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

by Marsha A. Moore

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” the Guardian replied. “Unlike Elisabeth’s Book of Dragonspeir, copies of her bloodswear quest document have remained in the Imperial library since she wrote it. I’m well acquainted with the text. If you’ll take notes as you study the hidden magic, I’d like to use this time for some research. Mimio, will you please assist me?”

  The sorceress nodded. They disappeared up the stairs and into the archives.

  Refocusing on the book, Lyra located the beginning of the scene and read silently.

  The man in the doorway tipped a floppy, low-brimmed black cap to reveal a long braid growing from a small patch of hair at his crown. “I hear you’ve come to offer a trade in order to know about the Emtori Ruby.” A smile accentuated his words as he named the gemstone. He rubbed his hands together, scattering a cloud of multi-colored dust into the air. It sparkled in the glimmer given off by a row of candles, their glow enhanced with metal reflectors to provide lighting on his work table.

  “We offer this enchanted gem—a blue scrying stone—in exchange for information about how to handle that particular ruby.” Garrett swept forward and opened his hand to reveal a deep navy stone with a white star shining across its smooth cabochon surface. He dropped his torso into a bow but kept his head held high to watch for a response.

  I was thankful Garrett had traveled into this strange land before. The people there acted from a different base of customs and beliefs than what I was familiar with, either in my homeland or in the Alliance. Folks in Terza evaluated every encounter in terms of personal gain. Such continual greed weighed heavily upon my sensibilities as well as my confidence.

  Kon bristled and pushed Garrett’s hand aside. “My time is too valued for a petty offer. You think of me as a fool.” He straightened his posture and snapped the fingers of his right hand, sending another puff of glitter into the air. “Etes, I need to call your services.”

  From the dark shadows at the back of the shop, a tiny creature twisted its way out from between brooms, iron rods, and bellows of all sizes. Emerging snout first, it snarled and displayed a row of pearly little teeth, which were so small I didn’t feel any appreciable threat. Its full height rose no more than my hip—a squat little dragon-beast. It whipped its tail wildly in front of us.

  Compared to the grand dragons of the Alliance, I fought an urge to pet this diminutive sort. My hand extended out, but Garrett grasped my wrist and thrust my body backward. “What danger can that wee dragon pose?” I asked, still in disbelief.

  “It’s a matan. That tail barb bears deadly poison, enough to kill a man in minutes,” Garrett replied, clutching me to his side.

  “I see we both have knowledge of the other’s ways,” Kon said with a sly smile. “Perhaps now we can respect our trade, that is, if your want is big enough.”

  I knew the risk proved real, but so too was our need. He and I wished to wed, but were kept from that privilege until I could be named his equal. That required my extended effort of service to the Alliance, working tirelessly to block acts of ill intent against the land. If we could destroy this power source, then a happy life with my beloved might be near at hand. Only this queer craftsman blocked our present path.

  I moved a hand to the inner pocket of my surcoat.

  Garrett stilled my movement. “What are you intending to offer?” He felt the book through the cloth of my outer garment and shook his head. “It’s too much, but we have no other choice.” I couldn’t discern whether he intended his reaction as a manipulation in the trading procedure, or that the stories I’d scribed were truly too valuable. Weighing my written words to the Emtori Ruby yielded a clear answer in my mind.

  I withdrew the black, leather-bound volume, one of a dozen copies the Tortoise ordered his scriveners to draft. Keeping mindful of the matan, I thrust it toward the lapidist. “This is an account of the current status of the Emtori Ruby and its possessor, the Black Dragon. He is the leader of the Dark Realm in the land of Dragonspeir. I was chosen from a far land to be the author. Some say there is magic within my words.”

  Kon accepted the book and turned it over, stroking his whiskery beard. “And where do you make your homeland?”

  “I live among humans in a land called England.”

  “England. I’ve heard of the place. Show me something from there to prove yourself.”

