Symar glared at Lyra and raised his arm to hurl a powerball, but Cullen cut him off with a swift laser from his staff. The dark wizard beckoned into the field of barren pother.
A second stealth dragon, the one Lyra wounded earlier, emerged from where it hid just under the cloud tops. Clearly ailing, Lyra wondered how much power it could still wield.
In the riverway near the home of the auspex, a long canoe swiftly pulled alongside a clump of cloud material.
Kenzo sailed overhead following the falcon, while Noba perched on a gilded dragon head at the prow of the boat. The frame of the boat, painted in thousands of golden scales, shimmered with a blinding glare. Men’s voices reached Lyra’s ears, but she couldn’t make out features other than their general shapes dressed in white—the color worn by the palace guards of Aria. Her heart rose. She cradled her mashed hand and moved to contact Cullen.
Symar limped farther from the porch to where his wounded cimafa waited. Stiff-legged, he mounted and kicked it into a swift, high flight.
A man next to Noba at the front of the canoe waved at the falcon and bellowed a command in a strange language.
The raptor let go of the first cimafa and chased the injured one that Symar rode.
Men from the dragon boat shot harpoons and crossbows at the beasts. Many struck the injured flank of Symar’s cimafa.
Both dragons trembled and wailed, flinching when the falcon nipped at their eyes.
Darting in and out, the bird escorted the stealth dragons far to the south.
The men stepped out of the shallow boat onto the near shore. When they moved away from the golden glare, Lyra counted twenty-one Arial guards.
“Your Arial moonstone called us to come at once,” a man boomed, walking toward them. “Some of you possess auras of our friends.” Lyra recognized the tall man with a pointy nose—Belray—the palace guard they’d met before. His long, fitted jacket was decorated with gold ropes and an embroidered design of a large gilded falcon—the emblem of Aria. “Friends indeed!” He opened both arms to the pair. “Sire Drake and Scribe Lyra. Welcome back.”
Noba landed at the guard’s feet and stared up at him.
Cullen bowed, then accepted the captain’s greeting, clasping each other around the shoulders.
Belray tipped his head toward Lyra and held her good hand between his, a warm smile lifting the corners of his blond mustache.
Kenzo returned to perch on a porch rail near Draora.
Releasing Lyra, Belray bowed to the owl. His crew followed suit. “Noble Kenzo, we are grateful for your alert, helping guide us more quickly to where your friends were in danger. We are honored once again to have such a wise raptor visiting us. I’m certain that King Eos and Queen Mysa will want to visit with you while you’re here.” He faced Lyra and Cullen. “Does your business here take you to our palace?”
Lyra nodded. “Yes. I need to learn how to work the powers in this moonstone.” She displayed the neck of the violin bearing the milky white keystone. “Many innocent lives depend on it.” She thought about Kessa enduring torture and shivered.
“Thank you for battling our attackers.” Cullen dowsed the blue fire in his staff, stowed it in his jacket pocket, and nodded to Kenzo. “And a big thank you for your quick thinking and flight.” Cullen gently lifted Lyra’s injured hand, his fingers slowly mending the crushed bones as she leaned against his shoulder.
She felt him borrow her aura. How is your strength holding up? She flinched when he reset the tiny bones.
It’s limited, but we need to return to the Alliance quickly for other reasons so I’ll be fine.
Belray bent low and examined the gem. “A fine Arial moonstone that bears the Queen’s mark. I expect Queen Mysa can be of assistance.” He nodded behind Lyra and Cullen. “You’ve brought more friends. We shall gladly transport you all to the palace.”
Raylene and Vickie supported Ochre at either elbow.
Draora hung overhead, still gently stirring a white film around her family.
“These two ladies are my cousins.” Lyra wrapped an arm around the auspex.
“And the gentlewoman floating above?” Belray asked.
Raylene jerked. “You can see her?”
“Yes. Why is that a surprise?” He tilted his head. “She appears different than the rest of you, but is most certainly visible.”
Lyra examined Ochre, concerned about how Symar had treated the auspex. Bruises and cuts covered her wrists from the shackles. “Ochre, are you all right? Let me heal these wounds.”
