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

by Marsha A. Moore

  Warlord Oasth sped past them and motioned squadrons in different positions.

  Dozens of greens spilled from the dense cover of Silva Nocens.

  Behind them, Eburscon and Symar rode fiery-eyed cimafa. The alchemist kicked the shoulders of his beast, and it sped forward, neck lurching and jaws open. He waved overhead, and clouds above the battlefield hung heavy and black.

  Symar waved his arm, and the other sixteen stealth dragons separated, attempting to surround as many blue squadrons as possible.

  Ice drakes dove from the clouds, exhaling deadly freezing breath at heads of the blues.

  At the same time, the herd of cimafa bombarded the fight zone, sending five blues with severed heads crashing to the ground.

  Cullen whipped a blue laser off his staff across two ice drakes. The strike killed one, injured the other, and drove three more back into the cloud.

  Thrusting her body weight into a throw, Lyra hurled a powerball at a cimafa that threatened Yord. Her strike easily met its mark and vaporized the stealth dragon’s torso and organs. The power of quintessence did enhance her precision. Not limited by needing Cullen’s aura to improve her aim, she quickly channeled another mass of energy into her palm and selected a fearsome target—a trio of ice drakes chasing Hallen’s tail. Any contact could spread deadly frostbite through his veins.

  Tarom squirmed in his seat, attempting to fire at the ice drakes.

  The beasts exhaled white vapor which sublimated into clouds of ice crystals.

  Lyra’s shot took out two and injured the third enough to drive it off course.

  Free to focus his attention forward, Tarom repaid the favor. He used his staff to slash the flank of a cimafa on track toward Yord.

  The beast writhed but opened its jaws to spiral red aura into a funnel aimed for the senior blue.

  Lyra finished off the beast with a golden-violet powerball.

  Eburscon extended the range of storm clouds farther south to cover much of the Steppe.

  Several of the cimafa escaped into the darkness he created.

  Yasqu and Gea attempted to follow a pair, but the black magic cloud blocked their passage.

  Eburscon guffawed and rose inside his barricade. Lyra watched for a short while as he played with Yasqu, darting out and back in repeatedly.

  Yasqu roared and hurled curtains of flames at the bottom of the cloud, before he gave up and flew off to vaporize two greens

  Symar also used the cloud cover but spent more time organizing the cimafa. The beasts responded swiftly to his slightest hand motions. That reminded Lyra to use extra caution around his team. The man’s job as Lord of the Tempest, in charge of weather fronts, involved training stealth dragons to endure harsh elements better than any other dragon. Hiding among a herd of the most deadly dragons gave him enviable protection. He directed them to fire in unison, decimating an entire squadron.

  Lyra looked for lone cimafa that she could pick off more easily. Within moments, she found her target and employed her improved aim to slice the cimafa’s neck through to the spine. After that strike, an ache twinged in her firing arm. Massaging the length of the muscles in her forearm eased the pain.

  Cullen detected her action at his back and glanced over his shoulder. “Are you all right? Are quintessence and the Staurolite helping?” He fired to the side and nipped the wing of a green whose cheeks puffed with a load of chlorine gas.

  The beast locked its jaws tight and cut to another edge of the battle.

  “My aim is far more accurate,” Lyra replied.

  “I’ve noticed that, but your arm…”

  She quit rubbing and repowered her hand. “I can’t say much about the Staurolite. But, quintessence aura is strong and makes my throwing arm ache.”

  Gea tore through the middle of the combat zone. Her flame, at least a dozen yards long, struck a cimafa who’d cornered her son against six drakes.

  Once the cimafa’s burnt body dropped, Yasqu turned and blazed his own fire across the drakes, killing three and injuring the others. From the far side of the field, he let out a loud warning roar at Yord’s and Hallen’s squadrons.

  Behind them, a hundred or more fire drakes dropped from a dark cloud to form a row. “Yord! Behind us,” Lyra yelled. She felt the heat from their flames on her back. Preparing for his reaction, she locked her legs tighter to his back and braced herself against the spinal extension behind her.

  Oasth bellowed in their direction, “Use horizontal strikes.”

  “Hold on!” Cullen called over his shoulder, eyeing the oncoming attackers.

