“Whoever controls those attacking me sure does want my aura…and my life.” She curled into a fetal position. “Did the connection to my star, Hamal, call the beast and rider to me?”
“Mystical astronomy is not my craft. I can’t answer. The Imperial Dragon would know. However, when I was alerted to danger you must have just stepped into the lake. Its water mirrored your magic upward, like a beacon, easily read by me and others who are powerful. Or they just took a pass over my cabin in hopes you’d be outside where no charm protected you.”
“I’m both afraid and eager for tomorrow’s lesson. I need to learn every bit of magic I can, but don’t trust Eburscon. What if he sets me up for another attack?” She pulled the comforter under her chin. “I’m scared—don’t know how to protect myself against them. Look at what that cimafa did to Yord, a dragon five times its size and able to breathe lightning bolts.”
“You do well with your astral alignment. Find ways to make that enhance every craft. Know where your stars are at all times. And you have folks looking out for you: all four Guardians, Mimio, Yord, Kenzo, the wizards and magicals from the Meadow,” he rubbed her shoulder, “and me.”
Lyra quickly scooted out from under the covers and slipped downstairs. In the moonlight, she located the book on mystical astronomy and her present for Yasqu. Back upstairs, she ran a hand over the text and package while quietly declaring, “Decresco!” She placed the reduced versions inside her magical box. Snuggling against Cullen’s body heat, she allowed the tingling of their combined inner fire to pass over her.
***
The overcast sky matched Lyra’s mood when they transported to the wide ledge outside the Imperial Alchemist’s laboratory. A shadow fell over her, and she immediately recoiled behind the edge of a boulder in the rockface.
“There’s no danger. It’s only Yasqu,” Cullen called to her, waving his arm in the air at the massive bronze dragon.
A cone of fire escaped the adolescent’s nostrils as he skipped to make landing on the ledge.
“Yasqu!” Lyra darted out, meeting him half way.
He lowered his big head, eyes blue with contentment, and nuzzled her side. His scales were now hardened to those of an adult, a metallic bronze with a shimmer of gold glowing underneath, perhaps the color of his aura.
She grabbed whatever she could and hugged, smiling ear-to-ear. “I’ve missed you.”
“Meeee too…mizzz you,” he replied with a slurring, deep voice.
Lyra stepped back. “You can talk now. You’re only five months old.” She patted his nose. “I brought you a Christmas present.” Producing her magic box, she withdrew and enlarged the gift for him. “Take the outside paper off and open the box.”
The corners of his mouth drew up, and he held the package in his foreclaws. He examined every angle before he opened it. With a single claw, he lifted his gift up to his face and rubbed the knitted wool over his nose. “Mmm. Soooft.”
She grinned and stepped closer. “Here, let me show you how to wear it. I made this just for you to go over your tail and keep you warm on cold nights.” Fashioned like a stocking cap, she fitted it up his tail to the point where his spines began.
He waggled his tail to one side and then the other, twisting his neck and head back to see it. Finally, he pulled it close along one side and, again, rubbed the fabric over his nose. “Warmmm…thank you.”
Cullen muffled a chuckle.
Suddenly, the Imperial Alchemist’s voice resonated from within the cove’s entryway. “Yasqu, I heard your voice. I strictly told you not to speak other than to me. People are not to know…” He appeared on the ledge. “Well, I can now surmise why you were addressing others. Scribe Adalyra, good day. Sire Drake.” He bowed to them, his graying black braid and purple gemstone pendants swinging out from his velvet winter robe.
Lyra shuddered as the sight of his necklaces, the type he and Symar used to send dark magic at her during the Solstice Festival. Also like the one Tarom wore when she and Cullen fought him in the lair of the Black Dragon. She made no motion to return his gesture and noticed the muscles of Cullen’s jaw clench. “Why is he not to speak?” she asked, stepping directly in front of the alchemist.
Cullen stood beside her and added, “He commands language easily six months before the most advanced dragon, blows a stream of fire rather than bolts of lightning expected for a bronze, and is twenty feet longer than normal for his age.”
