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

by Marsha A. Moore

  Vickie eyed the water swirling with sparkling currents. “Do you reckon this is safe?”

  “These are kind folk here.” Raylene stooped and ran a hand in the water. “It’s warm, like bath water.” A grin lit her face, and she peeled out of her sweater coat and t-shirt. The pony print pajama bottoms fell to the ground. She snaked out of camisole and panties, submerging her stick-straight body into the water before her cousins removed their jackets and boots. After dipping her head back to wet her hair, she let out a string of giggles.

  “What’s so funny, Ray?” Vickie asked while tugging tight jeans past her wide hips.

  “The water’s fizzing, like some fancy champagne,” she replied, muffling a few giggles between words.

  Lyra unwound her braid and wriggled out of mud-crusted jeans. She considered taking a few minutes to conjure the clothes clean but couldn’t resist Raylene’s laughter. Lyra hurriedly rumpled them into a pile and casually set a charm to work on the entire stack, as well as Raylene’s cast off trail. Soap in hand, she stepped into the pool. The warm water bubbled around her, and Lyra slipped down to her chin. The fizzing tickled her nose, and she broke into a fit of giggles alongside Raylene.

  Vickie undressed behind a bush, then stepped to the bank wearing a towel. “Y’all cover your eyes, or I’m not coming in.” She turned her back, dropped the towel, and quickly backed down the bank until covered to her shoulders. “Oh! Ray, you weren’t telling no lie.” She twirled her arms through the bubbly currents, her face lit with a wide smile.

  Lyra shot a cleaning charm at Vickie’s pile of garments.

  Raylene blew bubbles and tried to talk at the same time, her voice garbled with pops and tweets like a robot from an old sixties movie.

  Lyra laughed so hard, her side ached, and the bar of soap slipped from her hand. She caught up to it floating at the far bank and turned to get splashed with a face full of water.

  Between giggles and splashing, the trio managed to wash, or at least Lyra hoped the bubbles cleaned the spots she missed.

  They got out of the water, and Lyra wrapped herself in the coarse hand-woven towel. She remained at the bank finger-combing her hair, while her cousins drifted away, engaged in constant chatter.

  Lyra quickly dropped her towel and stepped into her panties and jeans. Before she could reach for her top, warm hands brushed the bare skin of her back and sides.

  “Lucky me, to find you without your cousins,” Cullen murmured in her ear as he slid his hands over her stomach and cupped her breasts.

  Lyra melted into him. “The water is wonderful. Too bad I was sent to bathe earlier and not with you.”

  “Join me and be twice as clean.” He nuzzled the side of her neck.

  “Sounds nice.” She leaned her head back against his shoulder.

  In the distance, her cousins along with squeaky-voiced circutamina talked with a gravel-throated hemlock. Glad for their diversion, she reached behind her and pulled the tie loose from Cullen’s tunic.

  His fingers made quick work of unfastening her jeans.

  She spun around and ran her hands up warm skin under his tunic. Her lips met his as he folded her into a tight embrace, pressing her bare breasts against his solid chest.

  “Scribe Lyra!” Ivri’s tiny voice cut through the forest.

  Lyra broke away from Cullen’s kiss but couldn’t seem to move apart from the delicious feeling of their flesh pressed together.

  “Scribe Lyra!” the keeper called ahead, then reached the bank with a gasp. “Oh! I didn’t mean to intrude. Apologies. Artisan Partho has some questions when you come back to the workshop.” She spun on her wide, flat feet and scurried through the brush.

  After another slow kiss, Lyra tore herself away and dressed.

  ***

  Refreshed from a meal and bath, as Lyra wound her way back to the aron tree, she searched for Draora and found her leaning against a staircase railing high inside the workshop.

  “Scribe Lyra.” Partho strode to meet her, spectacles resting precariously at the tip of his nose. “I have a few simple questions to complete my task.” He held the length of wood from the World Tree, now planed free of bark and trimmed smaller. “Which arm do you favor? Do you know what length will suit you?

  “I’m right-handed, but I don’t know about length.”

