Enchanted Bookstore Legends (5-book complete epic fantasy romance box set)

by Marsha A. Moore

  “What did that medical worker want to know about me?” Lyra asked in a hushed tone.

  “If I knew when you might come back, like he wanted to get to know you. If you intended to sell this cottage in the spring. I see you’ve cleared out the house some. Looks nice. I noticed the sign came down. I hope you’re staying.” She placed a thin, soft hand over Lyra’s, resting on the counter. “I get so lonely here.”

  Cullen stepped into the doorway. “Hello, Mrs. Kendall. Good to see you again.” He held out a hand to greet her. “I’m Cullen Drake. I think we met at Jean’s funeral and maybe waved some other times last summer.”

  Lyra glanced at his eyes, trying to determine if he had overheard their discussion. He seemed calm.

  “Yes, I remember you.” She accepted his hand and smiled. “I’m glad Lyra has a friend.”

  “You asked about Jean’s house…I took it off the market,” Lyra said. “In fact, I’ll be here for a while. I’m taking a leave for the second semester, sort of—I’m teaching one course from here by computer. So you’ll see me around. When your company leaves, I can come and have a nice long visit, maybe bring you lunch.”

  “That sounds good, dear.” Mrs. Kendall patted Lyra’s shoulder. “In that case, I’ll be getting back to my boys. We can find time soon.” The elderly lady shuffled back into the hall. “Give me a hug, and I’ll be going.”

  Lyra grinned and took her old friend into her arms. “Can I walk you back?” she offered while holding the coat and scarf.

  “No, I’ll be fine. I got over here by myself. The sidewalks are all clear, but thank you.”

  Lyra held her breath, watching her neighbor teeter back to her own home. When she knew the old lady arrived safely, she shut the door and found Cullen in the kitchen.

  “These are really good,” he mumbled through a mouthful of cookie. “Are you all right? You seem a bit upset.”

  “No, I’m fine.” He often read her emotional thoughts, but so many crowded her mind today, what was visible? Cullen worried enough about her. She could handle whatever Revelin intended; he didn’t seem very important since she never saw him anywhere except there in the village.

  “She must remind you of your aunt. I know the grief is still fresh.” He took a long swallow of milk. “Do you want to remain here this evening or return to Dragonspeir?”

  If someone was watching Jean’s cottage, it would be wise to return Cullen’s helpers. “Let’s go back, so I won’t have to travel before my next lesson. Who teaches that one?”

  “Our illustrious Imperial Alchemist,” he retorted.

  Lyra groaned.

  ***

  They reached the bookstore with little trouble. Few vehicles traveled on Christmas Day. When they did meet one, Noba and Kenzo plastered their faces to windows on that side of Cullen’s Barracuda. Lyra was thankful most passersby didn’t seem to notice. One driver honked, but didn’t turn to follow them.

  Just in case, they parked behind the shop, and Lyra bundled the pseudodragon into a bath towel to hide him during the short walk to the back door. She turned to Cullen. “Hold him a minute, so I can try my key.” With her hands were free, she declared, “Exorior pyus pyxidis!” Directed by Cullen’s spell, his mother’s inlaid box reappeared. She withdrew the skeleton key. “The lock is new. This old key won’t fit.”

  “Yes, it will,” Cullen assured, working to keep Noba’s head covered since he impatiently flopped the towel off to look around.

  Lyra touched the tip of the tarnished brass to the steel. Upon contact, the lock changed shape and accepted the key. She turned it with ease. “I don’t need Brigid’s Book of Dragonspeir to open the portal do I? Shouldn’t my jadestone work?” After replacing the key, she reclosed the lid and stated, “Recedo!” It vanished on her command.

  “Yes, or even your heliodor scrying stone. Any object given to you and imbued with Alliance magic will allow you to open the portal,” Cullen answered. “Give me a minute to feed Sheridan and say hello.” He disappeared into the front part of the store with Noba and Kenzo following at his heels.

  “I hate winter. You only pass through. Summer’s better when you pretend to be a shopkeeper most of the time,” the locust chirped.

  “Just consider yourself fortunate you’re inside and alive,” Cullen responded as he changed the water and food in the tiny iron cage. “You’ll have a nice long sleep while we’re gone.”

