Lyra wanted to ask many more questions, but realizing others listened to their conversations, she didn’t dare continue. Curiosity and fear mingled, churning her stomach into a knot.
Cullen moved back to Lyra’s side, squeezed her hand, and leaned close. “I hear your thoughts; we’ll talk later in private.” He led her to the grand buffet line. “It’s our custom during festivals, Guardians and their councils enter first.”
The foods made Lyra’s mouth water, but her stomach clamped down even harder. Several types of lines served humans and animals. Before her, attendants carved thick, juicy slices of roast boar, minted legs of lamb, and turkeys stuffed with apple sage dressing. She wondered how people here ate animals when many were valued magical citizens. The idea further tightened her belly.
Before she could ask about this, Cullen read her thoughts and explained, “These animals used for food possessed no auras, and therefore no ability to speak and interact in educated ways. No different than those in your world, available in markets.”
Lyra filled a plate. She knew it would be expected.
She found Mimio, and with Cullen, they sat in a group of lesser wizards. The Lady of Peace joined them.
Lyra cautiously sipped the wine. After identifying it as sprite wine, she kept to only one glass. The roast vegetables and something like a curried casserole tempted her to eat more than she expected.
“Did you enjoy my phoenix dust?” the Guardian asked those at the table.
“Yes, magnificent.”
“Lovely.”
“A beautiful addition to the celebration.”
Turning to look squarely at Lyra, she continued, “It did provide a most revealing illumination, don’t you think?”
The phoenix flame within Lyra’s pendant orb sparked high. She wrapped a hand over the glass and received mental communication from the Lady. I saw the strange dark magic sent at you.
“Yes, it showed the fire of many unusual gems,” Lyra replied.
“Good. That was my intention.”
The other wizards at the table looked bewildered, but knew better than to question a Guardian.
Lyra was glad to have her help, looking for suspects who may have killed her aunt.
After the meal, everyone slowly moved outside. In the last glow of dusk, dragon corps delighted the residents with an aerial show. Lyra’s heart leapt with joy when she spotted Yasqu, this time joined by Noba and Kenzo close behind.
They sailed close above her on their pass across the rock ledge, squawking and bleating their hellos.
She was eager to greet them. “Let’s go down to the lower level on the plain to be there when they land,” she urged Cullen.
He escorted her and Mimio below onto the Steppe of Ora. The cliff face held grand iron torches, but the bonfires provided plenty of illumination. Instead of actual flames, lasers shot from central points on the ground. Dazzling white lights, revolved onto all nearby objects and residents, or dissipated into the blackness of the night sky. Lyra stared into one display, thinking back to the laser fire Cullen conjured last summer for their special night in his lake cabin.
Once Lyra’s vision adjusted, she located her flying friends. She approached Yasqu, but when they stood face-to-face, he was so big she didn’t know what part to hug. Bowing seemed too formal, so she stepped closer and encircled her arms around one of his stubby front legs.
Onlookers gasped. Apparently, her behavior was uncommon, inappropriate, or unwise. She didn’t care what anyone thought, and neither did her hatchling. He curved his neck down and nuzzled her shoulder with the side of his face.
She rubbed his ear, knowing what would please him.
“Noba too! Welcome, Lady Lyra! Rub Noba’s ears too.” The little pseudodragon pushed up to join them, nestling next to her other side. He looked the same, still only three feet tall, easily dwarfed by the growing dragon who was once his charge.
Lyra extended her other hand down to give equal treatment to each of her dear friends.
Yasqu froze, obviously enjoying her touch, and as he relaxed, a tiny puff of flameless smoke escaped his nostrils.
Again, those nearby seemed appalled. Too afraid to address her, they murmured to each other. “Oh, my!”
“Dragons don’t ever to do that.”
“She has such a way with him.” They separated to allow someone to pass through—Eburscon.
He drew up close, yelling in Lyra’s face. “How dare you spoil this dragon! I’m preparing him to be among the High Council, a serious position of great honor. His training is most strict and includes none of your mothering.”
Yasqu gave a snort of disapproval, but cowered when the alchemist raised his staff as a threat.
