Ysmena leaned forward. “That place would be in Versula, a frigid, barren wasteland to our north. I know the mountain his drakes call home. It is a desolate, but beautiful land. I often traverse our northern border to gain solitude and expand my mind.”
“Can you take me there?” Lyra asked.
“I can take you to our common boundary and show you the correct direction from there.”
Kenzo fluffed his feathers. “How will you know if Tarom will be there since he chiefly is in service to the Black Dragon?”
“I have an idea that may work. Even a chance is worth taking. I want to save Cullen and am willing to try whatever my power will allow.”
He nodded and refolded his wings. “Thank you. Count on my help.”
Ysmena rose. “Then, let me teach you how to talk to trees. In the morn, I’ll guide you north.” She motioned Lyra to a nearby trunk. “Every tree has an aura. It may be viewed if you look closely at the edges of the tree—where the aura will be most visible. Most commonly, it will hold no color, or it will appear translucent with a slightly white or gray halo, or perhaps even yellowish or gold. If you experience difficulty, look up and observe the crown against the contrast of the sky. Also, dim light of dusk is useful to enhance viewing. Although we are in winter, which makes it more difficult, spring and summer are seasons when trees are most talkative. That is because the above ground portions of the trees are busiest, making their auras more active.”
She touched a hand lightly on the trunk. “Now, soften your gaze onto the outline of this tree. Do not focus on details of branches or leaves. Slightly above the outline, you will see the profile of the tree repeated—the aura. It will radiate and move. In summer the aura may wiggle as the tree dances inside.”
Lyra stepped back and craned her neck to look at the upper boughs against the twinkles of Hamal and the other stars. “I see it! Like movements of the northern lights—colored patterns in the night sky.”
“What a lovely comparison. You are right. Our name for that astral display is aquilo astrum. Now, follow these directions as I speak. To join your aura with the tree’s, first visualize your aura. Then, imagine it connecting with the energy field of the tree. Hold that connection for at least a minute, then walk quietly and calmly toward the tree and touch its bark. You will be connected. Do you feel the tree’s aura, Lyra?”
Lyra smiled. “I do. It’s so gentle, not like those of dragons or wizards.”
“Trees are sweet-tempered and genuine beings, unless provoked. They often commune with each other. The auras of multiple trees will blend. Those that are near, but not touching, often show grayish or white strands connecting them.”
Lyra caressed the bark of the ancient hemlock, who she now knew to be a remarkable nine hundred years old. “Thank you for the lesson. I’m glad to meet these kind beings.”
Ysmena wrapped an arm around Lyra’s shoulder. “You’re a brave young woman, fighting hard for the life of her lover. You have my deepest admiration. Let me conjure you some of our local delicacies to bolster your strength and find you warm blankets for your bed.”
With a wave of her staff, cicutamina keepers buzzed around producing bowls brimming with food and pitchers of ale for everyone.
Lyra eagerly sampled each dish—many types of roasted roots drizzled with sweet tree-sap syrups. Crunchy salads of diced roots tasted both savory and sweet, tossed with nuts and dried fruits. “Delicious foods. I’d like to return in happier times just to enjoy a meal.
At this news, the cicutamina jumped up and down, and Ysmena grinned ear-to-ear. “Please do. We have lovely festivals marking the middle of each season, especially those during our growing season. I’d love to have you as our guest whenever you wish to join us.”
After the tureens, bowls, plates, and mugs were cleared away, the keepers brought a stack of thick hides.
“Lyra, dear friend, please make yourself comfortable amid these warm furs. Stay near the base of this tree for safety, and your owl should perch within its branches.”
“Thank you for everything,” Lyra replied, rubbing her fingers through the soft fur.
The Lady of the Forest gave a slight wave and vanished inside the wide trunk. The light of her lantern dimmed to a pale flash, joining hundreds of others that marked homes of the forest keepers.
Kenzo flew up and took a perch in Ysmena’s tree. “Thank you, Lyra, for continuing your quest. You are indeed brave. Goodnight.”
