The Legend of Oescienne

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The Beginning

By Jenna Elizabeth Johnson

Copyrighted Material

This is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places, incidents and cover images are a product of the author’s imagination.  Any resemblance to actual persons and places is entirely coincidental.

THE LEGEND OF OESCIENNE

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THE BEGINNING

Copyright © 2010 by Jenna Elizabeth Johnson

All rights reserved.

No part of this book or its cover may be reproduced in any manner without written permission from its creator.

For more information and to contact the author visit: www.oescienne.com

For Connor and Meredith, who have taught me that encouragement is best grown on the faith of children, and that the fruits of creativity are harvested only with the genuine honesty of their praise.

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

Shadows in the East

ONE

Advice from a Mystic

TWO

The Plan

THREE

Tales of the Past

FOUR

Setting the Trap

FIVE

Full Moons and Fierce Monsters

SIX

Denaeh’s Request

SEVEN

Ehnnit Canyon

EIGHT

The Apple Tree

NINE

Runes, Riddles and Days by the Shore

TEN

The Fall Festival

ELEVEN

Fright and Flight on a Sobledthe Night

TWELVE

Lessons, Languages and Exams

THIRTEEN

The Ninth Cove

FOURTEEN

The Great Race of Oescienne

FIFTEEN

Dealing with Dragons

SIXTEEN

Eydeth’s Confession

SEVENTEEN

The Magehn’s Journal

EIGHTEEN

Painful Words and Stubborn Ways

NINETEEN

Terror

TWENTY

The Words on the Wall

TWENTY-ONE

Farewell

EPILOGUE

The Musing’s of a Stranger

Pronunciation Guide

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Other Books by this Author

Connect with Me Online

Sample of The Awakening (Book Three in the Legend of Oescienne Series)

The Legend of Oescienne

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The Beginning

- Prologue -

Shadows in the East

Gilded sunlight poured over the landscape and pushed through the trees, announcing the break of dawn or signaling the approach of evening.  It was hard to tell in this strange, noiseless place.  The colors here were bright, but fuzzy around the edges as if stained and blurred by water.  Nothing stirred here; there were no deer, no foxes, no rabbits, not even a solitary bird to disrupt the foggy solitude.  All around, the trees stood silent, watching and waiting for something profound to happen.  And then something did happen.

Far below the wooded hillside in the bare, spacious glen something finally moved.  A fair-haired child, barely older than ten, danced into sight.  She looked happy and carefree, her laughter alone breaking the unnatural, oppressive silence.  She wasn’t dressed like a typical girl, wearing only a plain cotton shirt over a pair of leather pants.  Her hair was loose, unbound and falling past her shoulders.  It caught the eerie light and reflected it in golden shards that cut through the monotony of this world.  She chased after butterflies, doing cartwheels and kicking up clouds of ladybugs with her bare feet.

It was obvious she felt safe here, even as the atmosphere slowly began to change.  The slumbering trees grew more rigid and the pleasant scene dimmed, as if a black cloud had crept in front of the sun.  Something sinister was approaching, but the girl was too caught up in her own antics to realize she was no longer alone.  She was too busy dancing across the field and making merry, so she didn’t feel the change in the air; she didn’t notice the darkening sky.

And then it happened.  Something like a dark flame appeared on the edge of the meadow where the dense wood began.  It was a figure wearing a blood-red cloak, creeping between the shivering trees, stalking around like a predator hunting down its prey.  The creature crawled from the edge of the tree line and drew closer to the girl.  But the girl kept at her games, unaware of the menacing threat to her safety.

As the ominous figure moved ever closer, it threw open its arms like a great, blood-stained bat, its crimson cloak curling and flowing behind it as if pushed by an imperceptible wind.  The creature began to grow, becoming larger and larger with each step.  It was only a few yards from the girl now and had grown to twenty feet tall and twice as wide, engulfing the entire glen with the flowing scarlet fabric of its robes.  It stood over the girl for a few seconds more and then, as quickly as the blink of an eye, it wrapped its massive arms around her and vanished . . .

Raejaaxorix jolted awake, breathing heavily as his heart pumped the overly-heated dragon blood that pulsed through his veins.  Instinctively, he grazed his surroundings with his sharp eyes, looking for the girl who had been swallowed up by the red demon.  After a few moments, he breathed a sigh of relief, wisps of smoke curling from his nostrils.  A dream, he consoled himself as his heartbeat calmed, just a dream.

The Tanaan dragon lifted his head and stretched out his legs, working the tension free of the stiff muscles.  Though the dream wasn’t a new one, it continued to terrify him each time he woke from it.  He knew it was only a result of the recent discovery of Cierryon’s soldiers setting up camps around the perimeter of Oescienne, but it felt too real to simply ignore.  There was no denying that the girl in the dream was Jahrra and that the monster, the demon, was the Tyrant King himself, or at least those who worked for him.  The corrupt soldiers of Ghorium, he reminded himself with a grimace.

Jaax shuddered and tried to convince the pounding ache in his head to go elsewhere.  Jahrra was safe, he had to believe that.  She would not be found by their enemy, at least not yet.  He stood, stretched out his stiff joints and his great wings and waited for his scales to slowly change from the dull, dead gray of the granite crag he’d been sleeping on to his own natural colors of green, gold, bronze and turquoise.  He yawned once, exposing all of his deadly teeth, and glanced around as he tried to judge the time of day.

Just after sunset, good, he thought, that gives me plenty of time to hunt before full dark.  Jaax lifted his nose to the frigid breeze pouring over the mountain peaks.  Mixed with the scent of fresh snow and crisp pine resin was the distinct odor of deer.  The dragon smiled.  It had been two weeks since he last ate and he hoped that whatever he caught tonight would be enough for another few weeks.  He lumbered over to the edge of the cliff where he’d slept the day away.  The drop was treacherous, over three thousand feet, but he had nothing to fear.  He thrust out his great wings and leapt, allowing the biting winds to pull him away from the mountainside and towards the valley far below.  Down there somewhere he would find his meal, grazing one last time before the night.

While he flew, Jaax thought about the nightmare that had been plaguing him nearly every night for the past few months.  Ever since King Dhuruhn of the Creecemind dragons informed him of the suspicious activity around the border, Jaax had been haunted in his sleep.  The first time he’d had the dream, he knew exactly what it had meant: the Crimson King knew about Jahrra, and he would do what it took to find her.  And just like the Jahrra in his dream, the Jahrra in real life was oblivious to what was after her.  Jaax shivered.  He knew the time to tell her who she really was was drawing near, but he feared telling her the truth, though he knew it was necessary.  How would she react?  Would she even believe him when he told her she was the only human being in the whole of Ethoes and that the fate of the world depended on her?

Jaax shuddered again, causing the rhythm of his wing beats to falter.  He needed to stop analyzing his nightmares; it was getting him nowhere.  Instead, he decided to reflect on the positive outcome of constant vigilance and hard work.  For the past few months he and a handful of other dragons had been camped out in the far eastern rim of the Elornn Mountains where the southern boundary of Felldreim met with the borders of Torinn and Rhiim.  The dragons had been studying the activities of the Tyrant’s troops, Ghorium soldiers, for half a year now.  They’d watched them carefully, noting every movement, listening to every order, memorizing every camp schedule.  After all they’d seen, Jaax and his colleagues had finally come to the conclusion that if the enemy were to enter Oescienne at all, their march would begin here, where the three provinces met.

The soldiers’ main camp was, gratefully, east of the Oribiy River, still well within the province of Rhiim.  But once they crossed the Oribiy it wouldn’t be long before they continued west.  Since it was located far on the outskirts of Felldreim, the southern Hrunahn Wilders contained little magic to ward off any unwelcome intruders.  Once through the Wilders, the army would merely follow the southern shore of Lake Runess until they came to the Cornaith River.  A week or two south along the river’s mountain valley and they would find the head waters of the Raenyan River, splitting from the Cornaith and leading directly into the heart of Oescienne.

Jaax winced at how easy it could be for them to trickle into the western province unnoticed.  He only hoped that it proved as difficult as legend claimed.  The valley that existed where the Elornn and Thorbet mountains met was notorious for claiming the lives of thousands of explorers and adventurers.  If the Tyrant’s army followed the path Jaax imagined, then they’d find themselves in a treacherous river valley riddled with cliffs, disorienting canyons, weather that could change almost instantly, and ferocious wild animals that were nearly impossible to kill.  If this was their plan, Jaax could only hope they met with every obstacle imaginable along the way.  Until they made their move, however, he was determined to delay them as long as possible.

The sudden overpowering scent of wild venison yanked Jaax’s awareness back to the present.  He quickly glanced below, his eyes focusing on the russet figures about fifty feet below.  It would be an easy catch this time of day, for the deer were well fed and weren’t expecting an attack from above.  All I need is one, Jaax thought, grateful that that would be enough.  He set his sight on one of the adults and suddenly dropped from the sky.

After finishing his meal, Jaax took a few more minutes to analyze his surroundings before taking flight once again.  It was dark enough now that he could leave this secluded valley in the mountains and take to the open sky.  It was still a little early to meet the others, but Jaax wouldn’t mind some time alone before the night’s work began.  He stretched his wings and lifted from the clearing, his full stomach protesting just a little.  He soared above the tops of the Elornn Mountains, their white-capped peaks glowing eerily against the indigo sky.

Jaax passed by his campsite from the day before and kept going, looking for the final mountain on the eastern edge of the range.  When he found it, he immediately located the high ledge where he would meet the others.  Jaax made a rather quiet landing, his feet crunching delicately in the freezing snow.  He pulled his wings tightly against his back and sat to wait, not noticing the biting ice that surrounded him.  A half hour later he heard the familiar pulse of a dragon’s wings.

Jaax turned his triangular head and acknowledged the other huge reptile that was now approaching, giving her a curt nod.  She was a deep red color, dulled down by the evening dark.  She was smaller than Jaax, but she resembled him in build and stature.  Her head, angular like his, was narrower and she had fewer spikes adorning her features.  Her gait was smooth and confident, and as she joined Jaax’s side, her mouth curved in a smile.

“Couldn’t sleep again?” she asked in a liquid voice.

Her light brown eyes glittered with amusement, but Jaax wasn’t paying attention.

“No Shiroxx. I slept, but not well.”  Even Jaax thought his voice sounded tired.

“The nightmare again?”  This time the dragon named Shiroxx sounded slightly concerned.

Jaax simply nodded.  Shiroxx dropped her head and thought for a moment.  “You’re not worried, are you?  Do you think you should return to Oescienne, to make sure all is well?”

Before Jaax could answer, the sound of more wings intruded the quiet, stirring the frosty air of the snowy ledge.  A pair of Korli dragons landed several feet away and started walking towards the two Tanaan before folding their wings.  One looked to be dark gray in the pale light of the newly risen half moon.  The other was a little lighter than Hroombra’s cobalt blue.  Before they could say anything, Jaax spoke, “Sapheramin, Tollorias.”

The two new giant reptiles nodded at the other dragon’s greeting, then eyed Shiroxx jadedly.

“Where’s Tybys?” Tollorias, the darker, more wrinkled one, asked.

Jaax cringed.  He’d forgotten about Tybys.  “He had to return to his post, it was a last minute decision.  It seems a few of the Tyrant’s men have decided to brave the temptation of the Dunes of Ehrann and have traveled down the Rhiimian Gorge.  From the report we received earlier, they plan on following the Fuhrlas River south and then cross into Torinn.  We needed him back at Telln Bahra in order to keep watch if this information proves true.”

“And you were going to inform us of this when?” Shiroxx’s voice was sharp, making plain her feelings of being left out of this decision.

“Tonight,” Jaax said, casting her a warning glance before looking back at Tollorias and Sapheramin.  “Tybys received word only five hours ago, leaving as soon as he knew the details.  He offered his apologies and promises to return as soon as the south is secure.”

Sapheramin and Tollorias nodded in acceptance, but Shiroxx huffed her frustration, “It was hard enough with five dragons, now we just have four . . .”

“We are plenty in number, Shiroxx.  Remember, we are simply trying to spook the soldiers, not take on the entire army,” Jaax responded with his usual authority.

Shiroxx glared at him, but he simply took a deep breath and closed his eyes.  It was almost like arguing with Jahrra, almost.  Jaax allowed himself a minute grin at the memory.  Even though arguing with Jahrra was much more exhausting than arguing with Shiroxx, it was somehow much more satisfying.  He very nearly chuckled aloud when he pictured the stubborn girl refusing to let him intimidate her during their last encounter.

“And what is so amusing?” Shiroxx snapped.

“Nothing,” Jaax said, opening his eyes, “just recalling a more pleasant situation.”

“Well, I’m sure we’d all love to sit and reminisce on more pleasant times Raejaax, but we ought to get moving,” Tollorias interrupted. “It’ll take us three hours to fly to the camp and another hour to terrify those Ghorium parasites further into Rhiimian territory.”

“Alright then Tollorias, lead the way.”  Jaax nodded to the larger, darker of the two Korli dragons.  He then turned and gave Sapheramin a bright smile. “And how are you doing?  Tollorias treating you well I hope?”

The smaller Korli dragon returned Jaax’s greeting with a brilliant grin of her own.  Unlike Shiroxx, Sapheramin exuded an aura of joy.  Her crystal blue eyes flashed, adding their own light to the dark night, and she easily walked next to Jaax as they made their way to the edge of the mountain shelf.

“Oh, Tollorias!  He’s taking this duty much more harshly than I.  He feels guilty that I’ve been removed from Nimbronia, but I’ve tried to tell him I don’t mind.”

Jaax nodded grimly and set his focus on the ground ahead of him.  Sapheramin and Tollorias were important delegates in the courts of Nimbronia, two of the many consulates living in that city and serving the king.  Sapheramin’s position was considered more important than Tollorias’, and although she was regarded as very valuable to the king, she’d insisted on helping out in the cause to keep the human child protected.

“And how is our young Jahrra?  Did she look well since you last saw her?  Is my uncle taking good care of her?”  A mischievous grin flashed across Sapheramin’s young, yet wrinkled face.

Jaax answered that with a light chuckle, “Oh, well, you know Hroombramantu.  He’s spoiled her rotten, I assure you.”

“That sounds about right.” She sighed contentedly and Jaax felt his spirits lift.

“But how does she look?  You must describe her for I have never seen her,” Sapheramin laughed.

Jaax furrowed his brow and narrowed his mouth, trying to get a clear picture of Jahrra in his mind.  “She’s tall compared to her friends, but not thin and gangly or petite like the Resai.  Her eyes are blue, but not as bright as yours, and her hair is a deep blond color.  And she’s strong for a girl, something that surprised me.  The last time I saw her she dislodged one of my scales.”

Shiroxx cleared her throat behind them and Jaax turned to look at her.  Her eyebrows were raised and she nodded her head towards Tollorias.  He’d made it to the edge of the peak and was waiting for Jaax’s command to take flight.  Jaax sighed and smiled at Sapheramin.  He hoped that his description of Jahrra satisfied her curiosity.

Their job tonight was simple and was the same as it had been the last hundred nights: to fly to the large camp of the Tyrant’s soldiers in the East Crein Mountains and terrorize them until they retreated further into Rhiim.  So far it had been somewhat successful, but it was only a matter of time before the men realized it was only a small group of dragons and not a huge colony that was trying to drive them away.  That is why they always attacked at night, so the only thing the enemy could see were the streams of multi-colored fire raining down on them.

Jaax took a deep breath and sighed.  “Is everyone ready?” he asked.

The other three dragons nodded and Jaax climbed to the edge of the precipice.  This one was even steeper than the cliff top he’d slept on earlier that day.

“May Ethoes grant us another successful night,” he said solemnly.  The four dragons quietly mumbled an ancient blessing in their own dialect of kruelt.  On Jaax’s signal they launched themselves off of the mountain, their giant reptilian bodies invisible against the black of night.

Don’t worry Jahrra, Jaax thought as they crossed over the Oribiy River, the moonlight sparking off its surface far below, I’ll stop them, I won’t let them find you.

As the miles fled by, Jaax found his thoughts returning to his nightmare once again.  He felt so helpless in that world, unable to move, unable to shout out a warning to Jahrra, unable to confront the demon who attacked her.  But he wouldn’t let that world become reality; he wouldn’t allow his nightmare to take form in the world of the living.  He would fight, fight to the death if he had to in order to keep Jahrra safe.  With a renewed vigor, Jaax set his teeth and felt the flames building deep in his chest as the weak firelight of a large camp came into view.  Someday he would defeat the Crimson King, but tonight he would simply delay him.

- Chapter One -

Advice from a Mystic

“Jahrra!  Be careful, that plant . . .”

“ARRGGGHHH!”

Jahrra released the stubborn weed the second it spewed a noxious cloud of gas into her face.  She fell to the ground and immediately started coughing, waving at the green mist in an attempt to rid herself of the horrible smell.

“I was going to say, ‘that plant is called Bog’s Breath for a reason’.”

Jahrra glared up at Denaeh, her youthful expression showing amusement.  She had her sleeves rolled up and her face was shaded by a wide straw hat.  Dirt and mud covered her hands and forearms, but she didn’t seem bothered by it at all.

“You could have warned me before hand,” Jahrra grumbled as the awful odor of Bog’s Breath finally floated away.

“I’m sorry, I forgot, until I saw you tugging away at it.  You have to be cautious of the leaves.  If you press them too hard the sack underneath will burst, and well, you know what happens then.”

It was obvious that Denaeh was trying very hard not to laugh.  Jahrra sighed and stood up, brushing herself off in the process.  It’d been months since the strange Mystic had helped her frighten Eydeth and Ellysian, and she was determined to make it up to her, even if it meant weeding a garden that was full of gas-spewing plants.

Jahrra gave her newest friend a weak smile and got back to work, tugging and yanking a little more cautiously now.  As she pulled on stubborn weeds and listened to the sound of fog dew dripping to the forest floor, Jahrra thought about her summer.  Now that it was nearly over, she would be starting school again and facing the evil twins once more.

A grin suddenly split Jahrra’s face.  Earlier that spring she’d been dared to enter the dreaded Belloughs of the Black Swamp in the Wreing Florenn to find the terrible witch that lived there.  Despite the rumored dangers and her own fear, Jahrra had done it, all to win back her favorite retreat, Lake Ossar.  The horrible Resai twins had taken a sudden interest in the lake and in doing so had forced Jahrra and her two best friends, Gieaun and Scede, to find another place to hide from them.  When Eydeth had challenged Jahrra to enter the Black Swamp, she’d made a deal with him: he and his sister had to stay away from Lake Ossar for good.  The only hitch had been that Jahrra needed to prove she had found the witch, and until she discovered the Mystic Denaeh, she had no idea how she was going to prove it.  In the end, the Mystic pretended to chase Jahrra out of the forest, terrifying all of her waiting classmates in the process.  Eydeth and Ellysian hadn’t bothered her since.

“Drat!”

Jahrra jerked her hand back and drew her palm to her mouth to subdue the new wound.  She loved to help Denaeh with her chores, but the Mystic had a knack for growing strange and sometimes painful plants.

The Mystic looked up from her corner of the garden and smiled, “Don’t worry, that one isn’t poisonous.”