  I panicked, thinking about what I wore from head to toe and felt for what might be stowed in my pockets. I owned no jewelry; times had been hard for my family after my mother passed, even though father did very well with his shop, making swords for noblemen. My fingers ran across a wad of rough linen at the bottom of the pocket where I’d stored my book—my coif. I pulled it out for display. “Here’s a coif, my head covering from how I was dressed when I entered Dragonspeir. No one wears these long veils that I’m wearing now at my home.” I ran a hand along the length of the fabric over my hair, hoping the difference meant something to this person who’d likely never been to either locale.

  “It is different indeed.” He seemed satisfied and examined the book. “Hmm. This gives interesting accounts about warring peoples.”

  Etes growled and took a step in my direction.

  Kon absently waved the matan to back away. “A fair about trade!” He snapped the book shut. “I’ll accept this, what-you-call, Book of Dragonspeir, which you penned. In turn, you may hear what magic is in the Emtori Ruby.” He motioned to some crude wooden chairs littered with rags, saws, and chisels, and stooped to clear away his supplies. “Please sit yourselves, and let me tell.”

  Garret and I took seats beside each other.

  Kon pulled a tall stool from his work bench and perched his tall frame above us. He crooked a finger, and his matan coiled its small body around a lower rung between the lapidist’s long legs. Kon dropped his gaze to the small dragon. “The story of how he came to me.” The lapidist loosened the cord cinching his drab green apron and gave ease to the fabric drawn across his belly. He let out a sigh and settled into a comfortable slouch. “Long ago, a century gone, when my father and I served our employment of mining—what most every Malificate is expected to do—his axe shattered a new mineral vein open. Surely fate, since his old arms gave no strong blows. So much dislodged, he toppled back over me. After the dust settled, we looked up, and a deep red glint took our eyes, then wormed into our minds.” The lapidist stared past us with a faraway look.

  I glanced over my shoulder but found only a shelved wall littered with a disarray of craftsmen’s supplies.

  A grin spread over his face. His eyes widened, set in a blank stare at some object behind us, or at some memory. “I still feel its call. Directly we knew it was special. With no one else near in that Emtori tunnel, we looked at one another. My father gave a single nod, and we shot straight to work, picking that fire free from its maternal vein. Quite a fight it served, not wanting to leave the cradle. With one mighty heave, which tore my shoulder, a mass the size of my head fell loose. Dark with clinging bits of its mother, a thumbnail patch of burgundy lit the mine floor beneath.” He lifted off his hat and turned it over, brim toward us. “I stowed it in my cap, same sort as this here.” He demonstrated the technique of pulling the brim together, facing the open edge under his apron.

  “Too injured to work to day’s end, I begged off to meet a healer. Father came along; no one saw to argue with an elder. He treated me himself, so no one knew I’d healed. I pretended to convalesce a long week. Instead, I worked using lapidary skills I’d learned through my apprenticeship—a craft to someday get me out of the mines, when the senior lapidists retired. We’re a long-lived people; that could have been several centuries hence.

  While I cut and revealed the gem, I felt its raw power surfacing. If the gem met its promise, I’d own a real sense of power over the Vizards who worked us hard like slaves. Long into those nights, I cut and polished, fever blinding my vision to all but the ruby. My relentless efforts turned to delirium.” He flashed a toothy smile and leaned closer. “So
me say I’ve never been right since.

  Father couldn’t mend my sickness, a crazy thirst for the power in the stone. Although I’d intended to control it, to train it to do my bidding, the fire wanted different. Some say luck, but I say fate, took my father to make his usual trade. He regularly bartered samples of the secret Malificate obsidian dust with drake dragons at the upper world’s dark forest. I always went with him, except that day, unable to leave the red stone. They took advantage and overpowered his weak frame, demanding more powder that he didn’t have. To beg his release, he offered my Emtori Ruby, if they could make good trade. He talked high about its terrific strength, while truly wanting to rid me of its hold. The drakes told him to come back the following day for trading.”

