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

by Marsha A. Moore

  ***

  “Lyra! Wake up. Lyra,” a woman’s voice urged.

  She opened her eyes to see a hazy face of a lady with silver hair tied up in a wide scarf. “Mimio. Where am I? Where is Cullen?”

  “You’re both in the Imperial Dragon’s lair.” The sorceress’s hands worked up and down her limbs, spreading warmth like Cullen did during his massages. “Sire Drake is with the leader.”

  Lyra jerked her head up and struggled to lift her torso against the weight of layers of fur skins. “I need to see them.”

  “Stand slowly and hold the table for a bit.”

  Not heeding her warning, Lyra planted both feet on the ground and started to walk. Her legs buckled, and Mimio caught her by the armpits.

  “Your circulation is still adjusting.” She eased her back to the table and helped her perch on the edge. “Stay here until your head clears. It should only take a minute.”

  “I don’t have another minute,” Lyra snapped. “Let me lean on you to walk. I have to see the Imperial Dragon right away.” She didn’t wait for Mimio to answer and rested a hand on top of the sorceress’s shoulder, bracing a few steps.

  The older woman laughed. “At least you’re wise enough to take your healer along.”

  Lyra did feel queasy and needed some support, but didn’t allow that to slow her down. After reaching the hallway, she got her bearings and steered them down the corridor toward the entrance to the Imperial Dragon’s study. She made a slight bow of her head to the usual blue dragon guard, then demanded, “I must speak with the leader now.”

  He raised his snout and blew a tiny puff of smoke. “Follow me.” He pivoted on one foot and swept his tail wide behind him, forcing her to keep a distance.

  Once inside the chamber, she moved away from his grand tail, dropped her hold on Mimio, and squeezed past the guard to stand directly in front of the golden leader. He towered above the blue, double in size.

  “Thank you, Dern. That is enough. You may leave us. And my dear Mimio, will you leave us as well?” The Head Guardian nodded toward the door. His manner appeared calm, yet his scales rose at their edges and eyes glowed vibrant red.

  Lyra sensed his tension. She looked around the room and noticed Cullen lay upon a bed in a corner, softened with thick, fur hides. As soon as the heavy wooden doors shut, she began, “Your Highness, I need your help. Cullen is gravely injured. He and Yasqu were in battle against Eburscon and a cimafa directed by a cloaked rider. Eburscon said they intended to steal my aura, but settled for Cullen’s instead.”

  The dragon’s gigantic tail struck the stone floor with a strong thud, shaking the instruments around the room. “Eburscon! I should have listened to Sire Drake centuries ago. I knew the alchemist was high-strung and difficult, especially with those of near equal skill. But, he maintained impeccable respect toward me.” He fought to smother sparks emitting from his nostrils. “While Mimio treated you, I examined Sire Drake and stabilized his body functions, but only had time to determine his aura has been tampered with. Stealing this significant portion of such a large aura requires immense capability in magic craft. Tell me more of what you know.”

  “I can feel some of his inner fire, but I can’t call it out. Eburscon said Cullen’s heart aura remained because I was able to channel my power through Cullen’s staff while touching him.”

  “I see.” His eyes narrowed and he lowered his head. “Adalyra, please sit down. This will be difficult.”

  She seated herself on a leather stool beside Cullen’s bed and took his hand.

  “You used the word grave wisely. We can stabilize and maintain Sire Drake’s physical body, but his mind will not function without his complete aura. I’m touched that his heart aura remains, that you can still feel his love for you. He held onto your love with his very life. That is admirable.”

  Lyra glanced at Cullen’s suspended features, and tears streamed from her eyes. Choking, she begged, “What can I do to bring him back? I have so much potential power everyone seems to want. Is there some way? Please guide me.”

  “There is a way, but it’s extremely dangerous. It is a quest more perilous than your first, and this time you will be without Sire Drake’s guidance.” The dragon looked her in the eyes, then paced the floor.

  “Couldn’t Mimio go along?” she asked eagerly.

  He shook his head. “No, while she is an advanced healer and our expert in mineralogy, she is weak in defensive skills and would likely present a hazard as much as an aid.”

