Sun streamed in through the bay windows and woke Lyra. She sat up quickly, her mind focused and determined, racing in ten directions. Holding her palms open, she stated, “Exorior pyus pyxidis!” The invisible box appeared, and she lifted out a miniature stack of books onto her lap. “Amplio!” The pile spilled over her legs.
Flipping through the volume on magical creatures, she slowed at the dragon section until the page on cimafa opened. She eagerly scanned the contents, but found no new information. Perhaps the Unicorn would know more and be able to answer her questions.
She reviewed the other types of dragons, particularly varieties of drakes that served as minions to the Black Dragon. In battles last summer, she witnessed magma and fire drakes aiding a green attacker. Those drakes, customarily acting as followers, formed the backbone of the Dark Realm’s army. The text told of three other evil types: ooze, with an acid attack; ice, having chaotic temperament and a deadly freezing touch; smoke, ruthless with a smoke breath weapon. The stealth drakes, or cimafa, were a variant of smoke drakes, the most fiercely independent and intelligent. Lyra recalled a group of ice drakes protecting the dark lair when they visited—fearsome blue-white, serpentine bodies. She shivered. Tarom supposedly trained them.
The thought of him guided her to pick up the basic fascination text. After a quick survey, she settled into the beginning. Without benefit of lessons on that craft, she needed to teach herself. She sank into the soft sheets and comforter with the volume propped next to her.
Eventually her growling stomach sent her to the kitchen with yet a different book in hand, this one for charms. She felt like one of her college students, cramming for an exam. While running through the list of incantations, she assembled breakfast and tried to commit the spells to memory. Looking over the edge of the page, held above her cereal bowl, she read nine o’clock on the wall clock—time to shower, mend her cloak, and go to today’s lesson.
On her way out the door, the flashing light on Jean’s answering machine caught Lyra’s attention. She pressed the play button and listened to the one message. “This is the Birch County Sheriff calling for Ms. Lyra McCauley. We have inspected the exterior of your aunt’s house and found no evidence of forced entry. We would like to continue our investigation in the interior of the home at your earliest convenience. Please give me a call back to set up a time.”
She didn’t need further investigation to convince her that Dragonspeir magic had been used to kill her aunt. Lyra hurried to her car.
***
Lyra refreshed Sheridan’s food and water before she said goodbye and headed toward the portal. Apprehensive, she scanned as far as she could see from the storage room side of the portal. The bookcases on either side limited her view. She stuck her head through and checked in all directions. The wind blew raw against her face. No life appeared anywhere, which was not a surprise with the weather.
She stepped fully through the portal. Her magical cloak kept her toasty warm where it covered. Exposed parts quickly grew numb as she trudged against the gales. She wished to conjure a hat and gloves, but couldn’t remember the new charm words while she hurried. She didn’t dare waste time and encourage another attack. The strong winds already made her journey slow-going. Despite that, she walked with renewed determination. Time at Aunt Jean’s cottage, in familiar surroundings, helped her sort out priorities and strengthen her resolve.
Lyra scanned the sky for dragons, but only saw the tree tops whipping wildly. The storm probably caused a real problem for flight, something to be glad about as far as the cimafa were concerned. She hoped Yord, a much larger blue dragon, would be steadier in the air, so he could transport her to the Unicorn.
She intended to stop and visit with Cranewort, but fighting the wind took more time than expected. The vines hiding the trailhead to Cullen’s cabin had lost their heavy icicles, now shattered over the frozen dirt path. She darted underneath the archway and moved along, working to keep near the center and avoid being swept into sharp branches and thorns. Snow began to fall, or, rather, hurl horizontally at her face. Around one more bend lay the lake clearing. She shielded her eyes with a hand.
In the glade, she found Yord already there, stooped near a large bonfire, his blue color nearly obscured by the driving flakes.
She scurried to him. “Hello. Can you fly in this wind?”
“Hello to you, Lady Adalyra. Quite the storm, but yes, I can, if we keep high enough. I made this for you.” He beckoned toward the fire with a forelimb. “The cabin won’t be comfortable, left unheated for several days. Take a few minutes to warm yourself before we depart.”