  Kon dropped a hand and patted the matan’s head. “That night, Father used all the obsidian powder in the elders’ storehouses to create an enchantment to control the ruby. He poured the bespelled liquid over it, and formed a base underneath--a dark rock in the shape of a crossed star. The star stone, what he called his Staurolite, manifested an affinity for the fiery gem. It pulled the ruby to it from a distance, balancing the gem on the star’s center. With the power moderated, I regained my faculties and accompanied him for the trade the next morning. I begged him to allow me to learn use of the Staurolite to make the ruby do my bidding. I never wanted to work those mines again, and imagined exactly how I’d make those Vizards pay.

  Bound by his honor, Father wouldn’t relent unless he deemed their offer unworthy. In the forest above, a fracas allowed us to freely exit without sneaking past Vizard guards. We slipped out the portal tunnel and hid behind some brush. Two small dragons, not even to the ankle of one drake, whipped red tails with such magic that made five Vizards scream in agony. We waited until the tiny creatures were controlled, and the guards crept back down to Terza while still gripping their pained bony skulls.

  Father made an eager trade, accepting the pair and their nest filled with four eggs. Those were the first matans, claimed to have been brought from a distant land by the darkest dragons of their forest. The souls of the matans would not give way.

  The fire of the Emtori Ruby sparked when my father removed it from the Staurolite base.

  The drakes’ eyes gleamed with wicked greed. They nodded in favor of the trade, anxious for rewards after presenting the prize to their leader.

  Ever after, Malificate elders and their families have kept matans. Some Vizards and their Rotter allies were made examples, tasting a version of our slavery,” Kon said with a snarl. His eyes looked wild and fearsome. “With the constant threat, power shifted, and our people now live better lives, working for fair trades.”

  By his tone, I wondered if he’d been the one to torture those individuals. “Would anyone be able to control the Emtori Ruby?” I asked, avoiding his malevolent gaze.

  Kon stroked the length of his braid. “I imagine given the right sort of power, someone could. For a short time, I’m sure. For long…” He shook his head. “It would bring madness and self-destruction.

  Glad for this information, I realized why I had been able to enter the Black Dragon’s chamber and touch the ruby in his presence. His own strength to control it was waning. Knowing how my birthmate star aligned with the ruby’s energy, I had a chance, albeit slim, of controlling the ruby better than the Black Dragon, at least for a while.

  “Can the ruby be destroyed?” I asked.

  The lapidist shuddered and shot me a pained look. “Why ever would that need to occur?” He swallowed hard and continued. “It would require a strength as fiery as its own to crush and release its aura.”

  Although I knew I possessed fire energy in my magic, I didn’t know how strong.

  “What about the Staurolite?” asked Garrett. “If you didn’t give it to them, where is it?”

  “I’ve wished I knew that answer many times over. Father left off alone for a week, saying he was on a stint to visit a relation. After he’d been gone, I discovered he took the Staurolite with him. I tried to find him, but no one knew where he’d taken to. He returned without the stone, telling me he hid it far away to keep me from using it to call that ruby back. Wise man, for I would have, even still today. On his deathbed, he ranted of the Staurolite being in a place called Cerid’s Crux. I stinted there, almost died in the heat and sun, and came home without it.”

  Garrett rose and stretched his back. “How does the Staurolite work to affect the ruby?”

  “While I did have the Staurolite, I tested some of its properties. Hard like quartz, the stone seems related to a ruby by their crystal shapes. However, crystals of the Staurolite orient only at right angles. My thoughts are it directs powers of the ruby along those two orderly planes, organizing the disarray of energy.” Kon dropped his hat on the floor in the middle of our circle. It hit the stone with a splat, crushing the soft peek, and a cloud of sparkling mica billowed into the air.

  I coughed, and squinted to see a second tiny dragon standing next to the worn hat. The creature was shorter than Kon’s matan. It spun around, whipping both head and barbed tail in all directions.