“Where were you when he was a newborn with no one to care for him?” Lyra stood tall and glared into the alchemist’s piercing eyes.
The crowd fell silent at her statement.
He lifted his frame, standing stiff and erect. “You have the audacity to question me? You’re so unskilled, I could…” Looking around at those nearby, his voice trailed off into a haughty laugh.
From where they mingled, Cullen and Kenzo moved quickly to her side. The sorcerer planted his boots firmly, and his blue aura extended—a clear sign of his rage. The sapphire gem of his staff glowed wildly.
Eburscon’s brow lifted slightly, revealing a hint of fear. “Be grateful he protects you,” he snarled at her. With a flourish of his cape, he stomped off out of the gathering.
Those near gave a collective sigh and slowly resumed their celebrating.
A shiver ran down Lyra’s spine and a sigh escaped her lips. Before she could evaluate what happened, a hand rested on her shoulder. She jumped and spun around, shaking off the alarming touch.
“I’m quite sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.” The shadow man…what was his name…Symar.
Nerves on edge, Lyra backed into Cullen, who thankfully remained solid behind her. She kept her head high, not wishing to show weakness.
“We haven’t formally met. Your heritage and reputation precede you, Lady Adalyra. I am Symar, Lord of Tempestas, and will gladly serve to assist you.” He bowed low and long layers of dark brown hair spilled from his hood. Lyra noticed the weight of a pendant push forward against the inside of his tunic, confirming what the phoenix dust had revealed.
Believing his statement to be insincere and not wanting to give him her respect, she returned only a cursory, slight bow.
“Please pardon Sire Eburscon’s harshness. I’m certain he’s pleased to have you returned to share his troubling responsibility of rearing this dragon to expected standards.” This man seemed the sneaky counterbalance to the alchemist’s arrogance.
Lyra’s head spun with possible explanations, desperate to make some sense of the puzzle.
“Thank you, Lord Symar. She may very well need to call upon you.” Good thing Cullen read her emotions and spoke for her since she forgot the expected courtesy.
Symar tipped his head and departed, soon lost in the large crowd. Lyra imagined him sliding back into the shadowy edges, watching and plotting some self-serving act.
Cullen took hold of her waist. “Would you care to dance with me? To relax a bit?” Waiting only a second for her response, he steered her into the central area reserved for dancing. The floor was of natural stone, worn smooth, almost flat.
He pulled her into his arms and slowly two-stepped, following the circling movement of other dancers. Glad for the easy pace, she took a deep breath, enjoying his woodsy spice scent. Faster couples, performing tricky steps she’d never seen, passed them on the inside. The speed of rotation of the lasers matched the rhythm of the band, now a group of acoustic guitarists. Their style seemed a bit Latin, but also with bars like Medieval minstrel songs, while their bridges sounded modern and futuristic. An unusual mix Lyra couldn’t identify. She gave up and eased into Cullen’s embrace, letting the tones soothe her anxiety.
“The four laser fires honor the four Guardians. If yo
u look close, the inner core displays an image of their element. Within that one, you can view a wave cresting—for the Tortoise, the Water Guardian,” Cullen explained.
Lyra lifted her head from his broad shoulder and noticed the detail of each fire. “Yes. I hadn’t seen that before.” She pointed to another. “The one over there shows the sky above a mountain peak. The air? For the Imperial Dragon.”
“Correct.”
She examined the remaining two and identified which Guardian each represented. “Still, these aren’t as pretty as the one you cast for our night last summer.”
“Oh, how was mine better?”
“It changed colors, taking reflections from the colored light of the setting sun.”
He grinned and held her closer. “A special technique, just for you.”
“Can you make a special one for us again?
“Hmm. That would likely call attention to your location in my cabin, something I’d rather not do. It’s in a far corner of the Meadow that’s usually safe, but it is remote.” When they turned the corner of the dance area, the glare of the rising full moon caused them both to squint. “But, maybe tonight…since many will be building their own laser fires, continuing the festival all night in smaller celebrations. Ours will not stand out. That moon gives me an idea I think you’ll like.”
“Let’s go now. I’m tired of crowds where I feel on edge with dangerous people lurking around me. I need to begin my lessons, so I can find the murderer and stop their evil.”