“I think so. Shaken up a bit. I’ve long seen that man riding the skies. I knew he guided the weather through Dragonspeir, sometimes gathering clouds from Aria to do his work. I thought he’d be trustworthy. I never spoke with him until today…and never hope to again.”
Lyra passed her fingers lightly over injuries on the old woman’s wrists and ankles.
The lines around Ochre’s eyes relaxed. “Thank you dearly. It feels much better.” She smoothed the wrinkles around her wrists, massaging and working the joints. “Let me repay you and Draora for your kindness.” The auspex nodded to the ghost-witch above. “And I can see you too.”
“You’re welcome.” Draora landed and pulled the auspex into an embrace, their white hair mingling and floating on the witch’s circling breeze. “I felt your kindred spirit inside the house and knew something was off.”
Ochre leaned away and took Lyra’s hand. “I know the queen will tell you all she can about the moonstone, but is there any question I might be able to help with?”
Lyra looked at the violin. “Maybe there is.”
“Come around my flowers then.” In her hunched posture, she crept beside the dried floral arrangement on the crate. “Everyone gather near.” She looked up and grinned. “I include many secrets into the drying of these blossoms.”
They joined her under the canvas awning, except for the crew on lookout.
“What is your question, Lyra?”
“I want to know why Scribe Nareene created this violin?” Lyra asked.
While holding the Scribe’s hand, Ochre plucked the head of a specific dried rose. She crushed the flower, tossed it in the air, and watched intently where the curled petals fell. Her knobby fingers moved between Lyra’s. The auspex rechecked the strewn flower. “Your answer will be told by the nightingale. Let me call her.”
Teetering, she grabbed Lyra’s arm, and together, they headed a few steps into the forest of bare sycamore tops. “I’m trying to be quick. I sense your urgency.” Ochre bent stiffly and dug her arms into the pother. Lifting a load of frothy white matter, she flung it across the papery trunks and sang in an unfamiliar language.
Draora joined in song on some of her notes, extending the span of the call.
Ochre lifted a hand. “Listen.” A moment later, she pointed a bony finger ahead. “There! Listen.”
A faint warble responded, growing nearer until a tiny, nondescript, brown bird became visible flitting between the stubby limbs. Its melodious song charmed Lyra’s ears. She picked out a few slurred words but struggled to grasp the full meaning of its message. “What is it saying?”
“Here. Let me help.” The auspex extended an arm, and the bird accepted the perch. Connected through Ochre’s body, Lyra easily read the nightingale’s song.
Above the trills and chirps, the bird said, “A nightingale in the enchanted sycamore felt sorrowful hearing Nareene’s sobs. His promise—if she stopped crying, he would help her. She did, and he helped her craft that violin to match his notes. Then, she was able to play her song of magical protection and hope for her people. When she played, he sang for her—we all sang for her. You shall also play and bring hope for your people, her people. Find the correct bow, and we will again join its music.” The bird darted onto a branch, flicked its tail, then disappeared into clouds wafting past.
Ochre sighed and smiled. “You have your answer, and it is a good one. Does it help you?”
“Oh, yes!” Lyra hugged the au
spex. “I’ll be looking for the correct bow. Thank you.” She smiled at Cullen. “I suspect Lady Ysmena and her tree keepers of Silva Caliga can help me.”
“I expect so. This could be useful tool.” Cullen bowed to the auspex and faced Belray. “Time is short. Many suffer in our homeland. Can you get us to the palace quickly?”
“Indeed. Come and sit between our paddlers.” He took long strides, and Lyra worked to keep pace. After directing two of his guardsmen to remain and protect the auspex, he assisted his guests into the boat.
In the narrow canoe, Lyra and her cousins each took a seat in the middle of a different bench.
Noba resumed his perch on the gilded dragon head at the prow, while Kenzo preferred to fly alongside the boat with Draora.
They waved good bye to Ochre whose cheeks puffed with her wide, toothy smile.
