborne. Kiron popped out of thin air beside them. The vine that tied the two dragons jerked him along with Halla until he, too, flapped frantically to stay airborne.

  The dragons gained balance and once again flew side by side. Below, verdant fields greeted them instead of ancient ash or hawthorn or oak. The few trees that were present appeared young and vibrant, as if spring had just arrived.

  “Where is this place?” Skye shouted.

  “Not Melak.” Guilt reared in Tamara at bringing about this disaster. She’d allowed herself to be distracted and Halla had picked up on it.

  Kiron listed, hardly able to stay in the air.

  Fane indicated with an arm motion for them to descend. “The bronze needs rest.”

  Tamara nodded and urged Halla to land by a copse of trees. The two dragons flew over a little lake in a clearing near a wood and landed.

  Tamara slid from Halla’s back to the ground with a thump that wobbled her legs. She slumped onto her behind. All was silent and peaceful. This place embodied a sense of calm.

  Skye dropped down beside her.

  Jarrod descended, too, much slower, and offered Tamara his good arm. She couldn’t believe he had the energy to not only stand, but offer help. She made a show of leaning on him but forced herself to stand on her own.

  Halla rushed toward Kiron, her concern obvious.

  “What happened?” Skye asked, getting up.

  “My fault,” Tamara said in contrition. “I saw a lion and then thought I heard it whisper my name.”

  “Kiron says this is Ashari.” Fane joined them with Thyel at his side. “The land of the dead.”

  Tamara gave him a sheepish look, her worst fears confirmed. “I’m truly sorry. This is my doing. I heard my father calling my name.”

  “The king?” Thyel asked, looking around. “Where?”

  “Grandfather?” Skye said. “Do you think he’s here?”

  The land around them appeared empty, deserted. Had she imagined him?

  “After he died, this is where his soul would have come to rest,” Fane said.

  “I saw no trails or villages while up in the air,” Thyel said. “Simply clean untouched land and a blindingly blue sky and nary a cloud.”

  “Look,” Tamara pointed up. Far to their right, the three sister moons could be seen. “Those are from Ryca.”

  “Not surprising since all the worlds are interconnected,” Fane replied. “My master said they sit one on top of another but in different realms, different realities.”

  It was possible her father spoke to her then. The thought at once thrilled, terrified and angered her. All these years he’d been resting here comfortably, at peace. Now the shock of seeing him was over, she wasn’t sure she wanted to meet him again, even if she could.

  “Shouldn’t we make plans to resume our journey?” Thyel sounded edgy.

  Tamara was of a like mind. How could she have been so foolish as to let the king’s voice distract her? She should have shut her ears. The sooner they left this place, the better. She had no wish to meet her father. Why was Thyel anxious to leave?

  “Not yet.” Skye pointed to Jarrod, who looked pale beneath his dark skin. His lips looked parched and dry and beads of sweat had formed on his wide forehead.

  “I’ll be fine,” he replied.

  “Kiron is weak, too,” Fane said. “Best if we rest a while and re-dress your wound before resuming our journey.”

  “Let’s make camp over there.” Skye indicated the oasis of trees nearby. “We can take shelter under the canopy if it storms.” She looked up at the cloudless blue sky and smiled. “Maybe not storm but it might give us protection from the wind and shade from the sun.”

  Tamara draped Jarrod’s good arm over her shoulder for support. As they walked, he leaned on her as lightly as she’d pretended to lean on him. He gave her a warm look though, thanking her with his dark somber gaze. Skye, with his tome slung over her shoulder, kept pace beside them.

  Thyel seemed positively jumpy as they entered the treed area.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked.

  “I don’t like it here. I’m going to scout around.”

  His tension must be catching. Her knotted shoulders only relaxed after she lost sight of him. They were going to be here awhile and already her stomach growled at the lack of food. They hadn’t eaten before leaving Isa. She hoped they could find something other than Jarrod’s flatbread to eat.

  While Skye gathered wood for a fire and Fane strode toward Kiron, Tamara settled beside Jarrod. She unwound his bandage to apply a fresh paste.

  “I am grateful for your tending,” he said.

  She glanced up, surprised to hear his deep thoughtful voice. Resting with his back to a tree, she had assumed he’d fallen asleep.

  “You’re most welcome, Chief Councilor,” she said with a smile. “Though Skye’s touch is likely gentler.”

  “It is.”

  She sent him a dagger glance, her humor gone.

  He chuckled and then whispered, “It isn’t as pleasing.”

  His words were a caress.

  Hands shaking, she retied the knot and he winced. “Sorry,” she muttered.

  This time he did raise his hand and brushed her cheek. “Do not feel badly about this interruption to our travels. We will reach Melak soon enough.”

  “Are you reading my thoughts again?”