  Yord snarled and spun in a close circle. Head turned sideways, he spewed a horizontal lightning bolt which took out five drakes. His fighters followed his technique and killed dozens more.

  Cullen cut a laser across torsos of five that fell away from the fighting.

  Before Lyra could hurl the powerball at the line, the white head of an ice drake dropped into her peripheral vision. She launched her energy at the beast, its tail missing Yord by feet.

  Seconds later, a team of ice drakes dove from the cloud. A pair scattered Yord’s squadron apart. Across the battlefield, isolated blues flew in every direction.

  Four more lines of a hundred drakes each rained down. Dark Realm dragons outnumbered them at least three to one.

  After throwing a series of five powerballs, Lyra paused and held her firing arm. It ached with prickling numbness from the passage of aura. “What do we do?” Lyra asked Cullen. Her heart pounded against her ribs. “We’re losing.”

  He hurled a laser with so much force that he lifted off his seat, successfully killing two ice drakes.

  “I don’t know. Keep fighting until we win or die.” He sent a volley off of his staff and steadied himself against Yord’s spine in front of him.

  Lyra grasped his shoulder with her ailing hand, both to use his power to help her aim with the left hand and to feel the comfort of his body. Her left-hand shot wobbled only a little, but Cullen’s unique power aligned it mid-flight to take out another ice drake.

  A blur of white hair and wings cut straight through the chaos. Lyra blinked, then stared—Draora and Kenzo. She leaned over Cullen’s shoulder and pointed at the pair.

  With Kenzo giving directions, the ghost-witch let a filmy trail from her skirt hem sweep wide around a cimafa. It immobilized the beast like duct tape, and she neatly cut him loose for a free fall that ended with a loud smack on the hard, dry ground.

  Cullen cheered and whistled at the pair.

  “Wow! Go Draora and Kenzo!” Lyra yelled. Encouraged, she resumed fighting with her dominant hand. She faced the other direction to check for surprise attackers and found a pair of magma drakes, which Yord blasted before she could fire. When they dropped, she noticed the moon sitting on the horizon, a perfect full moon. Its light formed shadows across the twilit plain. Many of the shadows moved. She looked closer and alerted Cullen with a nudge.

  People, thousands of people, ran toward the battlefield… Alliance residents from the southern Meadow of Peace…circutamina and Malificates from Silva Caliga to the east…and, most surprising of all, Arial warriors sliding down on moonbeams.

  Lyra gasped. “The violin’s enchantment—it worked.”

  Cullen shook his head. “The moon must’ve already begun to rise when you played.”

  “I’ve never seen anything like this,” Yord called to Hallen and snorted sparks.

  “Not me either, and I’m twice your age.” The senior blue hovered alongside.

  “I think the tables are turning.” Tarom fired his staff at a trio of drakes who hung in midair staring at the commotion.

  Eburscon yanked his cimafa, and it let out an eerie shriek.

  Symar roused his to do the same, and the rest of his team members blasted their chilling cries at the oncoming ground fighters.

  Some in the crowd below cowered at the well-known death wails. Others shouted and rallied the weaker onward. Without any hesitation, the Arials arrived first. The pale-s
kinned men with white-blond hair appeared translucent in the moonlight, as ghostly as Draora. Some dressed in light-colored skins, while others wore fine white uniforms embellished with golden trim. All carried spears. Once landed, the men ran until they reached injured dragons.

  Lyra picked out the captain of the Arial guards, Belray, directing the men. They set to work, stabbing grounded drakes who attempted to rejoin the battle. Some Arials deftly flung their spears into the air, which caught on moonbeams that drove the points into bodies of unsuspecting drakes.

  Stunned, Lyra almost forgot to fight. A powerball ebbed in her palm. She reformed a larger mass and drove it across empty sky to slice the neck off a cimafa. Her body recoiled from the huge outpouring of energy. She smelled a subtle current of chlorine. “Cullen, behind us. I can’t fire yet.”

  His and Tarom’s lasers met in the breast of a green, exposing the shiny, white spinal cord for an instant before the huge dragon plummeted.

