Magic and Shadows: A Collection of YA Fantasy and Paranormal Romances

by T. M. Franklin

  Her heart thumped so loud the blind keeper might hear it even if he couldn’t see her.

  The old man’s fingers reached out blindly straying close to Tamara. Another inch and his fingers would graze her hair. She leaned back as far as she could.

  Fane ran up the steps, his sandals clacking loudly on the stone steps. “Master. It’s only I.”

  “Fane?” the keeper sounded surprised, his hands thankfully retreating from near Tamara. “Why do you scurry about? Is it time for your lesson?”

  “No master.” Fane passed the cask of water to Tamara who grabbed it with her free hand. Fane took the old man’s hand and turned him back to the open doorway. “I merely meant to check on the portal room, to make sure it has not been disturbed.”

  “Foolish boy,” the old man said, blindly patting Fane on his head and disarranging Fane’s carefully groomed brown thatch of hair. “Of course, it’s not disturbed. No one’s been there since Ywen’s men destroyed the Quinlin stone. Come inside and we’ll begin your lesson.”

  “But master…”

  “Come along, Fane. Don’t tarry,” the old man said. “Odd, I thought I smelled cheese.”

  Fane gave them a shrug over his shoulder and followed the keeper in and shut the door.

  Thyel and Tamara sat on the stairs and waited. After several minutes passed and Fane did not return, Thyel suggested they carry on to the outside stairs. The boy could find them when his lesson was over.

  Tamara agreed. Her legs had stopped shivering in fear. They made their way to the outside stairs and headed up. At the top of the flight of stairs, the portal door was locked.

  “Now what?” she asked.

  “Now we could use your Lord Jarrod’s help,” Thyel said with a frustrated sigh.

  Jarrod arrived at the foot of a mountain with Skye beside him.

  “How…” she began. “What happened?”

  “We’re at Mount Jama in the Makakala range.” He glanced at the barren rocks and sandy soil with intense interest. His travel spell had brought them half way across Ryca without a single mishap, which suggested the interference with magic was localized near Tibor.

  Skye still gaped at their abrupt shift from the room in the Quinlin tower to this wide-open expanse.

  “Oh!” the thirteen-year-old exclaimed in awe and turned in a circle, taking in the land that stretched up behind them for quite a height. On the opposite side, below, a river wound through a valley. Broadleaf trees sheltered a riverbank covered in brush, grass, and wildflowers.

  “Why are we here?” she finally asked.

  “It was recorded in the tome that the keeper with the last Quinlin stone was killed here.”

  “Does your book say where the stone is hidden?”

  “There’s no mention of the stone’s whereabouts.” Just then the sun peaked over the mountain range and its golden glow spread downward. Warmth flooded over the darkened landscape, blinding his sight. He shielded his eyes as he glanced up. “If that keeper had hidden the stone before he was caught, it should be nearby. I hoped one of your finding spells might locate it.”

  “That’s why you brought me along!” Skye exclaimed. “I wondered.” She held up her hand and a Light ball formed. “Find me the Quinlin stone, to place upon its rightful throne.”

  The spell ball rose and was immediately lost in the blinding glare of the sun.

  “Where did it go?” Jarrod asked.

  “I don’t need to see it to sense its path.” Skye started up the mountainside.

  Jarrod tucked his book into the satchel strapped onto his back and followed her. Finding a safe route past boulders, sage bushes, and sharp drops sometimes required a bit of backtracking. There were many openings and cavities that Skye ignored, determinedly forging upwards.

  Jarrod had to smile at the young girl’s wild state of excitement. No mere mountain was going to halt her from rescuing her brother. Still perspiration dotted her forehead. She was tiring, too, even if she would never admit it.

  He called a halt saying he was thirsty. He had water and a bit of flatbread to offer to keep up their strength.

  “Okay, but we’re really close.” She took a deep swallow from his cask before returning it. “Jarrod, that’s ice cold! If you don’t take it back this instant, I’ll finish it.”