Jahrra glowered at her, the edge of her hand still in her mouth.  The day after Jahrra had met the Mystic Archedenaeh, she had been given a warning about the strange woman.  At least she thought it was a warning.  Gieaun and Scede were suspicious, naturally, and cautioned Jahrra to stay away from her new acquaintance.

“She’s too odd Jahrra!  She could be anyone at all!” Gieaun had said.

Scede merely nodded grimly in his usual, quiet fashion.

Because of her friends’ apprehension, Jahrra hadn’t told Hroombra about Denaeh.  Master Hroombra would never approve of any of this, Jahrra reminded herself.  She glanced about the misty Belloughs deep within the dreaded Wreing Florenn and imagined what the great Korli dragon, huddled over his manuscripts, would say if he knew where she was just now.

Jahrra shivered and dashed the thought from her mind.  She hated keeping secrets from her guardian, but all too often she found it necessary.  Since Hroombra knew nothing of her new acquaintance, the warning about the Mystic hadn’t come from him, nor had it come from Phrym, her loyal semequin.  No, it had come from someone she had only met in her dreams.  Someone who was more of a stranger to her than Denaeh, but more familiar to her than anyone else she knew.  He had shown up, shrouded in his green cloak, drawing her away from the unicorn she had followed to the Belloughs of the Black Swamp in her dream world.

For a few days Jahrra considered heeding her cloaked stranger’s silent warning, but in the end she decided that Denaeh was too intriguing a person to ignore.  Besides, Jahrra reassured herself, I owe her my thanks for dealing with the evil twins.

Jahrra pulled her sleeve down over her wounded hand and attacked the spiny weed with a renewed vigor.  With a terrible ripping sound it finally pulled free from the rich soil and joined the pile of other strange debris.  Jahrra sighed and searched for a new enemy to tackle, secretly dreading the end of the week.

“Why so quiet?” Denaeh finally asked, running her forearm across her brow.

Jahrra looked up and blinked.  Denaeh was much closer than she had realized.  She sighed again and grumbled, “School starts next week.”

“Is that all?” Denaeh answered, laughter dancing in her amber eyes.

“You know what that means!” Jahrra snapped, standing up and brushing away an annoying wisp of hair that had escaped its braid.  “Eydeth and Ellysian.  I can avoid them during the summer, but once school starts . . .” Jahrra donned a disgusted face and shivered.

“Come now, they wouldn’t dare mess with the girl who faced the Witch of the Wreing and survived to tell the tale!” Denaeh hunched over and wiggled her fingers.

Jahrra couldn’t help but smile.  She did have that wonderful memory to dwell on, but something told her it wouldn’t work forever.  Before she bent down to pull at another weed, she mumbled in Denaeh’s direction, “You don’t know the evil twins.”

***

Ignoring Eydeth and Ellysian at the beginning of the school year was easy at first.  With the combined effects of Viornen and Yaraa’s training, the recollection of her escape from the Witch of the Wreing still circulating the school ground, and the somewhat therapeutic visits to the Black Swamp, Jahrra wondered if she was safe from the twins’ jibes for good.  But of course their cold silence was only temporary.  A mere few weeks into the school year the twins started spreading stories of what really happened in the Wreing Florenn.  They claimed that Jahrra invented her adventure story because they’d invented the evil Witch-Hag of the Black Swamp, and that their father and uncles had hunted in that swamp for ages without seeing hide or hair of such a creature.

When several of their classmates wondered about the terrifying woman who had come screaming out of the forest after Jahrra, Ellysian had a ready excuse, “That was probably one of her friends from that mud hole!  I bet she paid them to dress up and howl like that, though I have no idea what she could have paid them with!” Ellysian had crooned menacingly.

Far too angry to speak, Jahrra had simply clenched her fists and stalked to the other side of the schoolyard to fume.  Eydeth and Ellysian were on her last nerve, and she didn’t know how much more she could stand.  Stupid, she thought, how could I be so stupid to think that they’d actually leave me alone after this?

“The most dangerous thing you could’ve seen in there was a mosquito or two!” Eydeth cackled, half bent over, his face contorted and his cheeks streaming with tears.  “I bet you ran in terror when you saw them!  Is that why you and your mud-hole friend came screaming out of the woods?”

This earned a healthy rumble of laughter from some of the students, but not as many as usual, and Jahrra couldn’t help but be a little happy for this bit of fortune.  The twins were still on the hunt, but it seemed that their pack was getting tired of chasing down the same old prey.  By the middle of fall, however, the majority of the class, except for Gieaun and Scede and a few others, were convinced that Jahrra was the liar Eydeth claimed her to be.

Jahrra would’ve accepted their continued abuse with some dignity if it hadn’t been for one thing: Eydeth and Ellysian had gone back on their word about staying away from Lake Ossar.  Jahrra, Gieaun and Scede had enjoyed a few weeks of freedom at the lake after the success of her venture into the swamp, but then, out of the blue, the twins suddenly started showing up at the lake once again.

“What are you doing here!?” Jahrra had demanded angrily of her two mortal enemies, “You are not supposed to be here!  We had a deal!”

It was the second weekend after the start of school and Jahrra, Gieaun and Scede had been craving an escape to the lake.

“We don’t have to keep promises to liars,” Eydeth had sniffed, dangerously quiet as he stood his ground.

“Now move out of the way, we have more important things to do than talk to worthless Nesnans!” Ellysian spat, sweeping past Jahrra in a flurry of the layers of skirts she always wore.

Jahrra was livid, and if it hadn’t been for Gieaun and Scede holding her back, she would’ve tackled Ellysian and practiced a few of her newly learned attack moves on her.

“I’ll get you back for this someday!” she screamed in rage as the twins and their friends marched away sniggering.

“Jahrra!  Calm down, there’s nothing we can do!”  Gieaun hissed, trying very hard not to bolt after Ellysian herself.

Scede had been so angry he couldn’t move from where he stood for several minutes.

“I’ll find a way to get rid of them if it kills me!” Jahrra seethed as the three friends left the lake.

Jahrra could feel herself burning with anger as she recalled the memory.  That had been over a month ago, and it was now the middle of autumn.  Soon it would be winter, and soon she would have a few weeks away from the twins.  Free time for going to the lake and watching the winter birds, Jahrra thought sadly, shivering with annoyance as she remembered her one place of sanctuary was no longer safe.  Well, maybe not my only place of sanctuary, she thought with a wry grin.  She was presently stretched out on a great sagging, moss-covered oak branch, her arms folded under her chin, watching Denaeh tend to some of her plants and mushrooms.  It was a foggy, quiet fall day similar to the late summer day when she had last been to the Belloughs before the start of school.  The familiar smell of sluggish smoke tinged the air and she kicked her legs lazily, the hanging dry moss from the branch above brushing her feet.

Even deep in the Black Swamp, where normally one would be on their guard, Jahrra couldn’t help but feel comfortable and at ease.  The forest was enveloped in a great blanket of fog, but everywhere within this deaf silence echoed the small sounds of moisture collecting and slapping leaves as the water droplets fell to the forest floor.  Both near and far the sounds of the dripping condensation sang in unison with the quiet crackle of Denaeh’s fire.  The small noises of the tiny creatures searching out the driest spot to rest in the underbrush only added to the secretive atmosphere.

The silence only enhanced Jahrra’s other senses as she continued to brood over her latest debacle with the twins.  How?  How do they keep getting away with it!?  How do they keep winning even when I beat them?

Jahrra had been so lost in thought that she failed to notice Denaeh smiling up at her.  “Don’t let it bother you so much,” she said aloud, shocking Jahrra back into the present world.  “It happened months ago.  Besides, are you sorry that you accepted their dare?”

Again, she’d managed to read Jahrra’s mind.  This statement, if given by Hroombra, or worse, Jaax, would have raised Jahrra’s hackles and turned her pale gray-blue eyes deep cobalt.  But coming from Denaeh it made perfect sense.  Besides, she’d been listening to Jahrra’s thoughts again, and one couldn’t be angry with someone who had that kind of power.

“I’m not saying that I’m disappointed,” Jahrra proclaimed. “I wouldn’t have met you if I’d backed down.  But those two always seem to lure me into their trap, and no matter what, no matter how many times I succeed, I never can win.  I just wish for once I could get back at them, not just for a few weeks, but for good.  I’m still angry at them for trying to kill me on Solsticetide!”

Denaeh merely nodded and smiled, still bent over her precious mushrooms.  She hadn’t seen the young girl since the week before school had started and at that time Jahrra was still pleased with the results of their combined act to bring the dreaded swamp witch to life.

“You had the lake for a while, did you not?  And you and Gieaun and Scede alone have the satisfaction of seeing the twins’ faces and hearing their screams when I chased you from the trees.  They can claim you lied all they want, but they were petrified.”

“I know,” Jahrra huffed, “but I just wish there was a way to get them to leave us alone.”

Denaeh stood up from her crouching position, black crumbs of soil tumbling off the front of her stained apron.  She pressed her hands against her lower back and stretched, gazing off into the distance as if doing so would clear her mind.  She stood that way for several minutes before she spoke, “I don’t usually partake in revenge because I believe that everything will one day come back to haunt you, even if those you are casting your vengeance upon have been deserving their comeuppance for quite some time.  But I like you Jahrra, you remind me of what it truly means to be youthful, and these two children have stepped far over the boundaries of what should be tolerated.  So I shall help you this one time in developing a plot to disrupt the evil twins, as you so claim them.”

Jahrra’s head shot up, her cheek prickling after having left behind its mossy pillow.  She hadn’t thought that Denaeh would ever propose such a thing.  The Mystic was grinning up at the young girl underneath a halo of fire-red hair, a look of mischief soon replacing the look of calm composure on her youthful face.

“Now,” said Denaeh clasping her hands together in a gesture suggesting she was about to clean an untidy room, much less plot revenge, “you’ll have to attack them in a place that is in your territory.  Now when I say your territory, I mean a place that is comfortable and well known by you.  For instance,” Denaeh cocked her head so one side of her face was exposed to Jahrra, “Lake Ossar . . ?”

Jahrra snorted, “Oh, they go out there as often as they can now.  But Gieaun and Scede and I know it far better than they do.”

Jahrra sat up now and rested her elbows on her knees, allowing her legs to dangle freely.  Denaeh stood there, her left arm supporting the elbow of the arm whose hand was now thrust under her chin.  Jahrra couldn’t make out her expression; her face was downturned.

“And how deep is this lake?” Denaeh continued.

“Probably only twenty feet at the most in the center,” Jahrra answered blankly, sitting up a little straighter and returning her focus on Denaeh.

“And what sorts of animals live in this lake?” the Mystic asked casually, waving her free hand around as if trying to extend the smoky scent of burning incense.

“Oh, nothing more dangerous than large trout and bass, frogs and tadpoles, turtles, and some water bugs.  Leeches maybe.”

Jahrra counted the creatures off on her fingers, then after a few moments of silence, she chuckled and sat up fully on the large limb.

The Mystic finally raised her head. “What is it?” she asked, looking truly confused since the first time Jahrra had met her.

“Oh, I was just thinking about what else might live in the lake, and I remembered some stories Gieaun and Scede’s father used to tell us.”

“What kinds of stories?” Denaeh pressed on, casualty still cloaking her voice.

“Just stories to scare us.  Stories about a lake monster.  They’re harmless, but they sure scared me when I was younger.”

A glint of mischief flared within the Mystic’s eyes, turning them for just a second from clear golden honey to living, burning sunlight.  She smiled ever so slightly.  “A lake monster, huh?” she said composedly.

“Yeah, just legends to tell over a campfire really,” Jahrra answered lazily, letting her shoulders slouch under the weight of the fog.

Denaeh paused for a moment, and Jahrra sensed that she was thinking carefully.

“So, there’s no way that the lake is fathoms deep in the center, and it is in no way possible that a hideous creature lives at the lake’s bottom and comes up every so often to feed upon whatever disturbs the surface?”

Jahrra stared down at Denaeh with a furrowed brow.  Then, as the realization of what the Mystic was getting at set in, she smiled broadly, both hands set firmly on the mossy perch on either side of her.  The silent sounds of the foggy wood were soon filled with the enchanting laughter of the two women, one very young and one very old.

- Chapter Two -

The Plan

Jahrra told Gieaun and Scede the very next day of the plan she and Denaeh had concocted.  She rightfully gave the Mystic most of the credit, seeing as it really had been her idea.  Gieaun giggled with glee and Scede took on the same impish grin that Jahrra herself had held the day before.

“I don’t care if Denaeh is a Mystic or not, she sure has some good ideas,” Scede offered apologetically.

He and Gieaun had finally struck up the courage to visit Denaeh.  They’d found her strange and eccentric, but like their friend, they’d been impressed and awed by her stories and garden of outlandish plant life. The Black Swamp still frightened them, and although they acted as if they had no more qualms with the Mystic, Jahrra could tell that they still didn’t completely trust her.  That didn’t keep them from being appreciative of her offer of help, however.  The scheme she’d devised, in their eyes at least, was ingenious.

The plan was simple and quite harmless in their opinion: they would construct a model of the lake monster and they would use it to frighten Eydeth and Ellysian away from Lake Ossar.  At first the three friends had no idea how to even begin such a massive project, for the creature they were to create had to be big, really big, and it had to be believable.

“We just need to come up with a design and figure out what we’re going to use to build it,” Scede said, screwing his face up in thought.

“Let’s start with the basics.  What should we use for the frame?” Jahrra asked.

It had been almost a month since the plan had been hatched and it was the first time, in several weeks, since the three friends arrived at Lake Ossar and hadn’t found the twins there.  Jahrra, Gieaun and Scede wasted no time in paddling out to their little island and were now stretched out flat on their picnic blanket, staring at a blank piece of parchment.  Jahrra held a piece of charcoal in her hand and Gieaun and Scede were trying very hard to come up with ideas for their monster.

“We could use reeds to bind the frame together,” Gieaun suggested.

“No, they would fall apart under the water,” Scede said.  “Wait, I know, we could use drift wood!  For the frame!  It would hold up and it would make it more solid.”

“That would be perfect!  And we can cover it with seaweed, reeds and maybe some horse hair to make it look more gruesome,” Jahrra said, smiling brightly.  “But we’ll have to find some rope or something to bind it together.”

Gieaun sat up and crossed her arms. “So we know what we are using to make it, but how big are we going to make this thing?  If we want it to be realistic, it’ll have to be huge.  Where are we going to hide it?”

Gieaun had a look of skepticism on her face.  Jahrra slouched, feeling like they hadn’t made any progress at all.

“How about we just make the neck and the head?  We don’t need to make the whole monster, do we?” Scede queried, looking first at his sister and then at Jahrra.

The two girls glanced at each other and then looked back at Scede.  “You know,” Jahrra said, “I think that might just work.”

Gieaun clapped her hands in delight and Jahrra smiled more broadly than ever.  Scede just sat back in smug satisfaction, a sly grin gracing his face.

“Now all we need to do is sketch it out, and that’s your job Jahrra,” Gieaun said happily.

And so for the rest of that afternoon Jahrra sketched as Gieaun and Scede directed her to make the neck longer or the head bigger, to add more spikes or more teeth.  If anyone had been walking down the boardwalk on that relatively quiet day, they may have been taken by surprise by the sound of joyful laughter spilling from an island of reeds in the middle of the lake.

In the end, it took longer than expected for the three friends to come up with a good design for a terrifying water beast, but by the beginning of winter break they had the perfect picture of their ideal lake monster.  Jahrra had drawn a hideous water dragon with a long neck, a large grotesque head and several extended, saber-like teeth.

“I don’t know what we’ll use to make the teeth,” Jahrra said as she scrutinized her artwork.  “Maybe we can just use broken branches or driftwood.”

“It’s going to take us forever to collect enough driftwood and seaweed to make this thing!” Scede complained.

“Maybe, but just think of how wonderful it will be when Lake Ossar is ours again!” Gieaun added, trying to cheer her friend and brother up.

“Gieaun’s right Scede, it’ll definitely be worth the effort.” Jahrra smiled at her two friends, and they set their sights on the day that their creation would be finished.

As the weeks passed, the three friends spent whatever time they had collecting materials for their project, storing whatever they found on their island.  Luckily, it was the dead of winter and the only other people on the lake were the occasional fisherman heading to the beach to fish or dig for clams.  They even celebrated Jahrra’s thirteenth birthday out in the middle of the lake, surrounded by foul-smelling seaweed as their noses were nipped by cold gusts of wind pouring off of the sea.  As the winter came to a slow close, the children had collected enough material to make good progress on their creature’s massive neck.

Spring arrived and with it came the warm weather that enticed the local families out onto Lake Ossar.  Jahrra figured that with all of the prying eyes she and her friends would need to find an effective new way to hide their mounting pile of driftwood, rope, and bleached fish and seal bones they’d collected over the past few months.

“I have an idea,” Gieaun hissed one weekend as the three sat hidden behind the rushes and cattails, “we can build a little bit at a time and sink it below the water when we are done for the day.  That way no one will ever suspect anything!”

“Good idea Gieaun!” Scede added. “We have to figure out how to keep it under the water anyway, now is a good time to start.”

The process of building a few feet of neck and then sinking it below the lake’s surface seemed tedious at first, but it was their best option.  Once they’d collected enough large rocks and attached them to the base of the structure, Scede tied a length of rope to it and lowered the five feet of thick neck they’d completed into the water.  It sank easily, disappearing below the lake’s crystal surface.  Scede led the rope to the middle of the island and Gieaun and Jahrra helped him tie it securely to a post they’d hammered into the ground.

“All we have to do is make sure our driftwood pile doesn’t get any higher than the cattails,” Jahrra said, looking at the few pieces that were left.

“We need to collect some more soon, maybe next weekend,” Gieaun suggested, eyeing the tiny pile with little interest.  “But I think we’ve done enough work for one day.”

The three friends rode home with light hearts that day.  Eydeth and Ellysian hadn’t shown up at the lake for weeks, and they started wondering if maybe they didn’t have to finish their lake monster after all.

“Trust me, they’ll be back, I just know it,” Jahrra said begrudgingly as they led their horses through the small wood surrounding the lake. “Summer is coming, so I think we’ll be seeing a lot more of them around here soon.  Especially since they won’t be able to harass us everyday like they do at school.”

Despite the misgivings she felt about her limited freedom on Lake Ossar, Jahrra was looking forward to the upcoming summer.  Although she’d be busy once again with her kruelt lessons with Hroombra and defense training with the elves, Jahrra looked forward to spending more time working on the water dragon, even if that time was limited by Eydeth and Ellysian and their insistence on visiting the lake.  She figured if they spent at least two days a week building, and one day a week collecting material, they just might be done by the beginning of fall.  Well, time will tell.  I just hope we can keep this secret from the twins a little bit longer, Jahrra thought as she waved goodbye to her friends at the foot of their long drive.

During the first few weeks of summer, Jahrra contributed to their project by scouring the fields after her defense lessons with Yaraa and Viornen for any bit of wayward material that might be helpful in their endeavor.  One day she found a very long piece of discarded rope, another day she found a nicely shaped branch that had broken off of a tree.  Jahrra dragged them home, hoping that Hroombra wouldn’t ask any questions if he saw her, and hid them in the back of Phrym’s stable.