He kissed her forehead. “First lesson tomorrow. Let’s make our farewells and depart.”
***
Cullen twirled his staff and vapor lifted around them. Hundreds of supporters surrounded them, calling out their goodbyes and cheering them. In the instant before their bodies became weightless, Kenzo sailed in, landing with a thud into Cullen’s chest.
“Sorry, Master. Couldn’t see through your magic. Hope you don’t mind. I didn’t get a chance to visit with Lyra. I won’t stay long with you, wherever we’re going. Where are we going, by-the-way?” Kenzo flapped up to the sorcerer’s shoulder and folded his wings.
Cullen chuckled. “At least you welcome Lyra by flying into her.”
Lyra laughed at their banter. “Glad you came along, Kenzo.”
In minutes the cloud dissipated to their feet. They stood at the edge of the small lake, outside Cullen’s cabin. She pointed across the icy water. “Look at that powdery blue mist hanging in the air…mostly that direction, but all around. What is it?” The haze reflected on the skim of ice across the lake, crackled like a gossamer sky.
“The thick magic in the air tonight captures the moon glow. Pretty, isn’t it?” Cullen replied.
“Yes.” Her boots crunched ice as she stepped toward Kenzo. She ruffled his neck feathers with her hand. “I’ve missed you. How have you been?”
“Working too hard on flight drills with my slave driver master.” He snapped his beak and chortled. “Glad you’re back. I hear you’re going to begin lessons. I make a good practice partner…if you need one. Noba might volunteer, but I know more magic.”
“A practice partner…good idea, but what if I hurt you by accident?”
“I know enough to sense wrong magic coming my way and am quicker than anyone at dodging. Ask Master.”
“Very true, he is.” Cullen looked over his shoulder, from where he conjured a fire.
“You’re hired then. Thank you.” She gave the owl a pat.
Suddenly, dozens of laser lights extended from a single point, looking to Lyra like a giant zinnia in shape. However, the colors captured the silver and white-gold of the moon and blue of the mist in the air.
“Wow! That’s beautiful.”
“Glad you like it,” Cullen said, rejoining her and slipping an arm around her waist.
“I don’t smell any vanilla bluet, but that looks like a lovers’ fire to me.” Kenzo extended his wings with a yawn. “I’ll sleep in my usual tree over the cabin if you need me,” he said before taking flight.
“Night,” Cullen called after him with a chuckle. He turned back to Lyra, nuzzling her ear. “It’s cold. Want to go inside?”
“Will you bring the lights?” she asked with a teasing smile.
“Of course.” He led her onto the porch of the tiny dwelling.
Inside, it looked as she remembered, although the work area was decidedly messier with reference books strewn over the downstairs sitting area.
He unpinned the brooch at her throat and let the heavy ermine-lined cloak fall to the floor. After hastily removing his own, he led them upstairs.
The same white lace and embroidered bedding looked fresh in the loft bedroom—newly conjured. His efforts made her feel warm and special. Lasers streamed in through frozen crystals that covered the large front window, casting spectacular patterns on the walls and ceiling.
She sat on the edge of the fluffy bed, goose down rising up around the sides of her full skirt. “Lovely, just like I remembered.”
Smiling, he kneeled in front of her, taking hold of one foot and then the other to pull off her fur-lined ankle boots and socks. After he set them aside, like before, he pressed his palms together and opened them to show a small blue orb, the size of a golf ball. “Caleo,” he whispered to it. His voice was rich and deep, raising hairs on Lyra’s arms. He reclosed his hands over the sphere. Once his skin glowed, he opened them and slowly massaged her ankles. After a few minutes, he moved to the upper sides of her feet and slid his fingers between each of her toes.
She dropped into the thick duvet, mesmerized by the patterns moving along the walls and the icy-hot tingling sensation of his hands over her bare skin. She moaned when his strong, warm touch passed along her insteps. The sensation crept up the curves of her calves and along her inner thighs. The magical warmth spread across her hips. Her whole body vibrated with desire.
“Maaaaster!” Kenzo screeched.
In the next instant, a loud crack sounded outside.
