“A baby dragon.”
He exclaimed, “Impossible! You’re shielded against dark magic following you. Describe it.”
“It has teeny scales and huge eyes, like a puppy who hasn’t grown into them yet.” She laughed as the baby suckled on the tip of its tail.
“You’re laughing, and I’m nearly mad worrying about you.” Cullen’s tone grew agitated and clipped. “Help me here. What color scales and eyes? Does it have neckridges?”
“Goldish-brown with yellow eyes. White spines are barely showing along its back, if those are neckridges.”
“Prodigiosus! How? If I’m guessing correctly, that hatchling is no dark force. Can you bring your laptop over to the store right away?”
Cullen certainly knew something he wasn’t sharing. “Sure. What do you think this is about?” She fidgeted with the mouse.
“I don’t want to alarm you. Please come directly. If I’m right, the matter is of urgent importance.”
“I’ll be there soon.” She closed the phone and stared for a few seconds at the baby, sleeping comfortably in the middle of a paragraph about Kenzo. Better there than within the next scene in the Screeching Forest. Shaking her head for believing any of this, she closed the laptop and placed it inside her briefcase.
On the way out the door, she stuck her head into the master suite. Jean paused from a book to look up at her. Lyra announced, “I’m going to Drake’s bookstore to check on something for my writing project. I’ll be back before Nancy leaves.”
Her aunt smiled. “Have fun, dear. Don’t rush home on my account.”
Nancy talked on the phone, so Lyra didn’t wait to give an explanation.
***
Lyra sped to where the shop now stood on Birch Street at the edge of the shopping district. Relieved to find an open parking spot in front of the shop, Lyra zipped the car in nose first before anyone else challenged her. She dashed inside and found Cullen waiting at the door.
His brow furrowed and eyes narrowed in concentration. Without a hello he led her into the workroom and showed her where to set up her computer next to his own. With arms folded across his chest, he hung over her as she logged in.
She fumbled with the keys and mistyped her password on both the first and second tries.
He leaned next to her ear as the word document page came up. The baby was still there, napping. “Nequeo!” Sparks flew from his fingers with this exclamation. “I would never have imagined this.”
The tiny dragon stirred and yawned, eyes still closed.
“Shh. He’s sleeping.” Lyra’s head turned back and forth between Cullen and the creature, unsure which would give her more information.
In a hushed tone, he whispered, “Whoever did this, purposely hid him here. Who would guess to look in a computer program in the real world? Someone badly wants this hatchling protected.”
“How would any being from Dragonspeir, other than us, understand computers?”
“They don’t. Any Guardian or Imperial Council member can place a spell upon you. Like the connection I blocked from the Black Dragon. They can channel or force your magic to do their bidding.” He straightened and his voice grew louder. “But, I always thought Elisabeth’s black amber butterfly blocked all magic, good and evil, from trajecting through you. I wonder…”
Lyra looked away from him and fidgeted with her fingers.
“You took the necklace off?”
She leaned back in the chair, trying to escape his discerning gaze while he scanned her thoughts. Did he blame her? Could she never keep a secret from this man? This made her uncomfortable.
He took her hand and gave a caring smile. “Lyra, I’m sorry. Please don’t be frightened. You’re not at fault. I can read your emotional thoughts, but you can’t do the same in return, which is unfair. I’m the one who did wrong; I never told you to keep it on at all times.”
She placed her other hand over his, but wished he didn’t have this magical advantage over her. She needed to be happy again…and wanted it to be with him. Would a relationship with a wizard work?
He paused to study her eyes, and probably accessed her thought. His brow broken by lines of concern, he said, “I will never hurt you.” After an awkward pause, he looked away and continued, “Whatever the reason for him being here, he needs to be fed.”
“How do we do that when he’s in my computer? And how do you know it’s a he?”
He chuckled. “It’s a he—he has a peak in the pouch beneath his tail. The real difficulty will be keeping him in this world as he grows. He’s only a few days old. In just a month, he’ll be thirty feet from head to tail.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Surely they only expect us to keep him here a short while.”
