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

by Marsha A. Moore

  Noba followed the owl’s lead and spread his smaller wings.

  Cullen’s eyebrow lifted into a curve that suggested a question mark and paused to look around. Nothing was visible as far as Lyra could see, except for various types of clouds and tufts of aerial plants. “All right. Go ahead, but stay in ear shot. If I call, come straight back to my voice,” he replied and leaned toward Lyra. “Do you see any being or creature?”

  She shook her head. “It looks a bit like a view from a jet flight, looking at clouds from right on top of them.”

  “Yes. It does. I wondered where I’d seen something similar.” He tested the surface like she did earlier.

  “But I’m not sure they’re exactly clouds after I touched that white spot over there.” She reached over and pressed her hand down again. “It resists like it might support my weight. Clouds wouldn’t, being only water vapor.”

  “Strange. I don’t know if we can walk on that matter. I’m not sure how to travel here. I would attempt to transport us, but for that I need to visualize a destination. I have no idea where we are or where to go.”

  “Are Kenzo and Noba safe?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “I have no idea, but stopping them would have been impossible.”

  “I know that they want to help. I wish Yasqu was along too.”

  “He needed more time to mend. He took a terrible injury from that scorpent and is better—”

  “Listen,” she whispered and pointed past him to her left, cupping her ear.

  They watched and saw nothing while a sloshing noise approached. Cullen looked behind them. Finding no place for cover, he moved his body in front of Lyra. “Stay close and keep contact so we can combine our auras for battle if needed.”

  As moving nebulous wisps cleared, a short, low boat became visible, gliding toward them. Only one person appeared to be on board, a tall broad-shouldered form.

  “Kenzo! Noba! Come here now!” Cullen called as he attempted to stand, keeping his knees bent to help his balance on the springy ground of the sky world.

  “You’d be better off riding than walking on that pother. Some places you’ll sink down far—very dangerous,” the man on the boat called ahead. “Welcome to Aria.” As he pulled in front of them, his face lit with a bright white smile. Using a golden rope, he fastened the boat to a fluffy knob of cloud material.

  From what Lyra could see, he seemed to be tall and muscular. Even though they were only twenty feet away, his form was filmy, almost as if his body was made of vapor like the clouds. When he turned to fasten his steering pole, the sunlight reflected, and she saw one side of his body in detail. Then he twisted his torso away from the illumination, and that same side became invisible. Lyra struggled, trying to visualize what he looked like while only able to see parts. His monotone coloring, with luminous white skin and silvery hair, well camouflaged him against his surroundings. Beige tunic and leggings crafted of soft leather contributed to the effect. His hair hung long, past his shoulders, spilling from under a wide-brimmed hat. A narrow multi-colored ribbon at the brim and tie under his chin were the only other colors he wore.

  He looked up and noticed Cullen and Lyra still standing on the moss. “You don’t need to be afraid. You have energies from Silva Caliga, our ally. You’re welcomed into our world as friends.” He held out a hand to help them board. “Come on.”

  Cullen took a step across the side board as his assistants sailed up and landed on the small roof in the middle of the boat. It covered a few seats and several large cloth bags. When the fog parted, the flat bottom indicated it was suited for river travel. About twenty feet long, its two ends curved high into the air, like a crescent moon. The wood of the boat was gold-colored and well-oiled. It reminded Lyra of an Asian sampan. Two masts held slack golden sails.

  At the bow hung what looked like a huge decorative lantern in the shape of a dragon. Unlike the driver of silver and the boat of gold, the body of the lantern was colorful, yellow-green with blue whiskers and a white forked tail. It looked real, but didn’t move.

  Cullen offered Lyra his hand.

  She accepted and climbed on board.

  “My name is Pisca, the fisherman. I felt some energy kicking and thought I had a big catch here. Instead, I’ve found a group of visitors to welcome. Where should I take you?”

  “My name is Cullen Drake, and this is Lyra McCauley.”

  “Hello, Pisca. It’s nice to meet you.” She returned his warm smile.

  The wizard motioned to his helpers. “And this is—“

  “Noba, Master’s familiar.” The pseudodragon flew down to the floor of the sampan and stepped in front of Cullen.

