The leader’s eyes now shined a vivid, golden-yellow. A puff of smoke blew out of his nostrils. “Not good! Did anyone suffer injury?”
“They hit Kenzo hard with stealth magic that bore no aura color. Lyra and I combined efforts to remove it from his body—strong dark magic.”
“Any clue who the rider might have been?”
Lyra sat up straighter. “Only that his ragged cloak hem moved like tentacles.”
“Ah. That style garment is favored by many, including several of the Qumeli chieftains and priestesses. Use great caution going into their tribe tonight.”
“My lesson is with the Qumeli tribe?” Lyra gasped. “Why?”
“They possess knowledge of the stars beyond my use.” The leader waved his foreclaw toward the window. “They are expert at mystical astronomy—a craft that is imperative for a Scribe to master.”
“Don’t they also use dark powers?”
“They do, and who better to help you identify those types, so you can defend yourself? Be assured the dangers are minimal. They are under my watch, so close my guards are nearly always overhead. I will call for a squadron of blue dragons to patrol your lake area, Sire Drake.”
“Much appreciated.” Cullen rose and held Lyra close as she stood. “Can you walk?”
“Yes. I’m just tired, and rest will help…if I can relax.”
They exchanged bows with the golden dragon and walked toward the door. “Sire Drake, may I have one moment alone with you?” the leader called after them.
Lyra continued out the door and bowed to the blue guard to make amends for her earlier forgetfulness. She listened to catch what was said in the closed study.
“…cimafa? In Alliance territory?” The Imperial Dragon’s tone was higher pitched and more clipped than normal.
“No aura…black shadow trailed after,” Cullen said in a whisper, so low she needed to move closer.
The guard cleared his throat and raised an eyebrow. His noise prevented her from hearing some words.
“Worse than I feared…Does she understand?” the leader spoke in a raspy, hushed voice.
“…glad she doesn’t. Must she…with the Qumeli? Like I’ve said before, you and I can…surely… and safer.”
“I insist she learn what…much depends upon her success.” The leader’s voice rose with an angry tone, then quieted as the guard scratched his claws across the stone. “…stay by her side.”
Cullen’s boots clapped against the floor, and the heavy wood door banged open as he stormed through.
Lyra jumped and tripped on the large, clawed foot of the guard.
Cullen waited for her to regain her balance. “I know you’re tired, but…” His humor seemed feigned, as if to hide what bothered him.
Out on the overhanging ledge, they held each other close in a blue fog cocoon as they transported back to his cabin.
Cullen prepared a meal for them of roast chicken, potatoes, and carrots. He put a plate before her.
Lyra managed a bite of chicken. “I’m not very hungry.” She picked at the vegetables with her fork, sneaking glances at Cullen. “Why did you argue with the Imperial Dragon? What is wrong?”
He looked at his plate. “Don’t worry. Try to eat. You’ve spent much strength and will again at tonight’s lesson.”
What was he hiding from her? Lyra shifted in her seat, trying to read whatever she could in his eyes. She couldn’t see, so she dropped her napkin and bent to retrieve it.
Caught off guard, he looked up for a few seconds, and she saw fear reflected in his blue eyes.
When she’d half-finished her meal, she pushed away from the table. Despite her worries, Lyra’s eyelids drooped from exhaustion. She trudged up the stairs and he followed. After stripping to her underwear, she climbed into bed and pulled the comforter under her chin.
Cullen lay on top of the covers and wrapped an arm over her waist. “I read your concerns. Would you like to talk about them?”
“Don’t you believe the augury pool?” She laced her fingers between his. “And what is the Imperial Dragon worried about?”
“You won’t be able to learn craft if you’re upset. Let us shoulder the burdens.”
“But I need to look out for you. There’s some danger. Do I really need to study with the Qumeli? Must we go there?”
He sighed. “Apparently so. There’s something the Imperial Dragon wishes you to learn from them expressly. He senses your gift in mystic astronomy. None know that craft better than the Qumeli.”
She moved her arm over his. “I don’t want anything to happen to you. I can be strong, but I need you behind me. You’re my family now.”
