Sorcha: third Scribe, who wrote her Book of Dragonspeir in the year 1600.
Tarom: present position is alchemist to the Dark Realm, serving the Black Dragon; previous position was apprentice to Eburscon, Imperial Alchemist of the Alliance; also known as the Ice Walker since he maintains a private retreat in the politically neutral land of Versula in the icy northern lands; guided by a Water element.
The Phoenix: Guardian of Fire; also known as the Lady of Peace, she resides in the Meadow of Peace, the largest inhabited area of the Alliance; the colors of her wings pulse a vivid cobalt blue and her head a rich periwinkle; resembling a pheasant in shape, her golden tail feathers emit sparks; guided by a Fire element.
The Tortoise: Guardian of Water; a giant tortoise possessing a shell marked with runes which glow white when he expands his aura; the oldest Guardian, in charge of maintaining the Imperial library housed at the lair of the Imperial Dragon; guided by a Water element.
The Unicorn: Guardian of the Earth; a massive white horse-like creature who bears a tremendous white, wispy aura; responsible for knowledge of magical creatures in all of Dragonspeir, both the Alliance and Dark Realm; resides in the forests of the Alliance; guided by an Earth element.
Vizards: undead skeleton-people of Terza; gain ability to survive via energy transfer from scorpent creatures; wear masks to hide their gruesome faces, lacking muscles and skin.
World Tree: oldest, tallest tree in Silva Caliga that connects to the sky world of Aria; aids energy transfer with that land and guards portal passageway.
Yasqu: growing adolescent bronze dragon who is training to become a member of the Imperial Dragon’s high council; as a hatchling, was secretly sent to Lyra in her human world in order to safeguard him from the Black Dragon; from this experience, Yasqu and Lyra have a close bond.
Yord: one of the largest blue dragon sentries of the dozens that serve the Alliance; sworn to personally aid Lyra in return for her saving his life.
Ysmena: Lady of the Forest in the politically neutral Silva Caliga, forest of the mist; she governs the land of the tree spirits, also called circutamina; carries a lantern that emits magical light.
Chapter One: Ancient Scribal Magic
Lyra propped her head with an elbow against the low library table and rubbed her eyes, paging through the last chapter. She rearranged her weight on the floor cushion and twisted the end of her long braid.
The Tortoise Guardian’s wide, craggy cheek brushed against her forearm.
She jotted a few lines in a notebook and carefully closed the cover of the ancient copy. Her gaze rested on the faded embossed symbols—The Book of Dragonspeir authored by Elisabeth Walsh, the first Scribe.
“Good work. We’ve previewed two of the lost volumes you recovered. One more remains.” The Tortoise retracted his head halfway into his shell. “Take a break. My neck is aching.”
“I want to keep going and skim Scribe Brigid’s book too.” Lyra flipped through her notes.
The heavy wooden door to the lair library banged open. In two strides, the Imperial Dragon stood before them. “We’re under attack! Cimafa stealth dragons have stolen auras of a high order wizard and souls of three non-magicals. They also killed one of our blue sentry dragons.” His flared nostrils were ringed with fire and seeped smoke. A yellow color of concern flashed in the irises of his eyes.
“How?” Lyra rolled off the plush floor cushion, forced her stiff legs to stand, and grabbed her wizard’s staff. “I thought they only went after higher magicals?”
“Attacks from the Dark Realm?” The Tortoise pushed his front legs against the table edge to lift his shell higher.
The Head Guardian nodded. “They’re attacking in small groups for increased strength. Several pairs and trios have simultaneously flown over our Alliance before retreating to the Steppe of Ora into Silva Nocens. Those four people were taken in different places all over the Alliance during the past thirty-six hours. One cimafa attacks the victim, while the others fight our blues. Several sentries are required to battle one cimafa, and we don’t have enough squadrons. They typically sneak over our borders singly to pursue auras that will boost their power—higher magicals, like you said, Lyra. Never have they purposely attacked non-magicals.”
“Can the Guardians fight the cimafa better than sentries?” Lyra asked.