  He chuckled. “Drink as much as you want. It replenishes itself.”

  “It does?” Skye took another swallow and then swished the remaining water around until she felt the weight increase. “It’s full again!” She took a deeper drink before returning the cask.

  “Being constant travelers,” he explained after taking his own fill of the icy water and strapping the rapidly filling container back to his belt, “my people carry casks that magically can refill when the level of the water falls below half full. Also bread.” He passed her a piece.

  “Useful magic! And tasty.”

  Once they were rested and full, he indicated the path back up the mountain but she shook her head. “I said we were close. Over here.” She bent to enter a shadowy portion at the back of an overhang.

  Jarrod caught up to her and pulled her back. “Let me go first.”

  A small round opening near the ground in a dark recess invited him in. He crawled inside on hands and knees until the opening grew large enough to allow him to stand.

  Skye followed him into the larger opening, and checked around the cave.

  “Let’s stop here for a minute,” he said. “I know you’re anxious but we’ve been travelling for over an hour. We need to gain our strength back for whatever we face in here. It will also give us time for our eyes to adjust to the darkness.” He slumped to the ground beside the opening before she could argue.

  Skye sighed, but mimicked his action without protest. She pointed to the far side of the cave. “My search spell went through there. There’s another opening.”

  “We need light,” Jarrod said.

  She nodded but looked worried.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “My magic has been behaving erratic lately. When Tamara and I were in the castle passageway, for a while I couldn’t connect to the magic of Ryca. I didn’t tell her, because I didn’t want to worry her, but Light wouldn’t come to me when I reached for it. Thankfully the magic flared after a bit and we could keep going. Then again in the Quinlin Tower, my Light spell was hesitant. The seeker spell I sent here after the Quinlin stone feels stronger.”

  Her words confirmed Jarrod’s own worry that magic was indeed being blocked in some way closer to Tibor.

  “Give your magic another try,” he said.

  She held out her hand and a ball of Light formed in a blink, glowing gently, painting the cave in golden shades. She gave a delighted laugh and tipped it into the air. “That was easier. It is stronger here than even in the Quinlin tower.”

  “I’ve been having similar problems,” he admitted.

  “Oh, that’s right,” Skye said, sobering. “You said so before but I didn’t connect your problem with mine, since they’re such different forms of magic. What does this mean, Jarrod?”

  “I don’t know. We could definitely use your brother’s magical help right now, which makes me suspicious that he, of all people, is the one that’s missing. Now Saira, the second strongest sorcerer in Ryca, has gone on a chase to locate him.”

  Into the silence that followed that troubling statement, Skye asked quietly, “Do you think we will ever find Bevan? Does your book say anything about the future?”

  “Falcon’s Tome only records Ryca’s history. It does not foretell the future.” He gave her a wry, sideways glance. “Are you going to call it useless, as Tamara seems to see it?”

  She chuckled. “Not at all, Chief Councilor. Unlike my aunt, I value history. Without the aid of Falcon’s Tome, and the true history it had recorded and kept safe for decades, we would never have learned of all that Uncle Ywen had done or even found a way to stop him.”

  “I suspect Tamara wishes her history had
never happened,” he said, thinking of the time spell. He stood, shaking off his brooding thoughts. “Shall we continue?”

  Skye nodded and rose too. The passageway was narrow but tall enough that they could walk upright. Skye’s Light ball led the way. Jarrod took lead, in case they came across anything dangerous.

  “Do you find Aunt Tamara’s wish to forget her past hard to accept, Jarrod?” Skye asked from behind him.

  “The past is part of us. It defines who we are. Trying to forget what happened is like trying to make a piece of us disappear.”

  “I know how highly Erovians value the past,” Skye said, in a thoughtful tone. “You said earlier that Bevan’s disappearance and your magic being affected might be connected.”

  “As are the recent disappearances of Erovian historians.” He explained about being unable to communicate with several of his people. “I’m hoping your brother might be able to find them.”

