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

by Marsha A. Moore

  Lyra placed her hand on the trunk of the old tree and sent a silent communication. Tell me, kind rowan, do you know what lies ahead on the underground trail to the southwest?

  In the direction of the Dark Realm? Why would any kind soul wish to travel there? The tree shook his twigs.

  We need to pass into Cerid’s Crux to the far west.

  Then know that our roots have been badly burned at the Dark Realm border. You will need to rise up and travel south to reconnect once again to us. May you have a safe journey.

  Lyra patted his trunk. Thank you.

  “I’m grateful for the rowan’s advice,” Ivri said as she and Cullen waited for Lyra at the entrance to the tunnel. The others formed a single-file line where the root leveled and widened.

  One of the front guides transformed into her glowing form to light their way. Still, sharp turns, cracks, and bumps in the floor made walking treacherous, and the visitors clung to each other for balance.

  The circutaminas’ wide feet with clawed toes easily griped the uneven path. The guides spread themselves among the group, bracing their taller guests as best they could with their short arms.

  Kenzo and Noba fared the worst, unable to fly in the tight space and not adept at walking even under ideal conditions.

  Lyra and Cullen took turns carrying each.

  After what seemed like an hour, Folt, who took the lead, ran back to them. “The tunnel has collapsed ahead. We must surface at the next exit hole which lies twenty feet on.”

  At the passage, he bounded up the crude steps dug in the earth with Ivri close behind.

  Cullen followed, holding tight to Lyra’s hand. Thick smoke set them into coughing fits, and they stumbled over the opening to the forest.

  Ivri grasped Lyra’s hand. “Form a chain so we don’t lose anyone. It’s not far, but this smoke is bad.”

  She gripped Cullen’s hand tighter and relayed the message.

  Their chain snaked around dozens of charred trunks, smoldering stubs with their tops crumbled on the forest floor.

  Occasional whimpers sounded from dying hemlocks, ashes, rowans, and hickories—species Lyra had connected with before. Once or twice, she thought she heard garbled cries from dying keepers who chose to remain with his or her tree. She pulled on Ivri’s hand. “Is there anything we can do for them?”

  The lead keeper looked over her shoulder at Lyra. “I hear them too and wish the same, but we cannot. There is no time. Smoke this thick will kill us if we stay.”

  A few minutes later, the guides led the group down into the safety of another tunnel. Once their eyes adjusted to the dim light, they moved onward.

  Although in cleaner air below ground, Lyra’s lungs and throat still burned, and her eyes watered. She trudged forward.

  Noba lay weak and quiet in her arms.

  They all dragged onward, even the guides.

  After another hour walk, Folt discovered another impasse. “This is not due to fire. The tunnel has been destroyed purposely, although the damage is old with moss. Take extra care when surfacing.”

  Cullen shielded Lyra as she rose. He drew his staff but remained connected to her.

  She did the same and scanned the area, air to ground. No dragons or immediate danger moved. They stood on a high ridge. To the east lay charred remains of Silva Caliga, the first grounds that the drakes had burned. On the western side, under tall, dense trees, the forest floor lay barren of growth because insufficient light seeped through the dense canopy. The rotting stench of evil made her wrinkle her nose. “Silva Nocens—the evil forest,” she whispered and glanced over her shoulder at her cousins. “Stay close to us with Draora above you.”

  “Kenzo, scout around briefly for hidden dangers,” Cullen directed his owl who immediately lifted off from his master’s wristlet. The wizard tipped his head to see Noba asleep in Lyra’s arms and reached a hand over to monitor the pseudodragon’s health. “His pulse is extremely slow. He needs some water and fresh air.”

  “No smoke, but this air isn’t exactly fresh,” she replied.

  He nodded. “Let’s hope we aren’t here long.”

  Ivri lifted a gourd and removed the stopper. “Here’s water for him,” she whispered and waved to her helpers. “Offer water. They suffer from the smoke.”

  The guides passed water gourds to all.

  “Look!” Ivri clasped a hand to her forehead and pointed with the other. “Death fires are licking our sky.”

  Lyra followed her extended hand. Black fire rose up to the top of the tallest tree she could see. Her body froze, not believing what she saw.

