While settling on the flat pillow, Lyra nodded. “Thank you both.” She fixed her eyes on him, not wanting to miss a word.
One-by-one, he rested the bottoms of his two ponderous front feet on the table edge and extended his neck to address her at eye level. “I’m certain you want to learn more about Elisabeth’s second task for the Alliance.”
“Yes, I do. Cranewort told me she was also bloodsworn.”
“That is true. You and she have been the only Scribes to receive that mark of highest dedication.”
“I’ve heard there are other similarities. Like me, she also fell in love with an Alliance member and our powers are alike.”
“Again, correct. Let me expand on those from what my records reveal.” He bent his face low and rifled through a series of brittle parchments, loosely bound by a frayed cloth binding. “This is the official journal of the Imperial Dragon of that day, two generations removed from our current golden leader. Here on this page he stated,
The Imperial High Council bade safe departure to our Scribe, Elisabeth Walsh and her specialis, Sire Lann Garrett, the Imperial Alchemist, as they took leave this day out of our peaceful realm into the malevolent lands. Each accepted the marks of highest distinction of duty—the bloodswear circlets upon their index fingers. Let it be known, it is the principle intent and hope of this council they will be met with success and return unharmed.”
“What is a specialis? I don’t know that word,” Lyra asked.
“It is our word for an intimate friend.”
Lyra leaned forward. “What did they have to do?”
“For days I’ve made an exhaustive search for that very answer, but I only know what has been passed unreliably, word-of-mouth. The source is also questionable, a Qumeli sibyl. She told me Elisabeth and Sire Garrett were sent to destroy the Emtori ruby of the Black Dragon at that time, which he used to magnify his powers.”
“Did they…did they survive?” Lyra stammered as she shook her arm to squelch a tremor.
He cleared his throat and turned the yellowed pages to a bookmark. “In the same journal, dated three weeks later, an entry reads:
It is with extreme sadness I enter this report. Our Scribe returned today from her assigned quest. Her success on the mission brings continued peace to the Alliance—the Emtori ruby is no longer in possession of the Black Dragon Lord. But, this good fortune is countered by the loss of our Imperial Alchemist, Sire Garrett. Both her heart and ours are broken. The good tidings of her completed task received no celebration other than a solemn presentation of the customary dragon ring to seal her bloodswear mark.”
Lyra’s throat swelled into a painful lump. “What happened to her after that? Does it say?”
“It does.” He looked up at her over the rim of his glasses, wrinkles of concern cutting deeper into his face. He studied her and then continued, “After she recorded her mission in detail, she declared her intention to leave Dragonspeir forever, to forsake her magic and live a mortal life.”
“What about her Book of Dragonspeir, her bloodswear quest document, or her notes? Do any of those exist?” Lyra leaned over the table, her palms leaving trails of sweat as she slid them across the surface. “I’d really like to read them.”
Keeping his eyes down, he answered, “I’m afraid not. Most documents of that period were lost due to fire. We don’t even have her Book of Dragonspeir. Only these few entries remain. Remember, those writings were made eight hundred years ago. Time has allowed them many chances to be lost and destroyed. But, since my assistant is currently stationed here in the lair, I will apply my additional research time to your question.”
Then, he looked her directly in the eyes. “I’m so sorry. I realize you want to know more. I’ve searched for months, ever since you completed the first quest. Your love for Sire Drake…the magic of it…how it uplifted everyone in the Alliance…compelled me to do all I could to find clues to help you both.”
Sensing his worry, Lyra fidgeted with her hands.
Mimio’s soft arms embraced her. “I know you’re scared, but those quests were different. You must believe and be brave.” Her voice was strong and encouraging.
Lyra surrendered her concerns to the sorceress. Or rather, Mimio used her magic to draw them out of her. Lyra pulled away, feeling renewed. “How does knowing Elisabeth’s sad story help me?”