“Night, Kenzo. Thank you for coming with me. I need my friends.” Snuggled between hides, Lyra ran her fingers over the raised, glided lettering of the text, Advanced Fascination. In the dying firelight, she paged through it, but still found its content above her understanding. The handwritten notes in the margins brought a smile to her heart. She felt Cullen’s essence in those words. She would persevere—there would be a way.
Chapter Twenty-Five: Versula
In the predawn darkness, Lyra followed close behind Ysmena with her lantern, picking her way carefully to avoid the train of the Lady’s deep green cloak or the numerous raised tree roots. Through the heavy mist, they passed under dense hemlock branches that blocked any view of the sky to provide direction and supplemental power. Without choice, Lyra relied upon the judgment of her guides. Dozens of cicutamina hopped from limb to limb alongside. Ivri and a few others skipped ahead without aid of light. Wind lifted locks of their hair, matted like wool roving and shimmering in Ysmena’s magical beam. Butterflies and moths circled the light.
Kenzo kept his distance, apparently unsure of the strange creatures.
Lyra watched him, gliding behind her shoulder.
“Don’t worry about me. My sight is better in the dim light.”
After what seemed like miles, the wood changed to deciduous trees. Light-colored bark reflected the blanket of white covering the ground and the starshine.
Hampered by the deep snow, Ysmena slowed her pace. “There’s a stream here to refresh us. Let’s rest.” She halted at the bank.
The water gurgled over wide rocks, worn smooth from years of erosion.
Lyra stomped her feet, the chill of the snowpack seeping through her fur-lined boots.
Ysmena nodded in her direction and without a word, waved a graceful hand to the circutamina.
They scurried up various tree trunks. In a few minutes, the keepers returned with armloads of dead twigs and laid a small fire.
The Lady of the Forest brought her lantern in contact until fire licked at the dry branches.
Lyra seated herself on one of the roots that obliged and rose into a chair. She extended her cold toes as close as she dared to the blue flames. Butterflies danced between her feet and around the blaze. None looked like the type that watched her, found in Aunt Jean’s room after her death. Within minutes, feeling began to replace the numb chill, and she looked over at Ysmena seated next to her. “These butterflies…how do they survive in the cold of winter?”
“They stay by my light or hidden deep within the trunks as guests of the spirit keepers. Pretty, aren’t they? They possess their own magic that makes them sparkle.”
One landed on Kenzo’s large ear. He twitched and twitched, his dangle earring jangling, but the insect held fast, fluttering its wings to maintain balance.
Lyra chuckled. “It reminds me of a cowboy on a bronco, hanging on for dear life.”
“Lady Lyra, pardon me for interrupting.” Ivri held out two burlap nap sacks in her leathery hands. “Nuts, dried berries, and roots from the birch keepers. One for your journey. The other pass around now.”
Lyra accepted the bags and smiled to the circle of local circutamina cautiously gathering at a distance. “That’s kind. Thank you all.” She scooped up a fistful of what looked like rough trail mix and spread it over a flat root for Kenzo. After taking some for herself, she passed the sack along. In her first mouthful, the tang of wild berries burst over her taste buds, soon complemented by earthy root flavors and crunchiness of the nuts. “Mmm. Very tasty.”
> The birch keepers drew nearer, their wide eyes staring at her. Smiles curled the thin lips of a few brave members in the front.
As Lyra munched, a bright yellow butterfly rested on the end of her boot. Its wings caught the blue light and shimmered with a vivid lime color. “Don’t they form cocoons during this season? The ones where I came from did.”
“Yes, but they won’t stay in that protection all winter unless left in the elements. As they awaken as caterpillars, the circutamina feed them special sap that supplies the magic. When mature, the butterflies then serve as scouts for the keepers.”
“So, they aren’t people in transformed states?”
Her eyebrows lifted. “Oh, my no. Not the ones in Silva Caliga. Why do you ask?”