The paddlers worked hard and fast, their powerful strokes in perfect unison to the cadence of the drummer at the bow. Only Belray, serving as the coxswain, faced forward, but Lyra repeatedly checked over her shoulder for glimpses of the palace.
Her cousins twisted in their seats, looking in every direction. Raylene whispered to Lyra, “Are we really floating on a cloud river?”
Lyra nodded and grinned. During the journey, she applied additional self-healing to her hand and sent clairvoyance to Cranewort. With all that had happened, she required a series of transmissions. His reply to each was the same—worries about their safety and increasing Dark Realm attacks, and encouragement to return as soon as possible.
***
Long before the sun rose to its midday position, the river of flowing clouds narrowed to a small channel. They passed many converging tributaries, which told Lyra they approached the harbor to the palace.
She scanned the open body of calm nebule, a lake of smooth golden stratus clouds. A few starp sampan boats sailed past, their yellow, gold, and white sails catching wind and sunlight. Dock slips stood open, and no one sat in the grand amphitheatre—a sharp contrast to the festival day of their previous visit.
“We’ve arrived at the grand aula,” Belray proclaimed and steered the dragon boat into the palace slip.
The paddlers nearest the dock jumped ashore and aided their guests.
“Oh my! Just look at that place,” Vickie exclaimed. “Is that marble?”
“No. Just clouds cut and crafted into shapes of stones,” Lyra replied. “It fooled me too at first.” The magnificent palace of the king still took her breath away. A huge multi-storied building rose high into the air, with Corinthian pillars supporting a long veranda across the front. Terraced clouds between the palace and docks formed a great amphitheatre that faced the portico. Tremendous white banners, bearing gold coats of arms in the shape of a falcon, billowed around the pillars.
With his wide strides, Belray sprinted the steps to the portico. There, another guard captain met him and conferred, too far ahead for Lyra to hear their conversation.
The other guard shook his head.
Belray, with three golden ropes hanging from his left jacket epaulet, outranked all others on the portico. “They will be seen. Go make that clear at once. Have Kenzo accompany you.” He turned to his guests. “Kenzo, please accompany Trant to greet King Eos. The king and queen are taking private counsel with their advisors. We shall meet them in the library.” He waved a hand. “Please follow.”
They passed through the grand hall lit by morning sun that angled through the stained glass of high arched windows. The throne sparkled in the golden and yellow light.
Lyra’s two cousins clung together near her. “My, this is fancy,” Vickie remarked. “And you say it’s all made of clouds. How on earth?”
A pair of guards at a wide door in the far corner lifted their crossed bayonets, and the group entered a well-appointed reading room. Ten-foot tall wooden cases lined walls of marble-like clouds. Carved gold leaf tables and chairs sat on a white rug bearing the Arial falcon emblem.
“Please be seated and comfortable.” Belray nodded to one of the attending couriers.
Draora flew up to investigate ceiling sky lights of yellow-hued panels, along with Cullen’s curious assistants.
Moments later, two men brought service trays of lemon water in cut glass pitchers and offered refreshments.
“This is too much.” Raylene took a seat on a velvet cushion and sipped from a gold embossed tumbler.
A door on the opposite side of the library cracked ajar. The guards stood at attention, faces stoic, eyes forward.
King Eos entered with Kenzo perched on his forearm, and Queen Mysa followed.
“Greetings to our dear friends. It’s good to see you again.” The king gave a broad smile and sat in a high-backed chair with the most ornate carvings. Over his trim frame, he wore an easy-fitting flaxen tunic and pants, cinched with a single gold cord. He wore no crown, and his white braid hung across one shoulder.
“Yes. We’re certainly fortunate to have your company again,” Queen Mysa added and took a place in a matching chair beside the king. Her long, full dress of golden linen, tastefully trimmed in ecru lace, was simpler than the fine satin outfit she wore during the festival. A plain amber pendant adorned her delicate throat. Her blond hair was swept into a neat bun, held in place by a thin golden headband. Still, her neat appearance made Lyra uncomfortably self conscious about the dried mud covering her jeans. Last time, she wore a proper gown and felt more appropriate.
After a round of introductions to Lyra’s family, the king asked, “What brings you to Aria? What may we help you with?” He stroked the owl’s feathers.