  He held the wood from the left side of her neck. “Extend your left arm.” With a sharp fingernail, he marked the wood at the point of her wrist. “Thank you. That is all.” Head down, studying the wood, he scuffled back to a work counter in a large root.

  Keepers darted quietly, assisting Partho.

  Lyra picked her way through the chaos to the base of the stairs and, carefully positioned her feet on the irregular treads. After she wound twice around the trunk’s interior, she reached Draora.

  Curled against the banister with legs dangling below the open staircase, the witch exhaled loud, whistling snores.

  Lyra sat on the step below and gently placed her hands on the old woman’s knees. The energy of the massive burden she carried hit Lyra square and hard, as if she walked into a wall. A thundering pulse pounded against her skull. She swallowed and forced aura into her hands. She wished she could be an empath and directly accept negative energy like her cousins. Instead, she offered her only gift, some of her aura to strengthen the witch. Watching for any sign of disturbance, Lyra proceeded slowly, dripping aura into Draora. The snores came with the same gentle rhythm, and Lyra smiled at her successful attempt.

  Until sunset, local keepers played fiddles and drums outside since Partho demanded silence in his workshop. When the last ray of light dropped behind the tree line, the circutamina transformed into glowing orbs and disappeared into their tree homes.

  Lyra sighed and leaned into Cullen. “What a beautiful sight—the forest lit with their twinkling lights. It’s hard to imagine the dangers we left this morning that burned this peaceful place.”

  He rubbed her shoulders. “Tomorrow, we have to find a way to save Silva Caliga. Let’s get some rest now.”

  She nodded and followed him as he led her into Partho’s home. As they selected blankets, Lyra checked on her cousins.

  Raylene draped an arm over two circutamina, like a young girl taking her dollies to bed.

  Vickie arranged a spot against Raylene’s back, while Noba used Vickie’s soft hip as a pillow.

  Cullen and Lyra snuggled together in a small root crevice. Curled into his embrace, Lyra let the grinding and filing noises of Partho working slip farther into the background.

  ***

  A hand touched Lyra’s arm, but, in the darkness, she couldn’t pick out a face. “Lyra. Wake up,” the voice of the woodsman whispered. “Follow me outside.”

  The chilly pre-dawn air drove the grogginess from Lyra, and she accepted the violin and bow from Partho.

  The woodsman scanned the skies overhead. “So dark. Only keepers light this sky. Where is Silva Caliga’s protective haze? He choked on his words. “The silver mist from the Lady of the Forest is missing.” He faced Lyra, then looked away. “I’ve failed. I’ve finished too late.”

  Chapter Sixteen: The Mourning Dirge

  Lyra stooped to eye level with the woodsman and wrapped her arms around him. Lost without the kind, Lady of the Forest, Lyra let her sobs spill into the stillness of the night. It seemed like only she and Partho realized the passing.

  The trees and their keepers remained still, the only noise a soft buzzing of sleep.

  She cried until a tear from Partho hit her cheek. She paused and used clairvoyance to read his emotions. Her heart opened with compassion for his pain. “No. You aren’t too late. And neither am I. Together we can save the folk of this land—what I promised Lady Ysmena.”

  He slumped onto a large rock and bowed his head. “What more can I do? I’ll gladly help you if I can.”

  Lyra lifted the violin, and Partho handed her the new bow. “I need you to teach me how to play.”

  “Any circutamina can t
each you to play a fiddle. You don’t need me for that.” He buried his head in his hands. The knit cap fell to the ground, and his white hair shined in the dim light.

  “Yes, I do.” She picked up his cap and handed it to him. “I need to know how to unlock the magic in this bow in order to save Silva Caliga. Only you know the ways of this wood.”

  The artisan straightened his posture. He pulled the hat low onto his forehead and nodded. “Wood from the World Tree is special—from the oldest ash. When you sweep this bow across the strings, you must look to the stars to unlock all the magic. That is because ash wood connects to astral realms, a doorway to the stars.” He tilted his head and studied her. “What is your birthmate star?”

  “It is Hamal of Aries.”

  “Why then do you possess the Staurolite? It’s not aligned with fire alone.”