As the warm season progressed, the three friends added more and more to their lake monster.  By the first day back to school in the fall, they had nearly three quarters of the frame finished and weighted down below the water.

Jahrra couldn’t have been more pleased: it was perfect.  All that was left was for them to devise a way to get Eydeth and Ellysian out onto the lake at the most opportune time.

“We don’t need to worry about that now,” Scede said when Jahrra brought this up. “We need to focus on finishing the monster first.”

“Yeah, but it wouldn’t hurt to start thinking about it,” Gieaun put in.

“First of all,” Scede hissed in a very low voice, “we shouldn’t talk about it here!”

They had been back to school for two weeks now, and the three of them were standing in the front of the schoolhouse waiting for professor Tarnik to arrive.  A few other children were standing around, but like always, they were as far away from the three friends as possible.

“You’re right.  If Eydeth and Ellysian got wind of this . . .” Jahrra shivered.  She couldn’t imagine anything worse happening.  After all those months of hard work, it would be devastating for their enemy to find out about it.

It was at that very moment that a spotless, white carriage came chattering up the road, pulling to a stop only twenty yards away from them.  Jahrra tensed and put a scowl on her face, ready to do battle.  Eydeth and Ellysian stepped out of their carriage like mobile porcelain dolls and sauntered confidently over to where Jahrra and her friends stood.

“Haven’t seen you at the puddle lately,” Ellysian commented dryly. “Have you found another mud hole to hang out at?”

It was true; Jahrra, Gieaun and Scede had spent the last three weeks gathering all of the excess horse hair from the summer trimming at Wood’s End Ranch and hadn’t had a chance to visit the lake.  Gieaun thought the bedraggled, tangled hair would be a nice touch to their already fearsome looking lake monster.

Jahrra now stared at Ellysian, wondering what her excuse had been for not visiting the lake the entire summer.  Were she and Eydeth up to something again?  Jahrra furrowed her brow and glared down at the sour girl, ready to give a heated retort before Gieaun grabbed her arm.  She turned and saw Scede mimicking what she could only guess was a terrified Eydeth after being frightened away by the lake monster.  Jahrra forgot her anger and all three friends burst into laughter, leaving the confused twins standing like dumb statues on the path.

“I cannot wait until we are finished with that monster!” Scede said on the ride home that afternoon.

“As soon as we finish the frame, we’ll be able to add the seaweed and horse hair,” Jahrra shouted gleefully as they raced their horses through the fields.  “It won’t be long before our lake creature drowns those spineless twins!”

By the end of that month, they had the frame completed, all fifteen feet of the long neck and head.  All that was left for them to do, other than lure Eydeth and Ellysian out onto the lake at the right time of course, was to fill in the skeleton of their creature with muscle and flesh.  For that extra touch of authenticity, they gathered dead reeds for stuffing and dried strings of seaweed to hold it all together.

“It already looks terrifying,” Gieaun shivered happily, stepping back and looking at the half-filled neck that stood among the reeds of their little island like a rotting pier post.

The dark seaweed clung to the sturdy neck like thick ropes of decaying flesh, giving the strange skeleton a life-like appearance.  Gieaun and Scede closed their eyes and imagined what this creature would look like once it was completed, looming out of the lake, dark and dripping, with a thick mane of grizzled hair running down the back of its neck.

“Hey, I finally found something for the teeth!” Jahrra huffed from the edge of the reeds, interrupting her friends’ thoughts.  She’d made a trip to the shore to get some more seaweed, but had found something else instead.  She stepped out of the small boat with an armful of what appeared to be several bleached rib bones of some long-dead sea creature.

“Whoa!” Jahrra dropped the bones in awe when she spotted the several feet of blackish, ghoulish neck rising in front of her.  “It looks great!  But we’d better put it back under the water before anyone sees it.”

The children worked diligently on their little island for the remainder of the day, grateful for the quiet, cool air.  Although they had their minds preoccupied with their grand project, they couldn’t help but fall victim to the change of the season and the customs that came with it.  It was now the middle of autumn, and Sobledthe, the harvest celebration, was only a few weeks away.  Today they might be up to their elbows in foul-smelling kelp and rough, splintered driftwood, but tomorrow would be a day of rest, relaxation and good story telling.  Jahrra thought it had been far too long since she’d been to the Belloughs of the Black Swamp and tomorrow she, Gieaun and Scede were taking a day off from their work to enjoy themselves.

That night Jahrra found it hard to fall asleep.  It had been months since she’d seen Denaeh, having only had two chances to visit the Mystic during her busy summer.  And now the season had progressed well into fall, one of Jahrra’s favorite times of the year.  The leaves were turning crimson and fire, and the green of the fields was ripening into gold.  The crisp air weighed heavily with winter’s coming cold, but it couldn’t depress Jahrra’s spirits.  Her vengeance upon her enemies was nearly complete, and as she finally drifted off to sleep, her lips curled into a satisfied smile.

- Chapter Three -

Tales of the Past

“I can’t wait!” Jahrra cried, pulling Phrym up alongside Bhun and Aimhe as she left the Castle Guard Ruin resting in the mid-morning light.  “Denaeh promised to tell us a Sobledthe story, remember?”

Gieaun shook her head in amusement and Scede rolled his eyes as they nudged their horses into a slow walk behind Jahrra and Phrym.  The siblings were still reluctant to travel deep within the Black Swamp, but the idea of hearing a good Sobledthe story and doing something besides hauling slimy seaweed around at Lake Ossar was too good an opportunity to pass up.

“Here is some of the extra horse hair we collected,” Gieaun said, reaching into her saddlebag and pulling out a huge tangle of multi-colored tresses as they moved eastward towards the forest.  “I thought it would be a good idea to work on our Sobledthe costumes while we were listening to Denaeh’s stories.”

Scede snorted softly.  Jahrra cocked her head in his direction, but said nothing.  She knew that although he agreed to accompany her and his sister into the Black Swamp, he didn’t have to like it.  His distrust of the Mystic was even greater than Gieaun’s.

“Now all we have to do is figure out how to use this in our costumes,” Jahrra said lightly, taking the large chunk of brown hair from Gieaun’s hands.

“We could be horses,” Gieaun stated hopefully, reaching down and patting Aimhe affectionately.

“No!  Everyone dresses as a horse at the Fall Festival!” Scede complained, dropping his quiet reverie. “We’ll be in Lensterans, and everyone will be in costume.  Do you want to look the same as everyone else?”

Gieaun just stuck her nose up at Scede, thinking he was taking this all too seriously.  Scede ignored her and kept talking, “I wish we could stay until after dark, that’s the most exciting part!” he grumbled.

“I know,” Jahrra sighed.  “It would have been neat to see the rituals and it would have been fun to dance around the bonfire all night.”

Although Hroombra had given Jahrra permission to go to this year’s Sobledthe celebration in Lensterans with her friends and their parents, he hadn’t agreed on an all night excursion.  Jahrra could only stay until sunset, but she was allowed to stay the rest of the night at Wood’s End Ranch with Gieaun and Scede.

“When you are older, you will be allowed to go by yourselves,” Nuhra had told the complaining children.

“When will that be?” Scede had asked rather flippantly.

Kaihmen had almost smiled when he answered his son, “Oh, a couple more years at least.”

“That’s ages from now!” Scede insisted.

But his father refused to budge.

Although they wouldn’t get to witness the fall festival in its entirety, Gieaun, Scede and Jahrra were looking forward to seeing the city of Lensterans in full fall decor.  They had heard many wonderful things from those who had been to the festival before.  For weeks they’d held images of brilliant costumes and towering bonfires in their minds, their mouths watering at the very thought of eating caramel apples and spiced, roasted nuts.  Jahrra had almost fallen out of the oak tree in the school yard several times as she’d tried to stretch her ears closer to catch a word or two from a tale someone had heard the year before.  It was almost too much to endure, but finally, the time of the Harvest Festival was only a handful of days away.

“I bet Denaeh will have an idea for our costumes,” Jahrra said, breaking the long, thoughtful silence as they entered the Wreing Florenn along the trail that followed the Danu Creek.  It was a cool day, sun-brightened but fringed with coastal fog and Jahrra, Gieaun and Scede were dressed warmly.

“Jahrra, are you sure you want to go see Denaeh today?” Gieaun said faintly as they passed under the towering trees.  “I mean, I’m sure we can come up with our own costume ideas.”

Gieaun, although she’d been into the Belloughs before, was still frightened of the strange swamp and the dank atmosphere that surrounded it.

“No, no, Denaeh will have better ideas than us, I guarantee it,” Jahrra chirped, not detecting the hint of trepidation in her friend’s voice.

“Besides,” she continued after awhile, “don’t you want to hear one of her Sobledthe stories?”

Gieaun gave Scede a nervous look.  Scede just smiled, trying not to take sides.  He felt the same way that his sister did, but the idea of hearing a good story was too much of a temptation to insist they turn back.

Once the group had descended further into the bog, the mist began thickening just as it always did and after an hour more of quiet travel, they finally reached the Belloughs.  Denaeh poked her haggard head out of her cave at the sound of company, wrinkling her nose as if to detect a foul smell on the wind.  When she saw that it was Jahrra and her friends, she welcomed them all heartily, transforming into her younger self.  Even Milihn, Denaeh’s strange raven-like bird who was usually shy around Scede and Gieaun, joined the small party.

“He’s here to set the mood,” the Mystic teased as he cawed loudly from her shoulder.

This was the first time Gieaun and Scede had ever seen the korehv up close, and they were dumbstruck by his size and color.

“Don’t worry, he won’t attack you,” Denaeh said with a smile as she watched a timid Gieaun and Scede approach.  “Usually he takes to the deep woods when you two come along.”

Jahrra, Gieaun and Scede climbed down from their horses and tied them to a nearby tree, letting them drowse in the somber atmosphere of the swamp.  The Mystic stoked a tired fire beside her sleeping garden and once everyone was comfortably sitting on a great, fallen tree, she spread her arms wide for effect and began the tale she had promised them.  The children all huddled close together, waiting to hear about some horrifying beast that ate people alive.

“For it is said,” Denaeh began, pausing and looking at each of them with a frightful gaze, the fire’s smoke providing great effect, “for it is said that long ago, the world was peaceful.  All creatures, great and small, lived in harmony together and even the spirits of the earth and sky had no reason to be angry.  But one day Ciarrohn, the god of the dead and evil, under the gaze of his parents’ eyes, began changing the beauty of this world.

“He used dark magic to warp and transform what beasts of the earth he could capture, and soon he had an army of loyal and horrible servants, dark creatures that roamed the world searching out the good only to destroy it.

“The ancestors of the creatures that Ciarrohn created still roam the earth to this very day.  The boarlaque, for instance, is one such creature thought to be a result of his many creations.”

Jahrra shivered as she imagined the fearsome boarlaque, a great, bear-like beast that lived in the mountains and terrorized villages, looking for victims.

“Living beings weren’t the only things influenced by the god of the dead,” the Mystic went on. “All of the evil spirits hidden away during the daylight hours are his minions as well.  They avoid the light and brightness of day, and once every year they come out at night and walk among us.  You see, Sobledthe is not just a festival to celebrate the ending and beginning of a new year and the joy of a good harvest.  It is also a time to remember the dark spirits and creatures of the earth, and on Sobledthe Eve they wait in the shadows to capture an unsuspecting soul.”

Denaeh whispered this last sentence harshly, her young face looking very demonic and shrewd.  Jahrra, Gieaun and Scede were entranced and all three of them were afraid to breathe, in case one of these evil spirits was waiting to pounce on them the moment they did.

The Mystic stood suddenly from her dramatic pose, causing everyone to jump.  After several seconds she continued on in a more normal voice, “And so, many remember the Harvest Day not only as a celebration of Ethöes herself, but also as a time to be wary of the creatures of darkness.  For on the very day of this sacred festival, long, long ago, Ciarrohn and his underlings gained absolute power and corrupted many of the beings living in this world.

“He sent his horrible grouldahs, a terrifying wolf-like, skeletal creature with a mane like a horse running down its back, to the far corners of the world to kill those who didn’t acknowledge him as the supreme god.  Fortunately, many of those who opposed Ciarrohn survived this hunt, but they lived on in fear and darkness.

“Many years passed, and Ciarrohn became lazy, assuming that all in the land obeyed him.  But it was the dragon Traagien that finally overthrew him.  He destroyed the god’s mortal form and hurled him down upon the western coast of Ethoes, his body becoming the Elornn and Thorbet Mountain ranges.  This is why the Crimson King does not dare come to this part of Ethoes.  It is a cursed place in the eyes of Ciarrohn.”

Denaeh paused and looked at the attentive children.  She smiled in spite of herself, and continued on, “But the following peace would not last, unfortunately.  A young boy had been born in the east, and he would grow to become a tyrant and a ruthless ruler, his father having already been tainted by Ciarrohn’s power.  You see, the god had his sights set on this young boy, this child who would one day wreak havoc against the world once again.”

Denaeh’s voice quavered a little as she spoke, but Jahrra and her friends were too captivated to notice.

“No one knows why Ciarrohn chose him,” she continued, releasing a deep breath, “like I said before, many suspected this young man to be the evil god’s own son, but it could never be proven.  Time passed and the hateful boy grew into a cruel man.  With the help of his father and those still loyal to Ciarrohn, he overthrew the elfin king of the east and began to gain power.

“He captured what dragons he could find, the creatures that helped defeat his master, and began breeding them, creating his own warrior race.  The terror and fear began to spread once more.  This is the day the whole world changed.”

Denaeh paused again, but this time she was not smiling.  She was frowning and Jahrra noticed a glimmer of sorrow in her eyes.  She watched silently as the Mystic’s features became almost glazed; as if she had been swept back to some other time, leaving the shell of her body behind.

Jahrra suddenly wondered how far back Denaeh’s own history reached.  She couldn’t be sure how old her eccentric friend was, but she had some idea about the lifespan of Mystics.  Denaeh had told her a little about her kind once, hinting that once a woman became a Mystic, she also became immortal.  Jahrra just wondered how long ago Denaeh became one of the mage-kind.

The ancient woman, currently in her youthful guise, drew in a sharp breath and let it out on a long sigh.  She blinked her eyes several times and seemed to come out of her trance.

“Now, where was I?” she said, smiling faintly and looking as if she was fighting back tears.

Jahrra felt awkward and glanced at Gieaun and Scede to assess their reactions.  Gieaun was staring at her hands, folded and resting awkwardly in her lap.  Scede just shrugged and looked back at Denaeh, but his eyes didn’t meet the Mystic’s.

Jahrra looked timidly up from where she rested her chin on her knees.  “Um, you were at the part in the story where the Crimson King first came into power.”

“That’s right, forgive me.  It was so long ago and I sometimes forget the story.”

The three children nodded, and Denaeh continued on with her tale.  Forget the story?  Jahrra thought to herself, Denaeh never forgets anything, no matter how long ago it happened.  Jahrra shook these thoughts out of her mind and listened to the Mystic continue on with her tale.

“The new tyrant king, who had come to be known as Cierryon, began spreading his evil throughout the land.  But just like Ciarrohn before him, Cierryon became languid and arrogant and soon his opponents were plotting against him.  The Korli dragons, along with the races of men, elves, and dwarves, were rallying together to defeat the dreadful oppressor they called the Crimson King.  They knew that Traagien, long ago, had defeated a powerful god.  If one dragon could destroy a god, then what kind of damage could several dragons do against a mere mortal?

“Their attempts were all in vain however, for the first war against the king failed, and many lives were lost against his battle-bred Morli dragons.  Like a dormant volcano, the Crimson King erupted, the wrath and anger that had been held at bay for so many years poured out into the world, raining hatred and anguish down upon the people of Ethoes.

“It was a time of terror, darker and more fearful than anyone could ever remember.  For years, the Tyrant’s minions roamed free upon the land, seeking out the weak, the poor and the down-trodden, sucking away any joy or happiness that graced their meager lives.  Several years passed before anyone, mortal or immortal, dared to challenge the king again.  It was the king of the Tanaan race of humans who finally decided to act.  The good king of the west gathered his soldiers, all of his best fighting men and seven of his eight sons, and traveled to confront the evil king in the east.  He left behind his kingdom, his queen and his ten year old boy, the youngest of the eight.  The small prince begged to go, but the wise king knew the battle field was no place for a child.

“The Tanaan king and his men fought bravely, but one cannot simply defeat an enemy who is immortal.  Cierryon had earned the power and favor of the dormant deity Ciarrohn, and he’d become as invincible as a god himself.  The Tanaan king and his allies perished in the land of Ghorium, and when word of this awful defeat reached the people of the west, the land fell deeper into despair.  The queen took this news the hardest and died shortly after of a broken heart.  Her son, the last Tanaan prince, was left alone with his suffering people; alone except for a wise Korli dragon who had been the lost king’s own mentor and one of his majesty’s most loyal vassals.  The dragon, devastated by the king’s death, looked after the boy, caring for him and teaching him about the ways of the world.

“Eleven years passed, and the boy grew into a young man.  He remembered what the Crimson King had done and how his mother had died, the entire time plotting vengeance for the people of the west.  The young prince learned everything he could about the world, biding his time for the day he would be able to enact his revenge.  He waited until his mentor was absent from the province and then, and only then, did the young prince gather his followers to once again march upon the east.”

Denaeh paused to catch her breath and to cast a glance under her eyelashes at the three children sitting below her.  She grinned inwardly, almost allowing the smile to reach her lips.  Jahrra, Gieaun and Scede were completely caught up in this tale.  She had nothing to worry about; they were drawn like moths to the flame.

She drew a lungful of air and continued on, “The guardian dragon of the Tanaan prince returned to find his ward missing, and it wasn’t long before he realized where the young man had gone.  He gathered his fellow dragons and whoever else was willing and tracked the prince and his army across the vast land of Ethoes.  Despite their unyielding pursuit, the dragons were too late.  The Crimson King had called upon the dark magic of the evil god to transform the entire race of Tanaan into dragons themselves.

“And so, the Tanaan prince and his people were now dragons, creatures bound for the slave yards of the Tyrant King.  Fortunately, they escaped this last act of torment: the Korli dragons were able to release these new dragons from their captor, but they could not be released from the king’s curse.  The Tanaan fled the land of Ghorium, borne on their new reptilian wings, making their escape into the great expanse of Ethoes.

“The Crimson King’s fury was immeasurable, and he sent his armies out into the world to track the dragons down.  Cierryon’s soldiers and the Morli dragons were able to find a mere handful of the Tanaan and bring them back, but the one he wanted the most eluded their hunt.  The Tanaan prince had evaded him; he’d escaped the terrible grasp of the monster that had once been the mortal Cierryon, the man who had killed his father.  Over time the King’s fury abated, but he never forgot the Prince of the Dragons, and he vowed to never cease hunting him.

