Lyra spotted an ornate metal cage, no larger than a box of tea bags. Beneath the bars of the domed lid sat an insect, looking up at her with enormous striped, compound eyes. “A locust! It talks!” She jumped back.
“Cicada if you please, madam.”
Lyra stood frozen, speechless. Her heart raced.
Cullen quickly came around the counter to her side and rested his hand upon her arm. “You’re shaking. Don’t be afraid of Sheridan. He brings me luck and a long life.”
The feel of his touch sent pleasant shivers over her body. She swallowed hard, remembered why she came, and determined herself to stay—bug or no bug. “I see. Does he talk to all customers? I think he’d scare them off.” She leaned forward and timidly inspected the insect more closely.
He took her hand in his, leading her to the counter. “No, he only speaks to me and now to you. He won’t hurt you. You can get closer.”
His fingers were strong and slightly rough against her skin. His cologne smelled woodsy with hints of spice. She breathed deeply, enjoying how his natural musky scent mingled with the fragrance.
“I assure you, I don’t bite. Although, you’re so damn pretty, a nibble might be yummy,” the cicada said.
“Why does he speak to me and not other customers?” she asked Cullen, not accepting the idea of questioning an insect.
“Let me get the book I told you about. It will help answer your questions. I apologize; I’ve kept you wondering too long.” He headed for the backroom and left her alone, feeling uncomfortable with the arrogant talking locust.
She stepped away from the counter and folded her arms across her stomach.
“Betcha don’t know when you met him, do you?” the insect goaded her.
“Um, just three days ago.”
“Wrong! You don’t know yet, do you? How innocent you are!”
Lyra looked toward the drape covering the doorway to the back, hoping to see Cullen return with the book. She sighed. “Okay, tell me.”
“Can’t. You’ll learn soon.” Sheridan snickered. “Be glad I’m in this cage, or I’d have a taste of your earlobes.”
***
With one hand Cullen caught Lyra’s waist and extracted her from the folds of the curtain leading to the work area. Her waist was narrow under his hands. His face brushed her hair. It smelled so sweet. “Slow down!” He restrained a chuckle at her fright. “Sheridan means no harm. He’s just excited to talk to someone other than me.” Thankfully, his touch seemed to comfort her; she no longer trembled.
Leaning closer, she whispered, “Maybe. But can we look at the book here?”
Standing this close, a tremor of electricity ran through his body —not any type of magic he recognized. Twenty-five years ago, he thought she was the chosen one, but after decades passed, he didn’t believe he’d find her again. Something about her was always unique, but even more so this time. True, he had met a ten-year-old child, and now she was a woman. Unlike before, an unexpected quality drew him to her. “Certainly. You’re welcome anywhere in my store.”
She raised her eyes to look into his. They were the same hue of crystal blue he had etched into his memory long ago. But now he felt drawn to those eyes like never before with her or any woman. They implored him to explain wonders she didn’t understand, beseeched him to keep her safe from unknown dangers lying ahead, and trusted him to take her on a journey which would bring her happiness again. Her thoughts, fueled by strong emotions, channeled instantly to him—a connection he’d never known before.
He touched her face. The softness of her skin thrilled him. Her eyes held steady on his. Unable to resist, he brushed his lips across hers. Surprisingly sweet and soft. Pure temptation. He moved his arm around her, gently resting it on her back.
She tilted her head back, and her silky hair swept against his hand.
He shivered at the sensation. This was not supposed to happen. His assignment was to keep her safe, so she could complete the quest. Blood rushed into his head, making him lightheaded. He licked her lips, tasting their softness and warmth with the tip of his tongue. No woman ever felt like this in his arms. How could he perform his duty while so distracted?
Knowing he must keep a clear mind to explain the book, he released her.
A voice from the front of the store called out, “You two are very quiet back there. Am I missing some good action?”
They laughed at Sheridan. It was good to see Lyra relax. She had been so tense…and so had he. Cullen motioned to a tall stool. “Have a seat, and let me tell you about this book.” Once she was comfortable, he picked up the volume, held it in front of her, and continued, “This belonged to you as a girl. Please, follow my instructions exactly. Here, hold it, but do not open it yet.”