Eburson’s lips curled. “I’m merely experimenting with an advancement in diet for young dragons to ascertain if we can achieve healthier defenders for the Alliance. The regime is secreted against spies of the Dark Realm.”
Lyra crossed her arms over her chest. If nothing else, today’s lesson would be a test of restraint.
“It seems unlikely you’d conduct an experiment on one appointed by the Imperial Dragon to serve on his High Council, but to your credit, he does look healthy,” Cullen responded.
Then Yasqu’s knit-covered tail wrapped around Lyra’s legs and gently drew her backward into his folded forelimb. His neck encircled her from the other side. Within moments his breathing changed into a soft humming, a rough version of the snoring sound he made while napping when a hatchling.
She stroked his stockinged tail.
Eburscon glared, speechless. His eyes narrowed as if he grasped the situation. “What is that hideous thing on his tail? Take it off at once.”
“He does seem to enjoy Lyra’s gift. What is the harm?” Cullen stepped between the alchemist and the others.
Eburscon gritted his teeth. “This dragon is expected to perform as a fierce leader, not a spineless, coddled follower.”
“Leaders need to know love to treat others fairly,” Lyra declared. “It’s to make him more comfortable while sleeping during the cold winter nights.”
“He is not to be sleeping now, so remove it from him. He has work to do and so do you. You are scheduled for my lesson today…if you are able to comprehend it. Sire Drake, I’d prefer if you allowed me a private session with my pupil.”
“That will not happen for any reason,” Cullen retorted.
The alchemist gave a haughty laugh, spun on his heel, and spoke over his shoulder. “Promptly follow inside when you have done as I requested. We have much to accomplish.”
Lyra patted the tail around her, while debating whether to comply.
“Wait.” Cullen held an open hand over Yasqu’s tail. “Ornatus opto! He will now be able to command it to go on and off.”
“Wonderful!” She directed the dragon, “Tell it to come off.”
He eyed his tail and grunted, “Off!” In a flash, the stocking slid down his tail and he picked it up with a foreclaw, holding it to his nose with a smile.
Lyra whispered to Cullen, “Why does he do that? Is his nose extra sensitive, like human babies who suckle everything?”
The wizard chuckled. “Yes, and he smells your scent imparted while you knitted. Remember, he bonded with you as a hatchling.”
“I keep making dragon friends. Seems good.” She smiled.
“It is at that. Let’s go inside.” He led her into the dark corridor, wide enough for Yasqu to follow into a gathering room. The stone walls were lit with iron torches, plainer than those in the Imperial Dragon’s lair. The floor was uncarpeted and damp. A moldy odor made Lyra grimace.
Cullen led her down another hallway, too narrow for a dragon.
Yasqu whimpered a bit. Lyra watched over her shoulder to see him lie down with his nose against his tail-warmer.
They walked into a large, dank room. An array of rotting, putrid odors assaulted Lyra.
Cullen sat at an old wooden library table off to one side, tapping his fingers impatiently. “So much for promptness. Our alchemist is tardy.”
Lyra turned around and examined the laboratory. Stone walls lined with dim backlit shelving displayed hundreds of glass jars filled with unusual contents. Matter in all shapes—liquid, powder, granular, crystalline, aggregate—in a
range of colors, even some that fluoresced like bodies of lightning bugs. Other bottles contained preserved living things, not unlike what she found in Cullen’s refrigerator: eyeballs, fish scales, bat heads, eggs, dried flowers, and seeds.
She stepped around a corner of one case and let out a yelp when her face came inches from the propped open jaws of an alligator. It and an assortment of frightening dead things hung by chains from the dark ceiling. Not far away a huge snake dangled by its neck, like a boa constrictor in shape, but white with black diamonds. Many other shadowy things were suspended in the darkness, but fright quelled her curiosity.
She walked to the central area, where a laboratory bench held an intricate system of flasks and glass tubing. Chandeliers lit the workspace with dozens of burning tapers.