“But the story does not end here,” Denaeh paused before continuing.  She watched the three eager faces before her become pinched with excitement before adding, “Oh no, the story does not end.  For the Tyrant’s poison has seeped into the land, strangling the life out of it.  The Noreaster Arm of this world, once a place of serenity and beauty, is now a cold, festering desert.  The crystal blue sea that once rested within the mountains has become polluted with sulfur; the magnificent forests, cut down and burned.  The entire basin that was once a breathtaking landscape of cold weather wildflowers and enchanted creatures has become a barren tundra littered with rocks and sparse grasses.

“The faraway Noreaster Arm, and especially the great province of Ghorium, is now a wasteland, a destroyed face of Ethoes that, at one time, thrived with life.  That is all gone now.  The crystal sea is now the Sulfur Sea, a great, festering, sickly green lake where nothing lives.  The Sulfur Swamp that surrounds it was once a great marsh, teaming with life.  But now the swamp is nothing more than a putrid bog, poisoned by the noxious chemicals that seep into it.

“The Noryen River, once wide and clear, now drains the tainted waters into the northern sea.  No longer is it a ribbon of blue cutting across the great flatlands, but a channel of yellow-green sludge, a reminder of the Tyrant’s spreading influence across the land.

“The Frozen Mountains are the only part of the landscape that remain untouched, and that is only because the cold makes them an inconvenience for the Crimson King to destroy.  When they become a hindrance to him, then they too will be gone.”

Denaeh stopped speaking and closed her eyes, letting her chin drop towards her chest.  She looked as if she were trying very hard to visualize the awful place she’d just described.

Jahrra also took the moment of silence to imagine the Noreaster Arm.  Denaeh had described such a horrible place, a place of destruction and neglect.  Jahrra could never imagine Oescienne being turned into such a place, but then again, the Noreaster Arm had once been beautiful like Oescienne, and the thought of such a thing happening here made her stomach turn and her heart ache.

Jahrra was jolted out of her reverie when the Mystic began her tale once again. “Gradually, the peoples and creatures of the east began moving westward, westward and southward away from the diseased earth.  Some had been supporters of the king, but found they could no longer live in such a place.  Many, on the other hand, were not among his supporters.  They hated and feared what the Tyrant had done to their land.  Many settled just outside of the boundaries of Ghorium, others moved much further away.  Those who knew of things that they would surely be killed for, those that were a threat to Cierryon’s power, were the ones who fled the furthest, some even as far away as the unknown lands across the great western ocean and beyond the southern mountains of Terre Moeserre.

“Many years passed while the people suffered in silence, grateful that the Tyrant remained in the east, quietly recovering from the curse he placed upon the Tanaan, but depressed and disheartened that his influence still governed the whole world.

“Then, gradually and quietly, like a murmuring breeze heard only among the trees, there arose a prophecy.  The remaining Oracles of Ethoes had come forward with a foretelling of a new human child to be born in this world now empty of humans, a child that would somehow overthrow the ever-powerful Crimson King.  At the time no one knew for sure if the prophecy spoke of truth or false promises, and no one knew when to expect such a strange and impossible savior.  But the words had been spoken and those words burned with the glimmer of hope.

“The people no longer lived like wilted oaks, struggling against an endless drought.  They could smell the long awaited rain just beyond the horizon, and so began the patient wait for its arrival.  The people of Ethoes had no idea when this child was to arrive, but they were willing to wait for her as long as it would take.”

Denaeh paused and gazed at the children, her eyes like amber torches.

“Her?”  Jahrra blurted out, unable to help herself.

Gieaun flinched next to her and Scede gave her an odd look.

“Yes Jahrra,” Denaeh spoke quietly with a faint smile, “the Oracles named a female child as the one to bring about the downfall of Cierryon.”

“Wow!” Jahrra exclaimed, ignoring her flummoxed friends, “Girls are never the ones who do the saving, it’s always boys, kings, princes, knights, warriors.  It’s never a queen or a princess or a maiden that saves the day!”

Jahrra could hardly contain herself.  She’d heard the story of the Crimson King and the Tanaan dragons once before from Hroombra, but he’d never mentioned any prophecy, and he had definitely not mentioned a girl being the hero.

“When will she be born?” Gieaun blurted out.

Jahrra turned and looked at her as if she’d appeared out of thin air.  She had been so wrapped up in Denaeh’s words that she’d forgotten her two friends were sitting right next to her.

The Mystic gave a knowing smile, “Ah, well, the Oracles didn’t give away that information.”

“But, they must know.  Don’t Oracles know everything about the future and the past?” Scede insisted.

“Yes, they do know, but they rarely give away the exact time something is to happen, especially when it comes to this prophecy.”

“Well, why not?” Jahrra asked.  “Why not say when the human will be born?”

Denaeh looked down at her, a hint of some emotion hidden behind those strange golden eyes of hers.  But exactly what emotion, Jahrra could not tell.

“Because,” she answered at the end of a deep breath, “because then the Crimson King would know when to expect the one who would mean his downfall.”

“And then he could find her and destroy her,” Scede finished, his voice so quiet they almost didn’t hear it.

But Denaeh did, and returned with the same degree of quietude, “Exactly so Scede, exactly so.”

They sat in silence for a long time, only the sound of the crackling fire and an occasional grumble from Milihn to intrude upon their private thoughts.  Of all the possible tales she’d hoped to hear from Denaeh today, Jahrra hadn’t expected this.  A human girl who’ll defeat the Crimson King?  How is that possible?  Humans are extinct.  Then again, she had seen some impossible things herself.

Jahrra took a slow breath and broke their hushed surroundings, “How will we know when she has been born?”

Denaeh turned to look at her, her smooth face unsmiling, “I do not know.”

Jahrra nodded.  How could anyone know?  Even if she were to be born tomorrow, how would anyone know if she was even human?  Jahrra shook her head as if to clear imaginary cobwebs from it.  It was too much to think about right now.

“Well,” Denaeh gave a small grin and clasped her hands together, “now that I have completed my tale, how about we get to work on these costumes . . ?”

They spent a few moments deciding on what to make of the mounds of horsehair, finally choosing one of the dark creatures that roamed the earth on Sobledthe.

“I think you should all go as grouldahs, the wolves that hunt down lost souls,” Denaeh offered after they had argued for quite some time.  “They have a mane of grayish, grizzled hair running from their head to their tails, and you have plenty of tangled hair here to use.”  She picked up a tuft in one hand and eyed it in scrutiny.

“That sounds a little scary,” Gieaun said uneasily, dropping her handful onto the pile with a soft swish.

“It’s probably the best and easiest way to use up your horsehair, without dressing as horses that is,” the Mystic added, smiling.  “Besides, I doubt anyone else will be dressed as grouldahs.”

“I think we should do it, come on guys!” Scede exclaimed, practically bouncing.  “We can pretend we are searching for lost souls on Sobledthe Eve!”

With some more pleading from Jahrra and Scede, Gieaun reluctantly agreed on the costume idea.  Scede was thrilled; like any boy, he loved the idea of dressing as a terrifying creature.

“We’ll just tell everyone that we are demon wolves, okay?” he told his squeamish sister.

“Oh, alright!” she concurred in exasperation, not at all enjoying the idea of dressing as something hideous. “I don’t see how calling ourselves demon wolves instead of grouldahs makes it any better.”

Denaeh silently observed the three children, chatting quietly about the tale they’d just heard while working through the tangled horsehair.  Although the Mystic’s eyes were open and she donned a pleasant smile, her attention wasn’t with them.  Her thoughts were far away from the three young people sitting beside her fire.  She thought of Jahrra especially, and as she thought of Jahrra, she thought of the girl’s guardian.

He would have already told her some things; he would want her to be somewhat prepared, but why not everything?  Yet it is not just the old dragon’s essence I can sense surrounding the girl, there is something else . . .  She pursed her lips in concentration as she tried to think of what it was that was bothering her; a presence of some other authority in the corner of Jahrra’s young mind, an authority that had some power over the older dragon who watched over her . . . No, it’s not the Korli who keeps the truth from her.  He is being influenced by someone else, possibly someone who could be dangerous . . . Denaeh shivered as she thought about who could have that kind of power over the great Korli dragon Hroombramantu.

The Mystic stored away her thoughts for another day and drew herself back to reality, seeing the children once again.  They were still talking about the mysteries of the prophecy when her full attention finally returned to them.

“She’ll have black hair for sure,” Jahrra said as she braided brown and grey strands of mane into a rope.  “Black hair is so intimidating.  And black eyes.  She couldn’t have blue or green or hazel eyes, who can intimidate a tyrant king without dark eyes?”

“Don’t be ridiculous Jahrra!” Gieaun proclaimed. “It doesn’t matter what her eyes or hair looks like, she has to be strong and tall!”  She was picking around the pile of horsehair looking for the lightest colors. “What do you think Scede?” she added after finding what she was looking for.

Scede was suddenly attacked by two pairs of eyes, and he fumbled a little bit before answering, “I hate to take away the thrill you two are having by thinking a girl is going to save Ethoes, but I think it will be her army that really destroys the king, not her all by herself.”

“Oh Scede, you ruin everything!” Gieaun said, throwing her arms up in the air in mock outrage.

Scede shrugged and got back to work untangling his own pile of horsehair, not caring much whether he dashed the hopes of the girls or not.

The three finished their simple costumes that day, and it was late afternoon before they finally waved goodbye to Denaeh and headed home, still discussing the prophecy.

“Why don’t you just ask Master Hroombra about it?” Gieaun queried.  “I’m sure he knows something, he knows everything about Ethoes.”

Jahrra hesitated before answering.  If she really wanted to know, she would ask Hroombra, but something in the pit of her stomach warned her against it.  He would wonder where she’d heard the story, and she wasn’t going to tell him about Denaeh and how she’d discovered her in the Belloughs of the Black Swamp.

Suddenly, as if prompted by some unknown spirit whispering into her conscience, Jahrra remembered the paintings on the walls of the Castle Ruin.  Could they be about the story of the prophecy? she wondered.  She still hadn’t told Gieaun and Scede about the mural, and she imagined she never would.  Hroombra had taken her there, just the two of them, and he’d seemed so saddened by it.  Telling Gieaun and Scede would be like telling them Hroombra’s darkest, deepest secret.  Someday, when she finally knew enough kruelt to read the dragons’ tongue, she would go back there and find out.  Until then she would just have to wait.

“I can’t ask him,” she said finally, batting a swamp fly away from Phrym’s ears.  “If I do, I’ll have to tell him about Denaeh.  And if I tell him about Denaeh, then I’ll have to tell him I went into the Black Swamp.”

“I guess you’re right,” Gieaun conceded.  “I just hope she tells us more about it next time.”

“You mean, you’ll come back to the Belloughs with me again someday?” Jahrra asked with a smile.

“I guess so,” Gieaun replied, trying not to let her grin show.

The three friends pointed their horses in the direction of home and the conversation turned to the upcoming Sobledthe holiday.  As they disappeared over the low hills of the Black Swamp, the strange woman called Archedenaeh watched them closely, wondering, wondering . . .

A loud caw from Milihn broke her concentration and she jumped slightly.

“Milihn!  You mustn’t do that!” she breathed quietly.

The large bird merely looked at his master with one jet-black eye.  Denaeh nodded ever so slightly and he hopped off of her shoulder, disappearing into the depths of the forest.

- Chapter Four -

Setting the Trap

The next couple of weeks passed by slowly, and Gieaun, Jahrra and Scede spent much of their free time working diligently on their nearly-complete lake monster.

“I really hope we’re done by Solsticetide!” Scede breathed exhaustedly as the three friends rode home from school.  “It would be nice to do absolutely nothing over the winter break for once.”

They had just over a month to finish their project if they wished to have it done by the Solstice, but their weekend was already spoken for.  Jahrra, Gieaun and Scede had more exciting things to do than spend their few days off from school stranded on an island in the middle of a lake draping wet, smelly seaweed over a frame of wooden bones.  Instead, they would be pre-occupied at the Sobledthe celebration in Lensterans.

“Until tomorrow!” Jahrra shouted as she reined Phrym off the main road and towards his awaiting stable.

She gave him an extra handful of honeyed oats and patted him goodnight, realizing that there was no way she was going to sleep easily knowing what lay ahead tomorrow.

Hroombra walked Jahrra to Wood’s End Ranch the next morning so that he could wish the children farewell.  Jahrra had wanted to take Phrym and leave him with the horses, but Hroombra had insisted on taking her himself.

“Are you sure you won’t go with us?” Kaihmen asked the old dragon as he harnessed the horses to the family carriage.

“Oh yes, I’m sure,” Hroombra answered cheerily.  “The journey is too long and tiring for my old bones.”

“Very well,” Kaihmen said with a grin, “but you’re going to miss out.”

Hroombra chuckled heartily, his golden dragon eyes crinkling with his smile. “Oh, I’ve participated in greater Sobledthe ceremonies than the one you’ll be witnessing today.  I think I shall be content.”

Kaihmen could only shake his head in response. “You’ll have to tell us about those one of these days.  Children, are you ready?”

After everyone was piled comfortably in the cart, Kaihmen slapped the reins and the horses started forward.  Jahrra, Gieaun and Scede turned to wave as they watched Hroombra’s form disappear in the distance.

It took them a few hours to climb southward down the Sloping Hill and make their way across the northern edge of the Oorn Plain.  As the rickety carriage and its five passengers closed in on the wide Oorn River, Jahrra could see the sprawling rural city of Lensterans rising out of the farmland in the distance.  Her level of excitement rose as the horses’ hooves echoed against the wide wooden bridge that spanned the river.

“We’re almost there!” Gieaun whispered harshly, as if speaking any louder would shatter this wonderful moment.

“Look!  I can see people in costume already!” Scede added, pointing down a long street bedecked with cornstalks and colorful gourds.

Weaving between the light posts and the sidewalks were a few adults and several children clothed in brilliantly colored outfits.  One man was dressed as a goblin, another as a terrifying demon.  The cluster of children, squealing in the hysterical fashion of the holiday, tore ahead of them like a pack of magical forest creatures fleeing from some great doom.  Jahrra felt a prickle of unbearable anticipation and it took every ounce of her energy to keep herself from leaping out of the carriage and joining them.

Once free of the tugging flow of the crowd and disorienting hum of music, Nuhra and Kaihmen led the horses to the stables and got them settled while the children hurriedly got into their own festive garb.  The costumes themselves were composed of wolf masks and a tangle of multi-colored horsehair running down the backs of the coats they wore.  The simple disguises were reinforced with wolf-like paws that they had attached to the ends of their sleeves, adding a final, gruesome touch to their grouldah attire.

As they explored the town, the three friends spotted other children both younger and older then themselves, chatting cheerily and walking past them without glaring or making snide remarks.  They smiled and breathed a sigh of relief, hoping they wouldn’t see Eydeth or Ellysian.  Once the three friends made their way further into town, however, they spotted a few of their classmates.  Unfortunately, some of these people took it upon themselves to comment on their home-made disguises.

“Nice costumes, what are you supposed to be, starving wolves?” remarked a familiar crony of Eydeth’s.  He was dressed, appropriately, as a goblin.  “I can understand Jahrra dressing as a starving wolf,” he continued in a loud voice for all his friends to hear, “but Gieaun and Scede, you have enough money to afford food, and decent costumes!”

Jahrra seethed and glared at him, but as soon as he saw Nuhra and Kaihmen walking a few paces behind the children, the older boy ducked his head and ran off down the road.  I wish I was a real grouldah, Jahrra thought furiously, his would be the first soul I’d come after!

The three friends soon forgot their unpleasant schoolmate and focused their energy on their surroundings.  Pumpkins, apples and corn stalks decorated the wide streets and stone buildings, along with tattered scarecrows and gourds of every size, shape and color.  Jahrra stopped to watch as several people dressed in a multitude of colorful costumes ran by, chasing each other in a spirited game of hide-and-go-seek.  She gazed in wonder at some of the disguises, many of which put hers and her friends’ to shame.

A bright yellow lion with a full amber mane went whizzing by, roaring after a green and gold fairy with giant, ornate wings that jingled delicately with tiny gold bells.  A group of adults sitting around a table at an outdoor café were dressed as great elfin warriors, complete with elaborately etched, shining armor and flowing capes.  Further down the road and closer towards the center of town there was a group of children dressed as a flock of brilliantly colored tropical birds.  Jahrra laughed as they chased each other around the adults, flapping their wings and squawking.  Her personal favorite, however, was a red-hued dragon that looked remarkably like Hroombra, except for the color of course.

Once they’d walked through the main hub of town and seen all there was to see, Kaihmen and Nuhra bought the children caramel apples and piping apple cider.  Jahrra welcomed the spicy, hot drink with vigor.  It made her breath steam in the crisp air, warming her from the inside out.  She munched on her apple as she and her friends looked more closely at the buildings they passed on the streets.

All of the shops and restaurants displayed their goods and products outdoors beneath wooden booths.  Every one of them served or sold fresh harvest fruits and vegetables and souvenirs for the children to bring back home with them.  Jahrra was thrilled to see so many wonderful things, from painted pinwheels to colorful paper dragon kites on strings.  The group gradually made their way towards the town square, and once they managed to break through the thronging crowd, Jahrra gaped in wide-eyed wonder.

There, encircling an empty fountain in the place where several roads met, sat a cluster of children of every age, their eyes latched on dancers garbed as glittering fairies and silver unicorns making merry around the center of the square.  Jahrra, Gieaun and Scede stopped and stared in wonder.  It was like watching one of Hroombra’s or Denaeh’s stories coming to life.  Soon, several other mythical woodland creatures joined the revelers, frolicking merrily while playing flutes and harps and clashing cymbals, twirling bright ribbons streaming from wands.  The play lasted only an hour, and although the children begged for more, the unicorns and fairies pranced away to entertain another waiting group.

By now it was late afternoon and Kaihmen and Nuhra had to drag the hypnotized children reluctantly back to the stables to harness the horses and head home.

“Oh please father!  Mother!  Can we stay just a half hour more?!” Scede complained as Kaihmen hauled him by his hairy paw. “We’re plenty old enough to stay after dark!  It’s silly to have to leave so soon!”

“Just twenty more minutes, please!” Gieaun whined, being pushed onward by her mother.

Jahrra plodded along gloomily, wishing secretly that she as well could stay.

“We’ve been here long enough.  You should be glad you got to come at all,” Nuhra answered in a stern voice.

They all sighed and with one last expression of their disappointment, all three of them plopped down on the back bench of the cart, looking longingly at the enchanted town as it faded behind them in the golden light of promised sundown.

Despite the fact that they were leaving before the true festivities began, Jahrra had had the time of her life.  Her elated mood was only smothered when she realized that there was still another month of school before the Solstice season began.  She grumbled inwardly as they passed over the bridge spanning the Oorn River.  Just focus on the lake monster, it’s almost done, she told herself as they traveled across the newly harvested fields cloaked in the eerie blue of approaching twilight.

***

Autumn eventually faded away and the rime-encrusted earth slowly submitted to winter’s harsh grasp, leaving Jahrra clinging to the happy memories of the Fall Festival as she focused her sights on the end of the school term.  Solsticetide was drawing near, but even the prospect of the long break couldn’t drive the anxiety from her bones.  This was the first year that she and her older classmates would be taking a series of excruciating exams in order to move on in their grade level.  Naturally, Jahrra dreaded these tests with every fiber of her being and just the mere thought of the extra math work and history lessons gave her a headache.  Worse was what would happen if she failed to pass her exams.  Not only would she be forced to study all during her break in order to re-take them before school started, but failure to pass the first time would only give Eydeth and Ellysian one more thing to taunt her about.