Lyra stepped close to the flames, ordinary in color, but magically maintained straight and steady. The blaze quickly warmed her. Remembering the bone-chilling ride she made with Yord when he saved her from Eburscon’s ledge, she conjured a hat, scarf, and gloves. Once she adjusted the scarf over her face, she said, “I’m ready now, if you are.”
“I am. We’ll course high and slow. I’m certain the Unicorn will understand if we are a bit tardy. How would you like to ride today, my lady?”
“Which method will keep me warmer and allow you to navigate best?”
“I suggest you ride on my back, and alter the shape of the spine anterior to your seat to deflect wind. I’ll likely need to move my forelimbs to fine tune my balance, so carrying you below will prove difficult.”
He crouched and laid one wing to the ground.
She stepped onto his wing tendon and hurled her leg across his back at a gap between spines to accommodate a rider. She took hold of the spine ahead of her. “Laxo contego!” It widened perpendicular to the row, like a dashboard she could duck behind or peer over.
In response, Yord’s back trembled slightly. “Are you ready?” He turned his long neck and looked at her.
“Yes! Ready!”
He rose higher onto his hind legs and took four wide steps, wingsails expanded, talons clawing at the rock-hard dirt for any available traction. They cleared the leafless forest canopy, undulating at the whim of whirling gales. Just above the tree line, turbulence became fierce. Winds bobbled his body, slapping down one wing and then the other.
Wind rushed into Lyra’s throat so fast she couldn’t breathe. She shut her eyes tight, but her face stung, pelted with ice particles. She was grateful for the spine shield that offered a little protection.
Yord extended his neck, and she felt the muscles of his back contract underneath her thighs. With a sudden downward push of his wings and a guttural growl, he lifted upward.
Her body pitched back. She clung to the edges of the spine and squeezed hard with her legs. Keeping her head low for protection while in this position proved tricky, but thankfully the sentry soon leveled his frame. They sailed, with only minor disturbance, through the upper wisps of clouds. She called to him, “I didn’t know dragons could reach this altitude.”
He glanced back. “Only a few can. It requires great strength.” He stretched his wings fully, more than fifty yards. The sun glinted off his iridescent cobalt scales, and they glided smoothly.
She felt honored by such an adept defender. Yord was magnificent for a blue. Lyra patted his flank and lifted her head high to enjoy the view of the terrain far below between thin spots in the clouds.
She located the Meadow, a vast clearing in the dense woods. It stood deserted on this cold day, but wind yanked smoke from the chimneys of hundreds of cabins tucked into small glades.
As they flew on, the canopy thickened into a dull, brown mat with trees unwilling to give up their dry leaves.
Eventually, the waters of the Sea of Cogadh appeared on the horizon. Whitecaps pounded the shore with considerably more force than those on Cullen’s lake. Along the northern boundary lay another stand of wood, strangely shrouded in mist. It seemed odd for mist to form with these fierce winds. Pinpricks of light flickered from within, hazy under the vaporous cover. She stared to determine a pattern, but none repeated from the same position.
Yord called back to her, “Secure yourself!” He descended into the turbulent zone again, heading toward the near shore.
Lyra grabbed onto the perpendicular spine and crouched, glad to descend. The altitude made her breathing shallow and rapid. She peeked around the edge. A gust threw off her hood. An icy blast hit her ears and made her teeth chatter.
A wispy cloud of the Unicorn’s silver aura surrounded him as he stood waiting. He raised his head and circled his horn in greeting. The sight of him warmed her.
The dragon’s talons dug into the black sand to slow their momentum. Under her legs, Lyra felt his shoulders rotate forward in their sockets, curving the wingsails to offer resistance. The sudden braking action bumped her several inches off her seat. She clamped hard with her knees.
After a few more pounding steps, Yord halted and reared his neck to release a long flame along with a fearsome roar.
Alarmed, she ducked lower and searched the sky.
A squadron of six fire drakes circled high.
“Are we in danger?” she asked.