The Tortoise stepped his feet along the table edge, closer to the two women. “The last entry about Elisabeth I think you will want to know. Written after her final departure:
We of the Alliance bade a sorrowful goodbye to our Scribe, Elisabeth. Numerous gifts were bestowed upon her by many who loved her. Yet, as per her customary manner, she left us with the greatest gift of all—news she carried the child of our departed Sire Garrett. We rejoiced that their legacy would continue into future generations, the magic would endure for the good of the Alliance. Elisabeth promised to encourage her gifted descendants to aid our Alliance and, in return, asked that our stars allow one to have a destiny embracing the happiness she sought.”
Lyra blinked. “Is that me?”
“It may very well be. That is our greatest hope.” He rubbed the dry scales of his foot against her hand. “I have shared all I know about her second quest.” He paused for a breath and then continued. “Unfortunately, we Guardians agreed that Mimio’s lesson in mineralogy must wait since time is short for you to begin your quest in order to best restore Sire Drake.”
Lyra straightened her posture and looked at Mimio. “May we talk just a while about the properties of the jadestones?”
Mimio smiled and turned to the Tortoise, raising her eyebrows.
“Of course we have time for that,” he replied and nodded to his assistant.
The sorceress took a seat on the other side of Lyra. “Like I said before, jade is capable of many magical operations. Its primary function is to be the concentrated essence of love, embodying a sample of the actual love between a couple. It can be called upon to aid the pair when troubled or in danger, reflecting the exact quality of their love. With application of higher power from the user, jade will also store large amounts of information.”
“I learned something of interest on this topic.” The Tortoise cleared his throat. “That particular pair of gems, belonging to you and Sire Drake, was mined in the underground world of Terza. One of the journal entries indicated Elisabeth was given the matched set when she visited there.”
“Why was she there?” Lyra asked.
“I don’t have that information, other than it was part of her second quest. Again, I will search for your answer.”
Mimio placed her hand over Lyra’s and continued. “Being paired or bonded, those jadestones have special properties. You have certainly witnessed how they call to each other. Also, those brooches can only be given as gifts to a loved one. If stolen or found, their magic will not function. That is what I know about those gems.”
“Thank you.” Lyra nodded to the sorceress. “That information does help, and I’ll be eager to learn whatever you uncover from the journals, Guardian Tortoise.”
“You’re most welcome, Lyra.” Mimio squeezed her shoulder.
Moving to the opposite end of the table, the Tortoise nodded to a large map. “Here is a diagram of Dragonspeir. You can see the two realms and much surrounding neutral territory, with largely uninhabitable climate or geography. You may find need to use limited portions of those areas to approach the dark land without detection. The main paths will be heavily guarded.” He pushed a scroll nearer to her. “This is the same, only smaller for your journey. The stack of maps on the corner of the table contains various other views you may review and take along. The rest of this day is yours, to study here in my library, or that belonging to the Imperial Dragon.”
Mimio rose from her cushion. “This evening the Guardians will host a meal in your honor. Under cover of pre-dawn darkness, Yord alone will transport you to whatever Alliance boundary you wish. Spend time considering a potential rout
e. The Tortoise and I will be pleased to assist you, and all other Guardians are on hand as well.”
Lyra stared at the map, fixing its shapes in her mind. She traced the border of the Dark Realm, looking for a good entry point, then paused on the foggy forest she saw at the edge of the Sea of Cogadh. That region shared a boundary with Silva Nocens. If she traveled through the neutral forest, her route to the Black Dragon’s lair would be shorter and hopefully safer. The forest of Silva Caliga. Her mind traveled to the lights flashing through the mist, and the angelic song called to her.
“Silva Caliga,” a deep voice spoke over her shoulder, and the saffron scent of the Imperial Dragon filled the air.
Lyra looked back to see the massive form of the Imperial Dragon above her. “Is it a good choice? I noticed it when I had my lesson with the Unicorn.”
“Ah. If it called to you, then it means either you will pass easily, as a kindred spirit, or the creatures possess affinity to lure you in for their gain.”
“Is there a way to know for sure?”