  Sheridan crawled to the end nearest where Lyra stood and climbed up on the bars. “With a hot babe like that, I can see why you’re gone so much.”

  Cullen laughed.

  “Hot babe?” Kenzo asked.

  “Don’t get out of Dragonworld much?” the bug scoffed. “It’s humanspeak for pretty lady.”

  “I must use that back in the Meadow,” Kenzo said, fluffing out his feathers. “I can think of a few hot babes there.”

  Lyra chuckled. “Looking for a girlfriend? Too bad it’s winter, or I’d suggest you try some vanilla bluet. Worked well for your master.” She gave Cullen a sideways glance and smile.

  His neck lengthened. “Good idea! I do know where to find some…in Master’s refrigerator.”

  “Mixed in among the jars of salamanders and bats? Why is vanilla bluet stored there?” She eyed Cullen with a grin.

  Cullen shook his head and chuckled. “You never know when a hot babe requires a dose of vanilla bluet. Okay, time to go. Where’s Noba?” He headed to the back room.

  Lyra thought differently and walked around a bookcase. “There you are. Time to go.”

  Tail wiggling, his little dragon face peered through the opening in the curtain to the street display window. He looked over his shoulder at her. “Noba saw three cars go by, all different colors.”

  She guided him into the storage room where the others gathered. “Ready?”

  Cullen lifted his hand to twirl his dragon ring.

  “Wait! Let me do it,” Lyra called.

  She held the jade brooch in her outstretched hand. “Accio porta!” The bookcases parted and the icy path into Dragonspeir lay before them. She stepped across, shivering as she entered the frigid air. The wind blew bitterly, like a storm was on the way, not at all like the calm, clear Christmas Day in the village. Since Symar moderated the weather, Lyra wondered if storms here meant evil approached.

  As the others passed over the threshold, she reopened her magic box in search of the cloak Cullen’s aides gave her. From a tiny wad, it fluffed out to a full-length garment of white satin-lined wool. She quickly draped it over her shoulders and soon felt toasty warm.

  Cullen drew his cloak up around his chin. “Good gift of that magical cloak—mostly Kenzo’s idea. It wasn’t my magic. That’s not a charm I know.”

  The owl required some time to ease across, the change still unfamiliar to him.

  Once everyone settled, Cullen motioned them to join close. He cast a cloud that transported them to the Crossroads. “Good afternoon, sagacious Cranewort,” he called ahead to the Gatekeeper.

  “Good day to you, Sire Drake. Well, I see Adalyra’s smiling, and Noba and Kenzo have proudly donned new garments—must have been a good holiday.” His voice rang out, echoing off the surrounding trunks. “Where are your destinations?”

  “My cabin for the evening,” Cullen looked to his helpers for their choices.

  “I’m going to the Meadow to display my new neck warmer to some hot babes,” Kenzo offered, puffing out his feathers.

  “Me too!” Noba sidled up to the big owl, who was equal in height, but three times his girth.

  “Have a good time, you two!” Lyra called as Cullen motioned her in the direction of the correct path.

  She looked over her shoulder and waved goodbye to the old tree while watching the others sail along the entrance to a different trail.

  ***

  Lyra promptly stuck her nose in The Guide to Mystical Astronomy, a subject she seemed good at.

  After a few minutes of clatter in the kitchen, Cullen called out, “Dinne
r’s ready. Hot soup and bread to ward off those chill winds.

  Engrossed in her reading, Lyra walked with eyes glued to the page.

  “I realize you’re eager to delve deeper in that subject, but you have time to put the book down during the meal,” Cullen suggested.

  She ripped off the corner of her napkin and used it as a bookmark. “If only there is a way to apply the energy from the stars to control my powerballs…” She quickly slurped several spoonfuls of chicken and carrots, followed by a wad of bread.

  Cullen shook his head, although his eyes gleamed. “I see you’ve set your mind to that pursuit.”

  She gulped down the rest of her meal and picked up the book again. As the evening wore on, she came to a chapter about application of celestial energy. Included there, she found a few pages about enhancing alchemical reactions using properties of mystical astronomy. Perhaps it would be useful tomorrow and make the dreaded lesson with Eburscon more interesting.