  “The Unicorn or Phoenix?”

  “Their presence within the Dark Realm would instigate an immediate war between the two factions. I cannot allow that; thousands of lives would be lost.” A burst of fiery smoke blew out with his deep sigh and he faced her. His iris color changed to a worried yellow. “One of my most arduous tasks as a leader is to make decisions about whether beings in my care will live or perish. It is agonizing for me to choose which life to put in jeopardy, yours or Sire Drake’s. Certainly, he will perish if left this way for an extended time. It is not certain you will die while completing a mission alone. You have advanced much through your training and experience and have a real chance at success, despite serious risks.”

  Lyra sprang to her feet. “I was prepared to give my life for him to complete the first quest, to save Dragonspeir so he could live. My life is empty without him. I will take any risk.” She stood tall and looked up at the Imperial Dragon. “Tell me what I need to do. I will find a way.”

  “Before I tell you, I want your promise, a formal bloodswear, that you will complete your assigned series of lessons before you begin and then accept the orders of the quest to your fullest ability.” He resumed pacing across the floor. “Sire Drake is safe here and in a stable state, at least for the short term. Although time is short to prevent permanent damage, there is no need for rash urgency. You have three remaining essential lessons with the Unicorn, Cranewort,and the Tortoise. These will each give you information or skills to enable your safety on the quest. If there is time, Mimio will instruct about mineralogy.”

  Lyra felt impatience surging through her veins.

  He stopped and, again, set his eyes upon her. She felt a twitching sensation, as though he was attempting fascination. “Sire Drake’s mind guard spell upon you has broken. I read your thoughts, but please tell me your words.”

  She swallowed and squirmed in her seat. He held the cards, making her promise before she knew the job. But, he was the ruler of the Alliance. She touched Cullen’s forearm. He trusted this leader for nearly two hundred years. Shouldn’t she?

  “All right, I agree, if I may use your air instruments to prepare me.”

  “Yes, of course those are at your disposal, and I expect you to utilize them. Let us conduct the bloodswear ceremony now to bind our agreement. For this we will use one of those instruments, the Lacuna Ales.” From a shelf in one of the dozens of cases lining the walls, he took an ornate gold and sapphire encrusted dagger and a plain crockery jar. After scooting the lid off with his talons, he dipped the tip of the dagger into what appeared to be white lineament. “I will need drops of blood from each of the three of us, the only beings bound by dire need to complete this quest. Our blood will be dropped into the swirling mist of the gazing bowl. I’ll go first to demonstrate.”

  With the tip of the blade, he sliced between the pads of his talons and let a single drop fall into the basin. Then he dipped the tip into the cleaning crock and handed the knife to Lyra.

  In her hand, the gems of the hilt sparkled, radiating light onto the walls of the chamber. The blade gleamed and tempted her to touch it. She ran a finger along the side, and it sang a mournful note that echoed off the masonry.

  “It calls to the powers of a Scribe,” the golden ruler observed. “As acceptor of the bloodswear, please add three drops.”

  Watching the leader, she worried cutting herself would be difficult. But the blade encouraged her to pass a fingertip along its sharp edge. Red oozed from the thi
n line, and Lyra held it above the Lacuna Ales for the drops to fall. “Three drops, one for each of my goals—to save Cullen’s life, find a way for us to live in one world, and to learn who killed my aunt.”

  The Imperial Dragon nodded. “Well done. Now do you want to gather some blood from Sire Drake’s finger or should I?”

  “I will.” She recleaned the knife and brought its edge to the tip of his thumb. Her hand shook uncontrollably. She leaned against the edge of his bed and steadied her knife hand with the other around her wrist.

  The Head Guardian held a small glass plate under Cullen’s hand.

  Finally, she made a small cut, no longer than a quarter inch. A single drop fell.

  “Treat your and his wounds with some salve.”

