“What did she do on the second task?” Lyra asked.
“Something to help our present Imperial Dragon accept his position, but the entries were vague. What I did discover was an outcome of that quest unlocked more of her power, and she found additional uses for those stones. We can hope you are following a similar path.”
“Jade is an amazing stone, capable of storing much information, performing many functions,” Mimio added.
Lyra sat speechless. Images she saw in the augury pool replayed in her mind as she attempted to piece clues together. After a few minutes, she asked, “During our lessons, may I read some of those journals and focus on learning about the magic of jade?”
The sorceress nodded and gave her a warm smile.
The Tortoise stepped back to defer to his assistant. “Certainly. You are undertaking a dangerous task without protection of a high wizard. That concerns us greatly, and we’ll do anything in our power to aid you. You have had a troubling day. You need to rest now.”
Lyra leaned over the edge of the bed. “Thank you. That gives me useful knowledge.”
Mimio stepped closer. “Your body is desperate for sleep. Do you think your mind will settle? I’ll gladly promote your sleep, if you like.”
“My mind is spinning. I could use something to relax, but not a drug that would make me feel groggy in the morning.”
“No, just some magic with no side effects.”
Lyra nodded and lay back as the sorceress placed her hands over Lyra’s forehead. “Quiesco!” She recognized the sleeping charm Cullen used to quiet Noba and baby Yasqu at Aunt Jean’s. She longed to return there, where life seemed simpler. Thoughts of the love-filled cottage faded into a soothing blur as sleep claimed her.
***
Sunshine reflected off an angle in the stone wall outside and caught the mica specks in the interior granite walls. Their tiny room sparkled with hope and promise, but Lyra didn’t embrace those feelings. Much weighed on her shoulders.
She tossed off the cover of a fur hide and slid out of bed. The other bed was empty, but Mimio’s robe draped over the chair. In their bathroom, a basin of water, a bar of soap, and towels sat on a table. Beside, stood a wooden stool fitted with another basin, which seemed like a sort of antique toilet. She cleaned herself and conjured new clothing. She found her boots next to the bed.
The door opened, and Mimio walked in carrying a breakfast tray. “Good morning!”
“Thanks for bringing breakfast,” Lyra said as she laced her boots.
“Let me have a look at that cut.” The sorceress drew Lyra to the window. “There are still boils around the line. I’ll apply some liniment now. Where are you going today? Will I be able to treat you again?”
“I think I have lessons with either Cranewort or the Unicorn. I’m confused with all that’s happened.”
“Not a surprise.” She handed the jar of cream to Lyra. “Here, take this with you and reapply to that wound every couple hours until the blisters recede.”
Lyra accepted and also snatched up a muffin from the tray. Her stomach felt empty after missing two meals. She sat at the bedside table and wolfed it down, as well as a bowl of porridge and a few odd fruits she didn’t recognize. After taking a long draught of milk, she rose. “I’m going to meet with the Imperial Dragon. Thank you, Mimio. I’ll see you for a lesson soon.”
The sorceress bowed with a smile.
***
A different guard led her into the leader’s study.
The Head Guardian looked up from turning a geared instrument. “Hello, Adalyra. Did you manage some sleep?”
“Yes, Mimio helped with a charm.” She answered as she went to Cullen. She sank onto the stool at his side and drew his hand to her lips. She shook her head, unable to accept what had happened.
“Lyra, are you all right? Do I need to summon Mimio?” He drew closer.
“No. I’m fine. Really.” She tried to sound convincing.
“I think you need a day to deal with what has happened before you resume lessons. Where would you like to go? What comforts you, my dear?”
“I want to go to Aunt Jean’s cottage.” She choked the words out.
“That can be arranged.”
She nodded. “Thank you.” She slowly released Cullen’s hand and looked up at the leader. “I have a few questions first.”
He folded his front limbs across his chest. “Yes, please ask.”
“What about Eburscon? Who is the rider of the cimafa?”