“Do not touch anything!” Eburscon exclaimed in a shrill tone as he strode toward her. “You are here to listen unless encouraged otherwise. My first lecture will pertain to the alchemical composition of prima materia.” He waved a hand around the room. “In my laboratory are all types of substances: solid, liquid, gas, vegetable, animal, or mineral. Did you get a time to look around?”
She nodded.
“Good. What we call prima materia is only what we can cognize through our senses. It is but a label we utilize to designate what we can readily observe. However, in reality, each material and each of us is a unique and complex waveform that shares many of the same harmonics. All possess components of two opposite energies, passive and active, celestial salt and celestial niter, respectively. Similar to the sine wave of your world’s yin and yang. Is it possible you are acquainted with that concept?”
“Yes, I am. Yin is the female, more fluid and graceful, while yang is male, representing strength and power.”
“Surprising you are so knowledgeable,” he scoffed. “Continuing…the active energy of life, the niter, operates through the elements of fire and air. The passive celestial salt energies take forms of water and earth.”
“Like the four Guardians?”
“Yes, that is the fundamental principle of the arrangement of energy in the Alliance.” He scowled. “I will continue where I left off prior to your interruption. Water and earth are equated with the force of prana, vital energy carried by the air we breathe and the food we eat. A bridge exists between those water and earth elements of the material world to the high energy sulfurous world of fire and air elements—that is spirit. As all Scribes, you are governed by a fire sign, the most active energy, modulated by high amounts of sulfur, the principle of the soul. Therefore, your inner life force is vast. The power of your soul extends far beyond your body, into future generations, exactly how Brigid’s force of scribal fire extended into you—a rare and enviable inheritance.”
Lyra’s mouth dropped open. Much as she disliked this man, he did answer one of her biggest questions—how she inherited such a powerful magic aura and how she was selected before her birth to become the next Scribe. She also now understood why the Imperial Dragon kept this vile man as a member of his High Council; he possessed incredible knowledge.
He waved her to one end of the bench. “Here you see an alchemical inspissation taking place in this system, beginning in this alembric flask. Liquids are heated at the bottom of the flask, and vaporize into the upper tube where they condense before channeling into the long spout. This particular solvent has required months of preparation following the moon’s phases in to conduct specific procedures.”
Lyra inspected the liquid remaining in the original flask. Clear, like water, but probably not. She stepped along, following the connecting tubes and glass cylinders.
“The solvent is completing as I speak, and I might add, in a timely fashion for your visit. Your personal fire is so volatile, so unbalanced, you can easily suffer from impatience and unrest. I have repeatedly sensed that in your manner. Your soul unbalances those around you; Sire Drake’s predictory powers are limited in your presence. I assume you’ve noticed this.” The alchemist pointed his chin in Cullen’s direction to draw her attention.
Stunned to learn there was a chemical explanation for that problem, she stared at Cullen. She thought it had been the disorienting effects of love affecting Cullen. But now she wondered if love even existed in this strange world. Or was everything here merely a system of energies moving in and out of balance? Her head spun.
With a couple swift steps to the library table, Eburscon picked up a mug from the library table and returned to the bench. He placed the cup under the dropper end of the collecting tube and opened the stopcock. After a few tablespoons of the liquid dispensed, he handed her the sample. “This will mitigate your extreme sulfurous nature and calm your nerves. Sire Drake will also benefit, his full power restored. Drink it. I’ve spent months preparing it. Swirl it around first to activate the energies.”
His logic seemed convincing to Lyra. She twirled the bottom of the mug, watching the dark liquid spin. The circular motion seemed hypnotic. She fought against its pull, drawing her inner fire into her mind.
Cullen took hold of his staff, twisted it slightly, and spoke a conveyed thought to Lyra. Don’t drink it! Do not chance anything on my account. He isn’t to be trusted.
His first words shocked her from the mental hold. While she listened, her hand stopped moving. She looked into the mug, and in the still liquid floated tiny silver spheres, just like she created in a lab when she took chemistry. Shiny, metallic balls of deadly mercury!