Jahrra sighed as she stretched out before the great fireplace in the common room of the Castle Guard Ruin.  She had finished studying and was now trying to memorize some very difficult draggish words.  Hroombra made sure to peek up from his reading every now and again to flash her an encouraging smile full of dagger-like teeth.

As she struggled over the dragons’ words, Jahrra tried hard to forget about her sore muscles and aching joints.  She’d spent the better part of her weekend at the cabin east of the Aldehr River fending off Yaraa’s quick attacks and parrying Viornen’s direct sword blows.  Her weekend meetings with the two elves had started early that fall, and although she had improved immensely over the past two summers, the elves both agreed that Jahrra would benefit even further if she met with them all year round.

“The exercises and techniques will only be getting harder as you progress, so it’s important that you check in with us regularly,” Viornen had told her seriously.

Jahrra wasn’t frustrated with the extra lessons; she loved training with the elves, but she was disappointed that it meant less time to help Gieaun and Scede finish the lake monster.  More often than not, the Resai siblings would have to go out to Lake Ossar to work on the monster on their own.  Jahrra hated to be held back while they worked, but her two friends assured her they didn’t mind spending more time on the project than she did.

“Hithe íst dodthe yiroehnín?”

The sudden intrusion of Hroombra’s voice made Jahrra yelp. “Huh?” she uttered, frantically trying to translate Hroombra’s words in her mind.

“How are you doing?” he repeated in the common tongue.

Jahrra scowled.  She was seconds away from deciphering what he’d said and kicked herself for not being quicker.  She took a deep breath and answered slowly and carefully, “Aardthe rhesín phoerrel.  Not so good.”

“Ah,” Hroombra grinned, “you have much on your mind now.  We’ll spend more time on your krueltish lessons once your exams are over.”

Jahrra’s stomach sank.  She knew her exams were now only a few weeks away, but she’d momentarily forgotten about them.

“If I even survive them,” she murmured grouchily to her guardian.

He smiled warmly, no sign of his teeth this time, and said, “Perhaps you should go to bed, you’ve had a busy weekend.”

Jahrra simply nodded and dragged herself up from the thick quilt she’d been resting on.  She limped off to her room, trying to stretch out her complaining arms and legs along the way.

“Good night,” Hroombra called.

Jahrra grunted a reply and then fell into bed, falling asleep almost instantly.

The exams came and went, and to her great relief, Jahrra passed all of them.  On the first day of Solsticetide break, she, Gieaun and Scede headed to Lake Ossar.  Although they weren’t quite finished with their beast, the only thing left to do was to add the teeth and some minor details to the head.

“We’ll be done by the end of this week for sure, even with Jahrra going to defense lessons,” Scede said, casting his friend a forgiving glance.

Jahrra frowned as a small gust of icy wind shifted the reeds and tossed her hair into her face.  She was practicing with Yaraa and Viornen four days a week during the winter break.  Fortunately, her practices were early in the morning, and by early afternoon she was free.  Not so fortunately, the multiple bruises and aches she received during practice hindered her ability to be of any real help to her friends.

“Well come on!  It’s freezing out here and we still have so much to do!” Gieaun cried, pulling her jacket tightly around her.

Jahrra and Scede took the hint and soon the three were scurrying about, draping icy, dripping seaweed over the creature’s massive neck or fastening jagged, rough rib bones to its jaws.

“A few more days and it will be finished,” Jahrra breathed as she stood back staring at the nearly completed monster in awe.  “I can hardly believe it.”

Three days later they added the final layer of kelp skin to their creature, and after many months of hard, dedicated work, their lake monster was complete.  In its finished form, their creation was unbelievably realistic.  The long, towering neck looked strong and powerful, and the gaping mouth, filled with grimy, foot-long teeth would terrify even the bravest of men.  The eyes they left hollow, which looked more frightening than if they’d been filled in.  Great tangled masses of horse hair ran down the beast’s neck, giving it an even more ghastly appearance, and Scede had even attached some hair to the creature’s chin, making it look like a very old monster of legend.

“Wait a minute!  Is it just going to rise out of the water and gape at them?  We can’t have a genuine lake monster without it roaring or growling as it is about to eat its prey!” Jahrra stated, delightedly imagining Eydeth’s face as their creature loomed over him.

“I already thought of that,” Scede said rather smugly, holding up what looked like a horn made out of old leather stretched over a funnel-shaped frame.

He held it up to his mouth and blew forcefully into it, causing a low bellowing sound that seemed to reverberate deep within their bones.

Jahrra shivered with goose bumps and Gieaun said, “It’s perfect!”

That weekend the three of them went out to the lake one last time.  They paddled out to their island where their monster’s neck and head lay waiting just beneath the surface.  They brought with them extra rope and more rocks to help make a counter weight in the final step in their building process.  They ran two ropes from the base of its neck, one over the small wood pilings in the middle of the lake, and the other back to their island.  Scede tested it out and found that the pulley system worked perfectly.

“Just think,” Scede said excitedly, “if this goes as planned, we may be rid of those meddlesome twins for good!”

Jahrra merely smiled, not holding out too much hope for such a wonderful possibility.

A few days after the Solstice, the three of them took a special trip down to Lake Ossar to celebrate the completion of their masterpiece.

“Now we just have to convince Eydeth and Ellysian to come out here at just the right moment,” Gieaun said, lazing back as she watched a flock of birds migrating overhead.

“We have a whole week before school even starts again,” Scede insisted. “Why don’t we just enjoy ourselves until then?”

Jahrra nodded contentedly, yawning out her words, “I agree. We’ve been working so hard for so long.  Time for a break!”

The next week came to a close and the remainder of the winter months passed as slowly as they ever did in Oescienne.  The days gradually grew longer and warmer, and as the weeks passed, the wildflowers of the great open fields started to bloom and smile up at any who might pass by.  Jahrra’s garden had been green for weeks now from the winter’s rains, but the blossoms and bulbs were finally awakening to the longer days.

For several weeks Jahrra, Gieaun and Scede had wracked their brains to the point of frustration trying to devise a way in which they could trick Eydeth and Ellysian into stepping into their trap.  Every single idea that one of them brought up was quickly dashed away because of some flaw or problem.  Jahrra’s plan to right out dare them to face a rumored lake monster wouldn’t work because, as Scede pointed out, she was a known “liar”.  Gieaun’s plan to coax them out to the lake by less obvious means and then terrify them with the monster wouldn’t work either because, despite how realistic it was, it wasn’t that convincing when seen during the day.

“We need to convince them to come out to the lake at night, preferably when the moon is bright,” Jahrra huffed, her brow furrowed in aggravation.

“We’ll have to trick them into it Jahrra, like how Eydeth tricked you into going into the Black Swamp!” Scede hissed at Gieaun and Jahrra as they stood under their favorite oak tree in the corner of the schoolyard.

Jahrra shot him a perturbed look, and Scede just shrugged apologetically.  “Well, he did trick you.”

“Alright, I think I’ve finally got it!” Gieaun whispered harshly. “During our mid-day break, I’ll pretend that someone told me about the lake monster, and you two will back me up.  You know Eydeth and Ellysian won’t believe us, so we’ll convince everyone else that there really is a creature living in Lake Ossar.  That way, when we do dare them to prove us wrong, they can’t back down!”

“Brilliant!” Jahrra chirped. “If they insist we’re lying and then they refuse to take our dare, it’ll prove they’re afraid.  Eydeth wouldn’t risk that.”

Now all they had to do was hope that the rest of their plan went smoothly.  When they were dismissed for their lunch hour, Jahrra, Gieaun and Scede headed for the shady corner of the yard and climbed atop the huge slab of granite they always perched on.  They waited until all of their classmates were out in the main yard, and then Gieaun said, just loud enough for the closest group to hear, “Did you hear about the Nesnan man who went missing on Lake Ossar last week?”

Jahrra tried to look as intrigued as possible as she answered in mock surprise, “No, what happened?”

“Well,” said Gieaun, taking on a dramatic air, “I wasn’t supposed to hear, but father was telling mother, and I was just in the other room.  Apparently some strange creature pulled a man from his boat.  He was out in the middle of the lake at night hunting for deer.”

“That’s crazy!” exclaimed Jahrra. “No one hunts deer from the middle of a lake at night!”

“No, it’s true!” Scede joined in.  “Father took me out a couple of times last summer, but we were hunting wild boar instead.  They come up to the edge of the lake at night, and when the moon is full, you can see them very easily.”

Jahrra looked over at Gieaun as if asking her to verify Scede’s story.  Her eyes grew wide and she nodded her head somberly.  By this time, many of their classmates had started listening and were slowly gathering around.

“Alright, so it isn’t all that strange to hunt during the night on the lake, so what?  What about the man who went missing?  What got him?” Jahrra pressed, giving a fake shiver.

Gieaun, doing her best to look frightened, continued on, “No one knows for sure, but he didn’t show up at his home the next morning.  His family went looking for him and found his boat ripped in half!”

Jahrra gave out a fake gasp and a few of the eavesdropping classmates began to murmur uneasily.

“What do you think did it?” Jahrra continued, trying to sound horrified and not gleeful.

“You know how father always told us those stories about a lake monster?” Gieaun muttered. “I’m beginning to wonder if they’re true after all.”

“No way!” Jahrra said, throwing her hands down and acting as if the idea were ridiculous.  “There is no such thing as lake monsters!  Those kinds of creatures don’t live in Oescienne!  Maybe there are some in Felldreim or the giant lakes in Rhiim, but not here!”

The crowd of children had begun talking freely now, arguing the existence or non-existence of lake and sea monsters.  Jahrra, Gieaun and Scede exchanged glances of delight as the web of their trap began to knit together.  Now all they had to do was wait for Eydeth and Ellysian to get entangled in it.

All of the commotion was gathering more and more curious spectators, and after awhile, the twins noticed that the crowd usually surrounding them was now surrounding Jahrra and her friends.  Jahrra, Gieaun and Scede watched hopefully as Eydeth and Ellysian walked towards the web of discussion, and soon an annoyingly conceited voice cut over the din, “What is going on over here, has the Nesnan finally offered to be someone’s slave for the day?”

Ellysian had a talent for drawing attention to herself and as she and her brother stepped forward, parting the crowd, Jahrra adopted a look of resentment and disgust.

“Is anyone going to tell us what’s going on?” the nasty girl continued after the silence had lasted much too long for her liking.

“I was just telling Jahrra about the man that went missing on Lake Ossar,” Gieaun said steadily, crossing her arms and turning up her nose slightly.

“What man, I didn’t hear anything about that!  Besides, unless he was Resai, who cares?”

Ellysian planted her hands on her hips rather forcefully, stood up as tall as she could, and flared her nostrils.  Jahrra seethed with anger. Who is she to decide whose life is worth more than anyone else’s?

“We think it might have been the lake monster,” Scede said, trying his best to mask the irritation in his voice.

Ellysian and Eydeth let out a roar of laughter, and some of the other children, not wanting to look bad in front of the twins, joined in.  Just as Gieaun was about to cut in and explain that she had heard stories like this before, the job was done for her.

“It isn’t funny!” someone yelled.  “My parents used to tell me stories about a monster in that lake all the time when I was little!  Their grandparents were from Felldreim, and there are all kinds of water monsters in that land!  It’s possible there’s one here too!”

It was one of the boys who had recently strayed away from the twins’ crowd but hadn’t made an effort to talk to Jahrra and her friends.

Ellysian stopped laughing and glared at the boy.  “Those are just silly stories your parents told you to keep you away from the lake.  There’s no lake monster!”

As much as Ellysian tried, however, she couldn’t completely convince the others that such a creature didn’t exist.  Many of their classmates started chatting about details they remembered from the stories they were told when they were younger.

“I heard that it feeds only during the full moon, and only when the moon is directly overhead!” Scede added dramatically over the racket of voices.

“Yes, and it sleeps the rest of the month on the bottom of the lake, surfacing only to hunt!” squeaked a younger girl, trembling from the sudden recollection of an old fireside story.

Jahrra, Gieaun and Scede couldn’t have planned it better.  They had thought it would take weeks to get the other children to believe them.  But the twins, whom they wanted to convince the most, were remaining quiet, their faces free of expression, and Jahrra started to worry.  What if this doesn’t work? What if they just let us all talk? she fretted to herself.

“You’re all a bunch of babies, believing fairy stories!”  It was Eydeth who finally spoke up.  “Really, a lake monster?  That’s the best explanation you can come up with?” he snorted a short laugh and shook his head.

Jahrra, seeing their intricate plan taking a positive turn, blurted out before thinking, “What do you think it was that ripped the boat in half then Eydeth, a lake trout?”

The crowd’s murmuring transformed into a healthy chortling.  Eydeth looked rather annoyed as his classmates had a good laugh at his expense.

“You know what I think?” Jahrra said, gaining steam, “I think you’re just scared.”

Gieaun and Scede looked over at her, surprise written all over their faces.  This wasn’t the way the plan was supposed to go; they were supposed to take their time, not jump right into it.  Jahrra quickly darted her eyes away from theirs and frantically searched for an escape route.  She hadn’t meant to lose her temper and antagonize Eydeth, but she couldn’t stop now.

“What did you say to me, Nesnan?” Eydeth said with malice.

“I think you’re afraid of the idea of a lake monster,” Jahrra ploughed on. “I bet you wouldn’t even be brave enough to go out on the lake during the next full moon to prove me wrong.”

Jahrra crossed her arms and sat upright on the huge rock, a very nervous Gieaun and Scede on either side of her.  Eydeth’s ears began to turn red while he glared right back at her.

“I’m not afraid of some make-believe sea snake!” he spat.

“Then prove it.”  Jahrra uncrossed her arms and stuck her nose in the air.  “Prove that, for one, you aren’t afraid of it, and two, that it doesn’t exist.  Go out onto the lake during the next full moon, and see if it shows up.”

Everyone in the schoolyard had his or her eyes glued on Eydeth.  Ha!  Jahrra thought triumphantly, he has to do it, or he’ll look like a coward!  Jahrra smiled inwardly, but continued to frown down on her nemesis.  She could almost see his mind working furiously behind his angry eyes, and she knew she had him.

“There is no lake monster, and I’ll prove it.”  Eydeth turned to the crowd, “In two weeks’ time, I’ll be going to Lake Ossar to demonstrate what fools that Nesnan and her friends are.  When I have gone and shown that there is no lake monster, then those of you who believe her and her friends will see what a mistake you’ve made.”

He jerked his head aggressively in Gieaun’s, Scede’s and Jahrra’s direction.  Jahrra had to admit, it was quite an eloquent speech for Eydeth.  He turned and glared at her once more, but she stared right back, barely able to contain the huge smile she held in her heart.  As they returned to class, everyone was buzzing about the dare that Eydeth had accepted.

“He’ll be sitting on that lake all night and nothing will happen, Jahrra is such an idiot!” one girl said.

“I’m not going!  What if the monster does show up and eats him alive!” another said.

“Wouldn’t that be a treat?” Jahrra whispered to Gieaun and Scede as they slinked in behind the rest of the students.  Both Gieaun and Scede were trying very hard to hide their triumphant smiles.

The next few weeks crawled by as Jahrra both dreaded and anticipated the approaching night of the prank.  As the time ticked away and as the moon grew more and more round, the tension slowly climbed with it.  The schoolyard became a battle ground between those who were foolish enough to believe the monster existed, and those proud enough to insist it didn’t.

Jahrra feared that Eydeth would chicken out, and even saw a slight panic in his eyes when he thought no one was watching.  As time wore on, however, he became more and more determined to show Jahrra he wasn’t afraid of a “stupid little Nesnan and her imaginary monsters”.

“You are going to look so foolish Jahrra!  You shouldn’t have dared him!” Many would say as they passed her and Gieaun and Scede on the way to class.

“Oh, leave her alone!” an auburn-haired girl finally said one day.  “Let’s just hope the monster doesn’t show up!  I would hate for anyone to get eaten!”

Jahrra remembered her from the twins’ Solsticetide party so long ago. Rhudedth was her name.  She was the same girl that went for help when Jahrra had become entangled in the oak tree.

Even their teacher Professor Tarnik, normally oblivious to Jahrra and her friends, noticed the battle going on between his students.  “I do not know what all this nonsense is about a sea serpent, but it needs to stop this instant!  If I hear another word about it in this classroom, you’ll be writing lines until summer arrives!”

This frightening threat from their tyrant of a headmaster forced everyone to keep their opinions contained to the schoolyard.  By the end of the final week, one day before the full moon, Eydeth had rallied a large group willing to witness his bravery.

“We’ll all be camping on the lake shore tomorrow evening, and then I’ll row out into the middle of the lake.  I’ll even make a lot of noise so your ‘monster’ can’t miss me.”  Eydeth grinned malevolently as he swept past Jahrra and her friends.

“If you don’t show up, it’ll just prove my point further: that the monster is real and you were just too scared to prove me wrong!” Jahrra threatened back.

Eydeth turned and gave a quick look of consternation as Jahrra said this.  So, he has been thinking about backing down.  What a coward!  she thought angrily.  Eydeth’s look of fear, however, was only a fleeting one, and he gave her one last smug glare before marching on with his sniggering crowd of followers.

“Please.  Even you, Nesnan, aren’t brave enough to go fishing for your own make-believe lake creature,” he spat over his shoulder, refusing to let Jahrra have the last word.

Jahrra breathed away her moment of irritation and allowed the corner of her mouth to rise just enough to make it look like she was smirking.  We will see who the brave one is tomorrow night, Eydeth, she thought jeeringly, and then loud enough only for Gieaun and Scede to hear, “And we’ll be there to see it all, you just won’t know it.  C’mon, we have a lot to plan before tomorrow night.”

Jahrra, Gieaun and Scede went to get their horses and started towards home.  That night, Jahrra planned to stay at Gieaun and Scede’s, telling Hroombra, Kaihmen and Nuhra that they were going to go camping that weekend at the lake.  Jahrra cringed at the thought of how easily their plans could be discovered, but as they rode through the farmlands and over the Aldehr River bridge, Jahrra tried to clear away her negative thoughts.  It’ll work out, it must work out! she told herself confidently.

Before making their way towards Wood’s End Ranch, the trio stopped off at the Castle Guard Ruin for Jahrra to pick up some extra clothes and to say goodbye to Hroombra.

“Don’t let the lake monster get you,” he said teasingly.

The three children all froze in horror. Could he know!? Jahrra thought in a panic.

The dragon seemed deterred from their reactions, “I was only kidding, you know.  The monster left that lake long ago.”

He smiled teasingly and went back into the Ruin.  Jahrra couldn’t help but let out a relieved laugh, giving very little thought to Hroombra’s insinuation that the lake actually held a monster at one time.  Soon all three were racing their horses up the sloping fields, tossing the colorful spring flowers all around them.

They arrived at the ranch a few hours before sunset, and after a good meal and a tantalizing story from Kaihmen, the three were soon fast asleep, dreaming about the full moon spilling its light down onto the silvery waters of Lake Ossar.