“Hard questions. It’s possible Eburscon perished and his body dispersed, but more likely he saved himself. He’s shrewd. I’ll certainly instruct all sentries to be on watch for him. If found, he will be banished from the Alliance. The cimafa’s rider could be many persons. It’s plausible that is a Qumeli member gone astray since the moving hemline cloak is typical for adult males in the tribe. Watch has been increased to a continual state over their lands.”
She swallowed and straightened her posture. “Will they still seek me out for my aura since they have Cullen’s?”
“Yes, they will, perhaps more now because they are certain you have lost your protector. Although we will all work to safeguard you, you must be ever watchful, even in the human world. No place is safe.”
“And how do I take an aura from the Black Dragon’s heir and replace it into Cullen?”
“That is best directed to the teachers of your remaining lessons. I have requested those instructors adjust their curricula to address concepts you will need for those tasks.”
Lyra ran a hand along her forehead. “That is all I can think of now, but probably will need more answers before I leave on my quest.”
“Very well. I’ll summon Yord.” He left her alone in the room with Cullen.
She stood, leaned over, and kissed him, her tears slipping between their lips.
A snert sounded behind her, and she quickly wiped away her tears.
She turned to see Yord, head hung low as he witnessed her sadness.
“I’m ready whenever you are, Lady Lyra.”
“I’m ready now. I’d like to go to the portal outside the bookstore.”
“If you feel well, you may ride. Or I’ll gladly carry you. Please follow me outside.” He walked into the hallway.
The Imperial Dragon stood talking with his guard as she left. He paused and called to her, “Rest and restore yourself, Adalyra. Your lesson with the Unicorn is tomorrow at noon. Meet him at Sire Drake’s cabin.”
“Thank you.” She bowed low to the floor.
He gave a slight inclination of his head and waved her to depart.
On the rock ledge, Yord kneeled, waiting for her. Uncertain about what lay outside the lair, she opted to be carried in his claws. As they sailed high over the Steppe of Ora, the forests rose and then cleared at the Meadow of Peace. After they passed over the swamplands, trails converged at the Crossroads.
“Yord, please stop here. I want to talk with Cranewort,” she directed the dragon.
“Certainly.” He glided to a gentle landing in the middle of the junction.
As soon as he released her, Lyra gave a quick bow. “Thank you. I can walk to the portal from here.”
He returned the bow, but didn’t take flight. He remained, watching as she turned toward the Gatekeeper, his branches all extended to embrace Lyra.
She ran straight to the old tree, eager to feel those twig arms enfold her.
Chapter Seventeen: Desolate and Suspended
Lyra sputtered Cullen’s name a few times, trying to describe what happened to him.
Using his supple, newer twigs, the ancient tree drew her closer. “No need to speak, my little Adalyra. I saw it all with my clairvoyance.”
She let go and sobbed against his trunk for several minutes. Her throat swelled, and she gasped for air while uttering a desperate plea. “How…how do I go on…without him?”
“It will be hard, but you’ll find a way. I have faith in you, always did. And I know Sire Drake does
also.”
Lyra pulled back and stared at Cranewort’s craggy face gazing down at her from high on his trunk.
“When the cimafa attacked him, as it grabbed onto his outer aura his mind guard charm broke. In those seconds before the beast won, I read Sire Drake’s subconscious, focused on holding his inner aura, the part which houses his love for you. He prepared to give them his body, to die, but not to relinquish the part of his soul that connected to you.” The old tree’s thick bark lips quivered. “His last emotion was joy, when he intended to be whole again and see you.”
Lyra froze, not knowing whether to cry or smile. She treasured the gift of this secret knowledge. “I’m…” She looked down. “I never thought anyone would feel that way about me… trust me so much.”
“You underestimate yourself.” His twigs lifted her chin. “You’re an amazing woman. Sire Drake is very lucky and everyone knows that, especially him.”
“What if I can’t make him whole again?” Her eyebrows pushed together and her voice cracked.