Cullen bowed, and Lyra followed suit. “I have located one of the missing keystones, the Aria moonstone, which the Alliance requires to help gather astral power.” She stepped forward and showed the violin to the king and queen. “That power of the collection of four keystones is desperately needed to stop the attacks by the Dark Realm. I need to get the others. The Dark Realm has possession of two, and one remains missing.”
“Lady Ysmena has kept me informed of the severe threats against the Alliance people,” Eos replied. “Since one of our gems was involved, I have studied the history of the Elementum Arcesso device that channels astral power. Facing such dangers, you’re wise to seek its restoration, even at great cost.”
Lyra took a breath and steadied her nerves. “I need to learn how to use the special magic of this moonstone to help get the other keystones. Since Queen Maryell enchanted the moonstone, I hope you will be able to help me understand its workings.”
The king looked to his wife.
“May I see your violin more closely?” Mysa asked.
Lyra handed it to her, and the queen gently turned the instrument over, running her pale fingers along the curves of the bouts and neck.
“Do you know why the moonstone was fitted into a violin?” she asked.
“We entered Aria at the portal of Auspex Ochre. She called a nightingale who explained that his kind connected to the music of this violin.” Lyra recounted the tale.
“Interesting,” the queen observed. “That makes perfect sense with my knowledge of moonstones. That ordinary thrush is given the fine name of a nightingale because they often sing at night, setting them apart from other songbirds. The moon is the source of all moonstones’ powers.”
Lyra straightened her posture. “So the nightingale sang when the keystone was most powerful, spreading the magic of Nareene’s song farther. That would offer protection and hope to the greatest numbers of Alliance residents.”
“Amazing magic.” Cullen stroked the whiskers of his goatee.
“This moonstone is among the strongest ever enchanted. Queen Maryell was known for her talents as a lapidist. I’ve read the verse she used to empower the stone, but cannot recall the exact wording. Unfortunately, without the poem, I cannot—”
Vickie shot up from her seat. “I have it!” She wrangled the crumpled paper from the pocket of her too-tight jeans and handed it to the queen.
Mysa g
ave Vickie a quizzical glance.
“I try my hand at a poem or two now and then. I helped decipher the meaning of the verse to locate the moonstone,” Vickie quickly explained.
“A poet?” The queen’s face lit with a smile. “You and I would become great friends if we had time. I write poems filled with words that carry magical emotions. That is my gift.”
“That sounds great,” Vickie replied.
Mysa beamed. “Then you shall help me use the verse to uncover the powers of this particular stone. Please, look over my shoulder while I read.” Once Vickie stood at her side, Mysa continued.
Soft light of this moonstone,
Pure of heart and noble of deed,
To no wrongdoing must it atone,
Giving so many the chance to be freed.
Tho generations hence new crops will be sown,
And young ones no longer have need,
This moonstone shall shine its light until they be grown,
Keeping watch in the mature sycamore’s seed.
Lyra gained new understanding from her reading. The moonstone glinted. Words sang in her mind, filled with emotions of fierce and altruistic defense coupled with gentle protection and encouragement. She looked at her cousin. “What do the words tell you about the gem?”
“Did you see the gem spark?” Mysa asked Vickie.
She nodded. “I did.”
“I did too,” Lyra replied.
“So did I!” Raylene added, clutching the arm of her chair nearest the queen as if she badly wanted to be included.
“Land sakes, girl, sit still.” Draora swept down to rest at the back of her granddaughter’s chair. “It was easy enough to see.”
“Not for me,” the king said, eyeballing the ghost-witch. “What about Sire Drake and his assistants?”
“No.” Cullen looked to Noba and Kenzo who shook their heads.
“Then this enchantment has a familial element, which makes it even more complex,” the queen reasoned. “How clever of Maryell to use that property to extend the usefulness of the stone through generations.”
Vickie cleared her throat. “The line ‘To no wrongdoing must it atone, giving so many the chance to be freed’ tells me the stone’s magic fought hard, probably even killing, but all for the sake of saving innocent lives.”
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