“No. They are likely a scout collective sent to learn your location.” He settled his stomach onto the sand and tipped one wing down, depressing the shoulder.
Lyra lifted her opposite leg over and slid slowly down his side until her foot located the wing tendon.
“Greetings, Adalyra.” The Unicorn walked near and extended his horn for her to hold as she hopped onto the sand. “We have a long lesson today, one now much more critical given you have been bloodsworn to another quest.” His hoofs pounded the ground.
The bitter wind pierced Lyra’s clothing underneath her cloak, and she clutched it to cover the gaps. “Hello to you, Guardian of the Earth.” She bowed low, shivering.
“Rise and come closer, within the expanse of my aura. It will protect you from the storm.” He sighed. “If only Alliance Guardians could pass undetected into the Dark Realm, I would serve as your guide without reservation. Alas, no magic allows that. We’ve tried and failed through the ages. In my stead, I will do my utmost to teach you about both allies and enemies you may encounter along your journey.”
“I read sections of your assigned text on drakes and cimafa, but still have many questions.”
He nodded. “I’ll do my best to instruct you.” He turned to Yord. “You may depart. I will deliver our Scribe back to Sire Drake’s cabin.”
A puff of smoke erupted from the nostrils of the great blue as he swelled his chest, then bowed his head. “Yes, my Guardian. I’ll post watch there through the evening to keep her safe.” Yord extended his long neck closer to Lyra. “Until later, Lady Adalyra.”
She patted his jaw, careful to stay clear of the heat at his snout.
With a few wide steps and a forceful downstroke of his wings, he leaped into the air. The gusty winds unsettled his balance only once before he regained control. Within the quiet of the Unicorn’s wispy aura and distracted by her worries, Lyra forgot the storm still raged until she noticed Yord’s struggle.
Alone with the Guardian on the desolate shore, she wondered how he intended to teach the lesson at that location.
He touched her shoulder with his horn. “We have much to discuss and not enough time, so I will adjust how time passes. Trace your fingers along the spirals of my horn as you take a deep, slow breath. Maintain contact until one single breath is spent.”
Beginning at the tip, the coils were tight and narrow; her wrist revolved fast. Contact with his horn caused her ribcage to relax and fully expand. Inches closer to the base, the rings of his horn widened with age. With her breath full, she felt the fresh oxygen course through her vessels, like a gentle breeze. When she paused at full inhalation, her mind opened, ready to receive information. Exhaling, her pulse slowed. She had worked her way up his horn almost half way before her breath entirely left. Her arm dropped gently to her side.
“Well done. More than I expected. You have now slowed the passage of time where we stand to three-quarters the normal speed, so we may accomplish our task. Please remain within the expanse of my aura, or we will again need to reset time.”
Startled, Lyra lifted a hand to her mouth. “What sort of magic is that?”
“A modification of fascination. Your energy channeling through my horn allows me to alter the physics of time on a small scale. Usually, I can only add about five to ten percent, based upon the skill level of the cooperating wizard. You gave your power freely, with your own natural fascination skills. That enhanced the effect.”
“Do we have time enough for you to also teach me advanced fascination? I believe I have talent, but need instruction.”
“Alas, I cannot. I am not adept enough to instruct Sire Drake’s topic.”
An awkward silence passed between them.
The Unicorn cleared his throat and tipped his horn to the ground, drawing a line. Once he closed the irregular line, an image of a bird appeared in the space, in full detail and color.
Lyra kneeled. Before her, a picture of a large, white crane flapped in place, like watching a television screen. “I’ve seen this bird. They roost in Cranewort’s branches. And last summer, one came to take the dead body of one of our squirrel friends. Another brought me a gift, this opal ring.” She touched where it hung from the brooch at her neck.
“Correct. This crane is one of your few allies capable of traveling into the Dark Realm. As messengers for dead souls, they are protected and may pass unharmed through any part of Dragonspeir. Also, they can aid you as messengers from Cranewort. He will teach you more about that method.” He drew a mark through the image and it vanished. Then he traced another bird, this one smaller and red, like a kite with long tail feathers. “You should recall this species this as well.”