***

“Jahrra, time to get up!” Gieaun hissed. “We need to get to the lake early just in case Eydeth gets the same idea!”

Jahrra grumbled and Gieaun shook her head.  She had been having such a wonderful dream; her lake monster had come to life, and it was a water dragon that guarded the lake.  It kept out the twins and their friends, snapping viciously at Eydeth’s heels and lifting Ellysian by her ridiculous skirts and dangling her over the water.  The monster allowed only those whom Jahrra approved into its territory.

“Huh?” Jahrra moaned, eyes still shut.

“We need to get to the lake!”  Gieaun sounded overly dramatic.

Suddenly, Jahrra realized that tonight they would be trying to pull off the greatest prank of their lives.  She quickly sat up and started dazedly gathering her things.

“What time is it?” she asked, stifling a yawn.

“Just before sunup, it’s early, but . . .” Scede whispered somewhere next to her, the darkness of the room still hiding his face.

“I know,” Jahrra said, cutting him off, “the sooner we get there, the better chance we have at succeeding.”

The three friends dressed and ate as quickly as they could, and before the sun even crested the eastern hills they were on their way down the road leading south toward the lakes.  The morning air was cool, but held the promise of a warm spring day.  The birds were singing tirelessly, and the world was waking up all around them.  Before they knew it, the group was leading their horses down the lane that opened up onto the boardwalk of Lake Ossar.  To their delight, the lake was completely deserted.

“Where are we going to tie up the horses?” Jahrra asked, almost panicking for not thinking of that major detail beforehand.

“Down the beach a ways,” Scede said. “I thought of that last week.  When I was out collecting seaweed I spotted a grove of trees about a half-mile down the beach.  They’ll be safe from harm there and the distance and the rumble of the ocean will cover up any sound they might make.”

Jahrra smiled at her friend, the deep relief she felt spilling out onto her face.

“Then we can walk back to them tonight.  The full moon will make it very easy to see,” Scede continued.

Jahrra was a little reluctant about tying Phrym and the other horses up so far away, but even the small bears that lived among the dunes avoided domesticated horses.  They knew that saddled horses often meant hunters.

“I think we should unload all of our supplies onto our island first and then take the horses out.”  Gieaun nodded toward the hiding place for their canoe.

Scede freed the small boat from the reeds and the girls piled in their sleeping gear and food.  It only took one trip to get everything to the island, and once there, Scede tested the lake monster once again.

“Perfect!” he said with glee as the great head rose above the water, dripping and gurgling eerily.

“In the moonlight that will look absolutely frightful!” Gieaun added.

Scede double-checked to make sure his horn worked as well, blasting out a deep bellow that reverberated across the lake, frightening a flock of water fowl into the air.  Convinced that their trap was set and ready to go, the three friends raced their horses down the beach toward the small willow grove.  The copse was no more than half a mile away, just as Scede had said, and it grew next to a tiny stream that made up part of the Oorn River delta.  Once Jahrra had tied Phrym securely to a thick branch, she made sure there was plenty of fresh grass and water nearby for him to enjoy.

“I’ll be gone until late tonight, but you’ll have to stay put and look after Bhun and Aimhe.”  Jahrra tugged on his smoky mane. “We’ll be back later, I promise.”

Phrym whickered his agreement, nudging her roughly with his soft nose.

Jahrra smiled warmly, but as she pushed the horse hair out of his eyes, she became aware of a peculiar feeling.  She stopped brushing aside Phrym’s mane and instead rested her hand on his forehead as she slowly looked around, her smile fading fast.  The hairs on the back of her neck began to stand on end, and she got the strangest feeling that she was being watched.

“Jahrra, what is it?”

Gieaun had noticed Jahrra’s change in demeanor, and started to follow her gaze.

“Nothing,” Jahrra said blankly, still looking off toward the wilderness of the dunes, “just thought I . . .”

Jahrra cut her sentence short, as if she were suddenly caught up in some kind of a trance.  After a few moments of staring blankly into the rolling dunes, however, she snapped out of whatever had taken hold of her. “Oh well,” she breathed uneasily, “must be nerves, that’s all.”

She shook off the last dregs of the odd sensation and she, Gieaun and Scede began the trek back towards the lake.  As they walked, the trio laughed at how Eydeth might react when he saw their dreadful beast.

Jahrra, with tears of mirth streaming down her cheeks, proclaimed, “I bet he faints!  He’ll wake up in the morning in his boat in the middle of the lake, and we’ll be there, laughing!”

She stopped walking through the deep sand and bent over in hysterics.

Scede copied his friend. “Yeah, then we can ask him what happened.  We’ll tell him that we decided to show up the next morning to see if he survived or not!”

“Oh, I can’t wait until tonight!” Gieaun added, barely able to breathe.

Once the three had regained their composure a little, they continued on up the sweeping beach, the roaring ocean to their left and the pale, stacking dunes to their right.  Finally, they reached the boardwalk and soon the lake itself came into view.

“It’s about three hours from mid-day,” said Jahrra, shading her eyes and checking the location of the sun. “Do you think Eydeth will show up before then?”

“My guess is he’ll show up just before sunset to make camp,” Scede said boorishly as he brushed his dark hair out of his eyes.  “We’d better not take any chances though.  Let’s just try to get some rest before they come.”

The three paddled out onto their island and pulled their boat in after them to hide it.  After about an hour of waiting, they grew tired and decided to lie down for a nap.

“Don’t worry,” said Scede.  “We couldn’t possibly sleep until moonrise, and the only thing that matters is that we are awake by then.”

Jahrra and Gieaun nodded, and they were all soon lulled to sleep by the gentle lapping of the water and the rhythmic rustling of the reeds.

***

In the distance, the gentle ocean breeze collected the fine grains from the top of a sand dune and tossed them over its razor-thin peak like tiny flecks of gold. Sitting beneath the ridge on the eastern slope was a figure wrapped in a stained cloak, here among these sandy hills for one purpose, and one purpose only.  This odd creature had been sent, some time ago, to spy on the old dragon that haunted this province like a dormant plague, to watch his every move, to memorize his every action.  The Korli dragon had led a very dull life for years, leaving his rubble pile seldom and receiving letters with little meaning behind them.

Fourteen years ago, however, something extraordinary happened.  A younger dragon of the Tanaan kruel arrived bringing with it a tiny Nesnan infant.  From that moment on the crouching figure now seeking solace behind the shifting sand dune had been intrigued.  It no longer kept its eye focused primarily on the dragon, but allowed itself to watch the girl as well, sometimes following her and leaving the Korli behind.

The wind ceased and the mysterious being shuddered and shook, attempting to remove the sand that had piled on top of it.  It turned its hooded eyes back onto the lake, a blue mirror several yards below about a half mile distant.  The creature didn’t often come out in broad daylight like this, but the young girl and her companions had been coming to this place so often of late, and tonight would be the culmination of whatever it was they had been planning.

After watching the children settle down on their island of reeds, the cloaked figure stood, stooping a bit from some pain it experienced.  It blinked gratingly at the bright noon-time sun, then slinked over the top of the dune, leaving an avalanche of pale powder in its wake.  Trudging through the sand proved awkward, but the walk was downhill, and once it reached the bank of the small water channel below, movement became easier.  The shrouded figure welcomed the shade of the small trees growing beside the stream, and before long it heard the puffing and snickering sounds of nervous horses.

The creature grinned, moving cautiously towards the three beasts tied to the oldest creek willow up ahead.  The semequin, a very fine animal with a generous amount of unicorn blood flowing in his veins, detected the approaching stranger immediately.  Yes, the creature thought, you would notice me wouldn’t you?  The stranger released a low, animal-like chuckle.  The horses immediately became agitated, stepping uneasily, snorting loudly as they tossed their heads and rolled their eyes.  They pulled at the ropes that held them, but the children had secured them well.

“Do not worry noble ones,” the spy hissed quietly, “it is not you that I am after.”

The creature withdrew its unfamiliar arm from Phrym’s neck and gazed northward across the white sands and gleaming waters.  Not now, and not tonight, but later.  It is too soon, and he’ll not approve of a mistake.  The being slinked back into the shifting sands of the dunes and began to make its way towards the eastern woods, its low, odd laughter becoming caught and scattered by the wind.

- Chapter Five -

Full Moons and Fierce Monsters

“I don’t even know why you agreed to do this, we don’t have to prove anything!” a hissy voice said.

“I already told you!  You don’t have to do anything Ellysian, so stop whining!” replied a second, harsher voice.

“Well!” exclaimed the girl that sounded very much like Ellysian, “I just think you’re an idiot to let that Nesnan talk you into this, Eydeth.  You’re supposed to be smarter than her.”

Jahrra couldn’t hear the response that Eydeth gave, but she knew it must have been a nasty one.  She smiled at the dream she was having; Eydeth and Ellysian bent on fighting with each other because she had finally tricked them into accepting a dare from her.

The warm breeze rustled the reeds overhead and Jahrra jerked awake.  Oh no! she thought in a panic, blinking her eyes dazedly against the brilliance of the deep blue sky above, what time is it?!  Until that moment, she had completely forgotten where she was and why she was there.  Scede snorted next to her and rolled over onto his side.  He too must have been disturbed by the voices coming from the boardwalk.

“Gieaun, stop talking in your . . .” he began groggily, but Jahrra quickly clasped a hand over his mouth, muffling any other words he might have been trying to say.

“Shhh!” she hissed as quietly as she could.

Gieaun began to stir next to them, and Jahrra quickly used her free arm to motion to her friend to keep quiet.

Scede pried Jahrra’s hand off of his mouth and worded silently, “What is it?”

Jahrra returned the silent gesture.  “They’re here!”

Gieaun and Scede’s eyes widened and their mouths fell open.

“What time is it?” Gieaun asked, just below a whisper.

Jahrra looked up along with Scede.  “I would say a few hours from sunset.”

“We slept that long?!” Gieaun whispered in disbelief.

“I guess so.  At least we don’t have to worry about being tired tonight,” Scede remarked.

Ellysian’s voice cut through the silence once again. “Why don’t you just do what you had planned?  No one will know the difference.”  Her tone was a growl and she sounded more annoyed than ever.

“I already told you, I can’t do that!” Eydeth snapped back. “Too many of our classmates are here!  The word will get back to that stupid Nesnan and then how will I look?”

Jahrra wondered exactly what Eydeth had been planning, but she didn’t have to wonder about it much longer.

“So what?” Ellysian whined. “Let them tell her you didn’t wait until the full moon came out.  Just tell her they lied, she isn’t here so what proof could she have?  It would be your word against hers, and besides, there aren’t that many people here!”

Ellysian sounded quite determined to convince her brother to back out of the dare.  After hearing this, Jahrra turned chartreuse.

“That little coward!” she fumed as loudly as she dared.  “I should’ve shown up with the rest of our classmates and let you guys go on with the prank.  Then he’d have no choice but to follow through!”

Gieaun shook her head. “No, he would have wondered where we were.  Besides, it’s better this way.”

“Oh, how’s that?” Jahrra asked, suddenly in a bad mood.

“We have a much clearer view from here.  Isn’t that better than watching from the shore?  And besides,” she added, “you can’t very well paddle to shore now, can you?”

Jahrra furrowed her brow, but nodded. “I guess you’re right.”

Gieaun crossed her arms and shook her head slowly. “I’m always right.”

Scede and Jahrra suppressed a laugh.

“Now what?” Jahrra sighed, shedding some of her irritation. “The moon won’t even rise until after sunset, and it won’t be directly overhead for hours.”

“I dunno,” Scede said, shrugging his shoulders.  “We’ll just have to wait and see what they do I guess.”

And so they waited, listening to the crowd gathering on the shore and catching glimpses of their movements from between the gently shifting reeds.

“We made camp back up the road, just in case the monster decides to climb out of the lake tonight!” one of Eydeth’s friends shouted from the far end of the boardwalk.

“I already told you!  There isn’t going to be a lake monster!!!” Eydeth screamed, sounding even more agitated than before.

Jahrra, Gieaun and Scede sniggered.  The banter between the twins and their classmates carried on for quite some time, and before they knew it the sun was setting and the sky was changing from golden orange to violet and indigo.  They pulled out their blankets and jackets and hunkered down, grateful it was late spring and not winter.

“Too bad we can’t light a fire,” Gieaun complained, shivering slightly.

“Don’t worry,” Scede added, “when we’re done scaring the pants off of the twins and their friends, we can return to the horses and light a fire there.”

The hours between the time of sunset and the time the full moon reached the crest of the sky crawled by very slowly.  Gieaun, Scede and Jahrra listened attentively to the sounds of ghost stories being recited around a great campfire somewhere beyond the shore.  Every now and then, the group would let out a scream or a gasp that was loud enough to carry to the minuscule island.

“Too bad we can’t be over there,” Jahrra grumbled.

“Too bad they wouldn’t let us be over there,” Gieaun corrected.

Another hour passed, and when the moon finally reached the center of the sky, the three friends heard a large group approaching the shore.

“So it begins,” Jahrra said darkly, throwing down her blanket and creeping closer to the edge of the island to get a better look.

A group of about twenty of their classmates had clambered around a small rowboat.  Even though the moonlight made the lake almost as bright as day, a few of them held torches that flickered off of the black, rippling water, looking like several angry, yellow eyes.

“All you have to do is paddle out to the middle and then back,” someone said with a wavering voice. “Then we can tell that Nesnan that her lake monster is as imaginary as the hag of the Black Swamp.”

The comment, made by Eydeth’s friend Criyd, caused a healthy amount of amusement that made its way around the crowd in the form of light laughter.  Jahrra glowered as the great, hulking boy helped his friend into the boat.  She was certain he had been the goblin who’d taunted her at the Fall Festival in Lensterans.

“I think if I just stay on shore that would be fine,” Eydeth said rather nervously, casting his hand over the murky water as if he were sprinkling seeds over a field.  “We can see from here if the thing surfaces.”

“You aren’t afraid are you Eydeth?” someone commented.  “Ha!  What if Jahrra found out, you would be a laughing stock!”

A light titter passed over the crowd and Jahrra imagined Eydeth giving his sister a rather knowing glare.

“Alright, fine!” he growled. “I’ll paddle out to the middle, it just seems like a waste of time is all.”

Eydeth dragged the small oar through the black lake surface, the splashing of the water the only sound on this bright night.

“Scede, go get the horn,” Jahrra breathed nervously. “Gieaun, you and I will pull the rope.”

Jahrra and Gieaun jumped up and quietly crawled over to where the rope was tied down, grabbing it firmly.  Scede went and pulled the horn out of his bag and then walked over next to the girls, crouching down once he reached them.

“When he is aligned with that lone willow there,” Jahrra pointed off to a single tree on the distant shore, bathed in silver moonlight, “when he gets there, Gieaun and I will pull the rope, and then you’ll blow the horn three times.  Is everyone ready?”

Gieaun and Scede nodded vigorously and Jahrra could feel her hands shaking from the suspense.  It seemed to take Eydeth ages to get to the middle of the lake, but just before he reached the willow tree, he stopped paddling.

“What!  He’s stopping?!” Jahrra gritted her teeth in frustration, her knuckles turning white from her harsh grip on the rope.

“Is this good enough for you all?!” Eydeth shouted from his boat to the shore, shattering the silence that surrounded them all.  “If there was such a thing as a lake monster, it should’ve eaten me by now, right?”

While Eydeth waited for a reply, his boat slowly floated towards the middle of the lake and right in line with the willow tree.

“NOW!” Jahrra rasped to Gieaun, her hands barely able to grasp the rope.

With a heaving tug, the two girls lifted the great, soggy head slowly out of the water.  Eydeth sat with his arms crossed, waiting for his friends to wave him in.  He was oblivious to the huge, sinister reptilian beast that was rising up out of the water just behind him.

Just as Eydeth turned to see what was causing the strange slurping and dripping noise, Jahrra gave Scede the signal to blow on the horn.  All three of them had a perfect view of the scene, and they couldn’t have planned it better.  There was Eydeth, half turned around, the giant looming neck of their very convincing monster towering just behind him, complete with sunken eyes and a gaping mouth full of long, pointed teeth.

Scede’s timing with the horn was flawless, and as the monster’s bellows blended with the screams of the children from the shore, Eydeth himself let out a very high-pitched, blood-curdling screech that overshadowed them all.  He forgot he was in a boat in the middle of a lake, so when he stood up to flee, he lost his balance and fell.

The pompous boy plunged screaming into the lake, and Jahrra and Gieaun had to work extra hard not to burst out laughing.  They loosened their grip on the rope and the monster crashed down onto the now empty boat.  Scede let out one more blast of the horn as their lake serpent descended, causing Eydeth to swallow a mouthful of foul water as he swam with all of his might towards the shore.

Both Gieaun and Jahrra let go of the rope and fell to the ground with Scede, all three paralyzed in fits of laughter.  They could still hear the frantic screams of all the onlookers and a terrified burst every now and then from the petrified, splashing Eydeth.  Once he finally reached the shore a few minutes later, the hysterical voices of their classmates became even more frenzied.

“Eydeth!  Eydeth!” Ellysian screeched, sounding close to tears.  “Are you alright?!”

“What was that thing!?”  It was Eydeth’s voice that answered, but several decibels higher than normal.

“THE LAKE MONSTER!!!” several people wheezed in horror.

“Let’s get out of here!” Criyd insisted. “Let’s move the camp much further down the road!  Did you see the size of that thing?!  What if it comes after us?”

Jahrra, Gieaun and Scede wiped away the tears from their eyes as they listened to the terrified crowd scuffling off into the dark.  After several minutes, the silence over the lake returned, and the three friends collected their breath.

“I can’t believe we pulled that off!” Scede said, smiling more broadly than ever.

“The horn was perfect, Scede!  And did you see the look on Eydeth’s face?  It went so pale that I’d swear it was actually transparent.  I’m so glad it’s a full moon!” Jahrra couldn’t tell if she was laughing or crying.

“Our monster looked wonderful!” Gieaun added, grinning broadly.

The three triumphant friends waited for several more minutes to make sure the coast was clear before heading to the willow grove where their horses awaited.

“I can’t wait until we go back to school!” Jahrra shouted over the pounding waves as they walked between the dunes and the ocean. “But it will be hard to act surprised when we hear about what happened to Eydeth.”

Scede shot Jahrra a rakish look and she just flung her head back and laughed, her heart as light as the sand drifting off the dunes.

It was an odd sight, seeing this stretch of beach in the moonlight, but Jahrra enjoyed it.  The sound of the roiling ocean made it seem like it was not nighttime at all, and the eerie, silvery light of the full moon on the churning water and rolling dunes made it feel like a strange dream.  Finally, the three of them reached the small stand of trees by the tiny creek.  Phrym, Bhun and Aimhe all looked up, suddenly roused from their sleep at the sound of their masters, and all three horses let out a whinny of recognition.

“We’re back!  Did you miss us?”  Jahrra skipped up to Phrym and rubbed his nose affectionately.  She gave him a big hug around his long neck, trying to share some of her joy from their recent triumph.  “I have some good news boy.  I think we’ll be able to enjoy Lake Ossar in peace once again.”