  “Noba, are you trying to dazzle him with your matan dragon powers?” Kenzo called from his perch, spreading his wings to their full span as he bowed to the fisherman. “I’m Kenzo, tiger owl assistant to Sire Drake.”

  Pisca jumped and dropped his rope. “A bird who speaks! He’s magical?”

  Cullen laughed at his assistants. “Yes. But not a danger. The two together…I’m not so sure.”

  Suddenly, the realistic dragon statue sprang into action and entwined its white tail around Noba. The creature returned to its post at the bow and dangled the pseudodragon upside down. “There’s only one dragon in command of this starp. When you understand that, I will release you.”

  Kenzo hooted while Lyra and Cullen worked to muffle their chuckles.

  “You’re in charge. Noba understands,” the pseudodragon squeaked out in a voice that crackled with fear.

  “At first glance, I thought that dragon was real,” Lyra said as the creature unwound and rolled Noba across the deck to Cullen’s feet.

  “So I am,” answered the dragon with a flourish of his long tail. “I’m Galbinus, a lantern dragon. I light the way through the mist.”

  “He brings me good luck—safety and many fish.” Pisca unfastened the golden rope holding the starp. “Where may I take you?”

  “We don’t know but probably to see a ruler or someone in charge. We wish to make an important trade,” Cullen replied, rubbing Noba’s head.

  “They would be Eos and Mysa, the King and Queen of Aria. I will take you to their court, called the aula. It’s a long journey and will take a bit more than today’s travel. We’ll stop to rest at my home, if it would please you.” Pisca took hold of his long steering pole and pushed the boat off from the shore.

  Cullen moved to withdraw his staff from inside his cloak when Lyra waved him to stop. Not knowing what magic would be well received, she chose to use hers since it was less common. Fascination would tell her the most, probing directly into Pisca’s thoughts, but much more obvious than clairvoyance. Pushing aura just under her skin, she gathered vibrations from the fisherman’s emotions. She sensed only calm acceptance, no hostility, wariness, or aggression. She touched her hand lightly on top of Cullen’s and said mentally, He is sincere and intends no harm.

  Can you read what type of magic he uses? Cullen asked.

  There were no strong currents of power. The minor ones were unreadable.

  “Pisca, we’d be glad to accept your invitation to stay at your home. Thank you,” Cullen replied to the fisherman.

  Pisca smiled. “The children in my village will be excited to meet your helpers.”

  Now that they were moving, Lyra could identify how mosses and ferns carpeted the banks of cumulus clouds lining the river. Instead of water, they sailed on the flow of smooth stratus fog. Many times, the stratus mist rose up around the boat, and Galbinus opened his mouth, shooting out a flaming torchlight that lit the way.

  “Can those banks of cumulus clouds support being walked upon?” Cullen asked Pisca.

  The fisherman gave a firm push against his pole and paused to answer. “Well, it would support me, but Arials are made of more air than other sorts. You might sink or you might not.”

  “Why do you have a covered sitting area?” Lyra asked as she walked underneath the roof and took a seat.

  Noba
slunk beside her and curled into a ball under her bench but kept a watchful eye on the lantern dragon.

  “You’ll see when this thick nebule settles. Out in the open, the glare and stress of the sun can be wearing, especially for those not used to the wilds.”

  “What sorts of fish do you catch?” Cullen asked, leaning over the side and examining what Pisca called nebule.

  Kenzo flew down from the roof and perched on the rail. “There’s a big one.” He thrust his beak out to point.

  “That’s a big white dunt! Good eyes, Kenzo.” The fisherman grabbed a harpoon and flung it down into the brink. “Got him!” He braced his sturdy thighs against the boat for leverage and hoisted in the catch, a three-foot long white fish.

  Lyra joined Cullen at the side to watch.

  “There’s a fine dinner for folk in my village tonight. Mostly I trawl with nets for mackon, tirrel, and white dunts, if we’re lucky. Those are tasty, as you’ll find out.” After stowing the wiggling fish in a bag under the canopy, Pisca steered the starp into a wide channel and hoisted the sails. The yellow silk puffed tight against the breeze and displayed red dragons on each. “Where I live, all the fishermen contribute to the daily take, which feeds our families, and the rest goes to the market or the king’s dwelling. We all share. It’s the way of Aria.”