“I do. That was the companion of the Qumeli woman, Glisla, who guided us through Silva Nocens toward the lair of the Black Dragon.”
“And what of the bird?” He tipped his head, questioning her with his eyes.
“Very intelligent, followed her devious commands, acting like her scout. The colors were odd, like the gems Glisla wore, changing in different light from blue to red. I’ve not seen another. Is that the only one?”
“No, these carmine-tinged crool are trained by the nomadic Qumeli tribe for the purpose you described. They are intended to scout fresh grazing land for the tribes’ herds. But, use care if you spot them; they are spies nonetheless.” Again, he crossed out the figure and created another. “One more bird.” The new image appeared black, slightly larger than the crool. It turned and vanished, even though background branches remained. “These are avril, spotters for the Black Dragon. Wicked black birds that lurk in shadows, but capable of stealth in sunlight.”
“I’ve not seen one.” Lyra leaned closer when the background darkened and the bird reappeared.
“They are few in numbers, perhaps half a dozen or less. If you see one, find cover and form a ward, or they will sample your aura and take it back to the lair, enabling his drakes to find you with greater ease.”
Lyra kicked a small rock with the toe of her boot as she imagined steps she would need to take to create a ward while faced with that danger.
“Those are the three most important birds that travel in the Dark Realm you must know. Many others exist, but pose less threat or aid. Now, let us proceed to survey dragon-like creatures who may bring harm. Describe what types you encountered during your first quest.”
“Glisla set us up for an ambush by a band of three half-dragon men, each different in the shape of their upper bodies. One a handsome human torso, another a scaly, reptile-like bird, and the third was slimy, almost skinless. Each incredibly strong.”
“Those are various types of dracura. Numerous varieties exist from inbreeding, but all possess the characteristic lower body of a dragon, with or without wings. And they all have a keen sense of smell that they use to hunt prey and enemies. Move downwind of them for safety.” He illustrated examples of different forms, each more gruesome than the last.
&nbs
p; Then, he sketched a circle of various drakes. “Along with green dragons, elemental drakes of fire, smoke, magma, ooze, and ice are the minions of the Black Dragon.” He related information Lyra read earlier in her text.
She waited as patiently as she could while he repeated what she already knew, but eventually blurted out, “What about cimafa? Aren’t they drakes too?”
“Yes, a variant species of smoke drakes. Their genetics were manipulated by a previous Dark Alchemist, yielding a highly unusual stealth capability. This is unlike the avril birds who merely vanish. These drakes were designed to hide their enormous auras, making fierce, surprise attacks possible.”
Encouraged by his knowledge, she continued, “I’ve heard a rider may control them if he forfeits a piece of his own aura to the beast. Is that true?”
“Yes, in part. The intended outcome is for the cimafa to gather the aura of prey and share with his rider, strengthening both. Therefore, they pose a serious threat to our wizards. Our blue patrols are trained and maintain watch for the few observable signs of their presence—the unmistakable shrill screech and fiery eyes.”
“Can they be controlled any other way?”
“There is much speculation about that. Actually, such an extreme predator, with the independent nature of smoke drake lineage, proved difficult for the Black Dragon and his council to utilize for their intentions. He has only managed to keep a handful. The only answer I can give is that the degree of control varies with the individual temperament of the beast.”
“Since they were created by alchemical means, is it possible the cimafa can be controlled that way?”
“I’ve pondered that very question of late myself, given the horrible encounter with Eburscon. I do think it may be likely.” He turned around and crossed out each drake.
“I have one more question about cimafa.”
“Certainly. Please ask.”
“How do you manipulate the aura of a dragon, take out all or part of it?”
His head jerked to face her. “That requires the skill of a master wizard.” He pounded the ground with his front hoofs and shook his head. He looked at her directly and spoke slowly, as though each word hurt him to say aloud. “You use fascination. After physically subduing the dragon, you must channel your entire power into his or her mind, search through all recesses to identify the fragments desired, and surround those with your aura. The most difficult part is withdrawing the huge combined power; it requires the utmost mastery of fascination.”
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