“Yes. We can do more by using our auras, but I will not ask the other three to fight. I’m on my way out to join a patrol, since I’m the most capable. Losing a Guardian would be a tremendous danger. To break the balance of the four elements would seriously harm the strength of the Alliance.” He clasped his foreclaws against his massive chest. “Even I must use control; the great expenditure of Guardian power required to kill a cimafa would temporarily weaken our governance. The blues primarily fight with physical strength, hurling lightning bolts. Unless injured, they can recoup quicker. I alone have the advantage of using both magical and physical means in battle.”
“Do you want me to help?” Lyra asked.
“No. It’s best for all if you continue your studies to unlock the clues from each Book of Dragonspeir. That will reveal a way for the Alliance to overthrow the Dark Realm. As the Scribe, you are the only one who can read the hidden magical code in those texts.” The leader turned toward the door. “I’ll check with you later, when I return.”
“Head Guardian, are the higher magicals helping?” Lyra’s voice caught in her throat. “Is Cullen safe?”
He stooped to miss the upper arch of the door threshold and glanced over his shoulder. “Most are riding the senior sentries to offer additional strike force. Sire Drake will accompany Yord in my squadron.”
Lyra stepped forward, but the Imperial Dragon gave her no chance for discussion, bolting down the stone corridor with tremendous strides. She stared after him, immobilized by the shock of his news and concern for her love. After all that she and Cullen had risked and accomplished, hoping to reach their goal of living together…this didn’t seem possible. Moments ago, a happy life seemed within their grasp. She stared at the gray stone floor, dumbfounded. Their future together, once again, hung by a thread. Her mind filled with a blur of their hard victories won over the past year.
With each success they had won for the Alliance, Lyra gained more afflation. As the fifth Scribe, she wrote her Book of Dragonspeir, channeling the magic she inherited from four strong female ancestors into an account of her assessment of the Black Dragon’s power.
Later, when Cullen’s aura had been stolen instead of her own, she completed her bloodswear quest, removing his aura from the mind of the dark leader’s heir. Fulfilling her promise to the Imperial Dragon, she killed that successor to hinder passage of dark power, but the Alliance faced a huge cost—the Black Dragon’s vengeance.
He had formally promised to avenge his son’s death through murder of all Alliance residents. He was shrewd and quick, employing a deadly black magic plague. Lyra and Cullen found a cure and a way to permanently block the terrorism of the Dark Realm—secure the lost magical volumes written by the first three Scribes. As clues about the locations of those books were revealed, the Black Dragon and his chief staff members followed and fought hard. Lyra thought when they finally gained those missing books, peace in the Alliance, and a chance for Cullen and her to marry, were as good as real.
With this attack, her separation from Cullen seemed wider than ever. His magical strength, which kept him alive to the age of 220, depended upon the Alliance’s power. He maintained a transient double life as a bookstore owner in her world. Coming and going from Dragonspeir was necessary, since physical weakness set in after just a few days. Oppositely, until completing enough service to the Alliance, she couldn’t become fully afflated. Only with permission of the Imperial Dragon was she allowed to enter the Alliance. She and Cullen had worked tirelessly to reach their goal.
Faced with yet another danger that might separate them, Lyra’s shoulders slumped. She shuffled her feet along the pavers. She noticed how t
he surface had been worn smooth from hundreds of years of use by people who continued the battle against the Dark Realm. As the fifth Scribe in eight hundred years of this country’s history, she owed them her best. She needed to find her resolve again.
“Lyra, our need to continue is most urgent.” the Tortoise said, breaking her reverie. He stood directly behind her and held out his cheek to rub against her hand.
She jerked her hand away, knowing he’d sense her weakness. “I’m going to take a short break to visit the Imperial Dragon’s observatory. I need to look for some information in the fire stars that will help us.”
He pulled back but studied her carefully, tilting his head to one side. “I think channeling strength from your fire sign stars will be of great value. I’ll arrange to have some tea delivered in a few minutes, so we can progress. Return as quickly as you can.”