Phrym nickered quietly and lipped her hair, not understanding what Jahrra had said but sensing her good mood.

“Let’s find some wood and make a fire,” Scede suggested, eyeing the thick brush surrounding them.

“Good idea!  I’m freezing!” Gieaun agreed happily.

They gathered enough firewood to last the night then started a small fire.  For the rest of the evening they spent their time laughing over the success of their brilliant plot and how well it had gone, all three of them far too overjoyed to sleep.

As the sky became darker just before dawn, the three companions tried to find the brightest stars that had managed to shine past the moon-lit night.  Jahrra smiled to herself, completely content with the world the way it was for the first time in years.  She had two wonderful friends and she had just won a major battle against her enemies.  She sighed happily as she laid back with Gieaun and Scede, admiring the glittering stars and familiar constellations above, watching over her, always watching over her.  Yet, the stars weren’t the only things examining the world below them that night . . .

***

In the distance, a pair of strange eyes twinkled as they considered the three children from the ridge of a nearby dune.  The eyes belonged to a face hidden beneath several layers of cloth, and the one wearing the cloth was unknown to Jahrra and her friends.  But the children weren’t unfamiliar to this mysterious onlooker.

Someone was watching these three young ones earlier, but it wasn’t me . . . the dark figure mused, disturbed by this revelation.  This wasn’t the first time the stranger had spied on the children, but it was the first time the essence of something else was present in the area, something foreign but familiar at the same time.  Like a delicate scent I once knew as a child and had since forgotten; a scent to bring back memories best left alone . . .

The stranger shivered, looking like a crooked, quaking willow against the blackness of night.  The faint sound of snoring drew the figure’s attention back to the small grove of creek willows lining the shallow stream below.  The children were at last asleep, the excitement of the night finally taking its toll.  The onlooker grinned, for the show that had taken place on the lake earlier that night had been quite spectacular.  If it hadn’t been for a keen sense of hearing and eyesight, the stranger would have thought the children’s lake monster was the real thing.

The peculiar being sighed, trying to focus on the task at hand.  The detection of another creature wandering this part of Oescienne was disturbing, and the spy started to wonder if a closer watch should be kept on the young girl with the golden hair and blue eyes.  Yes child, I will keep my eye on you, but I fear I am not the only one.

The onlooker quivered as an uncomfortable ripple of fear unfurled deep within in its heart.  Was the other presence one of evil or one of good?  It was impossible to tell.  The mysterious figure closed its glittering eyes and slinked quietly down the opposite side of the dark hill and off into the rolling sand, the grey of an eastern dawn peeling back the darkness of night.

***

The final weeks of school were much easier to bear because of that eventful night on the lake.  Everyone was looking forward to long warm days free from schoolwork and exams, daydreaming their lessons away as they imagined what they would be doing and where they would be going for the summer, receiving a sharp reprimand from Tarnik along the way.  As distracting as the thought of the approaching summer was, it wasn’t nearly as interesting as the talk about the mysterious lake monster that had frightened Eydeth and Ellysian, and several others, half to death.

It seemed to Jahrra that with time her classmates had gradually drifted away from the twins, forming their own groups of friends or just growing tired of the same old harassment of the unfortunate Nesnan girl.  But the incident on Lake Ossar suddenly turned Jahrra into a temporary super hero.

“Jahrra may have lied about the Witch of the Wreing, but she sure didn’t lie about that lake monster!” a younger girl whispered to her friends while Jahrra, Gieaun and Scede listened from their oak tree.

“I bet she didn’t lie about the witch either,” another girl added quietly. “I think it’s Eydeth who’s been lying all this time.”

Some of the children even ventured over to Jahrra’s side of the schoolyard with the sole purpose of making friends.  Rhudedth and her brother Pahrdh were the first to do this.  Ever since helping Jahrra after Eydeth’s attack in Kiniahn Kroi, the siblings had always made an effort to say hello or glare at anyone who gave her a hard time.  One week after the success with the lake monster, they invited Jahrra, Gieaun and Scede to go camping in the hills with them.  Jahrra, not knowing what to say, just stared in disbelief.

Before she could speak, Gieaun burst out cheerily, “We would love to!”

From that day on, Rhudedth and Pahrdh became good friends with the trio of outcasts.

Of course, none of the newcomers ever measured up to Gieaun and Scede.  They had been Jahrra’s friends forever.  But she was very happy to see that the twins’ overpowering reign seemed to be coming to an end.

Jahrra was also enjoying the looks of putrid rage on Eydeth and Ellysian’s faces when their jokes about her were suddenly no longer funny.  On one particular occasion, Jahrra thought that Eydeth’s face might catch on fire it was so red with anger.  When she asked some fellow classmates what had happened to make Eydeth so angry (it was nice talking to classmates without being ignored), they laughed and a younger boy told her, “My baby sister saw a spider and screamed, and Rehn here did an imitation of Eydeth trying to escape the lake monster.”

Jahrra sniggered as the boy called Rehn rushed past her as he went chasing after Eydeth, trying to apologize. “I’m sorry!” he wheezed, making a great effort to suppress his laughter, “but she sounded just like you did when you saw the monster!”

For once it was the twins who were being ostracized and not Jahrra and her friends.

Yes, Jahrra was very pleased with this turn of events, but even though the twins had been brought down a peg or two, it didn’t stop them from being their normal, evil selves.  Jahrra had the lake monster memory to reflect on, but as time went by, the twins started up with their insults once again.  They no longer drew the attention of the whole class like they used to, but it still gritted at Jahrra’s ego.  When she found Phrym splattered with blotches of yellow paint one day after school, she knew that summer couldn’t come soon enough.

I need a break from all this, she thought as she, Gieaun and Scede scrubbed the stubborn paint off of a very disgruntled semequin, I need to take a trip to the Belloughs.

The ominous exams during the last week of school, followed by the immediate launch of her daily lessons with Viornen and Yaraa, gave Jahrra very little time or opportunity to visit Denaeh.  She had needed the two weeks before the school year ended to study, and the two elves had insisted on longer and more frequent practices during the summer months to learn the new exercises and lessons.  Despite her busy schedule, Jahrra found time to stop in and see the Mystic on her way home from the last day of school.

Denaeh was glad to see the girl after such a long absence, and as soon as she spotted her riding into her swamp atop Phrym, her elderly façade faded into her youthful one.  “How is your lake monster plot coming along?” she queried, her topaz eyes sparkling.

“Oh!  We finished weeks ago and it worked perfectly!” Jahrra answered breathlessly as she got down from Phrym, returning Denaeh’s sunny smile.

She went on to describe the events, in great detail, as they tended to the Mystic’s precious mushroom garden.  The two of them spent the rest of the day in the peaceful woods, chatting and drinking tea in the pleasant weather.

Jahrra amused herself by watching Milihn fly in and out of the Belloughs.  He would hop around Denaeh’s garden before stopping in front of a bare patch of earth.  After examining the soil for several moments, the unusual bird would use his sharp beak as a tool to quickly plant a seed, or sometimes a seedling.  Once done with his job, he would grumble contentedly to himself before flying off again in search for more.

Jahrra sighed as the light became slowly lost to the encroaching dusk.  It had been a lovely day and she hated to see it end.  She bade farewell to her Mystic friend, knowing that tomorrow she would be starting the summer off with a grueling day-long session of defense lessons.

Yaraa and Viornen planned to give her a preliminary test in order to see where she stood first thing tomorrow morning.  Jahrra had been meeting them on the weekends for lessons, but she was supposed to be practicing every day on her own.  She had performed the required stretches and practiced her swordplay and archery in the fields with Phrym watching, but she still felt a little nervous about her testing tomorrow.  The last thing Jahrra wanted to do was let down her elvin trainers.

The next day came and went, and to her great relief, both Yaraa and Viornen complimented her on her progress.  The two elves had employed their three children to help in the assessment of Jahrra’s skills, and they had done an excellent job in distracting her.  Regardless of the disruption that Strohm, Srithe and Samibi presented, Jahrra still managed to fend off Viornen while simultaneously detecting Yaraa as she crept up silently behind her.  Hroombra was all smiles when Jahrra returned home that afternoon with the good news.

“Now, if only you could do the same in your kruelt lessons . . .” he teased.

Jahrra had been struggling with the ancient language ever since she first started studying it.  She sighed deeply, wishing she didn’t have to continue learning draggish.

Now that summer was in full swing, Jahrra found herself struggling to make time for her friends.  She had started a more rigorous training program with the elves, since she’d been progressing so well, but that also meant a new schedule, one that consisted of early mornings and nighttime meditating under the stars.  She hardly ever had time for Gieaun and Scede, and they were often left spending the long summer days with some of their new friends from school.

Jahrra missed her best friends and her lessons with the elves of Dhonoara were proving to be harder than ever.  If only she could visit Denaeh once more before the start of school, that might help ease her mind a little.  She hadn’t seen the Mystic since the beginning of the summer and she dearly needed the cool, soothing calm only the Black Swamp could offer.  Jahrra sighed inwardly knowing that the Belloughs would have to wait.  Right now, she needed to focus on her training.  She still had half the summer left and perhaps she would get a day or two free to spend however she wished before it was all over.

***

“Now, we are very proud of the progress you’ve made over the past few years Jahrra, and we believe you are ready to start the next step in your training, but we want you to remember that we don’t expect you to learn this overnight,” Yaraa told her seriously a few weeks after her assessment. “This is the longest and most challenging step in becoming an expert fighter, so you must practice patience.”

Jahrra took a deep breath and focused all of her attention on what Yaraa was telling her.  This new stage in her training required every scrap of concentration she could muster, and she wasn’t about to let her daydreams get the better of her.  Focus, she told herself as she narrowed her eyes in scrutiny, focus . . .

By the end of the day, Viornen was sporting a bruise on his forearm, Yaraa was sprawled on the ground, gasping for breath, and Strom, Samibi and Srithe were hiding somewhere where their parents couldn’t find them and drag them out to act as potential enemies.

Once Yaraa finally caught her breath, she glanced up at Jahrra and smiled broadly.  “Well done!” she breathed.  She stood and dusted off her leather pants and stretched out her arms and back.  “You have been working very hard all summer and today we see the evidence of your hard work paying off.”

Jahrra was covered in dirt and displayed a few scrapes and bruises herself, but she had managed to stay on her feet.

Yaraa went and stood by her husband, stretching to murmur something in his ear.  Viornen nodded once and Yaraa turned her bright eyes on Jahrra, smiling enormously.  She approached the bedraggled girl and held out her hand.  Jahrra blinked in surprise, for the elf was holding a blue leather bag, drawn tight with a string.

“We have been saving this for you, but both Viornen and I agree that you are ready to have it.  It may not seem like much, but we suspect it will aid you in your progress of our arts of defense.”

Jahrra gave her trainer a puzzled look, but smiled lightly and took the bag.

“Open it,” Viornen urged, a small grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Jahrra drew a forearm across her brow and sat down on the fence that surrounded the cabin.  She carefully tugged at the strings and upturned the pouch into her hand.  A bracelet made of string and beads, coiled delicately like a languid snake, fell into her palm.  The string was rather fibrous, tough and the color of hay.  The beads that were woven within it were made of polished wood, all a slightly different texture, color and grain than the next.  Each bead, Jahrra noted, had a rune branded onto its smooth side, and on the opposite, a tiny symbol, each looking like some sort of tree.

“Thank you,” Jahrra said quietly as she uncoiled the unique gift.

“It is a bracelet made of beads from each of the Sacred Trees of Ethoes,” Yaraa said quietly.  “It was crafted by the elvin clans of Dhonoara many years ago.  We have been holding on to it, hoping one day we could find someone worthy of wearing it.”

Jahrra blinked up in surprise.  This was a grand gift indeed, for her trainers to be holding on to it for such a long time.

Viornen grinned, the smile reaching his eyes. “It will bring you luck and protection.”

“I, I can’t accept this!” Jahrra whispered. “Surely you want to save it for your own children . . .”

“Oh no, they are not yet old enough to understand.  We want you to have it Jahrra,” Yaraa insisted.

Jahrra gulped.  “Thank you,” she said again as she wrapped the bracelet several times around her wrist.

Yaraa bent to help her secure it, then stood with a happy sigh. “Yes, that is exactly where it belongs.”

Jahrra gazed at her rare gift.  The wooden beads felt cool and almost alive against her skin.  She looked closely at the runes, noticing that they resembled some of the krueltish characters she had memorized, but there was something different, something severely ancient about them.

“What do the runes say?” she asked.

“They represent a symbol for each tree,” Viornen answered.  Then he pointed to a few. “The Pine, the Alder, the Beech . . .”

Jahrra nodded with contentment.  There were over thirty beads and the bracelet wrapped around her wrist three times.  She wondered what the other runes said, but thought it best not to ask.

“Guard it well Jahrra, for it will aid you in the future,” Yaraa continued. “We have one other gift to offer, since you seem to be in the proper mood for receiving them.  Both Viornen and I feel that you have earned some time off from your lessons.”

Jahrra’s eyes grew wide and she forgot about the bracelet for awhile. “Time off?”  It was almost a whisper.

Viornen grinned. “How does the last two weeks of summer sound?”

Jahrra’s jaw dropped.  Two weeks!  Completely to herself?  She managed to replace her gape with a winning smile.  “That would be wonderful!”

“Then two weeks it is.  Perhaps you will have grown used to your bracelet by then . . .”

Jahrra glanced up quickly and found both elves beaming at her.  She smiled bashfully, clutching her wrist where the bracelet’s scratchy fibers rubbed at her skin.

The elves finished the day off with some easy exercises and a list of stretches and maneuvers Jahrra should work on during her vacation.

“We’ll see you the first weekend after you begin school,” Yaraa told her before she trotted down the road on Phrym that afternoon.

Before going home that day, Jahrra bypassed the Castle Guard Ruin and went straight to Wood’s End Ranch.  Gieaun and Scede were in the front pasture bringing a small herd of sheep in for the night.  Jahrra breathlessly recounted her news and showed them her new bracelet as the three of them formed plans to visit Denaeh the first thing in the morning.  Later that afternoon, Jahrra eagerly told Hroombra about her time off, almost forgetting about the armlet Viornen and Yaraa had given her.

“They say that the wood for the beads came from the trees of Ethoes,” she said nonchalantly as she held her wrist out for the dragon to see.

“This is a rare and treasured gift indeed,” Hroombra murmured.  “Make sure the strings are securely fastened.”

Jahrra assured her guardian that the bracelet was well secured, then she headed off to bed.  That night, she slept easily, dreaming of what she might do for the next couple of weeks.

Denaeh was ecstatic to see her young visitors the next day and as soon as they were within arm’s reach, she pulled them over to see her new crop of herbs and mushrooms.  She even invited them on a short hike into the forest to seek out more flowers and plants that were starting to bear fruit and seeds.

Gieaun had given Jahrra and Scede a frightened look, but Denaeh simply smiled and said, “Don’t fret girl!  Although you cannot see him, Milihn is on a constant lookout in case anything strange or dangerous should come our way.”

Reluctantly, Gieaun followed her friend and brother into the unknown of the Wreing Florenn.  As they traipsed through the forest, Denaeh pointed to this plant or that tree and the three children busily gathered whatever she requested.  When their arms couldn’t possibly carry anything else, they headed back into the Belloughs.  Once there, Gieaun and Scede bid the Mystic and their friend farewell.  “Father and mother want us back early today,” Scede claimed. “To help with the shearing.”

Jahrra wondered if this were the truth but shrugged it off and told them she would see them tomorrow.  The day was still young, why should she have to leave as well?  Grinning at the sheer existence of free time, she turned to Denaeh.

“Tea?” the Mystic asked lightly, gesturing towards the small pot and cups sitting atop an old log.

Jahrra nodded and soon they were building up a small fire to boil the water.  When the tea was ready, the two of them took a seat on the fallen logs that acted as chairs and let the soft summer air settle upon them.

Denaeh took a casual sip of her tea and set it down delicately, leaning her head back and gazing off into the swamp.  “Jahrra, I need you to do me a favor,” she said without preamble.

Jahrra’s teacup was halfway to her mouth.  She looked up with quizzical eyes, but instead of finding the usual laughter or cheer etched in Denaeh’s features, she found something odd, something different.  There was no amusement there, but apprehension, determination and something else Jahrra couldn’t quite place.

Before Jahrra could say anything, Denaeh pressed on, stone-faced, her eyes not meeting Jahrra’s own, “I cannot travel out of the Belloughs as much as I would like to, being labeled as the Witch of the Wreing, so I was wondering if you could do an immense kindness for me.”

Jahrra set down her tea and stared at the Mystic’s face, trying to decipher the emotions that battled there.  The woman sitting before her looked the tone of her voice: agitated and worried.

Jahrra took a steady breath, tried to forget about the troubled look in her friend’s eyes, and asked, “What is it that you need?”

Unbeknownst to Jahrra, the Mystic had been probing her mind since the day she set foot in the Belloughs, trying to figure her out, trying to find a way to get to her.  After the successful scheme with the lake monster, Denaeh had only to wait until an opportunity presented itself for Jahrra to pay her back for her help.  That opportunity was right now.

The only thing standing in her way was Jahrra’s two loyal friends.  Denaeh didn’t dare say anything in front of Gieaun and Scede; they mistrusted her already and they would’ve resisted anything the Mystic asked.  Jahrra trusts her friends, but she desperately needs someone older, besides the dragon Hroombra, to guide her.  This I can use to my advantage.  The time has come for her to learn more, to know more.  I can wait no longer; I’ve waited long enough as it is . . .

With a slight glint of guilt in her voice, Denaeh continued her request, “There is a certain tree that grows in a gully called Ehnnit Canyon a couple days’ travel south from here.  It’s an apple tree and its fruit ripens early, right about this time of year, actually.  The fruit is a key ingredient in a knowledge serum I use to stay sharp so I can detect negative energy flowing from those foolish enough to wander into this forest.  Without it, anyone could ambush me and drag me away to be burned or tortured for being a witch.”

Jahrra gave a slight gasp, not realizing that Denaeh had truly ever feared any outsiders.

The Mystic cast the girl a morose glance and continued on after taking a quick breath, “I have been hoping you would visit for some time now, for you are the only one I can trust.  I need you to travel to the canyon and collect some of the apples from that tree.”  Denaeh reached out her free hand and placed it imploringly on top of Jahrra’s own.

Jahrra stared at her with a mixture of curiosity and doubt.  Travel to Ehnnit Canyon?  She had seen it on one of Hroombra’s maps once, fleetingly as she sketched it down on her own paper, but she couldn’t remember its exact location.  Jahrra thought seriously about what Denaeh was asking, and then thought about all the help the woman had given her over the years.  I do have two weeks before the start of school, and a long camping trip would be a great way to spend it . . .

Jahrra thought about it for a little bit longer and then said slowly, “I’m not sure.  Master Hroombra wouldn’t allow me to travel that far away.”

Denaeh stood up and strode over to the edge of her garden, turning her back to Jahrra like she often did, and pretended to gaze thoughtfully into the distance.  As she walked, the edge of her worn skirts caught and peeled away the leaf litter pressed into the earth.  “Tell him you are going on a camping trip with Gieaun and Scede,” she said after awhile.