  “I don’t need to? You berate yourself for every perceived fault. No one is perfect, Tamara, not even your father.”

  Jarrod watched her stroll toward the lake, disappointed that he’d upset her. He fingered the chainmaille and empty sword sheath she’d shed beside him.

  Skye returned with an armful of branches. She dropped them on the ground and dug a little hole to use for the base of a fire. She glanced from him to her aunt. “Problem?”

  He shook his head. Skye twirled the sticks to ignite sparks. Finally, she gave up and held up her hand. One of her magic Lights appeared. With a mischievous wink at him, she flung it into the wood. “Find me the fire.”

  The Light ball crashed into the wood but no flames erupted. With a sigh, Skye sat back.

&nb
sp; “No luck?” Jarrod asked in sympathy.

  “I’ve been trying to find out what else I can do with my Lights,” she said. “But all they do is find things, not create things that aren’t there.”

  “Unfortunate.” He was suddenly exhausted. The journey had taxed him. How fragile his strength was, one moment solid, the next melting like snow in sunlight.

  “Do you think grandfather is truly here?” Skye asked.

  “If he is, he isn’t making any great effort to find us.”

  “Just as well,” Skye looked to where Tamara had waded into the lake until she was knee deep. “He would receive a sad welcome from my aunt.”

  Jarrod nodded. “She has nursed a grudge against King Keegan for a long while.”

  “But it’s not his fault he was killed,” Skye said.

  “In Tamara’s mind, he should have foreseen the threat and safeguarded his family.”

  “It’s the fault of the time spell. That’s why she was trapped for such a long time. That was forged by my grandmother, not her husband.”

  “Perhaps it is easier to hate someone who’s no longer present,” Jarrod murmured.

  “Tamara’s resentment seems to extend equally to both of them. In all the years I’ve known her, she and Grandmother have hardly said more than a dozen words to each other.

  “For all that,” Jarrod said, “she loves her mother.”

  “How can you be so sure?” Skye gave him a look of curiosity and, was that hope? She was a sweet girl who hated family dissensions.

  Jarrod shrugged, as much as his bad arm allowed. “She cares about her mother’s opinion of her, and is hurt when she disappoints her. Most of all, she’s protective and doesn’t want her mother hurt more than she has already been.”

  “Are these things written in your tome or are they mere observations on you part?”

  His gaze swung to Tamara’s curvaceous silhouette. Her trousers hiked up, she was bent over, silently waiting for her dinner to swim by. She looked more beautiful than any woman of his acquaintance.

  Halla leaned over her shoulder and a flurry of fish disturbed the surface as Tamara’s dinner escaped. She turned to the dragon and an argument ensued, involving much hand gesturing urging the dragon to retreat.

  Jarrod’s humor peaked as he imagined what that conversation entailed. He glanced back, and found Skye watching him as intently as he’d been observing Tamara.

  “I’ve been wounded,” he reminded her. “That leaves much time for contemplation.”

  “About all of us, or just my aunt?”

  He ignored the cheeky comment.

  Skye sat companionably beside him, having given up starting a fire. “I’ve an idea.”

  “About?” he asked with suspicion.

  She held out her hand and one of her Light balls appeared. She sent it speeding toward the dragon on the shore. The ball of Light came to rest on the tip of Halla’s nose. The dragon flailed at it and created such a ruckus that Tamara again scolded the green for disturbing the fish.

  Halla went back to sulking.

  Skye leaned past Jarrod and whistled. Halla looked over to her. Skye beckoned the green over, using the bouncing Light ball for emphasis.

  Halla ambled over.

  Skye, with much hand waving, indicated what was required to set the sticks on fire.

  Halla obligingly blew a flame at the sticks. The stack of wood caught fire and the dragon returned to the lake to sit on the edge and despondently watch Tamara fish.

  With a howl of triumph, Tamara captured a large fish and tossed it toward shore. The dragon leaned over and expertly caught it between her teeth, swallowing it whole.

  Skye chuckled as another argument ensued between dragon and mistress, resulting in Halla stalking off to find her own dinner elsewhere.

  “Get something for Kiron,” Tamara shouted.

  The backward surly roar from Halla suggested she hadn’t needed that reminder. The green took off into the air.

  “Maybe now we’ll get some fish for dinner,” Jarrod said, unable to smother his bubbling humor.

  “I never doubted it,” Skye replied, feeding her fire with bits of branches. “That’s the one thing I’ve always admired about my aunt. Once she sets her mind to a goal, she always achieves it. Which is why, when Bevan went missing, she was the one I turned to. Despite the fact that she rarely, if ever, gave me the time of day, I knew if she agreed to help me, I would find Bevan.”

  “You will.” Jarrod patted Skye’s shoulder. “This I’ve no doubts about.”

  “But you have about recovering those lost historians?” Skye asked.