Chapter Fourteen: The Fifth Power
Lyra assembled her inner fire into a unit, forcing her mind on a single purpose—to gain information. Working on a gut level, without advantage of training on whatever she intended, she initially sent out a mass so scattered that it passed invisible through the air. She directed it to return to her. She hoped Eburscon couldn’t notice. Blind hope, since she didn’t know his abilities. Her magic wafted through the room and around the alchemist.
He didn’t flinch. In fact, his face lit with a devious grin, lips curled high at the corners. “Go ahead, Lyra. It will help you,” he urged further.
She held her breath, wondering if he perceived her magic and remained stoic to convince her to drink the solvent. She waited for her magic to loop back to her. Those seconds were a sort of deadly poker game with the alchemist, reading every nuance in each other’s expressions. Perspiration broke along her hairline.
Finally, her magic arrived. Her heart raced as she pulled the energy from the perimeter of her skin into her mind. She assembled and analyzed every particle. He intended to kill her…for some reason to do with her scribal aura. That she read clearly. But why? Fragments of information about his motives were detached.
Cullen stood, obviously reading her mind since it was flooded with clear emotions. He shot her a mental reply. Continue with the lesson. He has already and will continue to teach you much that is very valuable, but you must outsmart the bastard. Do not let him see your fear. He will use it against you. Although dangerous, he is brilliant. That is why he has remained on the High Council. But, this evil from him is new. Remember Jean’s advice—keep a clear head, but follow your heart.
Lyra placed a hand on her forehead and coughed. “Sorry, I’m not used to the fumes in here. I need some air.” She slipped the mug casually onto the bench as she dashed out of the room, straight through the gathering chamber, and kept going until she reached the ledge. Her excuse was not much of a lie; she filled her lungs, glad to be alive.
Yasqu chased behind and wrapped his tail around her as she gasped for air. “Lyra huuurt?” He must have felt her trembling inside. His touch gave her comfort.
“I’m fine. Thank you.” She patted his tucked wing.
Cullen pulled up fast at her other side, put a hand on her shoulder, and twisted his staff with the other. A moment later, she heard his voice within her mind. Terrific first use of basic fascination on Eburscon in there! How did you do that without a lesson, after only reading a beginner’s text? I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t
read your thoughts. Incredible.
Fascination? Is that what she did? She turned mental pages of the textbooks in her mind, but came up with no answer. She acted from instinct, did what came naturally…backed with raw, intense need. A ray of hope—if only fascination was one of her gifts. She resigned to the fact throwing powerballs would never be a strength. Instead, she committed to mastering what worked. However, pressure from attackers seemed to force her to discover new abilities and then master them in the next breath.
“Well then, we shall proceed with our lesson out here since the atmosphere in my laboratory upsets your unusual balance.” The words preceded the alchemist, who strolled leisurely onto the ledge. Once he came near, he sneered at Lyra. “Unless you have had enough for one day.”
She studied his expression. Apparently, he didn’t like having his plan foiled, but then sneering was his normal countenance. Looking into his expressionless eyes, her heart thumped in her chest. What other ways did he have in mind to kill her? His face remained an insincere mask, inscrutable in this game of wits.
Yasqu jerked and snarled at Eburscon.
She cleared her throat. “Yes, please continue here.”
“My second topic will be on the creation of celestial dew. You may find occasion to use this process. Please step to this side of the entry where I am collecting samples of said chemical.” He motioned for her to follow him several paces along the ledge.
There, she found a row of half a dozen shallow bowls, at least two feet in diameter, resembling fancy bird baths.
“Celestial dew is condensed moisture with alchemical properties. It has a special purity when gathered under specific astrological auspices, imbued with corresponding properties of magic.” Eburscon leaned down and tilted one bowl. The surface of the water reflected a red color. “These are being gathered under your own birthmate starpower. I heard about your mystical astronomy lesson that you mastered with remarkable ease. As a test—what is your birth soulstar?”
Enchanted Bookstore Legends (5-book complete epic fantasy romance box set) Page 40