“Umm…” Lyra hesitated, unsure how much to confide. “I’m often followed by butterflies, and one in particular seems present at strange times and places—large like a moth and black with purple eyespots. It seems to spy on me, but it flies away before I can read its magic.”
“At times, I do see a few that don’t have the familiar sparkle of our natives. They behave oddly, steering clear of me when others seek me out. I’ve suspected something amiss.”
“Can wizards transform easily into those forms?”
“Only if he or she has a natural affinity to that insect and can learn the craft of transformation—so, possibly a few, but not many.”
“If that black butterfly is a person, I would like to find out who it is. That person may have murdered my aunt.”
Ysmena jerked upright, and her hand flew to her chest. “Oh, how dreadful. I’ll be certain to pursue those suspect ones now. If I determine the forms of their powers, I’ll do my best to contact you. I can send messages passed by tree spirits, if amicable ones are around you.”
Lyra gazed at the fire. “I doubt any trees where I’m going in Silva Nocens have friendly keepers.”
“Even there, a few species hold on, such as the rowan, like that one across the stream,” she pointed to an unremarkable tree. “They oppose negative energy.”
“It looks like any tree with gray bark. I’ll never find one, especially if being chased by demons.”
Ysmena smiled. “Not to worry, they’ll locate you. Just be open to receive their messages. Each species has a unique purpose.”
“I wish I knew the jobs of the trees.” Lyra surveyed the types surrounding them.
“I’ll be most happy to teach you. Come back when you’re at a time of rest, and you shall be my pupil.” She reached over and covered Lyra’s hand with her own. Her emerald ring set in golden vines twinkled in the firelight.
“Time of rest…I hope.” The corners of Lyra’s mouth turned up in a forced smile, and her forehead tightened. She couldn’t think past the obstacles ahead to happier times.
“It will happen, Lyra. Have faith. All good creatures and spirits sense your purpose and will come to your aid. Let’s rise and continue our trek. On the other side of this birch forest is the border of my land.” Ysmena stood and spoke in a foreign tongue to a few circutamina who went to work dousing the fire.
***
Silva Caliga ended abruptly at the rim of a ravine. The protective cover of the forest gave way to barren, jagged buttes and canyons that spread for miles into the horizon. A monotone of gray colored everything—sky and rock. Icy winds whipped at the opening of Lyra’s cloak, sending a chill down her spine before she could pull it together.
“This is Versula.” Ysmena lifted her arm and pointed. “There, on that far summit, higher than the rest, you’ll find Tarom’s retreat.”
The harsh wind stung Lyra’s face. “How am I to get there? This land is so rugged.”
“By any means you can—magical or otherwise.” She swept her staff down past Lyra. “There, you will find a narrow ledge to allow you to descend and cross at the base of this ravine. Traversing Versula is a considerable challenge. It’s a treeless wasteland, so I can’t offer you any assistance…much as I truly wish I could.” She stepped back from the edge and placed her palm upon the trunk of a stately birch.
In response, a length of its papery bark loosened and fell into her waiting palm.
Ysmena presented its gift to Lyra. “This is for you, from the birches. It is their appointed task to encourage renewal. They are the first to spring up after a fire, heralding the return of the forest. Associated with rebirth, it is the goddess of our festivals. When you reunite with your true love, Sire Drake, use this as part of your healing treatment. Burn the birch bark and anoint his lungs with the smoke and his skin with the ashes. It will die, so he may live again, spreading vitality to his limbs.”
Lyra’s fingers wrapped securely around the strip to prevent the wind from claiming it. “Thank you very much.” She bowed to the Lady of the Forest, then paused to connect with the aura of the birch tree donor before paying it the same respect. Turning her back to the gales, she conjured Cullen’s box and carefully charmed the gift to shrink for storage. She looked out over the desolate landscape and glanced to Kenzo, perched with his talons gripping tight around an overhanging limb.
Ysmena touched Lyra’s shoulder and pulled her close into a hug. “Be careful, child. Your spirit is strong, but will be challenged.”
Lyra briefly returned the embrace and pulled away. She gave a silent nod and picked her way to the head of the trail.