Lyra nodded and collected her wizard’s staff. She wound through the hallways toward the leader’s study. Entering the room, she passed by instruments powered by his element of air and considered using them to answer the question that burned in her mind—whether she and Cullen would ever be married. Before she reached the observatory, Lyra paused at the Lacuna Ales, knowing it would show an image of their future. A moment of weak hesitation held her at the edge of the wide marble basin, staring into the vaporous liquid. She sucked in a sharp breath and continued to the observatory. After all her work and hope focused on meeting one goal, she couldn’t chance disappointment. There was only one direction—forward.
Lyra scanned the late afternoon sky and quickly found Regulus of Leo, the brightest fire star of the spring sky. It pulsed with red-orange light and boosted her energy as always. Gazing up at the star, she felt a connection to the four Scribes before her, who’d also used the fire stars for guidance. She tilted a window pane open for a more direct connection.
The star’s light bathed her face. For the first time, Lyra could distinguish various energies in its transmission. Excited, she leaned over the window sill and extended her arms into the light. Variations of power danced along her skin. She recognized them from the ancient texts with magic imbued in the words of the previous Scribes. One vibrated with the qualities of the first Scribe, Elisabeth, and another with different pulses that Lyra found in Sorcha’s text. She couldn’t discern patterns of the other two, Nareene and Brigid, which didn’t surprise her since she still needed to study their books.
Busy reading, Lyra hadn’t been able to practice much with her new staff, which had been an award for recovering copies of those lost texts. She took a breath and gathered large portions of the aura pulsing within her mind, as well as some from her heart. Instinctively, she sent the mass down her arm and into the staff. Her fingers tingled when the vibrations jumped to the ornate metal. A second later, like a crackle glass lamp, the large golden sapphire cast amber light around the room. Then the gem flashed, and with a laser shot, she sent energy out of the window, calling upon Regulus.
Slowly the beam dimmed, and she waited for any response. Lyra kept her eyes focused on the star. Her powers had altered and expanded in new ways finding each of the three missing books. Even more powers were opened to her as she read and deciphered their hidden magic. Her sorcery lessons last winter had taught the basics, but these new abilities came without teachers. So far, trusting her intuition seemed to produce success. While previewing the books, she found a few references about scribal magic and intended to focus more on those for mastery.
Regulus glinted.
Lyra held her breath. The glimmers merged into a beam and met her at the window. When the rays contacted her, she started. The sensation was more intense than she had received from any fire star before. Her nerves prickled with the incoming energy. Grasping a free hand to the sill, she braced herself to accept as much as possible. Shaking, her gaze and concentration broke. She dug her fingernails into the wooden casing, clenched her jaw, and raised her face to the star once more.
She breathed with ragged pants as the star’s transmission penetrated her for a few more minutes. When it waned, she slumped backward and leaned against the edge of the central table.
The impact of her weight caused the onyx balls of the Spheres of Sidus to roll across the felted surface. They glowed in response to her newly received energy. She watched as they collided, their inner light begging for a question about her past, her destiny determined long before her birth.
She took a deep breath that filled her lungs fully and brushed strands of hair that crept out of her braid from her face. With no hesitation this time, she pushed off and forced her unsteady legs to carry her out of the Imperial study. As the present Scribe and fiancé of the Imperial Sorcerer, she had one job—block attacks by the Black Dragon through whatever means available. Unlocking the power in the ancient scribal texts was her job alone. Her nerves pulsed with new energy. Although her limbs still wobbled slightly, she commanded them to march toward the library.
Five blue sentries blocked the main corridor ahead of Lyra and didn’t notice her approach. Usually disciplined and regimented, their long tails whipped, missing her by a few feet as they darted back and forth.
She plastered herself against the hard stone of one wall.
“Another? No! How?” one blue demanded, sparks escaping from his mouth as he spoke.
“We can’t lose more to those cimafa,” the older guard addressed the others. “The beast sucked out his aura before killing him, no soul left behind. Fighting this way and taking so many auras, those cimafa are soon going to be unstoppable.”