“I believe in you. So does he. The Imperial Dragon, too, or he wouldn’t have assigned you a new quest into the Dark Realm without a protector.” A thin twig wrapped around the tip of her right index finger. “The bloodswear mark of the Alliance. I’ve heard Elisabeth bore one, the only Scribe entrusted with such responsibility, until you. In all my years, I’ve only seen two others. Sire Drake bears one underneath his dragon ring.”
Lyra’s eyes opened wide. “I didn’t know. What was he asked to do, if we’re allowed to talk about it?”
“Yes, we may talk once the bloodswear quest is completed. At one time, the Black Dragon and his council placed a dangerous curse upon the lair of the Imperial Dragon. It brought illness and suffering to all those who entered, the leader himself and his blue sentries. The curse had to be lifted to cure them. Sires Drake and Tarom were formally appointed to locate their counterparts in the other faction and follow any means to remove the black magic.” He raised a branch to scratch his upper trunk. “Which may surprise you since you fought Tarom, the present Dark Realm Alchemist, last summer in the Black Dragon’s lair.”
“Cullen told me Tarom trained here under Eburscon and left after a disagreement between them. And, I do remember Kenzo mentioned Cullen killed the dark sorcerer in a fight.”
“Yes, he did. The pair tried to force the opposition to remove the curse, but it became a death match. Thankfully, Sire Drake, at the request of our leader, studied arduously with the Tortoise before he left. Together, they poured over volumes of black magic. It came in handy when he utilized the craft to sever the last threads made by the curse worker’s inner aura. Upon his return, the Imperial Dragon awarded him the ring that covers his bloodswear scar, for his heroic service to the Alliance.”
She nodded. “What about Tarom?”
“He was also rewarded with the same style ring. But, the next day Eburscon challenged him, as you know—probably envious of his decoration.”
“What happened to Tarom once he left?”
“I don’t know. My gift only permits me to view members of the Alliance. He renounced his association.”
“Can you still see Eburscon? Is he alive?”
“I cannot, since he has been exiled by the Imperial Dragon. Be on guard wherever you go. Our lesson will be in two days time, as soon as you can arrive after dawn. Where will you be until then?”
“Today, I’m going to Aunt Jean’s cottage to rest. Tomorrow, I start the Unicorn’s lesson.”
“Ah, good idea. The loving reminders of your aunt will bolster your strength. Shall I signal for a guide from the nearby Meadow to accompany you on your walk?”
“No, thank you. I need to be alone for a while.”
Creaking and popping, he leaned his upper trunk into a bow, sending the white crane-like birds out of their roosts in his limbs. “Rest well, and I’ll see you soon, my dear.”
Lyra returned the bow and took the path leading toward the portal. The wind whipped dry leaves across the path and bit her face. She pulled up the hood of her magical cloak. The gray sky threatened snow. Ice-covered heads of the bell flowers bent low, as if the life was about to be snapped from them. She missed their gay, tinkling songs of summer. Although glad for the quiet to sort through the chaos of her thoughts, the bleak landscape made her even more sad and lonely.
A clatter of icicles hanging from the leaves of the jasmine-scented vines drew her attention to the trailhead leading toward Cullen’s cabin. She stopped at the intersection, straining to see down the path for a glimpse of the house and its happy memories. After a few steps under the vines, she made out the chimney top. She wondered if it would it be all right to go inside for a minute, or if the rider of the cimafa or Eburscon still watched for her there. She expected Cullen’s charms securing the cabin had dropped when his aura was stolen.
She hurried down the side path, her boots crunching frozen leaves. She looked from side to side, surveying for any movement. At the edge of the glade where the cabin sat, she stopped to listen. Only the soft whistle of the wind through the bare branches of tree tops greeted her. On the lake, waves crested into small whitecaps, gliding across to the shore nearest the cabin. Everything looked desolate, life suspended by winter, much like Cullen’s present state.