  “Your quest is a single assignment that, I believe, will further two, if not all, of your goals. The Black Dragon is aging, as am I. He will transfer power to a new ruler in the coming decades. You must go into the Dark Realm and kill the sole male heir to the rule of the Black Dragon. In saving the Alliance from this threat of continued evil, you will be granted powers of the bloodsworn. This will unlock a vast new level of your scribal powers. Completing your sorcery studies, you will gain the next bookmark a Scribe may earn. Both will help you and Sire Drake become more alike in magical ability and level of mortality and, therefore, reach toward your goal of enjoying a common life. It is my surmisal his missing aura has been given to the young heir to increase his power. Your lessons will prepare you to extract the stolen aura.”

  He allowed the drop of Cullen’s blood to slide off the plate into the churning cloud.

  Lyra’s thoughts spun. She wanted desperately to sit and bolster herself against a host of new fears. But the Lacuna Ales was set in motion, waiting for her.

  Chapter Sixteen: The Bloodswear

  “Lyra, this is your bloodswear. Cast your promise into the Lacuna Ales.” The Imperial Dragon stood back.

  Lyra stepped up to the marble pedestal. She stared into the wide, earthenware basin. The blood had collected into a mass at the bottom of the clear liquid. She cautiously extended her uncut index finger from her right hand and touched the surface. As before, it surprised her, feeling like air rather than liquid. In response, the droplets danced wildly.

  Tracing a slow, circular path, the charmed water transformed into wisps of vapor carrying the same fragrance as before—roses. When the spell tickled her nose, she inhaled deeply and her mind connected with the swirling steam. “I bloodswear to complete my course of sorcery training before I seek out the heir to the ruler of the Dark Realm and…” her voice faltered. “…kill him.”

  The gases responded, twirling the blood to form a line surrounding her finger.

  “Ow!” Lyra yelped, but kept her finger steady. A deep scratch traced around the digit. Silently, she posed the question she wanted answered more than any other. Pool of Augury, please tell me if Cullen will be restored. Her back ached and her legs shook from the effort required to maintain concentration and keep her hand steady in the basin. She knew if she wavered, the images wouldn’t be sharp. Meditating on that single request, sweat dampened her hairline. Her legs swayed beneath her. She struggled to hold on for the answer.

  The center of the pool resettled into liquid. The surface served as a screen, showing filmy reflections.

  Perspiration ran down her face while she focused on her question.

  Like before, the vision cleared into a sort of slow-action film. Cullen lay in this room as he did now, his face fixed and pale. She saw herself approach the side of the bed with her palm extended, holding a jadestone brooch.

  She leaned farther over the pool. Needles of pain shot through her knees and hips.

  The jade glowed with a luminous pale green light she had never seen before. The image of herself touched the stone to Cullen’s hand.

  A flash of light shining off the image of the jadestone brooch shot up from the pool’s surface and blinded her. She let go and covered her eyes, wavering backward. When her eyes adjusted, she looked again into the basin, but the surface lay clear. “It’s no use. The pool won’t let me see what I want to know most. Why can’t I view the rest?” Her cut finger seeped blood and she wiped it on her skirt, caring nothing about her appearance.

  “I cannot say. There is a good reason for every reading it gives.”

  “At least the vision showed me I will return with his aura.”

  “We cannot conjecture that much either. Take the image literally and no more, or you may carry false hope. One other matter—stay safer by keeping the nature of your quest secreted to prevent information from reaching the Dark Realm ahead of you.”

  “What about Eburscon? Is he alive? Could he have escaped that boulder? Who do you think is the rider of the cimafa?” Her body shook as questions poured out.

  “These queries are all good, but will wait until tomorrow when we talk again.” He opened a wing in the direction of the door. “For now you must rest.”

  “Wait. The reading made me think of something I must do.” Lyra perched on the edge of the bed beside her incapacitated lover. She unfastened her brooch and withdrew the magic cloak from him. Underneath he still wore his own cloak and jadestone pin. She turned the stone inward, touching the skin at the base of his throat and then did the same with her own.

  Cullen’s neck moved slightly as he inhaled and better contacted the stone. His next breath came fuller, pressing harder against the jade. Checking his face, his expression remained fixed.

  Lyra smiled, warmed at how his heart fire reacted to hers, if only through reflexes. “I’m ready now.” She followed the Imperial Dragon down the corridor toward her guest chamber.