  Lyra located Lesot and Angom marching the Malificates across the plain. About fifty men from Terza made plans with the Arials, then set to work. Many carried bottles strapped across their chests. Soon, the glimmer of obsidian dust wafted into the air and caught on the moonbeams. Even without the bond of the ruby, the beauty spellbound Lyra. The Malificates paid no notice of the display. They rubbed fingerfulls of the dust under the noses of unconscious blue fighters or traced the power along visible wounds. Many blues healed well enough to rejoin their squadrons.

  “Lyra, you have many good friends!” Tarom called.

  “I sure do,” she replied, then called to a mended blue fighter who passed near. “Glad to have you back.”

  The dragon gave her a quick nod and wasted no time taking out two magma drakes.

  Several hundred tiny circutamina struggled over cracked ground of the Steppe. Ivri and Folt led the tree keepers in song.

  Border trees answered, sending a network of roots tunneling across the plain, like thousands of moles.

  The keepers lifted their arms, and the roots rose above the ground. Arms held higher, the roots grew even taller. Some circutamina sat on each other’s shoulders, arms stretching to the sky.

  Alliance residents, on the perimeter of the field, initiated a chant, “Certo do pacem.” As more arrived, they joined hands, faces lifted to the sky, and their voices rang louder. “Certo do pacem.”

  Branches sprouted from the enchanted roots and continued reaching higher until they met their targets—arms, legs, tails, necks of the Dark Realm drakes.

  Thousands of Alliance residents completed a circle around the edges of the battlefield. The air vibrated with the positive energy of their chant.

  “Certo do pacem,” Cullen boomed. “Fight for peace.”

  Lyra yelled the chant so loud, her voice cracked. Determined, she swallowed a few times, then forced air over her vocal cords and sang louder. The Staurolite shined a brilliant purple glow over her friends below.

  Yord roared the mantra, and the words shook his ribcage under her.

  Tarom led Hallen and their squadron in the chant.

  The circutamina fed their trees the mantra’s force. Each tree ensnared at least a dozen evil dragons. One mighty ash took down a cimafa.

  With renewed hope, the wizard riders hurled volleys of powerballs at the more deadly greens and ice drakes.

  Blue fighters worked as teams, blasting one horizontal lightning bolt after another to take out whole rows of fire drakes. Those that flew low to escape met the Arials’ spears.

  Fallen bodies of Dark Realm dragons littered the ground.

  Evil no longer outnumbered the Alliance.

  Alliance residents raised the strength of their voices again and pulled their circle tighter.

  With Kenzo’s guidance, Draora entangled another cimafa, this time strangling the beast with her trail cinched around its neck. The ghost-witch dropped it into a waiting group of Arial spear-throwers. She let out a whoop and set her sights on Symar and his cimafa.

  Tarom thrust his whole arm up at the clouds above them, but Lyra didn’t see anything leave his hand.

  Her bloodswear mark itched, and she leaned into Cullen’s back. “Tarom’s signaling us.”

  “I know what he wants. Look to the far left, past Hallen. Be ready,” he said over his shoulder and patted Yord’s left shoulder.

  Two squadrons of blues herded Eburscon and his cimafa toward them.

  Yasqu and Gea navigated to positions behind the row of blues.

  Lyra understood what they intended and forced extra aura into a concentrated powerball. Her skin prickled under the dense mass. She fixed her gaze on the two golds. Her breathing grew shallow, waiting for their signal.

  Yord and Hallen each made sharp turns to close in on the evil alchemist.

  Eburscon’s stealth dragon reared, and he waved the remaining ten cimafa to protect him, including Symar and his ride. Spying his comrade detained by Draora’s entrapment, he hurled a fistful of purple aura directly at the witch.

  Lyra placed a hand over her mouth.

  The witch slid on her bottom across the sky past Yord, her legs sprawled and skirt blown above her bloomers.

  “Kenzo, stay with her,” Cullen shouted at the bird zipping by and turned to watch. “Lyra, turn around,” he murmured.

  Behind them, a juvenile lair guard flew low, his wing tips trembling, and the Alliance folk parted their enclosure to admit the dragon. On his back rode Vickie and Raylene, with Kessa and Noba wedged between them.

  Lyra gasped. She scanned in every direction for evil dragons preparing to take advantage of her inexperienced family.