  “He just might. Magic is almost an instinct with my brother. Like Saira, he can do almost anything.”

  “Yes. Finding him will also free up your Aunt Saira, who might be of help to me. Light runs deep in your family.”

  “For all except Great Uncle Ywen and Aunt Tamara.”

  They came to a fork in the passageway and Jarrod paused. Skye pointed to the left without hesitation.

  Nodding, he headed that way.

  “We know how the inability to tap into Light warped Great Uncle Ywen’s character,” Skye continued. “I worry sometimes that Aunt Tamara’s lack of magical ability may be warping her thinking too.”

  Shocked she would say such a thing, Jarrod stopped to look at Skye. “Tamara is nothing like Ywen!”

  She backed up a step, as if startled by his vehemence.

  Heat raced up to the tips of Jarrod ears, as much from embarrassment at having shown his emotions so clearly as with a simmering frustration that Skye could be so mistaken about her aunt’s character. “Your Uncle Ywen never understood how Light worked and hated anyone who could wield it.”

  “Is that not the case with Aunt Tamara, too?” Skye challenged, an eyebrow rising with skepticism.

  “Not at all.” He paused and took a deep breath, realizing he was on the verge of ranting. Even after all these years, the memory of what Ywen had perpetrated still haunted him. Forbidden to interfere, his people could only record what was happening. It was Jarrod's rebellious father who had taken the first step to return Ryca's rightful heir to the throne, and that interference had cost him his life.

  Skye watched him with a worried look. She seemed convinced her aunt would eventually go the same route as mad, twisted Ywen.

  “Skye,” he said in a calm tone, “Tamara may wish she had a talent for wielding Light. She may even resent you for possessing it. She also admires your abilities and would never wish any of you ill for having it. Her hurt runs deeper than merely yearning for a magical talent.”

  “You sound as if you have insight into her heart, Jarrod.” Skye looked at him intently. “If she doesn’t hate our ability to use Light, why is she always angry and distrustful of us?”

  It was time her family understood at least a part of what upset her, for it was obvious, five years on, that Tamara would never speak of her years of torment aloud.

  “She feels deeply the loss of her father,” he murmured. “She has been mourning his loss for decades.” A large part of him was shocked he said that aloud. He thought he was nothing like his father. Yet, he, too, was trying to alter people’s lives instead of simply watching and recording events.

  “Decades?” Skye said in shock. “But Aunt Tamara was suspended in time for most of those years.”

  He’d said too much. Jarrod could not bring himself to spill any more of Tamara’s secrets. He carried on moving forward and Skye followed in thoughtful silence. The passage they traveled through narrowed and soon they had to drop to hands and knees again in order to keep moving forward.

  Jarrod was glad to have an end to this topic. Whenever he thought of Tamara, he invariably felt restless. She was perplexing, intriguing and, all too often, entirely alluring. Like when she changed out of her gown and into those revealing trousers. Every time he glanced at her, he could clearly picture her limbs beneath. Worse, she had the uncanny ability to make him forget his duty to Erov, as he had when he agreed to accompany her to the Quinlin Temple.

  Yet, he hated her treating Falcon’s Tome as a joke. Why couldn’t she see the book was a symbol of his people, their work? More importantly, of his life and future.

  6

  Unable to sit side by side on the narrow outside stairs, Tamara and Thyel sat three steps apart with the food spread out between them. Occasionally, Thyel would try to pick the lock but each attempt resulted in him more frustrated than before. They had finished most of the bread and cheese and all of the water by the time Fane raced up to greet them.

  “Sorry,” he panted and came to a breathless halt. “My master would not let me go. I’m glad I had one more lesson though. If we actually make it to Isa, I shall be ready to summon a dragon.”

  Thyel looked at him with interest. “What exactly did you learn?”

  “It’s not easy to summon a dragon, sir,” Fane said. “They are contrary creatures who by nature are solitary and prefer to be in control rather than join with another to make shared decisions. Which makes bonding with one truly difficult and dangerous if not done correctly.”