  Hundreds of magma drakes, mere specks in the distance, blasted one side of the tree with their fire.

  The mightiest ash, the World Tree, at least eight hundred years old, toppled into their thick, evil smoke.

  Chapter Seventeen: Poisonous Blades

  Lyra clasped a hand to her heart.

  Ivri, Folt, and the other guides huddled together, and Raylene encircled as much of the group as she could reach.

  “Silva Caliga has fallen.” Cullen’s gaze darted in all directions. “We’re in extreme danger now.” He planted his staff, his blue aura flickering at its apex.

  Lyra gently set Noba on his feet, and he leaned against her leg. She removed the violin from the sack and lifted it to her shoulder.

  “Wait.” Cullen held up a finger. “Not until we’re ready to move onward. The sound might draw unwanted attention.” He faced Ivri. “Does this change how we should travel to Cerid’s Crux from here?”

  The head keeper trembled from the white, hairy fuzz at the tips of her ears to her ankles, wobbling in their sockets. Red veins bulged from the whites of her eyes. “I’d originally planned to leave you in Folt’s care. But it’s my responsibility,” her voice broke into a croak, “to serve my people best I can. While they desperately need me at home for guidance, the only way I know to help bring real peace is to get Scribe Lyra to Cerid’s Crux.” She glanced at the other guides. “You are Silva Caliga’s best trackers, knowing all routes of travel through our land. Some of you must return and lead our people out of harm. Who among you choose to return and who will accompany me? You know where you should serve.”

  Without hesitation, Folt broke free of the circle and bowed before Lyra. “I’m more skilled than most at travel through the Dark Realm’s forest. I will serve the Scribe.”

  The other four shuffled and whispered among themselves. One thin male patted the shoulder of a female beside him, then met Ivri’s gaze. “No one knows the northern and eastern corridors of our homeland better than us two. That is where we need to guide the keepers to safety.”

  Ivri nodded. “A wise decision.”

  Another tore his gaze from the ground, eyes damp. “I choose to return to the area I know well, the war lands along the death fires. I can direct those run out of their homes.”

  “See that you keep yourself safe too, Derth.” Ivri clapped his arm.

  The last, a slight female, stepped forward. “I’m from the southern border along the Sea of Cogadh. That’s where I can help most.”

  “My guides have chosen well. Our people will find rays of hope at each border.” Ivri swallowed hard and extended a shaky hand. “I hope we meet again under a new World Tree.”

  The other five circutamina layered their hands over hers.

  Lyra drew Partho’s bow across the moonstone violin, softly bringing forth a quiet note.

  Although nothing stirred in Silva Nocens, the twigs at the forest floor of Silva Caliga extended as if trying to catch the note. They bent low and passed the sound along, keeping it true and clear while it wafted through the charred forest.

  Her heart swelled, and she plucked a simple melody, watching as it danced over the tops of whatever vegetation remained in the war-torn land.

  Moments later, from high in the top crag of a blackened trunk, a warble replied with a trill so lovely that Lyra almost stopped playing to listen.

  Ivri grabbed Lyra’s
arm and pointed at the bird.

  Slightly larger than a robin, with a drab brown back and buff belly, only the ethereal call labeled it as remarkable. The bird circled above Lyra twice before flying high over the canopy of Silva Caliga.

  Kenzo saluted the songbird with an extended wing tip.

  “A nightingale has now heard your song.” Ivri placed her palms together at her heart. “A sign of hope.”

  Lyra nodded and packed the violin. “The magic of the nightingale’s song.”

  “We must go.” As he turned away from the smoldering border, Cullen dropped a hand that shielded his brow. “The drakes sail higher. They may have heard.”

  After a round of hasty, tearful goodbyes, the group separated.

  “This way.” Folt turned the brim of his brown cap to the back of his head and squinted into the dimly lit forest of the Dark Realm. His knees shook the worn olive drab canvas of his pants. “Rowan roots run primarily east and west. Stay close to any tree for cover until we find an operable rowan tunnel.”