“There is none until you enter.”
Searching for an answer, Lyra looked from him to the region on the map and back again. Her confusion only mounted. Unable to concentrate any longer, she stood. “I can’t think. I need to see Cullen. May I go into your library?”
“Of course you may. And feel free to utilize the instruments we studied. I’ll be along shortly, in case you have any questions.”
She gave a slight bow and headed for the hallway, feeling disoriented and ill-at-ease from mounting stress. She walked into the hallway, following the noise of greater activity to guide her to the main corridor. There, she easily located the correct door with the familiar, grumpy guard stationed outside.
He gave a stiff bow and his usual smirk, grudgingly allowing her to pass.
Inside the chamber, Cullen lay as he did before. When Lyra drew nearer, it appeared his chest rose slightly higher. Did she imagine the change? She took his hand into hers. His skin was warm and alive, yet he remained motionless. A knot swelled in her throat. “Cullen, can you hear me? Please, please show me a sign,” she pleaded. After watching him for several minutes, hoping to see some change, she dropped her forehead to their hands. “I promise you, with my life, I will return and make you whole again.”
She lifted her face and through the watery film covering her eyes, she saw the jadestone at his neck emit a faint, green glow, almost imperceptible, but real. A sign—he heard! Her lips drew into a wide smile.
Lyra strode with purpose across the room to consult the Spheres of Sidus in the Imperial Dragon’s observatory.
The late afternoon sun gleamed off the polished carvings on the table legs. The four croquet-sized balls were arranged in the center of the felt top. The single moonstone, the utopian rondure, shone with a bright inner light. She moved them apart and began to focus on the easier of her two questions.
She reviewed how to use the instrument: the darkest ball must be placed in the position of the birth star of the maternal ancestor from a generation preceding the question; the gray, for the generation living during the time of the query; the white, for the following generation; the moonstone, for the one asking the question.
She moved the spheres into positions corresponding to the correct stars, as she had been taught.
Lyra took a deep breath, pulled inner fire from deep inside her and channeled it into her touch. Her mind held steady on discovering who killed Aunt Jean. One-by-one, her hands contacted the spheres—black, gray, white.
Then she placed the moonstone, for herself as the owner of the question. Her fingers shook when feeling its smooth surface. Immediately, a rainbow of light surged from between her fingertips. The refracted colors twirled above the table, then joined into a dark image of the back of a man, resembling a hologram with distorted colors. Lyra’s heart pounded. She focused harder, sent more power, producing a brilliant show from the rondure. But, his face remained hidden. The only remarkable feature was the man’s long, straight hair to the middle of his back.
He began to turn. She held her breath. Just as the profile of the tip of his nose came into view, the image faded. Damn! So close. That physical appearance could be any one of three men she knew: Eburscon, Symar, and Tarom. She kicked the stone floor with the toe of her boot. Or he could even be a Qumeli chief since they wore their hair the same way. She hadn’t learned much.
With the sun setting, there was no time to waste. She wanted to ask one more question, just as important. She needed birthdates from the Tortoise’s historical library. Lyra raced past the guard, who yelled after her to not run.
Out of breath, she reached the Tortoise in discussion with the Imperial Dragon. She gasped, “Guardian Tortoise, can you help me find the birthdates of Elisabeth, her mother, and her daughter in line to me?”
“Yes, indeed I can.” He raised his shell off the carpet onto stumpy legs and made a deliberate path to a glass case. With the wave of his head, the doors opened and a book floated through the air to rest on the low table. “This volume bears records of factual data known about all the Scribes. With certainty it contains Elisabeth’s birth records and perhaps her mother’s as well.” He flipped pages with a front foot, with surprising precision and care. “March twenty-ninth, the birth of our first Scribe.”
“The day before mine. I wonder if that means something?”