Lyra accepted the volume, and as soon as it lay in her hands, she squealed with delight, “My favorite book! I’ve looked everywhere for this.” She ran her fingers over the cover, simple red leather with gilded lettering, now faded and worn beyond recognition. “Where did you find this? Thank you so much!”
“You’re very welcome.” His pulse raced. Would the book’s magic against her hands be enough? Would she even remember him? The success of her quest required she trust him as she had before. Now, holding her and touching her, it surprised him to find another reason he wanted her with him.
Then, she raised her gaze to meet his, her pale blue eyes opened wide.
His heart leapt. She recognized him. This nullified his first concern, that her troubled adult life would prevent her from ever remembering him and the enchantment. He hoped she wouldn’t be angry with him for his forwardness. His breath grew shallow.
Her smile faded, and her mouth dropped open.
Unable to read her expression, Cullen stared at the bewildered lady and twisted the ring on his finger, waiting. Had he betrayed her childhood friendship with him by stealing a kiss?
At last she spoke. “I…I remember you from when I was ten. I read this book while I was in the hospital, seriously ill with flu. You were a character in the story, a wizard, and we played pretend games in a magical land. Am I right?”
He fidgeted, shifting his weight from foot-to-foot. She gave no judgment, only recounted facts. What was her opinion? If only she’d display an emotion, he could read her mind, but she remained expressionless and unaffected. “Yes, that is true.”
She swallowed hard. “You’re only slightly older, even though twenty-five years have passed. How?”
“The book will explain everything.” He stroked his goatee and wished she’d give some reaction other than blank shock.
Furrows indented along her forehead and she demanded, “Are you real, or am I imagining you? I’m not a child now. Don’t deceive me!” Finally, an emotion, but not the one he wanted.
“I’m quite real. Your neighbors know me. I’m a human of this world, altered by magic. Please don’t be angry. I only want to share that magic with you, to bring you happiness once again. But, I’ll understand if you dislike me now.”
She scrutinized his face.
Under her penetrating gaze, heat spread across his cheeks. If he could take her hand or pull her into his arms and make her like him again he would, but she must reach that decision, or not, on her own. A long couple of minutes passed. Sweat broke along his brow.
Her fingers fidgeted with a corner of the book’s cover, although her eyes never left him. She must accept him before she opened it. Otherwise, what lay inside could frighten her away…from the quest and from him. He gulped. The stakes were high.
Finally, she replied, in a matter-of-fact tone, “You were my friend when I had no playmates.” Then, her voice softened, and she took his hand. “My parents joked that the book made me well. They didn’t know it was really you who did it.” Moisture welled in her eyes.
He released a long sigh and drew her into a snug embrace. “I promise, I will make you happy again, my Adalyra.”
She pulled back slightly. Tiny rivulets streamed down her cheeks. Between gasp
s for breath, she said, “I wished I’d never lost this book and you.”
He wiped her tears away and said, “It’s time for you to open your favorite book.”
Chapter Five: Gateway to Dragonspeir
Cullen stepped beside her and placed an arm around her shoulder. Glad for this, Lyra leaned into his side. She trembled and hoped he didn’t notice.
The book lay in her hands, and he reached over to slowly open its cover, turning to the first page. “Don’t be afraid. You’ve been here before, although you may not remember at first.”
On that page was an ink drawing with a haiku inscribed beneath it.
Rise from the ashes!
Phoenix fly and sing magic
of peace and rebirth.
Before her eyes, the sketch transformed into a color painting, revealing exotic flowering trees and bushes. In the center a Phoenix set into motion, hovering with the back of its massive wingspan on display. The head and torso resembled a pheasant in colors of blue-violet, gradating through mauve to gold. Fiery tips extended from the graceful, peacock-like tail feathers.
Lyra gasped.
The bird fluttered its blue wings, and sparks fell from the tail plumage as it turned to face her. The shimmering fowl mesmerized her with its beauty. Gradually, the illustration became more detailed, like a photograph.
Cullen’s arm tightened around her.