  Flipping further, she located what she hoped to find—utilizing birthmate starpower to affect and guide the aura. She scanned the section, then reread the complex method more carefully.

  She pulled her new cloak about her and stepped outside. Heading toward the clear area on the lake shore, she looked up to find Hamal shining against the twilit sky. At the point where the tide wet the tops of her shoes, the astral force swept into her body. She jumped, startled by the abrupt change within her. Using it as external leverage, as suggested by the text, she easily drew a powerball into her hand.

  Suddenly, a chilling shriek split the air behind her. Lyra spun around. An icy sensation tremored along her spine. Then a bolt of blue light surrounded her.

  “Look out!” Cullen cried from the porch, his hand connected to the light around her.

  Another screech of a deeper note sounded. Reflexively, she looked up. An enormous blue dragon soared above the tree tops, wings stretched taut, mouth open and hurling lightning.

  Behind her, the first made another piercing cry. A black shadow flew like a torpedo high above the lake, sucking up the shimmer of the water as it swept across.

  Her legs froze, transfixed by the hypnotic call of the cimafa.

  “Lyra! Run!” Cullen yelled, pulling at her with his magic.

  Under his power, her feet moved, but she couldn’t turn her gaze away from the red eyes or shrill voice of the cimafa. Red flames ringed the beast’s nostrils, and its iridescent scales shimmered in the last rays of the sun. The rider’s hood shielded his features, but again his cloak hem coiled like writhing snakes.

  In the next instant, Cullen stood at her side. He yanked on her arm. Unsuccessful, he picked her up with an arm under her knees, the other around the back of her waist. “Look away from it!” he ordered as he ran toward the porch.

  She gritted her teeth and forced her head up to the position of Hamal. Her star shone dimly through clouds and a network of bare tree branches. However, the cimafa’s energy held her gaze.

  While Cullen leapt up the steps, the two dragons screamed and snarled at each other.

  Under cover of the porch roof, Lyra lost contact with the starlight. Immediately, the cimafa and rider claimed her once more.

  The blue shot out a bolt of lightning, and the shadow creature yanked an injured wing to its body. An invisible force caused the sentry to wail in agony and drop into a lower flight pattern.

  Cullen shoved her inside and shut the door. “This will only block the cimafa’s grasp on your aura through your eyes. He and the rider can still pinpoint your location from your energy.” He used his staff to spin another protective layer around her. “To confuse them a little more.”

  She heard a guttural roar, almost a growl, followed by a high-pitched, blood-curdling scream…nothing more. “What happened?” she asked.

  Cullen drew her to the front window. “It’s safe to look now.”

  The filmy black wings of the stealth dragon flapped weakly, flying a ragged path in retreat over the lake. The shimmer on the surface returned in his wake.

  The sentry made a rough landing in the clearing before the cabin, still blowing huge clouds of smoke and sparks as his chest heaved.

  Cullen ran a hand over his forehead and through his hair. “Damn! My detection still falters. Our love throws me off. I should have known sooner.” He grabbed open the door. “I’m needed. Come with me, but stay close.” He jumped off the porch and ran up to the blue dragon.

  Lyra followed, struggling to keep up, her strength drained from the connection to the cimafa.

  He stepped next to the guard, who lay hunched with arms and legs folded beneath him. Cullen’s hands raced along the dragon’s massive body.

  As Lyra approached, she said, “Thank you isn’t enough.”

  “It is my duty to the Alliance.” The dragon’s voice rang low and clear, his head high, although gnarled remains of his right wing sagged against his flank, bleeding profusely.

  “I need your help!” Cullen entreated her. “Yord’s wound is long and deep, into many bones. Heal what you can. I cannot work fast enough to save the wing.”

  Chapter Thirteen: Salt, Mercury, and Sulfur

  Cullen gently stretched out the limb, and Yord flinched. “I’ll treat the upper wing, which has deeper musculature. Take the forewing.”

  Lyra ran her hands over the scraps of skeleton that remained. Channeling her magic directly to another seemed easy compared to extending it out to the atmosphere. With a first pass, she knitted the bone fragments. At least half of the lower wing hung in shreds. Lyra called forth more of her power to repair massive areas of connective tissue.