Kenzo sailed a short distance ahead and grasped at a straggly bush to wait and watch, on the ready with wings slightly spread.
Ice, polished to a treacherous smoothness by the constant winds, covered much of the rock surfaces. Lyra spent time she didn’t have testing the placement of each step.
Creeping in this fashion, they descended. Ysmena’s lantern light glowed above them. No sign of life was visible except an occasional butterfly sailing by and then retreating back to its mistress.
Lowering further, the light dimmed as the grayness of the rock walls and dark sky closed in on them. Suddenly, the wind shifted at right angles, following the channel of the chasm. It forced Lyra off balance. Her foot slipped. She fell, feet dangling over the edge, hands clutched to an outcropping of brush.
Grabbing whatever power she sensed within her, she willed her body to rise. The twigs slackened in her grasp. She floated in midair, inching upward. Fear blocked proper use of her powers. She looked down at the bottom, at least a five hundred feet below, and shuddered. Gritting her teeth, she forced her gaze to the sky. “Damn! Can’t see my star either. Kenzo! Please help me.”
Even before she spoke his name, his wide wingspan spread above her and his talons clamped onto her shoulders. He flapped hard and grunted, attempting to lift her weight.
Slowly, her chest reached the ledge. She swung an arm onto the rock, but the ice prevented her from gaining enough leverage to hoist herself up. Desperate, she searched inside her once more and took a firmer hold on her power. A newfound burst of energy lifted her onto her knees upon the trail. She carefully rolled to a seated position, her cloak spilling open and her hands resting on the rock. She welcomed the coldness to cool her after the struggle and rubbed a chilled palm over her hot forehead. Salty perspiration stung the skin on her hands. Inspection revealed a network of tiny scratches. She didn’t dare create magical light, fearing spies for the Black Dragon lurked even in this desolate territory. Instead, under her cloak she pressed her palms tightly together, as though in prayer, and coursed self-healing between them. What light did escape shined as a faint glow along the edge of the fabric.
Kenzo shifted nervously beside her. Once her light extinguished, he stretched and refolded his wings, but his head rotated back and forth, scanning the skies. “I don’t trust this place.”
She stroked her fingers through the feathers of his head. “Me neither.”
“Should I fly on to Tarom’s retreat and try to bring back help?”
“There’s no guarantee we’re welcome guests. I don’t think we can count on his help, at least not without some convincing first.”
>
“I’m none too certain I can even fly that far in these gusts. Maybe with several rest breaks.”
“No. We’ll continue,” she said with renewed resolve. “I’m not injured.”
***
Dusk found them mounting the crest of the far side of the ravine.
Lyra stood tall and arched her cramped back. Since her fall earlier that morning, she had crawled in a crouched posture. A sharp wind whipped strands of hair off her shoulders. Taking a step forward, she scanned the distance and a chill passed over her. She pulled her cloak together more securely. “That wind is cold. Strange, my magical cloak isn’t keeping me warm.”
Kenzo leaned in and studied her.
She sighed. “We haven’t made much progress. Tarom’s retreat is still miles away. At this rate, it will take weeks.”
“I fear we don’t have a choice that I can see. But, I’ll serve with you no matter.” The tiger owl fluffed his feathers for warmth.
She looked down at him. “Thank you. I don’t know of another choice either. No one said how long Cullen can safely remain in that state. The Guardians urged me to be quick but cautious. They gave no exact time period. It makes me nervous to take this long.”
“Me, too.” He stretched the talons of one foot, then the other. “We need to make camp and rest through the night. Maybe sleep will give you a better plan in the morning.”
Lyra shrugged, scrubbed her upper arms with her hands, and turned toward Silva Caliga to protect her face from the biting gusts. “Maybe. At any rate, we can’t stay in this cold wind.” Nodding to the path they just traveled, she continued, “Back a little way, I saw a recess in the rock wall big enough for both of us—at least some protection.”
“Yes. I think I saw that.” He flapped hard against the gales, hovering near her as she crept back along the icy trail.
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