He pulled her close to his side. “I know. And you’re the family I’ve missed for almost two centuries. No matter what, our bond will always survive. Trust me.” He kissed her forehead.
In the secure warmth of his arms, she gave way to sleep.
***
Lyra woke tangled in the sheet and drenched in sweat. She lay alone in the bed. Shadows of tree trunks draped the room and reminded her of dark shapes from her nightmare. She lay still and listened for the reassuring sounds of Cullen stirring downstairs. Only twigs scratched against the front window. She pushed the covers aside and sped along the staircase.
Cullen looked at her over the top of his book. “I was just going to wake you. We’ll need to leave shortly for your lesson.”
Needing the comfort of his touch, she perched on the wide arm of the reading chair and ran her hand inside his elbow. She peered at his book about fascination. “Why are you studying that? I thought you were an expert?”
“Well…” he faltered and closed the cover.
She turned to look at him. “Does this have something to do with what you and the Imperial Dragon discussed?”
He stood and replaced the book in the bookcase. “It’s best you keep a clear head to apply yourself tonight. If you’re distracted, you won’t be able to summon your aura.”
“I need to know what might affect us! Why are you being so stubborn?” she spat the words with a shrill tone.
“You will in time…when you’re a more skilled fighter.”
Lyra stomped up the stairs. I’m plenty skilled to give that man a fight. She hurriedly dressed and ran a brush through the snarls of her long hair. Going back down, she scooped up her cloak in a straight path onto the porch and looked back in through the open front door. Without a word, she waited impatiently.
Cullen examined the twilit sky. “A clear, cold night. Fasten your cloak.” He twirled his staff, and his vapor rose, but didn’t encircle her. “I know you’re vexed with me, however you must come closer.”
She stepped toward him and gave him her back. Her rapid breath puffed out in small, frozen clouds.
As his mist thinned, she looked over a village of oval tents, reminding her of Indian wigwams. Ribbons of white smoke lazily wafted out of central holes in the roofs.
The smell of wood fires reminded her of happy times, celebrating Christmas with her family at Aunt Jean’s lake cottage. But here the air was still and crisp, the sky cloudless. A dog howled. The starkness of this place contrasted with her holiday memories. She shivered. Strange how Christmas was only two days away. She wanted to be home then, but where should she call home now that her family was gone? With Cullen, but where? They needed to belong somewhere…a safe place.
Two older female Qumeli tribe members hobbled past, their backs hunched and faces buried in layers of hoods.
After the women stepped inside tent flaps, Lyra and Cullen stood alone. The eerie stillness made her move her hand toward his arm, but then she remembered her anger and quickly pulled it back to her side. “Where do we go?” she whispered.
“I don’t frequent this community. Let’s inquire in an active-looking tent.” He headed toward one larger than the others.
Not in the mood to be led, Lyra scooted around him and lifted the heavy woolen covering over the entryway. Inside, what looked to be an extended fami
ly group of at least ten people sat around the fire, eating dinner from wooden bowls. Most were adults of various ages, and she counted three children.
They all turned and looked at her.
“Hello. I’m Adalyra, the Scribe. I’m expected for my lesson. Is this the right place?”
The oldest man acknowledged her with his eyes, but said nothing. His snowy beard dropped to his waist, and a beaded leather strap held back his long white hair. He nodded to a middle-aged man across the fire. No one replied. Did they speak English? The only Qumeli member she knew was Glisla, their guide into Silva Nocens. Although odd and not-so-trustworthy, the woman had spoken fluently.
For several uncomfortable seconds the family members communicated among themselves with knowing looks. They were dressed in brightly colored woolens and animal hides. Paired horns in a variety of shapes grew from the heads of the adults and held strings of gemstone beads. Some horns spiraled close around their ears, and others extended far past their shoulders. More turns seemed to indicate advanced age. The younger women used their small ones to fashion hairstyles and draped strands in elaborate ways around the curves. They glanced at Lyra, then quickly looked away.