  After stabilizing the wing, she joined Cullen on thick muscles of the shoulder that were burnt to the bone. Four hands moved in unison, rebuilding layer upon layer. They continued in silence, side-by-side, for over an hour, working outward from deep muscle to the delicate wingsail membranes.

  Sometime while they were busy, Kenzo returned home for the night, and he perched above on an overhanging birch branch, large ears pricked high, revolving all around. Lyra was glad he kept watch.

  Cullen paused long enough to plant his staff in the ground nearby. “Illustro!” A bright blue light shone over them.

  The owl settled higher, away from the torch.

  From under a bank of clouds, the oversized Dragonspeir moon rose high in the sky. Lyra’s legs and feet ached from standing. Her hands stung from the magic coursing through them. When her calves started to prickle with numbness, Cullen proclaimed the healing finished.

  Covered with blood, Lyra stepped back and leaned against a tree trunk.

  The tremendous blue dragon gingerly worked the wing. It flexed smoothly, but he grimaced at full extension. “I am forever beholden to you both. Lacking ability to fly back to the lair is certain death to my kind.” He bowed his long neck to the ground at Lyra’s feet.

  She reached forward and hugged the side of his great snout. “You saved my life, driving off that cimafa. I’m also indebted to you.” Dampness seeped over her right hand at the angle of his jaw. She looked up and saw the trail of a tear, coursed from Yord’s eye down the side of his cheek. Lyra hugged him a bit tighter, then stepped back. Her wet hand felt odd. Tiny silver sparks shot from her palm. “What is this?” she asked.

  Cullen examined the fluid dripping from her wrist. “Very rare—dragon tears,” Cullen answered.

  She studied her hand more carefully. “The sparks follow thin lines.”

  The wizard glanced over the affected skin. “This is new to me. Seems like cracks in your skin, from where you forced your power out to heal Yord’s wounds, have now admitted his tear.”

  “Lady Lyra, your kindness brought forth my tear. We are trained from birth to be brave and not cry. My tear entered beneath your skin—we are bonded. I commit to repay you for the duration of my life. Consider me your servant in times of need.”

  Her heart swelled, and tears of her own welled in her eyes. In this unfamiliar place with enemies hiding in shadows everyw
here, it reassured her to have a magnificent blue sentry as her trusted friend.

  “Will you return to the lair now, or let the wing heal more overnight?” Cullen asked him.

  “It is stiff yet. I will rest here until first light with your fine assistant to keep watch.” Yord nodded to the tiger owl.

  “Very well.” He turned to Lyra. “Time for bed.”

  “That’ll feel good. Goodnight, Yord. Kenzo, thanks for keeping watch.” She plodded toward the cabin, legs and back aching more with each step.

  Cullen took her arm to steady her as she ascended onto the porch. “You’ve become exceptionally good at healing craft. I couldn’t have saved his wing without you. Yord is correct. He does owe you his life.” Inside, he gave her a tired smile and kissed her cheek.

  Lyra returned a weary half hug and trodded through the hall with a single thought—a hot shower. In the bathroom, she turned on the tub faucet and stripped off blood-stained clothes into a heap. Inviting steam rolled up as she stepped in and pulled the shower curtain around. She let the hot spray wash away all the horrors of the evening. A thorough sudsing helped her feel like herself again, rather than a prized possession, hunted by dangerous beasts and shadowy enemies. When she reached out for a towel, she found a clean nightgown left in place of the dirty things. She smiled, glad to have someone look after her. She dragged a comb through her damp hair and slipped into the gown.

  The house was quiet and dark. Soft light invited Lyra to the bedroom upstairs.

  “The shower felt good. Thanks for the clothes,” she said to Cullen as she pulled back the coverlet.

  He reached an arm out for her and pulled her close to his bare chest. “Tired?”

  She let out a soft groan. “Yes. And mentally exhausted from being hunted. Was that the same cimafa, or are there many after me?”

  “Not many. They have peculiar breeding requirements. I’ve heard the eggs incubate for six months and temperatures must be exactly maintained. Just a guess, but I doubt more than twenty live. The Black Dragon keeps an order of about a dozen, and Symar boasts that he masters five.”