Chapter Six: Stealth Aura
A blood-curdling wail, laced with power, reverberated in Lyra’s ears and passed tremors along her nerves.
A shadow swept over the large front picture window and collected into an image of a horrible dragon, covered in black shimmering scales.
She tried to signal Cullen, but it held her motionless.
Two pairs of horns extended back from an elongated head. Flames ringed its nostrils and eyes. The voice box pumped as the chilling sound echoed from the gaping mouth, with rows of pointed teeth. The fierce head turned and pupils, dark as pitch, glared at them. The length of the beast filled the expanse of the window, the size of a fire drake.
Yet, unlike other fire drakes, between its translucent wings sat a rider, completely hidden under a cloak. Broad shoulders indicated a male form. The person faced into the cabin, yet no features were visible under cover of the hood. Only the strange, undulating hem of his garment caught Lyra’s eye. Seconds later, beast and rider sailed off.
When the shriek died, she was released. “Look!” Lyra cried, pointing toward the trailing bit of shadow.
Cullen sprang into action. On his feet in an instant, he spun around in time to see the last of the blackness. He grabbed his staff and bolted down the stairs, boots thumping against the wooden treads.
Determined to help, Lyra levered herself out of the deep fluff of the duvet and yanked on her boots. She missed a few steps, clinging to the railing to prevent a fall. She raced through the open door onto the porch. Her breath caught in her throat.
Just beyond the steps, Cullen kneeled over a lump of silver striped feathers.
She drew down beside him.
Kenzo quivered, lying flat on his stomach with wings hanging limp.
“How is he? What can I do?” she asked.
Cullen closed his eyes while holding his palms above the body of the owl. The wizard’s face tightened into a grimace. He trembled and swallowed hard, moisture dampening his lashes. Nothing appeared to happen. He
opened his eyes, and furrows creased his forehead more deeply. “Injustus!” He rubbed his hands together, then again held them over Kenzo. No magic sparked. Exasperated, he withdrew and leaned back. “No! This cannot be happening!”
The giant tiger owl fluttered his large eyes open and attempted to turn his head toward Cullen. Pain blocked his movement. “Master, please…” he pleaded with a faltering voice.
“Some strong dark magic did this.” Cullen forced an angry exhalation.
Lyra took hold of his hands, moving them over the bird once more. “Try again.” Did she have enough power to make a difference? She took a deep breath and slid her palms onto the backs of Cullen’s.
He closed his eyes to concentrate.
Lyra focused on the inner fire of her soul, as she taught herself to do last summer. Slowly, she drew it from the base of her brain and into her limbs. When it met Cullen’s hands, a pulse of electricity ebbed in cyclic waves.
A faint glow discharged into the air between skin and feathers. Cullen’s face relaxed, and the light grew more intense. He moved their joined hands above all parts of the owl. Soon a gold-blue haze draped the bird’s body, the hue of their comingled auras. “Lyra, there may be a jolt—don’t let go.”
She nodded and braced herself, wrapping her thumbs and little fingers around the sides of his hands. She did some simple healing of injuries before, but nothing like this. Suddenly, strong current rushed up her forearms. Invisible, without the typical colored light of the sender’s aura, she misjudged its strength. The dark power made her nauseous and weak. Her torso wavered.
“Hang on!” Cullen clenched his jaw.
Blood drained from her head. She needed to lie down, but held her hands steady. Stars floated behind her eyes as unconsciousness threatened.
Cullen leaned his body against hers to stabilize her. “Lyra, listen to me. Think of your family, of Aunt Jean. Their images. You must enable Elisabeth’s necklace.”
She filled her mind with Aunt Jean’s smiling face…laughing after making snow angels…caring for daisies in the flowerbeds together…marveling at the gown Cullen created for Lyra hours before Jean died. Tears of both joy and grief flooded Lyra’s closed eyes. Resolve clamped hard onto her heart and renewed her strength. There, she found another source of her inner fire. Could she channel power from her heart? When she saved Cullen, it came from there naturally. How could she control it? Maybe thoughts of her family were keys—her natural, inherited magic, which Eburscon bitterly envied.
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