Finally, the middle-aged man stood and beckoned to Lyra and Cullen. “Stella will teach you the lesson, a sibyl. Find her tent in the outer circle, facing Steppe of Ora.” He waved his arm to direct them. “Sibyls must watch far.”
Cullen bowed and Lyra followed his example, before they backed away from the tent. In the starlight, they picked their way around boulders and clumps of dry brush until they reached the fourth and outer concentric circle of the village. Goats in a nearby herd bleated, but no noises came from within the dwellings.
“For so many tents, this place is strangely quiet. Those people seemed afraid of us. Why?” Lyra whispered.
Walking down a lane, she noticed tent flaps lift and reclose as they passed.
“I don’t know. I’ve only been here in the company of the Imperial Dragon or Eburscon. Around the alchemist, the tribes-people talked openly. With the leader, they were extremely polite and welcoming.”
Then, faint musical notes from a stringed instrument reached her. “Listen.” She pointed ahead, to a row of small tents near the edge of the cliff overlooking the great plain. Heartened by this sign of life, she quickened her pace to discover its source.
The path narrowed to a three foot walkway next to the drop-off. The door to one tent stood open. An aged woman sat cross-legged just inside, her eyes closed, fingers spread wide, palms upturned on her knees. Sandalwood incense wafted out and caught Lyra’s nose as she glanced at the woman, motionless in meditation.
Suddenly, the sibyl’s eyes opened, but her body remained still. Without a word, she motioned toward the neighboring tent.
When Lyra reached the next door, she lifted the flap. Inside, a plump old woman sat opposite the fire. She strummed an instrument similar to a mandolin, but with an irregular body and a fretboard finished with splayed twigs. Her eyes passed over Lyra, and a slight grin raised her rosy cheeks while she worked to keep her lips tight around a hand-carved pipe. Ribbons of smoke encircled her, and its rich, woodsy scent mixed with the musky incense hanging in the air.
The woman’s welcoming expression invited Lyra to enter and sit on a hooked wool rug.
Cullen followed, but gripped his staff as it rested across his lap.
The sibyl’s haunting dirge continued for several minutes. The flickering light cast shadows across her features. A wide nose stood out against her face, criss-crossed with deep wrinkles. Her skin appeared olive-colored and weather-beaten. A pair of horns spiraled high on her head of wiry gray hair. Dangling beads and charms festooned the bottom of each turn.
When the song ended, she tilted her instrument away from her thick mid-section. Polished wood of the mandolin reflected the soft firelight. The woman rearranged herself on a pillow and leaned back against a wooden trunk, still saying nothing.
“Lovely instrument,” Lyra offered, to break the silence.
The sibyl nodded and grinned. “Thank you. I carve. Rests my mind from labors of sky reading.” She dumped the spent contents of her pipe at the edge of the fire. “My birth name for my craft is Stella. Be welcomed, Adalyra and Sire Drake.”
“Call me Lyra, please.”
She waved a hand in the direction of Cullen’s staff. “No concern for safety here.”
He bowed his head, but made no attempt to move it out of a position for direct use.
Looking to Lyra, Stella continued, “Tonight, I teach you mystic astronomy, known to Qumeli as sky reading. This you need to draw on particular stars to boost and shape your power. I will teach which stars and how to use. When is the day of your birth, Lyra?”
“March thirtieth.”
“As I expected, a fire sign for a leader. Stars of Aries are brightest in winter sky. Come, let’s find them.” She rolled onto her knees and rose from a squat. She crouched to step through the entry, but once outside her bent spine scarcely allowed her to rise more than a few inches. To compensate, she craned her neck into an arch. “Easy to pull energy from evening fire signs in all seasons except fall.” She pointed up at a star. “There! Your strongest star, Hamal, slightly west. See it in ram lying down with head facing us?”
Lyra stepped close and aligned her sight with Stella’s arm. She jumped and let out a gasp. “Oh!”
“You found it!” the sibyl exclaimed in a rough tone and patted her on the back. “You got a jolt of your own energy force. A surprise first time.” The old woman snickered.
“How does it feel, Lyra?” Cullen asked.
She held out a hand to him. “Feel it for yourself.”