“On August twentieth, her first child was born, a girl whose lineage produced the next Scribe, Nareene.” The Tortoise turned back and forth in the tattered book. “Carina was Elisabeth’s mother. No birthdate. Hmm. Wait. I remember something in the journal we used for our lesson.” He removed another selection from the case and opened it to the last bookmark. “Yes. Here it says: Elisabeth stated her mother would be joyous to receive the gift of her first grandchild, birthed during her mother’s own month of August.”
“That should suffice, even without the date, since most of August falls under the star of Leo,” the Imperial Dragon added.
Lyra smiled. “Yes, I agree. Thank you.” In her excitement, she wrapped an arm around the shell of the Tortoise, before remembering custom and stepped back to bow.
He gave a chuckle. “Don’t waste daylight for gratitude. Go submit those dates to the Spheres of Sidus.”
***
The sun’s rays slanted across the table in the observatory. Lyra was thankful there seemed to be a pattern for all Scribes to be born under fire signs. She already knew positions for the primary stars of Aries and Leo and quickly set the onyx balls without rechecking the sky positions for comparison.
Outside the sun teetered on the horizon. Would her memory of the astral positions be correct? No time to check. Lyra grabbed her inner power and yanked it to her hands. The question burned in her mind without deliberate focus—was she destined to embrace the happiness Elisabeth sought? She touched the onyx balls in order of history, imbuing each with her magic. When her fingers neared the moonstone, sparks of static electricity crackled, stinging her hand. She gritted her teeth and grabbed hold of the rondure. Nothing happened.
Abruptly more sparks flew in all directions. The Utopian vibrated under her hand. She steadied her arm with the other hand and pushed with her body weight to keep the ball aligned. The room lit with fireworks. She heard gasps from outside the doorway, but her determination to learn the answer kept her eyes and power riveted on the moonstone. After several minutes, the stars revealed an image, a hologram like before.
Through sweat dripping into her eyes, she saw a kind-faced woman looking squarely at her. “Adalyra, you are indeed the heir to my desired destiny if the stars will allow. Magic of the sum of our generations is yours. These may or may not be your own wishes.”
At first Lyra’s soul soared with the message, but Elisabeth’s last statement seemed cryptic. A second question burned on her tongue—what happiness did the first Scribe seek—but the image faded too soon and so did the sun. Lyra dropped back onto a side chair, exhausted from the extreme effo
rt required to channel into the instrument.
The Imperial Dragon, the Tortoise, and his assistant joined around her.
Mimio wrapped an arm around Lyra’s shoulder. “Can you stand?”
Lyra nodded and stood. Her legs wobbled slightly, and she gripped the hand of the sorceress.
“We’re expected in the dining hall,” the Imperial Dragon said and led the way into an intimate dining area.
Lyra melted into the soft cushion of her seat and eagerly accepted a glass of sprite wine. After a few swallows, she felt somewhat renewed.
Mimio smiled. “You’re regaining some color. Very good.”
Lyra sat up straighter and looked around. The walls and floor were granite stone, like the rest of the lair. Richly-patterned wool carpets lay under the massive table of polished planks. A variety of chairs suited each of the four Guardians and Mimio. Two wrought iron chandeliers lit the room with hundreds of candles.
The golden dragon cleared his throat. “This afternoon, the Spheres of Sidus confirmed what we all believed. Lyra is heir to Elisabeth’s destiny. Magic of the sum of all scribal generations is hers. However, the image of the first Scribe cautioned that her destiny may or may not be Lyra’s wish.” He paused and looked around the table.
“I expected as much about Lyra’s power,” the Unicorn observed. “The optimism of that message is tempered with caution.”
The Phoenix nodded in agreement.
The leader continued, “Yes, there will be happiness and also hardship.” He turned to face Lyra. “To make Elisabeth’s visions your own will test your full ability.” He raised a metal goblet and scanned the table. “A toast to our Scribe—possessing the sum of powers of all those before. May we help her serve the Alliance and her own dreams.”
Glasses and goblets clinked with a chorus of agreements and good tidings.
Enchanted Bookstore Legends (5-book complete epic fantasy romance box set) Page 47