  Lyra thought of so many questions to ask, she didn’t know where to start without making their host feel interrogated. “There’s a lot I’d like to know about Aria. Tell us about your family.” Learning about this sky world through his personal experiences would be the most polite way.

  In the open channel, glare from the sun’s sharp rays drove Lyra under the small roof. The wind picked up, blowing her hair and skirt back. The boat gained a brisk pace.

  Pisca chuckled. “I expect you are curious. I’m glad to be able to trust the energy the World Tree gave you—makes my job easier.” Shading his eyes to find their route, he adjusted and tightened the sails. “I have a lovely wife and a young son, just learning to walk—too young to come with me, but soon. My wife, Neo, is a fine weaver and seamstress, making some of the best nets for the fishermen in our village and dresses for their wives. My mother watches our baby while Neo weaves. My father has been gone long, killed when I was a boy. Back then, the warring court of Osal took many lives.” He sighed and looked down.

  “Thanks to the bravery and knowledge of King Eos, we have had a long peace. Our happy village of about forty people works together, making dinner for all each evening after the fish are cleaned and nets readied for the next day. When the moon is first full, like tonight, we have a special dinner and play tunes afterward. The next day is a day of rest. Many travel to the grand aula to hear King Eos speak or listen to Queen Mysa recite her poems. They have magic, and her words can make you feel real emotions. I’ll recite a few of my favorites, but I doubt they’ll carry her magic.”

  As the fisherman orated, he adjusted the sails and steered the boat toward one of the tributaries off the wide river.

  After he finished a few selections, Lyra replied, “That is a lovely poem and does have a feeling beyond its words.” One made her grin, and another caused a tear to leak from the corner of her eye.

  “The queen’s words have so much more magic.”

  “That would be fascinating to hear,” Cullen added, taking a seat next to Lyra.

  Another bright smile lit Pisca’s face. “You should be there in time for her recitation tomorrow morning.” He cleared his throat and shared several more. Those with rhyming verses, he sang in a rich tenor while he poled the starp past obstacles of knobby white outcroppings along the narrow river.

  They sailed this way for a long while, the sun moving from directly above them to a position that made Lyra squint. She welcomed the mist-covered patches when Galbinus shot out his flaming breath to guide them. The landscape on either side grew more rugged with mounds of cumulous clouds beyond the moss-covered banks. Filmy outlines of people became visible as the pother thinned. When the fisherman ended the next poem, Lyra asked, “Are those Arials in that cloud?”

  “Yes. Many have fine, large homes where the pother is dense. They construct the walls and roof from that firm material. The grand aula is such a place. My house is only made of scrap timber and simple mats of woven mosses and ferns. You will see my village just around the next bend.” Pisca worked fast to drop the sails and man his pole again.

  As the wispy nebule parted, the fishing village came into view. The channel widened and the banks curved in and out, creating natural docks for dozens of sampan-like starps. Many more drifted slowly into the area from connecting riverways, each lighted with the flame of a different dragon lantern. Rising from the mist, a cluster of low shanties lined the moss-covered banks. Lean-tos with slanted roofs mushroomed around taller pitched-roof main houses. All structures in the village appeared to sprout one from another.

  When they docked, children cheered and ran up to greet them. Women followed, wearing pale leather dresses with close leggings underneath. All the villagers were fair like Pisca, with hair of silver, white, or a butter-colored blonde. They wore plenty of smiles, nodding to the guests.

  One woman stepped forward to help Cullen and Lyra off the starp. “Welcome to our village. My husband has brought guests to us, bearing energy from Silva Caliga. We will be glad to share our homes with new friends. My name is Neo.”

  Lyra clasped hands with her, and Cullen bowed his head.

  Greetings poured from the gathering of women, joined by men who drifted from their own boats.

  To a roar of cheers, Pisca struggled to lift the huge white dunt. “A fine dinner tonight!”