  “I see,” Thyel said and stood.

  “That’s why there are so few riders in each generation,” Fane continued. “My master says that if the connection isn’t done properly, it will only last a year and then...” He stopped.

  “What happens at the end of the year?” Thyel asked before Tamara could.

  “For humans, the break in bonding can have a devastating effect. In my master’s case, although the bond was true, when his dragon died, the break left my master blind.”

  “A dangerous relationship,” Tamara murmured, handing him the last piece of bread and cheese.

  “Thank you.” Fane took a big bite.

  The lesson must have built up his appetite. She was glad they’d saved him a little. “How does a broken bond affect a dragon?”

  “It’s worse for them,” Fane said around a mouthful.

  Thyel indicated the closed door. “Shall we continue this discussion inside?”

  Fane fished out a key ring with his free hand and headed past her. “I took this from my master after he fell asleep.”

  Tamara laughed at his self-congratulatory expression. “Hard to believe you’ve never stolen in here before this.”

  “I had asked my master if we could come up here, but he always forbade it.” He gave her a sheepish smile. “It never occurred that I could do it without permission. Until now.”

  “I see,” Tamara said. “I’m sorry for having subverted your morals, Fane. Oh, wait a moment, if you didn’t have the key all along, how did you expect to enter the room before?”

  “I thought I’d pick the lock,” the boy said in all innocence.

  Obviously, once subverted, he had gone all the way. “I doubt it would have been quite so easy,” she said with a laugh. “Thyel has been trying that, on and off, since you left.”

  “I was close to gaining entry,” Thyel protested.

  If he had been that close, why had he been doing nothing but stretching out on the steps for the past half hour?

  After a bit of fiddling, Fane unlocked the door, but then he couldn’t seem to budge it.

  Thyel moved the boy aside and put his shoulder to the task. The door scraped forward an inch. Fane added his efforts to the cause. Tamara stayed where she was. There was barely enough room on the landing for two let alone three.

  Suddenly, the door slid forward and with a shout of triumph, Thyel wedged himself between the frame and door and forced his way in.

  She and Fane heard Thyel swear from inside.

  They looked at each other in concern and then Fane hurriedly squeezed
through the slim opening.

  Hearing the boy’s shocked intake of breath, Tamara muttered, “Move aside,” and slid through next.

  Dust and cobwebs shrouded a room littered with shattered wood. If the map room had been in sad shape, the portal room was a hundred times worse.

  On the far wall, a shattered doorway stood where the grand entry from the inner stairs to the room had been. Timber lay scattered on the floor and parts of the surrounding walls were smashed, leaving huge gaping holes through which the wind blew.

  “The Master mentioned this wreckage,” Fane said, “but I never imagined such utter destruction.” He touched the side of the wall that held the impression of where a large gem must once have rested. “Even if your friend finds the stone, how can we make the portal work now?”

  Tamara walked to the gap in the wall and looked across to the opposite tower where a matching hole was in that portal room. The bridge between the two towers looked to be intact but in bad shape. She would never risk crossing it.

  Up close, the statues of the dragons on either end of the bridge were more battered than they had seemed from below. The King’s Horsemen had been thorough in their work.

  Years after his death, her Uncle Ywen still managed to make her tremble at the destruction he had perpetrated on Ryca. Could being trapped in that time spell have been preferable, after all, to being alive and helpless when he was in control?

  She slid to the floor, her back against the wall adjacent to the opening, breathing in the rush of fresh air. Despite the falling-to-her-death danger, the opening made her feel less confined. Now that she had time to rest, the need for sleep deserted her.

  Still in a fit of temper, Thyel paced around the round tower room, kicking aside fallen timber, showing no concern for precious books and artifacts that littered the floor, or for Fane’s distressed mutterings.

  Fane looked so despondent, Tamara decided to ask about the dragons. Talk of his favorite topic might improve his mood. “You said dragons fared worse if the bonding did not take.” She stretched out her legs. “What did you mean, Fane?”