She darted across the clearing to the steps. Her foot slid on the ice, and she grabbed the railing to break her fall. She unlocked the bolt and stepped into the sitting room. That too seemed lifeless with such a chill in the air, she saw her breath. The stack of textbooks on the side table caught her attention, along with a few titles on fascination and dark magic from the bookcase. She shrank them all to fit within her magical box. With the cushions of Cullen’s favorite chair enveloping her in a friendly embrace, she latched his mother’s case and ran a finger over the intricate wood design.
The circular cut on her finger began to throb. Thinking it meant some danger from the Dark Realm approached,, she jumped to her feet and fumbled with unfastening her opal ring from the brooch at her throat. She slipped it on and raced up the stairs. One thing remained she wanted to get before she left.
There, draped on the back of a wooden chair hung was what she needed—Cullen’s sweater he wore Christmas day. She lifted it to her face and buried her nose in the soft wool, inhaling deeply. His scent—a woodsy citrus cologne mixed with his own musky, male odor—filled her nose and sent pleasant shivers along her skin. She tucked the garment under her cloak and bounded downstairs and out the door, taking time only to set the lock and apply the vanishing charm on her storage case.
Wings whooshed above the porch roof.
She stood still, her heart thumping in her chest.
Then she heard a scratching noise, like talons clawing thatch of the roof to locate a secure perch.
She barely breathed, trying to remain as quiet as possible.
Feathers hung over the eave, dark against the ash-colored sky. She considered locking herself in the cabin for protection. That would require stating the charm aloud to get the key again, giving whatever it was time to attack.
In the next instant, a face appeared hanging over the edge of the roof—Kenzo. She sighed in relief.
“Who’s there?” he demanded. The feathers on the back of his neck rose as he glared down at her.
“Kenzo! It’s me—Lyra.” she called up to him.
“Lyra? Where are you?”
“Oh, I forgot.” She slipped off her opal ring and became visible.
“There you are. How was your alchemy lesson?”
“Not good.” He didn’t seem to know about yesterday’s tragedies. She braced herself against the porch rail.
Before she continued, he piped up, “We all expected such since the Imperial Alchemist is such a likeable guy. Where’s Master?”
“Kenzo, please come down and take a perch.”
He dropped head first from the roof and whipped around to a graceful landing on the porch rail. Tucking in his wings, his ice-blue eyes open wide a
nd fixed on her.
“Eburscon set me up to be attacked by the rider of a cimafa. During a lightning storm, he and the rider attacked Cullen and Yasqu. The cimafa wanted to take my aura, but took Cullen’s instead.”
The owl’s eyes popped out even wider. “What? He’s dead? No!”
“No, they only took part of his aura. He held onto the portion in his heart. His life is maintained in the lair, but he doesn’t respond.” She held her breath and watched him carefully.
His eyes squinted. “Where were you during this fight?” he snapped.
“Yasqu shoved me under his belly to protect me while he fought.”
Kenzo’s face twisted and his beak gnashed. His talons cut through the paint on the railing to bare wood. “This can’t happen! Not to him.”
She took a step toward him, her hands out to comfort him. “I’m so sorry.”
He hopped away, farther along the rail, his huge eyes staring at her. “Why didn’t you help Master fight? You could’ve saved him.”
“I…” Tears streamed down her cheeks. Again, she held her arms open to him. “I’m sorry, Kenzo.”
He scooted farther from her and looked away.
Lyra fell to her knees on the frigid porch floorboards. “I’d give my life to save him,” she whispered.
He gave her a blank look, then unfolded his wings and took flight.
She watched him fly until the trunks blocked her view. His reaction sliced into her heart. She caused another friend enormous pain. She shuddered. Did those in the lair also blame her for Cullen’s injury?
Moments later, the scar on her finger throbbed again. She got to her feet and once off the slick steps, ran across the open glade into cover of the forest.
The whipping of wings flapping in the distance alarmed her. She took off at a run in the direction of the main trail, twisting and turning under limbs and vines overhanging the circuitous, narrow lake path. A twig hung down and stuck in her cloak, tearing into the fabric.
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