  Along the way, they met the Tortoise, and he bowed his large, wrinkled head to the golden dragon. “May I have a word with the Scribe along with Mimio?”

  The leader nodded. “Follow.”

  Light from the setting sun streamed in through the tall window, illuminating Mimio’s long, silvery hair as she sat in a sable upholstered chair. She jumped to her feet when she noticed them enter. “Lyra, what happened? You look so tired.”

  “Too much magic in one day,” Lyra replied as she sat on one of the two twin beds in the small room the women shared.

  “She needs some treatment for her hands, but otherwise, rest is in order,” the Head Guardian directed the sorceress and turned to face the Tortoise, who lumbered beside the bed. “Your assistant will be needed here indefinitely to maintain Sire Drake’s health. You’re welcome to conduct more of your work from my lair.”

  “I understand. She is our best healer, next to Sire Drake. I will gladly serve the Alliance from here. It will give me good reason to spend additional time organizing my library here.”

  “Lyra, I know you’ve had a difficult day, but both you and Sire Drake are safe. Rest now.” The leader turned and left them alone.

  Mimio glanced at Lyra’s bloody hand and shook her head. “How did you get injured in company of the Imperial Dragon?”

  Since her quest was confidential, Lyra didn’t know how to answer. Instead, she settled into the bed, similar to the one they made up for Cullen, covered in hides with soft fur. It reminded her of polar bear fur, thick and luxurious, except it was camel-colored. She couldn’t imagine what sort of animal it came from. Surely a herd animal since a predator would probably be of a higher order and protected.

  The sorceress lit nearby wall sconces and a candelabra on the side table before she took Lyra’s hand between hers. “What’s this?” she questioned, touching the circular cut made by the ring of blood during the promise ceremony. “Acts like a bloodswear laceration since it defies my healing.” She shot questioning glances at Lyra and the Tortoise.

  The magical symbols on the thick plates of the Water Guardian’s shell shone bright white in the candlelight. He extended his craggy neck and stiffly lifted his stumpy front feet onto the edge of the bed for a better view of the wound. The laceration raised, a row of bubbles tormenting the skin
. He winced at the sight, which seemed odd to Lyra since it only looked like an infected scratch.

  Not caring about the condition of her finger, Lyra lay her head back onto the pillow to avoid their gazes. She wanted to spill her story to Mimio. Lyra needed a friend, but she had to assume the leader didn’t want the sorceress to know because he sent her out of the study. Lyra’s mind ached with grief and fear. It all seemed unreal, like a nightmare, and Cullen would walk in with a smile any minute. Every time footsteps clapped along the hall, she turned to see if he might open the door.

  Mimio placed a leather pack on the heavy wooden side table next to the bed. She rummaged inside and pulled out a jar similar to the one in the study beside the knife. “This special herbal liniment will keep down infection on that bloodswear mark, but, alas, the line will remain as a permanent scar to remind you of your promise…and the danger.” She dabbed cream around the base of Lyra’s index finger. “Something will work for you and Sire Drake. I know.”

  Lyra lifted her head. “How do you know?”

  “I never told you about those paired lovers’ jadestones. That set is the only one in existence.” She nodded to the Water Guardian.

  The Tortoise craned his neck closer to them. “When I did some research preparing for my lesson on Dragonspeir history for you, I learned a curious fact. Those jadestones were last owned by the first scribe, Elisabeth, and her lover.”

  At the mention of that name, Lyra sat upright.

  “I already knew Elisabeth faced similar conflicts and difficulties when completing her quest because she loved a member of Dragonspeir. I read stacks of old journals kept by former Guardians, high wizards, and alchemists. You share much in common with her. You alone rival her in power, far exceeding the three Scribes between. One similarity I just now pieced together.” He paused for a deep breath and continued with a hushed voice. “You have just performed a bloodswear. That is obvious from the wound on your finger. No one is permitted to know what you promised, but I conjecture such a formal promise would only be necessary if you are about to begin a second quest. Of all previous Scribes, only Elisabeth followed another mission for the Alliance after she wrote her magical volume, the first Book of Dragonspeir.”