She glanced up from the book. Two sets of shelves in the backroom parted to reveal the exact scene from the page, turned to reality at a distance of fifteen feet from them. Lyra’s head and whole body jerked upright. She drew in a quick breath to scream, but no words formed. Pushing herself tighter into Cullen, she peeked out at the spectacle in front of her. Unfortunately, his arm remained firm behind her and prevented retreat.
The majestic Phoenix gently flapped its wings and watched the couple. It lifted its head and sang with a sweet voice, like an angelic choir. Imbued with magic of nirvana, it eased Lyra’s fears. Then, the bird withdrew into the forest beyond.
Instinctively, Lyra rose from her seat. Cullen placed the book inside a pack he slung over his shoulder, took her hand, and led her toward the fantasyland between the bookcases.
Like a child initially dreading the chilly water in a swimming pool, she hesitated at its edge. Gingerly, she placed one foot into the glowing realm. “Oh my!” she exclaimed, startled as tingles vibrated softly across her toes, exposed in the sandals.
Seeing her reluctance, Cullen stepped fully within, turned and smiled at her. “Join me, Lyra, like you used to.” Once inside the other world, his clothing changed from island casual to that of a handsome wizard. He now wore a flowing, white poet’s shirt, tucked into black pants. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing leather wristlets. A cobalt blue cloak, lined with silver satin bearing stars, fastened at his throat with a blue topaz clasp, which matched his ring. He placed a black boot near the threshold and held out a hand to her.
His smile melted her uncertainties. She crossed over, accepted his embrace, and he held her tight while pleasant tingling coursed over her entire body. Was it the magic or his touch? Or both? It hadn’t felt this intense as a child.
Once her body acclimated, Lyra stepped away from his protection. She assumed the Phoenix meant for them to follow. Its song carried a long distance, so she took a moment to explore. Cullen stood nearby and allowed her to look around, smiling as she marveled over discoveries.
The sky glowed a soft shade of periwinkle. A heady fragrance drew her to one bushy vine covered with waxy green leaves and violet flowers—the origin of the jasmine she smelled inside the store. She examined first one plant and then another. Many bushes bore fuzzy pink spikes, which stood upright, their ‘fur’ soft like a pussy willow’s catkins. The plant purred while she stroked its fuzz. Another variety held clusters of bell-shaped, white flowers that nodded among purple, strap-like leaves. When she touched a cluster, the bells tinkled and sparkling dust floated down from their centers. She laughed, carefree and young again, her problems lifted. She had loved coming here as a girl, seeing all the strange plants.
The trees were equally unusual. Most held bright flowers. The weeping seafoam-colored spikes of one followed her as she walked beneath it.
“Don’t stand too long there or the pluch tree will grow fond of you and cling. It’s not dangerous, but annoying because it’s relentless.”
She wasted no time and moved away as two branches dipped toward her. “Everything’s exotic and amazing. I’d forgotten the details.”
He directed her along a path through the wood, following the music of the Phoenix. Soon the trail circled around an immense, twisted tree, rooted ahead of a crossroads, a location where multiple forks split from the main route. The tree trunk spread more than a yard in diameter, the main branches wider than her waist. Rather than rustling, its leaves flapped in the breeze, like thick pieces of leather.
“Hold up here, Lyra.” He faced the ancient tree and bowed slightly, motioning her to do the same. “Sagacious Cranewort, we request passage and advice.” He didn’t need to tell her to stop since the roots of the tree rose up and formed a barricade, preventing passage.
She bowed awkwardly, attempting to keep an eye on the commanding tree.
The aged tree sputtered and coughed to clear his voice, before bellowing, “Sire Drake, who have you brought into the realm of Dragonspeir, Alliance of the Imperial Dragon?”
“This is Adalyra McCauley,” he said, still bowed.
“Is she the Scribe we seek?” he demanded in a gruff tone, limbs creaking and popping as they strained.
A Scribe? Her? She turned to the side to get a better view of Cranewort, and she shuddered.
Its limbs rearranged and twisted closer to examine her. Roused from their roosts by his movement, white birds lifted into flight. An oversized crane flew past her.