  The cimafa formed a circle with their tails toward Eburscon. Their snarling mouths spit red sparks as if daring any to make the first move.

  Symar’s cimafa, its tail still wrapped in Draora’s magic and immobile, awkwardly hung below Eburscon.

  From the corner of her eye, Lyra noticed sudden motion from above. Out of the cloud Tarom enchanted, Yasqu and Gea dove head first, mouths open and spewing wide jags of flames directly at Eburscon.

  Both he and his stealth beast writhed, covered in flames. His screams could barely be heard over the chanting.

  The surrounding cimafa beasts twisted and huddled together, covering their leader with their bodies. A couple managed to strike with red lasers, but most were too late.

  “Strike!” Yord bellowed. Dozens of blues followed his command. A ring of lightning burnt flesh and muscle off the stealth dragons’ bodies. Their charred skeletons fell, all except those protected and carrying the two leaders.

  The serious attack on the evil leader prompted Oasth into action. “Full attack!” he yelled to his left and right around the fight zone.

  Bodies of the remaining greens and drakes thudded to the ground.

  Lyra worried her family would be crushed in the chaos. She checked repeatedly on their safety.

  Strangely, Eburscon’s body, although blackened almost beyond recognition, still moved with crude control. His cimafa faired worse, staggering with one wing and hindquarter decimated.

  “How?” Lyra breathed into Cullen’s ear.

  “He’s more evil than any of us know,” Cullen replied.

  Eburscon extended an arm and shot a powerball straight down.

  Lyra held her breath, but the strike hit Symar. A chill ran through her spine. Was Eburscon’s heart so black that he’d take any potential successor to the Dark Realm down with him?

  Both cimafa dropped.

  The chanters pulled even closer, until they reached bodies of dead and injured dragons.

  Warlord Oasth hovered low and barked, “Younger squadrons, carry our dead home.”

  Yasqu, Gea, and many of the senior blues landed, including Yord and Hallen.

  The few Dark Realm dragons still alive crawled or half-flew into Silva Nocens.

  Lyra and Cullen slid down Yord’s flank and joined Tarom. Together, they cautiously approached the location where Symar and Eburscon landed. A metallic smell of bl
ood hung in the air.

  Lyra signaled her family to stay behind her, but Draora and Kenzo couldn’t be controlled. The pair flew ahead and hovered over the crumpled, burnt remains of the two leaders and their stealth dragons.

  Noba darted though the air to join them, but Cullen flicked a finger of magic and pulled his assistant to the ground at his feet.

  The Unicorn galloped across the battlefield and skidded to a stop where they gathered. His white aura billowed around him, like the long hair of his mane. “I attempted to stop your family, but when the drakes fell they wouldn’t wait,” he said to Lyra. His expression changed when he noticed the charred bodies that drew everyone’s attention. “Eburscon?”

  Lyra nodded. “And Symar.”

  The Guardian lowered his horn and walked quietly with the others.

  All stared at the evil leader’s remains, except for a few Arials who finished off the last of the injured Dark Realm dragons and the Malificates who coaxed a few more wounded blues to health.

  The scorched flesh reeked of sulfur and charcoal odors. The cimafa had perished with mouths open in tortured grimaces. Symar lay on his back, arms missing, eyes open and rolled back. Eburscon’s body curled in fetal position, his skull burnt to the bone.

  From behind, Kessa clutched Lyra’s waist and peered around her side.

  Kenzo lowered close to Symar and removed the violet pendant from his body. After depositing the talisman with the Unicorn, he returned to hover over the evil alchemist.

  Before he could fly away with Eburscon’s pendant, the alchemist’s arm grabbed one of his wings.

  Kenzo squawked and flapped, but the hand held fast.

  Eburscon let out a cackle.

  Those nearby jumped back.

  Both Cullen and Tarom shot lasers from their staffs, but the hand wouldn’t let the owl free.

  Lyra poised a powerball in her palm, checking and praying her new aim would be precise enough to not harm Kenzo.

  “Hold fire!” Draora called and lowered. “Let me try.” She draped her magic over Eburscon.

  The man’s arm shook and his fingers tightened.

  Dragged onto the charred body, Kenzo flapped helplessly and whimpered. Lyra’s heart raced. She knew she’d lost her chance of a shot.