  Looking over her shoulder at the four returning circutamina, Raylene stumbled into Vickie. “Sure do wish I could go with those brave little souls. My heart goes out to them.”

  From the rear of their group, Ivri steadied Raylene’s balance, and Vickie grabbed her by the elbow. “You’re staying with us, you hear. We need you to help bolster family magic.”

  Draora floated above the pair, so close that the toes of her boots grazed their heads. “You’re darned right, Vickie. Keep that girl in line. Looks like we’re in for hard times ahead.”

  Lyra shouldered her sack, prepared her staff, and glanced back at her relations, glad for their support. She fell in step next to Cullen who kept an eye on Noba, now revived and flying at his other side.

  Folt placed his wide, bare feet carefully around fallen branches to be as quiet as possible. Silently, he directed them past hazards. Their footfall sounded loud in the eerie stillness of the evil forest. Nothing moved, not a twig, leaf, or bird. With the openness of the border behind them, the dense canopy closed in. Unaccustomed to the darkness, they often reached for each other’s arms. Folt paused at a large tree and scanned ahead. “We must find a tunnel entrance. Come quickly,” he urged with a breathy whisper and scampered onward.

  “Puke! What is that smell?” Vickie tapped Lyra on the back.

  “Evil. It always reeks here,” Lyra replied.

  “No doubt,” Raylene added, still tight to Vickie’s side.

  Folt cut to the south, and Lyra couldn’t help but scan for breaks in the forest that might allow a view of the Steppe of Ora, the miles wide plain between the Dark Realm and the Alliance. She glanced at Cullen and found his eyes fixed on same direction. She desperately needed a glimpse of the Imperial lair rising majestically from the heights of its rocky plateau. To know it still stood solid and secure meant everything.

  Finally, their guide paused and gathered the group behind a wide trunk while he surveyed various trees.

  Lyra peered around the edge with Cullen’s chest pressed to her back. “There! The lair. I see it through those trees,” she said in an excited whisper and motioned to her cousins. “There’s the Imperial lair where the four Guardians of the Alliance govern the collective. That’s our land and the people we’re fighting for.”

  “My heavens!” Draora burst. “Brigid told me such tales about that place. I never reckoned it’d be as grand as all of her ramblings.”

  “It’s beautiful. All those towers with dragons flying around them,” Vickie replied. “Like a fairytale.”

  Cullen leaned past Lyra. “None of those dragons are blue sentries. What’s happening? Is the lair under heavy fire without fighting back?”

  “I don’t see any damage to the castle walls or towers,” Lyra added.

  “The Guardians’ wards are protecting the structure…but that doesn’t tell us about our residents.” He hissed a slow sigh from between his teeth. “I wish we could know more.”

  “We’d be killed after our first step onto the plain. The sky is covered.” She tried in vain to find a squadron of blues. “I’ve never seen so many drakes and ice dragons.”

  “Me neither. Swarms.” He clamped a hand to her shoulder.

  “Let’s just hope they stay out there and don’t come into their forest.” Lyra entwined her fingers in his at her shoulder.

  “Chances are best that they fly over us to the Dark lair.”

  She nodded. “Our only hope.”

  When Cullen pulled away, Draora’s trail of magic ensnared him at his waist. He let out a gasp and fell to his hands and knees.

  “Oh, pardon me!” The witch recoiled the vapors flowing from her skirt hem. “I didn’t realize that’d happened. Dear me.”

  “As long as that can protect us from evil, it’s fine.” Cullen dusted off his hands and stood. “Hopefully, it confuses our enemies.” He examined residue from the ground that remained on his palms and gave it a sniff. “Green dragon slime.”

  Lyra’s gaze followed him. “How fresh?”

  “Fresh enough, but the air doesn’t have any chlorine odors.”

  “I sense a low vibration of evil energy.” Lyra scanned the tree tops. “But I can’t pinpoint the source.”

  Ivri shuddered and conferred with her partner.

  Folt pointed to the west. “There’s a spindly rowan ahead about a hundred yards. I don’t know if its roots are mature enough for tunnels.” He sprinted out, and the rest ran after him.

  At the tree’s base, he crawled on hands and knees and scratched at the soil. “All solid. No luck.”