“Who are they, and why are we to keep him?”
“It could be the Dark Realm, but by the golden-brown color of this hatchling, I assume it’s the Imperial Council. I’m a member, as their sorcerer. Although since I’ve been preoccupied assisting your entry and quest, I have no knowledge of this. The other members are the Imperial Dragon, the alchemist, and the warlord.” Cullen paced behind her chair. “I need to go into Dragonspeir and speak with the alchemist. But, I can’t leave the hatchling on that screen. If I extract him now, can you babysit him here in the bookstore for a short time?”
Lyra’s jaw dropped open. Watch a baby dragon – alone, with no help? He must be crazy. She didn’t know what to say and stared at him in disbelief.
Cullen looked at her imploringly while twirling his dragon ring, always a sign of his anxiety.
“Okay. Be as quick as you can. What do I feed him? Nasty locusts?”
A high-pitched voice from the sales room called out, “Cullen, you aren’t leaving me with her. I fear I haven’t made a good impression on your lady.”
In the back room, they both laughed, glad for a light moment. That woke the baby from his nap, and his eyes opened, now shining a bright blue.
The wizard waved a hand toward the screen. “By the calm color of your pupils now, I see you enjoy our mirth, young Sire.”
The dragon snerted in response and waved his tail.
“I think it’s time to release him. Lyra, hold your hands to receive the dragon.”
She nodded and held her palms together. What would it feel like against her skin? As a child she remembered touching an adult sentry once, warm and dry with tough scales. “Can you do this without your staff?”
“Yes, that’s the function of my ring since I cannot use my staff in this world.” He nodded to her. “Ready?” He leaned toward the monitor.
She nodded.
He held his right hand with the blue topaz eyes of the dragon ring facing the baby, and his other arm extended high to the sky. “Extraxi genitus dux ducis in revera!” As Cullen spoke the words, he slashed downward with his left hand as though cutting the air. A loud snap sounded, followed by numerous crackles. Bolts of lighting and power shot at the computer while a halo of peripheral sparks showered in all directions.
The brilliance of his power blinded her vision. When Lyra’s eyes refocused, the baby lay in her hands. She smiled at the quivering, crying little creature. He obviously didn’t care for his magical ride.
“Okay?” Cullen sighed and collapsed into a nearby office chair.
“Yes, fine. He’s so small and soft.” She moved him to one hand and ran a fingertip gently along his flank. He tucked his legs underneath and lay down. “His scales are supple like skin.”
“They haven’t hardened yet. He’s only a few days old. I intend to learn about his creation, as well as what your purpose is in his rearing. I must be sure you aren’t in any new danger as a consequence. As soon as I catch my breath, I’ll be leaving. Your computer should be unharmed. Is there anything you need to know…ah, yes, I forgot about feeding.” He rose, walked across the room to a small refrigerator, and looked inside. “Conveniently, they are omnivores. I have some turkey breast, lettuce, tomatoes, and bread—all good.” He took a slice of bread from the lo
af. “I’ll help you begin, and then I’ll depart. I hate to leave you in this predicament. I’ll be as quick as possible.”
He tore the bread into small chunks and held one out.
The hatchling sniffed for only a second, then opened its jaws and clomped down.
Cullen handed the rest to Lyra. As he opened the portal between bookcases and waved goodbye, the remainder of the slice disappeared. The wizard stood for a moment looking back into the bookstore, dressed for travel in his tall leather boots and cobalt cloak, his face lined with concern.
Lyra saw a man willing to take on danger to be certain she remained safe. The warmth of his care spread over her, and she hoped he could read that emotion through the threshold. She smiled and called to him, “Be careful and come back soon.”
The lines along his forehead smoothed as he smiled. “I will return to you quickly.”
Her heart swelled; he had read her thought.
With a turn of his cloak, he stepped back from view.
The baby looked up at Lyra with his large eyes glowing a rich ultramarine, probably content since Cullen said the blue color meant some happy state.