  Lyra kneeled on the ground in front of him. “Each of the Scribe’s before me was destined to find one of the keystones from the Alliance’s Elementum Arcesso. Those stones each correspond to an element of nature: fire, water, air, earth. When those Scribes died, their energies transferred to the fire stars which were their birthmate stars. From those stars, I gained their energies and associations with those keystones. That’s how I’m aligned with all four elements like the Staurolite.”

  Partho dropped to his knees and bowed low. “You own the power of quintessence,” he whispered. “I see why Lady Ysmena requested your promise. I believe you can save us.” He sputtered and rolled back on his haunches. “Ash wood from the World Tree is aligned with all four elements. Only one who possesses quintessence can unlock all dimensions of its magic.”

  “Amazing.” Lyra shook her head. “I wonder if the World Tree knew that when he gave his limb?”

  “I don’t doubt that. He’s our wisest tree.” With a smile, Partho held out his hands. “I’d be honored to teach you how to play. Let me show you first.”

  Lyra handed him the violin and bow.

  He positioned the violin on his small shoulder. His beard filled the extra space on the rest depression around his small chin. He pulled the bow across the strings. His thick digits maneuvered with surprising dexterity along the fingerboard. He played a solemn dirge, the notes dripping with melancholy. The instrument rang clear and loud, sounding throughout the forest. His song awakened the trees and their keepers.

  Kenzo stirred from his perch in the aron tree, and flew down to a branch near the pair.

  Many keepers sang along, while others broke into sobs. The music reverberated through the woods. No breeze disturbed their mourning. When the song ended, the forest folk sustained a minute of silence, broken by Partho handing the instrument to Lyra.

  “Now, it’s your turn. Play this fiddle with your heart, not your fingers.” He nodded. “Bring us the hope we need.”

  Lyra positioned the violin along her left shoulder and turned her head to cup the rest with her chin. She lightly grasped the frog of the new bow with her right fingertips.

  “Hold a second.” Partho lifted the elbow and back of her wrist on the bow arm. “Now, play.”

  She took a deep breath and straightened her spine. Aura pulsated along her skin. She worried she wouldn’t be able to elicit the ancient magic. After taking time to loosen and relax her tightened hands, she touched the bow’s hair to the violin strings.

  Partho nodded again.

  Moving the bow slowly, a tremendous, fluid note erupted from the instrument. Clear and lovely, it echoed through the trees.

  Keepers gasped from their stations on high branches. Some moved to the ends of those limbs to be nearer, while others climbed down and congregated around the base of the aron tree.

  Lyra rolled her eyes upward to the clear sky, seeking inspiration from the stars. She found no sign, no direction about how to unlock the magic in the violin. Perspiration beaded along her upper lip and the nape of her neck. The one beautiful note dimmed. With hundreds of ears listening, the violin fell silent. She considered playing any melody she could remember from pop music to fill the silence but knew that wouldn’t be from her heart. Cold sweat covered her palms. She loosened the violin and prepared to look into expectant, disappointed faces.

  Her fingers slid up the neck and over the moonstone. An image of Nareene flooded her mind. Holding that visualization, she realigned the instrument and lifted the bow. Face tilted skyward and eyes closed tight, she clung to her connection with the violin’s original owner and played. A tune she’d never heard spilled from within her. Notes flowed one into the next, harmonized by warbles from nearby birds.

  As the melody repeated, keepers hummed along.

  Members of Lyra’s group spilled from the aron tree.

  When the final note glided far into the distance, Lyra lowered her bow and opened her eyes. She eagerly scanned faces of the forest folk.

  Kenzo let out a loud hoot and circled the tree with Noba squawking and tagging along.

  Song birds flitted away, carrying her melody in all directions. Keepers and trees alike leaned toward her with open arms and limbs. Bittersweet expressions covered many faces—tears mixed with smiles. The twinkling in their eyes showed the love and hope in their hearts.

  Cullen wrapped an arm around Lyra’s shoulder.

  Vickie hugged Raylene, both with happy tears streaming down their cheeks.

  “That’s some fine magic, Lyra dear,” Draora said from her seat on a boulder.

  Lyra’s heart swelled. “I found the nightingales’ song,” she whispered to Partho.