  A rustling noise from above caused Lyra to look up.

  Suddenly, a trio of ten-foot tall half-dragons glided on black, feathered wings to surround them. The creatures landed deftly on sturdy human legs, balanced by thick serpent tails which protruded from their hindquarters. Their upper torsos resembled various forms.

  “Dracura!” Cullen yelled and waved his staff while he side-stepped to contact Lyra.

  Raylene’s screams soon became muffled against Vickie’s shoulder and their grandmother’s diaphanous film.

  One dracura flicked a forked tongue from its oversized head. Covered with no skin or scales, the sinews of its muscles and tendons lay exposed. As it tasted their scent, corners of its mouth curled and dripped black drool. Red eyes glowed wickedly, set between two stumpy horns. With no neck and a humped back, the beast hunched. It tilted at the shoulders and grunted a communication to its partners.

  The other two possessed similar thick human-like arms and legs. No less hideous, their giant frog-like heads featured four pairs of eyes and gaping mouths lined with pointed teeth.

  The hunchback nodded to the pair of frog dracura, and the trio closed in. That action seemed to signal a host of previously silent watchers in the forest. Odd gulps, pops, and garbled tweets sounded from every direction.

  Lyra fired a golden bolt off her staff that scattered across the frogmen’s torsos and sent them a few steps backward, doubled over.

  While she repowered her sapphire, Cullen latched onto a quantity of her aura and delivered a square shot at the hunchback’s forehead.

  The beast moaned and clutched its head.

  Hand in hand, Lyra and Cullen maneuvered, placing themselves between the rest of their group and the attackers.

  The hunchback dropped its arms, and black ooze ran down its forehead from the strike. The dracura released a wicked snarl that split the quiet of the forest.

  “Cullen, watch out!” Vickie cried as the frogmen unfurled tongues several yards long in their direction.

  Lyra fired at the tongue snaking toward Noba. Her shot incinerated the pink tip and left its owner yelping in retreat.

  Cullen misfired when the hunchback plowed into his side.

  Not wanting to break Cullen’s connection to her aura, Lyra held tight to his hand. The blow threw them away from those they protected.

  The second approaching tongue latched onto Cullen’s staff and yanked
it from his hand.

  Alerted by the hunchback’s cry, the forest sprang into action. Black snakes rose from the leaf litter around the defenseless group. Hissing from coiled hoods, the reptiles slithered closer into a tight circle.

  “Kundar blades!” Folt shoved the others behind him. “Their saliva can kill without any bite.”

  Lyra lacked any aim at the snakes that wouldn’t harm her family or guides. She clenched her staff but stood helpless. She nodded to Kenzo and Noba in the tree above, then turned and blasted the tongue hauling Cullen’s staff away.

  The tiger owl dropped, talons extended into a clutch of three blades.

  The snakes hissed and arched backward, fangs exposed and dripping, then struck with vigor.

  Noba slashed his tail barb and cut their flared hoods, which sent the trio submerging into the forest floor.

  More blades hissed louder behind Lyra, while the hunchback lurked closer to the abandoned staff, draping his hulk lower until his clawed hands dragged the ground. She feared that additional snakes would overwhelm Noba and Kenzo. Without taking time to aim properly, she fired at the hunched dracura. Her laser burned both his arm and Cullen’s staff; the dracura’s tendons charred on contact, while the metal shaft glowed molten red.

  The injured beast flew onto a low branch, holding its incinerated limb.

  Spurred on by cries from their wounded leader, the frogmen tucked their bleeding tongues into their mouths and rallied for another attack.

  Lyra spun around to assess dangers and found hundreds of blades slithering at the tree’s base.

  Cullen placed his hands below Lyra’s on the staff and added his own aura to tighten her less-than-perfect aim. Together, they wiped out dozens of snakes with a single laser sweep.

  Lyra glanced over her shoulder at the frogmen and wondered what evil they could do without their tongues.

  The angry gleam in their black eyes commanded her attention, and she pulled Cullen with her to face them.

  Using her power, he coaxed his staff along the ground to their feet.

  From the far side of the rowan tree, a small female voice called, “Here! Come down here.”