  The women huddled together and followed him as he placed it on a rough table.

  He pulled a long knife from a sheath at his hip and made quick work of cleaning the fish.

  The women transferred the filets in baskets and disappeared inside the buildings.

  Men leaned against their steering poles and kept Lyra and Cullen busy with questions about Dragonspeir.

  At the fishermen’s legs, children hung shyly. Their wide eyes fixed on the newcomers, especially on Noba who soon found a game of getting them to laugh by making funny faces.

  In an impossibly short time, a dinner bell rang from a pole outside the tallest building.

  “Time to eat,” Pisca slapped a hand on Cullen’s shoulder and waved him toward the main house.

  Cullen took hold of Lyra’s hand, and together they ducked under the moss overhang leading into the dining area. Crude tables and benches were fashioned from found or homemade pieces of wood. They were shown to the finest seats in the room, on upturned crates at a plank table. The simple furnishings were cheery and cozy. Stout, homemade candles flickered on the tables. Woven cloths in jeweled hues lined the walls, which made a sharp contrast to the pale Arials. Their fair features were more visible in the warmth of the candlelight. Looking around the room, their handsome, sculpted faces reminded Lyra of Greek statues.

  Several middle-aged women served wooden plates generously filled with the steamed fish and greens. One placed bowls of piping hot soup for each, and another poured what looked like wine into wooden mugs. Bowls of the dinner were placed on the plank floor at one end of the room for Cullen’s assistants.

  Pisca, seated at the end of Lyra and Cullen’s table, raised his mug in toast to the guests. “Welcome again to our guests—Cullen, Lyra, Kenzo, and Noba. A special thanks to Kenzo for his keen eye to bring us this special meal for our first spring full moon dinner. Everyone, enjoy!” Once all mugs were raised, he took a hearty gulp.

  Kenzo extended his wings and turned all around.

  Children scrambled from their seats to watch him, before being called back by their mothers.

  Lyra picked up a wooden spoon and sampled the soup—a delicious variation of fish chowder. After one bite, she understood why they considered white dunt a treat. Its flaky texture held a delicate, savory taste. She was starved and the meal satisfied. After a ca
utious sniff, she took a swallow of the wine. It tasted more like regular wine than the powerful beverage that Cullen’s sprites brewed. But once she emptied the mug, she realized its potent kick. The room spun a few times, and she grabbed onto the edge of the table. The effect only lasted a minute, then she felt normal. She looked at Cullen and under the table moved her foot to touch his. What is this wine? Is it magic? Or worst of all, am I feeling latent effects of that effluvium from Terza?

  Cullen studied Lyra’s face and rested a hand over hers, examining her with his healing touch. You feel well. Probably the wine. Stronger than I’ve ever tasted. Be careful of aftereffects.

  Lyra looked to Kenzo and Noba and saw the owl spinning like a top. She shook her head, guessing he sampled the unusual drink.

  After dinner, the folk gathered outside while watching the moon rise. Although the Dragonspeir moon was twice the size Lyra knew from her world, this doubled that. It filled half the sky. In the moonlight, the outlines of the Arials became filmy and elusive again. A few of the men played unique stringed instruments while others sang and clapped. One of the tunes Lyra recognized from those Pisca sang while he steered their starp. Many of the women held ribbons and whirled them in a magical dance. The intricate spirals of the cloth sent delightful spells to viewers. As the dancers moved, their faces disappeared, then reflected the moonlight, forming a spectacular sight with the whipping ribbons.

  One young woman took hold of Lyra’s hand and pulled her into the dance, showing her how to hold a pair of ribbons.

  Letting the music and moonlight flow through her, Lyra felt the energy of the Arials. They were a proud people, connected to their natural world of the sky as much as the Malificates to their minerals deep within the earth. As their magic combined with her aura, her arms arced and the ribbons twisted into heavenly spirals. She felt heat rise into her cheeks as she saw Cullen’s smiling face, his eyes widened by the rapture of her spell.

  Pisca raised his hand to quiet the celebration.

  Overheated and thirsty from her dance, Lyra gulped down another mug of wine passed to her.