With the first brush of her fingertips, he flinched. He clasped her hand and smiled, obviously enjoying the rush of her enhanced magic combining with his. “Amazing! I use this technique when I’m tired and need to boost my power, but don’t gain compared to this.”
“She has enormous power from her ancestors, much of that stored in the stars when they died,” Stella explained. “Ancient dark ways connect with those relations.”
“When I look away, the effect is still there. Will it diminish with time?” Lyra asked.
“Gradually.” The sibyl nodded. “Can’t say how long since you gain so much from this, more than usual. Experience will teach. As winter fades to spring, look for fire sign Leo in same position as Hamal now. Find very bright star, Regulus, in the walking lion. Will appear sickle-shaped. Then, in summer, at far south, fiery Sagittarius archer will ride on Milky Way. Neither as great as your own star, but useful for sure.”
“How do I use this in the daytime?”
“Look with knowing eyes and they will find you. Again, experience will tell. You now have the feeling and won’t mistake a wrong reading.” Stella turned toward Cullen and pulled his hand from Lyra’s. “You need to let off touch for next lesson.” The sibyl resumed her teaching. “Lyra, that last added to your power within. Next, to strengthen your power-throwing defense. What stars will you choose? Look and decide.”
Lyra took a step away from them along the footpath and lifted her face to the sky, considering what type of energy would perform that task. She knew constellations were governed by the four elements, like the Guardians: fire; water; air; earth. Fire enhanced fire. What would spread fire, moving it outside of her? “Air! I need stars with air power.”
“Good.” Stella encouraged. “Go on. Find the star.”
“Air constellations...Gemini…Libra…and one other. What is it?”
“Aquarius. Will show a bright air star near Pegasus in the fall. In spring, Libra. Can you find Castor and Pollux, stars of Gemini out now?” Stella stepped back, along the side of her tent, and lit her pipe. “Feel for it, Lyra. Find it.”
The sharp pine smell of her tobacco tickled Lyra’s nose, held high as she scanned the sky. Then, she felt a wave pass along her skin.
“Your aura! It’s twice…no, triple!” Cullen cried.
&
nbsp; Lyra looked down at herself. Rather than her usual outline of golden light when she called upon her power, at least a foot of glimmering mist extended in wisps all around her. “I’m like the Unicorn!” She twirled, delighted to see how her aura trailed after her. “I must have found the Gemini star.”
Suddenly a strong wind caught hold of Lyra and pushed her toward the edge of the cliff. A shadow fell over her, pulling on her aura. The darkness pressed upon her.
She struggled to breathe and couldn’t call out.
It yanked harder on her extended magic.
“Lyra, hold onto your power! Concentrate!” Cullen yelled. “Do not look up!”
In the background, Stella cackled, “Magic enough for a dozen high wizards, but can’t control an ounce of it.” Her maniacal laugh blended with the whipping wind and roared in Lyra’s ears.
She clamped her eyes shut. Focusing deep inside, she found the magic in her heart and willed it into her mind.
The winds and the strong power of the shadow sucked the physical and mental energies from her mortal body. The attacking force attached itself to her aura.
She gritted her teeth. Her feet lifted off the ground.
“Keep your eyes closed, Lyra!” Cullen shouted. “Focus! Hold onto your power!”
She scrunched her eyes tight, and pushed more deep energy into her mind. Finally, with that surge of raw power where she could use it, she yanked her aura back toward her. Without training or experience, she operated on instinct and felt from within how to wrestle the dark force for what was hers. After a good initial attempt, she used the bit of returned aura to fuel another try. Lyra took a deep breath and jerked on the external trail of her aura.
Abruptly, the evil shadow relented. The noises ceased. Her aura snapped whole back inside her. Startled, she opened her eyes and scanned around her. She hung in mid-air over the edge of the cliff.
Directly above hovered a cimafa, draped in dense shadow. The weight of its darkness threatened to collapse her lungs. The outline of its wings, the red of its eyes, and its cloaked rider were barely discernible from the umbra around them.
Weak from the fight, her muscles sagged limp.
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