  The lapidist held up his palm to the new matan. “Be at ease.” He waved his hand toward us. “Meet your new masters, Sire Garrett and Scribe Elisabeth.” Kon’s face warmed with a smile as he looked at us. “You’ve given me a time to enjoy retelling that old tale, very special to me. We Malificates are proud and value passing our histories. For that, I share with you this female matan who will birth a nest soon. Her powers will see you out of Terza without risk. No Vizards will attempt harm.” He bowed his head. “Thank you for our trade.”

  “Thank you, Master Kon. We humbly appreciate your time and gift,” I replied, bowing my head in turn. Stunned with his sudden generosity, I kept my eyes on him. The retelling of the story seemed to affect him more deeply than I had expected.

  A thud startled me to lift my head and see my matan staring squarely into my face. I jerked back, unsure if it posed danger.

  A loud noise made Lyra jerk away from the book, her hand reflexively clasping the amulet. Before her tired eyes completely refocused, a flurry of silver, white, and gray feathers swept in front of her.

  “Lady Lyra, I’m here reporting for duty.” Kenzo, the giant tiger owl, perched on the far edge of the library table. “I saw Master at the Village where I was helping transport water pails. He instructed me to meet you here at once.”

  Lyra’s cheeks rose, and a smile covered her face. The tension from her reading experience melted away, and she remembered the crippled child who needed her help. Lyra opened her arms to hug her dear friend. “I do have a job for you.”

  Chapter Ten: To Hold a Ruby

  Lyra rolled back on her cushion and looked at the tiger owl, quiet on his perch. A pensive grayness clouded his normally crystal blue eyes. Cracks split his talons, and the ends of his feathers were tattered. Times were hard for everyone. She missed his quick wit and sharp tongue. She hoped her mission would lighten his burden somewhat. “Have you seen Noba?”

  “Yes. He should be fine,” Kenzo replied. “He’s working in the secured dwellings, helping distribute food and water. I haven’t seen him as often as usual though. I’m a fast flyer and assist the wizards to get water from the well between cimafa strikes.”

  Lyra smiled and ruffled his neck feathers the way he always liked. “I’m sure you were also chosen for your bravery. And Noba’s big heart will be useful to cheer up the villagers. I just read a scene about how the first pseudodragons came to the Alliance. Elisabeth was given a pregnant female in a trade with Kon when she visited Terza.”

  “Kon? The man we met? He lived that long ago?” The owl’s beak hung open.

  Lyra nodded. “He was over eight hundred years old. Here, a few of the highest magicals are that old.”

  “Only those who have enough afflation.”

  “Afflation won’t help anyone, unless we can stop the Black Dragon. I’ve been studying to find a way to stop him. I don’t have time to do s
omething else that I think is important. That’s what I need you for.”

  “You can count on me,” he said, stretching out to his fullest length. “What do you wish me to do?”

  “There is someone I’d like to help who has helped me. She’s a crippled child, named Kessa, who I can tell has magical ability. If only she’d receive training, she might have a skill that would give her confidence and happiness despite her physical limitations. For some reason I don’t know, her mother wants to keep the girl’s magic hidden.”

  “So what can I help with?” Kenzo asked. He rotated his head a full 180 degrees toward the window at the sound of a dragon squadron leaving the lair.

  “We all jump at that noise.” She glanced up at the archive stacks to make sure the Tortoise and Mimio still searched for old journals. “I think she’s a seer,” Lyra whispered.

  “A seer?” his voice rose, and his feathers ruffled on edge.

  “Shh. I don’t think anyone else other than me and Cullen suspect what she is. I want you to make friends with Kessa and her mother, Nillea. Try to learn more. They’re working in the lair’s kitchen. You’ll probably find them there.”

  “Why are they here and not in the secured zones?”

  “Nillea told me she convinced a young blue into bringing them here. Just before Maxime Eviligo took effect, a cimafa nearly took Kessa because she was unable to run. I think that much is true, but there may be more to know. Nillea is working desperately hard in the kitchen to earn their keep. She’s a very determined woman who appears to be hiding something.”

  “How old is Kessa?”

  “Around ten. A pretty girl in a plain sort of way. Her spirit is warming—something is special about her.” Lyra rose and opened the door to the hallway.