“All right, let’s see what else you like to eat.” She went to the fridge. In passing the doorway to the shop she called out, “Maybe you’d like some foul-mouthed cicada for desert. I’m sure that would be tasty.”
“You wouldn’t dare!” Sheridan retorted.
Lyra located the turkey and shredded a slice.
The baby loved fowl and gave a snert to ask for a second slice.
Then, she fed him the veggies, which he wolfed down eagerly. “You need some water. I wonder how you drink? Hmm.” Would he lap from a bowl? She found a plastic storage container and filled it with water. She allowed him to walk off of her hand onto the countertop, moving the water to meet him.
Success! He drank deeply for almost a minute while she kept a hand near, in case he moved fast toward the edge. Doubtful he could fly with those flimsy little wings.
What could she keep him busy with until Cullen returned? Maybe with a full tummy after all that food, he’d sleep. And she could type since he no longer sat in her last paragraph. She looked for something suitable to use as a dragon bed. A towel should work, she thought, remembering her dachshund curling up on a bathmat. She located a hand towel tucked in a corner of a bookshelf, gave it a shake, and placed it on the desk beside her computer. She laid her charge on it, held her breath, and watched.
He stretched out one leg, then another. By leg number three, he yawned wide.
In what she intended as her most dragon-soothing-and-sleep-inducing tone, she said, “Now, curl up into the blanky for a nippy.” She couldn’t believe she was talking baby talk to a dragon, but whatever it took to get some writing done.
His claws grabbed at the terry loops, wadding the towel up around him. His legs slowly folded under his belly and he dropped down. He tried his best to keep his head up and watch as Lyra’s fingers moved along the keyboard, but within a minute, his eyelids closed, one set at a time, until all three covered those big blue eyes.
Chapter Thirteen: The Alchemist’s Secret
With a spin of his staff and an abrupt exclamation of, “Peragro concilium,” Cullen invoked the sapphire at its apex to send a beam into the periwinkle atmosphere of Dragonspeir. Impatiently, he tapped his fingers on the metal shaft. He needed to find as many Imperial Council members as possible; at least the alchemist, but he hoped to speak to the Imperial Dragon or his warlord.
Blue vapor surrounded him. He clenched a fist with his free hand while waiting to transform. Lyra needed him back there as soon as possible. He used to be thankful no cell phones could locate him in Dragonspeir, but now he wanted to maintain communication with her. He resented having to leave her with such an uncomfortable and unfamiliar situation. The responsible party would know his anger. Treating a Scribe in that manner was reprehensible.
It weighed heavy on his mind that she sometimes shied away from him because of his powers. He didn’t want to lose the only woman more important to him than his position. He cursed his magic and his duty for coming between them. Leaving her unaided could widen that gap.
He blamed Eburscon, but didn’t reveal that to Lyra. She faced enough turmoil. Self-absorbed and egotistical, the man lacked professional courtesy. How he was chosen to be the Imperial Alchemist, Cullen never understood. Although permitted to be a part of the human world, as Cullen was, Eburscon preferred to withdraw into his laboratory, sequestered in a hillside cave.
Finally, Cullen’s body dematerialized into particulate matter and blended with the cobalt-colored smoke. He usually enjoyed the weightless sensation of transporting. But this time, he seethed as he formulated a few select words to deliver to the alchemist. He disliked speaking with the man and considered him an arrogant fool with a glib tongue.
When the haze receded, he saw a collection of distillation flasks and connecting tubes tangled on a tall wooden table. The light was dim, except over the work bench, and his eyes took time to adjust. The cave’s dark stone walls absorbed light. Hundreds of glass bottles and jars, filled with unusual objects and substances, gleamed on backlit shelves along the interior walls. A cauldron bubbled lazily in one of the three fireplaces. Cullen stepped forward and ducked a new fixture in the lab, a dead alligator hung from the ceiling by chains. A foul stench hit him, and he grimaced. “What’s rotting in here?”
“Fermenting maggots for my next potion,” the alchemist called out, matter-of-factly.
At the library table, Cullen located Eburscon and the warlord, Oasth. He fought to resist the urge to hurl a powerbolt at the alchemist.