The dragons murmured agreements and shuffled over the stone pavers.
“It already takes at least three of us to kill one cimafa. How will we take them if they become more powerful, especially if they continue to attack in numbers?” a younger dragon with a slight build asked.
“Who was killed? Which blue sentry?” Lyra asked, stepping forward. Fear and anger made the new energy from the fire star throb in her nerves. She worked to contain it inside the aura of her mind and heart.
“It was Seta, one of our elite guard—a serious loss to our defense.” The elder blue, Hallen, replied as the others parted and bowed to admit her into the center of their circle. “Scribe Lyra, thank you for your inquiry. You were attacked by stealth dragons and escaped. Do they possess a weakness?”
“I don’t think they have any. I just held onto my aura with all my power, and narrowly escaped losing it. I wasn’t able to fight, so I don’t know.” As the words left her mouth, she wondered if the ancestral scribal powers might make a difference. “Where are the cimafa attacking? And Yord and the Imperial Dragon?”
“Leading a patrol over the Meadow of Peace since many dwell there. They’re both very powerful. Still, the stealth dragons have taken two more non-magicals from there. Clutches of three often lie in wait outside the lair for our departing squadrons.”
Lyra swallowed hard. “Come with me onto the landing ledge. Protect me up while I try to fight them.” Unable to fully contain her new energy, Lyra hoped she could manage the enormous power outside of her body. She had seen Gea, the enormous golden dragon, injure the wing of a cimafa. The Imperial Dragon was also a gold and equally strong. The blues were less capable, and she wanted to help them.
“You must not put yourself at risk. The Imperial Dragon won’t permit—”
“The Imperial Dragon isn’t here, and my job is to protect the Alliance.” She stepped around Hallen and headed through the grand hall toward the exit. She didn’t dare look back to encourage their dispute.
After a minute of silence, the squadron breezed to her side in the foyer. The fine carpets had been rolled clear, and blood stained the floor—some patches of fresh carmine and some black as soot from wars of ages past.
Lyra led the way with her staff, determined to help put an end to centuries of bloodshed.
“Please allow me to act as a decoy to spare you some risk.” Hallen waited for Lyra’s response, and with a nod from her, he bounded o
nto the ledge with two other blues.
Moments after the sentries took flight, a shadow fell over the landing area. The strange darkness of that shadow Lyra knew well, like looking into a deep abyss. The air split with piercing cries of stealth cimafa, and pain shot through Lyra’s ears.
She cringed but kept a firm grasp on her wizard’s staff. Staying close to the arched opening of the lair, she twisted it to spark a slight glow into the yellow sapphire apex. The channel to send her aura was ready.
Hallen struck first, spewing a huge bolt of lightning at the lead cimafa.
The lithe black frame of the smaller stealth dragon slipped above the blast. The other two charged the elder blue, their red eyes sending a crossfire of lasers to ensnare his gaze.
Hallen’s body writhed in mid air, trying to break free from their hold.
A pair of blues blasted the dark trio with lightning, and the remaining three of their squadron attacked from the back. Odds looked to be in favor of the sentries, but Lyra stayed on guard.
She prepared her staff, sending as much aura as she could mass together into it. Light pulsed in the gems as though they were about to explode. Her heart pounded. She might be wrong about her new powers. Lives were on the line. She shoved the idea into a mental recess.
The cimafa who dodged Hallen’s initial attack noticed Lyra and let out another shriek. Cimafa used every sensory input, including magic, to locate auras to feed upon. The rims of his eyes flashed red, ready to lock onto hers. Caught in the battle, he twisted and dipped, but couldn’t get low enough to capture her gaze. His screech became an agonized cry, unable to reach a prize catch.
The squadron bombarded the trio with dozens of bolts.
One of the cimafa who held Hallen opened his jaws wide to receive the captive’s aura. Without it, the blue’s body would become an empty comatose shell, lacking power or soul. Remembering the agony when one of them stole Cullen’s aura, a wretched burning feeling lodged in the pit of Lyra’s stomach.
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