  “The prospect is not encouraging. I’ve no idea why the words in Falcon’s Tome are disappearing. Or why my people are vanishing. Or why the people in Ryca have forgotten the Erovians they’ve worked with.” Until he found answers to those questions, he couldn’t bring himself to accept Tamara’s generous offer to marry her.

  What if one day he vanished, leaving her as her father had? He couldn’t do that to her.

  He glanced at Falcon’s Tome lying beside him. Gently, he traced the engraving that outlined a time from long ago when the world was first made. It showed a figure emerging out of darkness. The great Falcon himself.

  “My biggest fear is that one morning I shall wake up and this book will be gone.”

  Skye looked at him with worry. “One of my biggest fears is to wake up one morning and find you gone.”

  Unable to hold her worried gaze, he turned his attention to Tamara. She had waded further along the lake’s edge until she was lost to view behind some trees. Had his disappearing like the other Erovians ever crossed Tamara’s mind?

  15

  Tamara continued fishing as her temper simmered. Skye and Jarrod were conversing by the clearing. They didn’t argue, they weren’t at odds with each other, they laughed and joked and chatted as if they were the best of friends.

  Their ease in each other’s company echoed the sense of peace this world exuded, but their camaraderie generated a tang of bitterness at the back of Tamara’s throat.

  On the pretext of finding a better spot to fish she strode toward a line of willows that drooped over the water. The trees shaded part of the lake and effectively hid Jarrod and Skye from view. The shade also made it easier to see underwater as the sun’s reflection changed from mirror to window. Peace returned to keep her company.

  Tamara was so intent on her prey, she wasn’t sure when a sense of being watched first stole over her. She straightened and swung around to pinpoint the source. There, among the trees, a lion lazed, gazing at her.

  Instinct urged her to kneel before her king. She blinked, finding herself submerged in the cold lake, kneeling, with water tickling her chin. The lion was gone.

  Had it even been there?

  She stood, scolding herself for being a fool. She returned to her fishing, the sun warmed and dried the top half of her. It was hard to concentrate, though, when she kept checking over her shoulder. Her neck crimped. Suddenly, she felt alone and vulnerable.

  Since this journey began, Halla became part of her soul. Skye and Jarrod, and even Fane, had taken residence within her heart. Despite all that, she still felt isolated. As if it would be a waste of time to turn to anyone else for help.

  “Why is that?” her father asked.

  Tamara whirled around, her tunic’s hem splashing the surface. On the shore, robed in white, dark beard sprinkled in silver and trimmed close to his chiseled face, her father appeared as sharply clear as when she last saw him. They had gazed far below at those gathered for the castle’s market. The day he died and her family’s nightmare began.

  Her emotions heaved like a storm-tossed ship, shunted between joy and despair. He had left her. There could be no forgiving that. Yet, she had missed him every day since. He had been her anchor. The reason to wake up every morning so she could look at her world from the safety of her father’s side. A child’s foolish fantasy.

  She set her jaw and turne
d her back. She’d estimated that she needed at least five large fish for a good satisfying meal, and probably an extra one for each of the men. Jarrod, though weak, was slowly regaining his strength. The fish swimming by her feet did not seem as plump as the one Halla had swallowed.

  “Will you not speak to me?” her father asked.

  “You’re not alive,” Tamara said. “You’re dead. There is no one there to address.”

  She set her hands in the cool water, a foot apart and held still, waiting for a fish to swim through. By looking at her hands underwater, she could avoid looking at the reflection on the surface, of his face right beside hers. Not a splash had indicated he drew closer, yet there he was, mimicking her fishing stance.

  She straightened. “Go away.”

  “After you’ve come so far to see me?” His lips twitched with humor, eyes smiling with an achingly familiar warmth.

  She returned to her task. “Don’t fool yourself, Father. Our stop here was a mistake. As soon as Kiron is rested, we’ll be back on our journey.”

  He scooped a fish and flung it to shore. In quick succession, three more were sent flying over his shoulder. She set her teeth together, grinding them with frustration. Not one fish came near her hands while they swarmed around him.

  She stood, glaring. “You’re using magic!”

  “I’m teaching you how to fish. Did you miss me, my darling Tam?”

  Tears welled at his personal nickname and she swung away so he wouldn’t notice. She moved further along and bent to her task. A fish swam by and she dived for it. The scaly slippery thing slithered past her hands and got away. She muttered in frustration and looked for another.

  “Gently,” he said from right beside her. “Invite it into your hands.”

  No movement of water or splashing, yet he was beside her again. “Stop using magic around me.”

  “Why? Because you don’t believe you have any? What happened to the little girl who patiently waited for the Light to blossom within her?”

  “She grew up to realize even her father lies.”

  “Did I?” His eyebrow rose in gentle inquiry. “Lie to you?”