“Yes, she is, my dear Gatekeeper,” Cullen answered humbly.
Cranewort thundered, “Time is nearly expired! Violet haze now rides our blue horizon with the invasion of the evil crimson forces.” The ancient one extended a long branch, like a gnarly finger. Indigo lined the distant sky. “Behold the warning, where the evil red creeps over the Alliance blue. Your choice must be correct, Sire. We have no time remaining for error. All in Dragonspeir depend on your judgment for their safety.” The eyes of the tree drew close, deepening the craggy fissures in his brow.
Rising to emphasize his conviction, Cullen stated in a loud, clear voice, “I couldn’t be more certain. I’ve known her for over twenty-five years. She has my trust.”
“I will watch and expect what you speak to be truth,” the tree growled, then let out a reluctant sigh. “Very well. You may proceed down the leftmost path to catch up to the Lady of Peace. She bears instruction for you.” Then, the ponderous branches and roots crackled, realigning into their original forms. Mustering some measure of good will, he added, “May luck be yours, Adalyra. I will meditate on your safe quest.”
They walked through more forest, staying to the outer left trail. Curiosity burned in Lyra’s mind, but she didn’t want to risk Cranewort’s reproach. When they cleared what she supposed was the limit of his earshot, questions streamed from her. “Cullen, what’s going on? What is the danger? How am I involved?”
“Your questions will be answered best by the Phoenix, the Lady of Peace.’
Lyra exclaimed, “I remember now! She’s one of the four Guardians, right? I met her before, but don’t think I know all of them.”
He smiled at her. “Yes, along with the Unicorn and Tortoise, and the Imperial Dragon, who rules supreme. Glad to see you remembering. I didn’t know if you would.”
“Who is Cranewort? I think I’d recall a fierce tree like that.”
He laughed and took her hand. “That’s because as a little girl you charmed our formidable Gatekeeper. He lowered his branches for you to climb upon and, once, even fashioned his new, supple branches into a swing for his darling child. Honey was always in his voice, no
t the grittiness he just barked.”
“Oh! The magical swing! Yes, of course.” She chuckled and he joined in. From their laughter, happiness filled her heart. As a girl, she remembered loving Cullen—a crush. He still seemed amazing, though no longer as an idol, but as someone closer and more real. But what did reality mean to a wizard?
“Hold tight to my hand as we pass through this swampland. There are a few dangers ahead.” He led them along the trail.
Quietly, she scanned from side to side for any movement. All seemed unusually still. What lay out there? Her throat and lungs tightened. Suddenly, the Phoenix no longer sang. She grasped his hand tighter and asked, “Why can’t I hear her singing? Is she gone?” Her mouth moved to form the words, yet her voice failed to sound. She shuddered. Clutching Cullen’s arm, she urgently attempted once again to speak. “What is happening?”
He leaned into her, looked her directly in the eyes, and nodded, mouthing the words, “A charm.” He waved his free hand ahead and proceeded.
He apparently expected this strangeness, so she relaxed…somewhat. The surroundings stood dead calm, no movement, no noise. On one side of the trail lay woods. Trees on the perimeter appeared lifeless, while deep within where less breeze could penetrate, treetops swayed and animals darted.
Burgundy-bladed rushes lined the opposite side, emerging from dark, slimy ooze. Not one blade moved. Olive toads sat motionless upon moss. Coils of immobile snakes glistened atop piles of organic debris. Foreboding silence hung in the air. When she and Cullen passed, hundreds of pairs of eyes glinted at her with recognition, sending a chill along Lyra’s spine.
Staying the path, they rounded the middle of the bog, his hand tight on hers. Lyra’s heart pounded. Her ribs clamped down, making her breath shallow.
Cullen’s sweaty palm pressed against her cold hand; his nervousness alarmed her. He looked back and gave an encouraging half smile, as if to say, “We’re almost clear.”
The swamp narrowed, nearing the edge of this inauspicious bottomland. She breathed more freely.
Enchanted Bookstore Legends (5-book complete epic fantasy romance box set) Page 3