“Greetings, Sire Drake. You appear rather flustered with your aura extended. In need of some alchemy to bolster your inept sorcery?” Eburscon surveyed him and laughed, tipping back on two legs of the rickety wooden chair.
The hem of the alchemist’s purple robe spilled onto the floor. The man’s selection of purple made his allegiance ambiguous. Although never required, most magical beings chose dress, coat, horn, wing, or corolla in a shade of blue or silver to show their support for the Imperial Dragon’s Alliance, rather than red and black favored by followers of the Dark Realm. Purple hedged between, a blend of the two hues. As the Imperial Alchemist, Cullen thought Eburscon should act as a role model for his community. However, he maintained his choice as strictly a personal decision, that he required his independence.
The purple contrasted with his gray hair, worn in a single braid trailing to his waist. His cleanly-shaven face was mostly unwrinkled, and his body trim. Cullen could not guess the man’s age, despite knowing him for two centuries, when he began his wizardry training. At that time, Eburscon was much older, already an Imperial Council member. Today, and many times when they disagreed, Cullen eagerly anticipated his haughty colleague would soon elect a successor and retire.
Oasth, a fire drake dragon, studied them both and remained quiet. This didn’t surprise Cullen since decades ago a crossfire of electrical bolts shot between himself and the alchemist seriously injured Oasth. His talons dug into the tabletop. His nature as a fire drake made him aggressive and outspoken—good traits for a warlord, but not a moderator.
“I have no need of your skills, but do expect the professional courtesy of being advised when you channel into my domain.” The wizard stepped closer and glared at the alchemist.
“Beg pardon, Sire. I do not know the matter of which you speak.” Eburscon raised his pointed chin and looked down his nose through square-framed, gold spectacles.
The sorcerer’s fist opened to reveal fingertips which glowed blue, fueled with magic and poised to strike. “You know exactly what I mean. Do not attempt to pass this culpable deed onto another.”
“I’ll leave you two alone to work this out,” Oasth said, backing toward the door.
Cullen stepped toward the warlord, urging, “I think you’ll want to hear since this news will affect your tasks.” The wizard couldn’t blame Oasth for a
voiding confrontations between him and the alchemist. After all, the dragon still bore fissures in his burgundy scales where even magic could not completely heal the injuries.
Good-natured, Oasth never held a grudge and claimed those scars only added to his reputation as a ruthless leader in battle. The ability to forgive, an aberration in his personality, may have accounted for why the fire drake pledged his service to the Imperial Dragon. Not black-hearted enough for Dark Realm ranks. Born an evil fire drake, unable to change his coloring fully to blue, he did his best to accommodate with brownish-red scales. His support and leadership were much appreciated by the Head Guardian. All members of the Alliance respected the drake and never questioned his position. Cullen wanted him to be informed of the hatchling, a tremendous and rare golden dragon, who would grow to be a definite force in Dragonspeir.
“All right, but disarm your fingers if you want me to stay, and you too, Eburscon.” Oasth motioned toward where the alchemist sat. “I expect both of you to be seated with hands on the table where I can see them.” The two men hesitated, and he boomed out, “Now! Or I’m gone.”
The wizard followed directions and shook the charge from his hand before he rested it on the wooden top, etched and burned from decades of chemical syntheses. His anger remained and so did his blue aura, glowing around his limbs.
The alchemist let out a sigh and then complied.
“Thank you, Sires. You may proceed,” the drake pronounced.
Eburscon squirmed in his chair like a punished child and then cleared his throat. “I still have no inclination of what you want from me, Cullen. Speak your mind and be done. You’re wasting my precious time with your game.”
The wizard growled, “If anyone’s time is being wasted, it’s surely mine, leaving our Scribe unprotected. I’m referring to the golden dragon hatchling which appeared on Lyra’s computer screen. My guess is you were involved with his placement under her care.” He leaned inches from the alchemist’s face. “For what reason? Why complicate her dangerous quest? If she is harmed by your negligence, I will come after you.”
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