  “You certainly did.” A wide smile lifted his beard and his lids crinkled around damp eyes. He patted her knee. “I’m glad to have been your teacher.”

  “Thank you so very much for your incredible bow and help.” She stroked a hand over the top of his head.

  “Well done, both of you.” Ivri wormed into the middle of the circle. “Dawn will be coming soon. We guides must take you out of Silva Caliga to help your own people.”

  Lyra faced Cullen. “I expect dragon travel will be unsafe with all the attacks here.”

  “Definitely.” Cullen rubbed her back. “We must leave on foot. Ivri, what is the safest way to the Alliance? By way of the Sea of Cogadh?”

  “Oh no, Sire. The sea is a hotbed of drakes hissing among evil serpents. No one dares even attempt the shoreline.” The head keeper glanced at her helper guides. “From what I know, there is no safe way to the Alliance from the east or north…unless I’m mistaken.” She paused, and the others stood silent.

  “The far western or southern borders of the Alliance, which are least inhabited, would be the safest, then.” Cullen shifted his weight. “That means we’ll need to traverse the Dark Realm into Cerid’s Crux on the west.”

  “Go into the Dark Realm?” Kenzo blurted. “Are you sure, Master?”

  “It will be dangerous, but—”

  “There won’t be any battles going on there,” Lyra quickly added. “The fighting is in lands the Dark Realm wants to overtake.”

  “Cerid’s Crux was our next stop to find the Emtori Ruby. Can we continue without resting in the Imperial Lair?” Cullen asked her.

  She swallowed hard. “Cranewort told me to return as soon as possible because of the increased Dark Realm attacks. We aren’t much help to them without the keystones. I’d wanted to check with the Guardians in case they had some useful new knowledge about the keystones or Kessa. I guess I can go on without their help…but what about your strength? You need to recharge your power on the magnetics.”

  He nodded. “I do. But the magnetic pole of the Alliance connects to the opposite pole in the Dark Realm’s lair. You remember the ley line connectors helped us locate the black lair when we traveled there? I think I can use those.”

  “Noba is good at following ley lines,” the pseudodragon piped up and swooped down to Cullen’s feet. “Noba can help Master.”

  “Will a ley line have enough energy for you to repower?” Lyra asked Cullen while rubbing the little dragon’s ear.

&n
bsp; “Since we’ll travel from east to west, we’ll cross many. I can take energy from each we pass.”

  Lyra raised an eyebrow, and he replied with a confident nod that didn’t completely convince her. “Let’s hope that works. We don’t have any other good choices.”

  “In the dangerous regions, we can travel through the network of rowan roots and stay out of sight,” Ivri suggested.

  “Yes. Kenzo and I used the rowan roots to pass under much of the Dark Realm.” Lyra looked up at Kenzo.

  The owl sailed down to Cullen’s outstretched wristlet. “Good idea, unless those roots have been burned.”

  “Again, it’s the best idea we have.” Lyra scanned her group. “Prepare to leave in thirty minutes. I’ll transmit a message to Cranewort of our change in plans.”

  At her word, everyone scrambled. Local keepers brought more food and gourds filled with water, both to serve the travelers and to pack for the journey. They outfitted the visitors with burlap packs.

  Lyra gladly accepted one and stored her precious cargo of the violin and bow as a message reached her from Cranewort, Use extreme caution. The Imperial Dragon has detected unusual energy shifts along ley lines coming from the Dark Realm, patterns not like the Black Dragon’s.

  ***

  Lyra’s group, led by Ivri and the other guides, traversed diagonally across the heartland of Silva Caliga. They reached the southwestern region of the land as the turquoise of Dragonspeir sunrise tinted the horizon behind them.

  “Smoke from death fires fills the air ahead.” Ivri pointed out the puffs of black smoke. “We must travel underground through the connecting rowan roots now.” Aside to one of the guides, she asked, “Folt, you’re homeland is near. Where is the easiest connector?”

  “Down the side trail at the next junction,” he replied. “I’ll lead the way.”

  The slight, young male circutamina, with a beard of only white fuzz, led them swiftly to a large rock at the base of a rowan tree.