Jahrra allowed her brow to furrow.  She had obviously thought of her friends going with her, but would they agree to such a venture, knowing that Denaeh had put her up to it?  And would Hroombra still let her go with just two of her friends to keep her company?

“And what should I tell Gieaun and Scede?  They would surely ask questions as to where we are going and why.  We’re friends Denaeh, we don’t keep secrets from one another,” Jahrra answered, trying to cloak the deceit in her own voice.  She had kept some secrets from Gieaun and Scede, but they were nothing compared to what the Mystic now asked her to do.

Denaeh, with her back still turned to Jahrra, closed her eyes and let out a quiet sigh as she smiled.  The girl may be young and unaware of some things in the world, but she knew her limits.  “Well then, invite them on a camping excursion for a few days.  I’m sure they would love an adventure.”

“You mean, don’t tell them what my real reason for the camping trip is?” Jahrra asked warily with a tinge of aggravation.  Who was Denaeh to ask her to lie to her friends, and more importantly, why?

“If you must.”  The Mystic, with her many years of experience, knew how to sweet talk anyone into getting what she wanted.  She also knew that simply asking Jahrra to do this for her might not be enough, so she added, “One of my first tasks on the road to becoming a Mystic was gathering specimens for my mentor.  Think of all the wonderful things you’ll see on your way.  I don’t believe you’ve been that far south before, have you?  And besides, you really will be on a camping trip.  You’ll just be collecting something for me while you’re out.”

Denaeh turned to face Jahrra, arms crossed in front of her.  She looked at the girl, the struggle between wanting to please her Mystic friend and not wanting to disappoint her guardian and Gieaun and Scede, playing out on her face.  Denaeh watched the struggle continue, nearly spilling over like a swollen river biting away at its levees.  Before she could feel worse about what she was doing, she threw in the final stone that set the surging waters free. “Just think about what Ellysian and Eydeth will say when you return with stories and objects from the southland.  I think that that, on top of the success with your lake creature, will finally be enough to show them how wrong they are about you once and for all.”

And with that final bit of encouragement, Jahrra promised the Mystic she would go.  Anything that might prove the twins to be nothing more than a pair of puffed up peacocks was worth the risk, in Jahrra’s mind.  Who else could be brave enough to travel so far away and to such a strange and unknown place?  Certainly not Eydeth and Ellysian.

Although Jahrra knew that lying so blatantly to Gieaun, Scede and Hroombra was a bad idea, she couldn’t help it.  She really was going on a camping trip after all.  So what if she happened to be collecting something for Denaeh along the way, what was the big deal?  She convinced herself that she probably would have gone camping to Ehnnit Canyon even if the Mystic hadn’t suggested it in the first place.  Jahrra also ached for the opportunity to spend some quality time with her two best friends.  Even though they’d been passing their summer in the company of other classmates out of sheer necessity, Jahrra couldn’t help but feel a little jealous that they’d found other friends while she was stuck learning draggish and sword play all summer long.  A camping trip is just what we need, Jahrra thought as she left the Belloughs that afternoon.

Denaeh sighed and watched Jahrra disappear over the low hills and into the forest, her arms still crossed as they were before.  A shiver ran down the woman’s spine and she pulled her shawl tightly about her shoulders as if it were a cool day.  She knew she was sending Jahrra off to an unknown and potentially dangerous destination, but she felt it was her only choice.  The Mystic realized that the girl’s guardian would be livid if he knew, but she had a feeling Jahrra would never tell him.  Denaeh just couldn’t help feeling irked that Jahrra knew nothing about who she was or how the prophecy affected all of their lives.

“For later times, when she is older, but not now, it is too soon.”  Denaeh knew this is what the old dragon would say if she ever worked up the gumption to approach him.  But she had to help Jahrra know, she had always meant to give Jahrra pieces to the puzzle, even if they were very small ones.  Telling Jahrra and her friends about the prophecy during the week before Sobledthe had been the first step in doing so.  I must do what I can, and although this new venture might not be much, it is something I can give her.

The girl had plenty of questions, no doubt, but not about what she should be asking.  The apples were not important to Denaeh; she could leave and collect them any time.  It was something else in that canyon, something that Jahrra needed to see.  Something she needed to encounter.  Something she needed to feel.

Well, Denaeh decided, it is time she start learning.  Learning about things she should have known about since she was born.  The girl would be fifteen in four month’s time, and she was no longer a naïve little child.  She was getting older and needed to know the truth, and Denaeh feared that the old dragon had waited too long.

But I must be very careful.  I must only give her a fraction of what I know, the Mystic reminded herself.  She realized that if Hroombra had any idea of what she was planning, what she had already planned, she would never see Jahrra again.  As far as the Mystic could tell, as far as she could project, the old dragon didn’t know about her presence in Oescienne, and she planned to keep it that way.  She had made mistakes before, long ago, and she wasn’t about to make another one now, especially not with Jahrra.

- Chapter Six -

Denaeh’s Request

“Gieaun! Scede!”  Jahrra shouted from atop Phrym, frightening a covey of quail that was foraging among the blackberry brambles lining the long drive of Wood’s End Ranch.

“What’s with all the excitement?” queried Scede as Jahrra slowed Phrym to a skidding stop, kicking dust and rocks up all around them.  “Did you have another dream where Eydeth and Ellysian are forced to swim across Lake Ossar in the middle of the night?”

“No, no,” Jahrra breathed, waving her hand around in exasperation, “what are you two doing next week?”

“I don’t know,” Scede answered, slightly perplexed by Jahrra’s frantic behavior.  “We’re all done with the summer shearing, and all the mares have had their foals, so mother and father won’t need us.” He narrowed his eyes and added with a more suspicious tone, “Why?”

“Well,” said Jahrra as she climbed down from Phrym, “I asked Hroombra if I could take a few days off from chores and go on a camping trip, with the two of you of course.  What do you think?”

The two siblings eyed each other suspiciously.  Jahrra seemed far too excited for this to be a mere camping trip.

“I don’t know,” Gieaun said warily, “we’ll have to ask mother and father.”

Jahrra exhaled, trying to sound as patient as possible, “Oh, they’ll let you go!  We can use the time to practice our field skills.  We’ll have to make a fire, gather food, fend off and hunt wildlife and navigate our own way.  Besides, the mid-year exams are coming up in winter, and Tarnik said he’ll be testing us on wilderness survival this year, remember?” Jahrra prattled enthusiastically.

“Jahrra, school hasn’t even started yet, and you’re already worried about winter exams!?” Scede said in disbelief.

“Oh, Scede, when am I going to have another chance to go once school starts?” Jahrra groaned.  “This is my only week off and once school begins, we’ll all be too busy to make such a trip!”

Jahrra paused for a moment, her heart racing as she watched the apprehension clouding her friends’ faces.  They must agree to go!  They must!  It had taken her a few unbearable hours of careful coaxing and begging to convince Hroombra to let her go, and she wasn’t about to back down from her friends so soon.  She willed their minds to accept, but after several moments of silence she couldn’t take it any longer.  “Oh come on!”

She stood in suspense as she watched both brother and sister look at each other in the all too familiar ‘Jahrra-is-up-to-something-again’ way.

“We’ll ask,” Scede finally said, “but I can’t guarantee anything.  It would be nice to go camping for a few days.”

“Where will we go, to the lakes?”

Gieaun’s question caught Jahrra off guard.  She had been too busy reveling in the fact that she only had one more barrier to breech, Kaihmen and Nuhra’s permission, before they were cleared to go.

“Where will we go?” Jahrra repeated blankly. “Uh, I was thinking about that the other night actually.  We’ve never been past Lensterans or the Longuinn wetlands, and I hear that there are many good places to hike and camp in the hills east of there.  We always seem to be traveling west to the lakes, it would be nice to travel east for once, don’t you think?”

She grinned at the two siblings nervously, hoping that they couldn’t detect the deceit hidden in her eyes.  Gieaun seemed to swallow her response, but Scede paused and looked harder at Jahrra with scrutiny. “East, huh?” he said.  “The royal Resai clan doesn’t plan to travel east next week by any chance?”

Jahrra blinked.  For once in her life she hadn’t even thought about Eydeth and Ellysian.  She swallowed and said, “I don’t think so.  I hope not.”

“Because,” continued Scede in a stern voice, “if you are planning retaliation on Eydeth and Ellysian because their fear of the lake monster is wearing off, then you had better seriously reconsider.  You’ve had your revenge and I’ve about had it with all of this fighting back and forth among us.  I think we should just let them talk all they want.  It’s too much trouble and energy to always be battling those twins.  Besides, our ultimate goal to get them away from the lake worked, so I say we just stay away from them whenever we can and be grateful they aren’t as bad as they used to be.”

Jahrra was surprised at Scede’s sudden tirade and she decided he must have been holding this all in for months.

“Oh,” she said, feeling a little abashed, “I wasn’t even thinking about them, to tell you the absolute truth.”

And she hadn’t been, either.  Scede wasn’t convinced, however.  He looked hard at Jahrra and added, “I’ll say it one more time: If you are leading us on another wild goose chase in order to ruin Eydeth and Ellysian’s’ lives, then you had better count me out.”

Jahrra didn’t know what to stay, so she just leaned weakly against Phrym and turned her eyes to the ground.  After some time, she lifted her head and looked Scede directly in the face and said, with complete honesty, “I swear we’re not going on a three day camping trip just to get back at the twins.”

We’re going for some other secret reason that I can’t tell you, she reminded herself, knowing Scede would be just as angry if he knew it was for Denaeh, and you’ll probably both hate me when this is all over.

Scede let out a struggled sigh and looked at his sister.  Gieaun simply smiled and shrugged, saying, “I’d like to go if you would.”

“Alright,” her brother said harshly, “I guess we’d better ask mother and father.”

To Jahrra’s great relief, Kaihmen and Nuhra agreed to let them go, but only if they finished all of their chores around the ranch before they left.  Jahrra, not wanting to jeopardize her great luck, showed up every morning at Wood’s End Ranch, insisting on helping Gieaun and Scede with their work.  With Jahrra’s help they finished everything on their list in record time, and it wasn’t long before they were planning out their upcoming adventure.

***

The morning before the day of their journey, Jahrra packed Phrym’s saddlebags with everything she would need for their excursion: her bow and arrows, her old dagger and plenty of rope, a few of the maps she had copied from Hroombra’s collection, a guide book on the wild flora and fauna of southern Oescienne, her bed roll, her small spyglass, a few spare water skins and some dried meat, bread and cheese.  She double checked her supply list, nodded as she found everything where it should be, and bid farewell to her guardian and mentor.

“Please be careful Jahrra,” Hroombra told her with a sad softness to his voice, “the wilders of Oescienne can be just as full of dangerous mystery and fearful beasts as Felldreim, even if it doesn’t hold the same degree of magic.”

Jahrra nodded soberly.  He didn’t often act so serious, and his somber mood struck her in a slightly disconcerting way.

“I won’t let anything get me,” she said with a mischievous smile that she hoped blinded him from her own trepidation. “I’ve had lessons from Yaraa and Viornen, remember?”

Hroombra returned his own grin, flavored with good humor.  This was just enough to cheer Jahrra up and send her off with a light heart.  Jahrra rode to Wood’s End Ranch where she, Gieaun and Scede spent the better part of the evening planning out their route through the southland.

“We’ll take the road down the southern edge of the Sloping Hill, and then turn east instead of going straight into Lensterans.  We’ll have to camp out at the crossroads here,” Jahrra said, pointing to a place on her map where the roads met, “and then we’ll continue across the river in the morning.”

“Where will we go from there?” asked Scede, not seeing anything of interest on the map.

“Master Hroombra once told me about some isolated canyons in these hills,” Jahrra pointed again at the map, but this time further south from where the roads met. “I think we should see what’s there.  There might be some birds or animals we’ve never seen before living there.”

The next morning Jahrra, Gieaun and Scede packed up everything they needed onto Phrym, Aimhe and Bhun, taking along only a few extra provisions.  They planned to hunt and gather most of what they would eat in the wilderness.  The fruits and berries were plentiful this time of year, and so was the game, so they didn’t worry about going hungry.

“Do you think we packed enough Phrym?” Jahrra asked as she tightened the girth of his saddle and double checked that the saddlebags wouldn’t shake loose.

Phrym gave a small, breathy whicker.  He knew they were off to somewhere important; he’d never been packed down like this before.

“I’m ready, are you two?” Jahrra called to her friends.

“Not quite, you go ahead down the drive and we’ll meet you soon,” Scede said, finishing up with Bhun.

Jahrra nodded and turned Phrym down the long dirt road, looking like a grey-blue ribbon in the young hours of the day.  The only things stirring were some small foraging birds, frightened further into the brush as the semequin and his rider marched by.  As the morning advanced, the treetops became gilded with the cool yellow of dawn, the sun’s brilliant rays spreading across the vast fields like golden pathways connecting the earth with the sky.

Normally Jahrra would’ve waited for her friends, but she was in the mood for some fresh air.  Once she and Phrym reached the large gate at the ranch’s entrance, Jahrra felt a lot better.  She swung off of Phrym and leaned against the edge of the fence.  “They’ll be here any minute now.  Scede just had to put the halter on Bhun and Gieaun was right behind him.” She rubbed Phrym’s neck and looked out over the vast fields.

As the minutes ticked by, Jahrra began to wonder what was taking her friends so long.  I hope they haven’t had second thoughts! she thought dejectedly.  Half an hour passed before Gieaun and Scede finally rode up on Bhun and Aimhe.

“Sorry,” Scede breathed in frustration. “Gieaun thought she’d left something behind and we had to turn back.”

“You don’t have to say it so harshly,” his sister retorted. “I may have left it and then what would I have done?”

Scede rolled his eyes. “It was only her precious pillow,” he explained to Jahrra, “and she could’ve done without if she really wanted to rough it.”

Gieaun turned pink at this comment and abruptly looked the other way, her nose stuck in the air.

“That’s alright,” Jahrra remarked with amusement.  “It shouldn’t take us all day to get to the crossroads anyway.”

“Are you sure it’s safe to travel to the crossroads alone?” Gieaun asked, forgetting about her irritation at her brother.

“Of course it is,” Jahrra insisted.  “It’s a well-traveled path and the farmers use it all the time.  Plus, there are three of us and our three horses, we’ll be fine.”

“What about Hirihn Wood?  I heard that bandits wait behind the trees and ambush traders!” Gieaun said in her usual, paranoid way.

“Oh, don’t be such a coward Gieaun!  We’ve been to the Belloughs and back for Ethoes’ sake, we can handle anything!” Jahrra bellowed in aggravation.

She jumped onto Phrym and kicked him into a quick walk. “C’mon you two!  We have miles to cover today!”

Scede flashed an impish grin towards his sister and jogged Bhun after Phrym.  Gieaun let out a sound that was a cross between an uncomfortable sigh and a whine and slowly followed after them.

“Not so fast Scede!  Jahrra!  Wait for me!” She brought Aimhe up to speed with the other two horses and soon the three were on their way down the road towards the Oorn Plain.

Jahrra had always been told that the late summer months were the hottest in this part of Oescienne, and today was no exception.  The early morning crept towards mid-day, the heat gradually rising to an almost unbearable temperature.  The dust from the barren dirt road created a choking, terra-cotta haze and the sun seemed to bake the shadows of the three horses and their riders against the dry hills.

“Are there no trees at all in this part of the country?” Gieaun panted in exasperation.

They’d been traveling for several hours along the road that ran between the Oorn River and the southern Longuinn Hills, but had only seen a few stray trees along the way, but nothing to provide ample shade.

“I see a small grove about a mile up ahead!” Scede suddenly called out to the two girls riding just behind him.  “That must be Hirihn Wood.”

Gieaun squinted into the distance and then gulped nervously as the dark wood grew nearer, finally giving the hot and tired group their first chance to rest.  Gieaun may have feared these trees, but Jahrra was more than grateful for the shade after their hours of travel.  She pulled out the map she’d brought along and glanced over it.

“Yep, this is Hirihn Wood,” she said, focusing on the dark blotch of ink that represented trees on the map.

Gieaun let out an anxious cry, and Scede gave her an annoyed look. “For goodness’ sake Gieaun!  This wood can’t be any worse than the Wreing Florenn!”

The dark pines weren’t very tall, but the tangled branches and needle-carpeted forest floor gave the place a very suffocated and cramped feel.  A narrow path curved around the thick, branchy trunks of the trees and continued on to what only Jahrra and her friends could assume was the other side of the main road they had just left.

“You were right Gieaun,” Jahrra said with a grin on her face, “this would be the perfect place for a group of robbers to attack!”

“Not funny!” she retorted hotly.

Suddenly, a bird cawed from a treetop somewhere above and Gieaun let out a blood-curdling scream.  The horses jerked their heads up in surprise and Jahrra and Scede had to pull Phrym and Bhun around in small circles to calm them as Aimhe reared.

“Good one Gieaun!” Scede growled. “It was only a crow!”

“Sorry!  This place gives me the creeps!” Gieaun answered angrily.

“Let’s keep moving then,” Jahrra added as calmly as she could.

By the time they left the tangled trees behind, it was already well past midday.  The three riders picked up their pace so they could reach the crossroads before sunset.

After another several hours of baking heat and blinding sun, Jahrra slowed Phrym to a stop and held her hand up to shade her eyes.  She gazed into the heat-tainted distance, spotting the great Oorn River winding up from the south and curling down from the tall hills far ahead.  To the south and east the mountainous landscape continued as far as the eye could see, and perhaps much further than that.  The hills and gentle, rolling land that stretched all around the three riders was the dry and brittle color of fired clay.

After getting her fill of the scenery, Jahrra sat back down in the saddle and contemplated the scene just ahead of her.  The sandy ribbon of road stretched far into the distance, intersecting another similar path that ran south across the river and north into the southern Longuinn Hills.  The crossroads were no more than a half mile away, and it looked very lonely out here in the middle of this barren wasteland.

Jahrra clicked her tongue at Phrym and he obediently trudged onward, taking on an easy pace in the sweltering heat.  Once they finally reached the point where the two roads met, Jahrra stopped Phrym completely and let the suffocating silence engulf her.  She gazed up with pinched eyes at a sign post holding heavy wooden planks etched with the words of their possible destinations.  The sign pointing east read The Cohn Forest – Oorn Lake, the sign pointing west, where the children had come from, read The Lakes – Lensterans.  The sign pointing north read The East Hills – Longuinn Valley, and the sign pointing south said The Little Oorn Plain – Rhoorn Valley.

Jahrra reached into one of her saddle bags and pulled out her small spyglass.  She stood up in the saddle and held the instrument up to her eye, focusing on a small patch of green up against the eastern hills in the distance.

“What is it?” Gieaun asked, waving her hand limply at a cloud of small flies.

“It looks like a small wooded canyon with what might be a creek running into the Oorn River,” Jahrra answered, spyglass still held up to her eye.  “I suppose that’s the best place to make camp for the night, and we should be doing that pretty soon.  We still have to find something to eat before it gets dark.”

It took the children half an hour to reach the gully, but once there they tied their bedraggled horses up to an oak tree overlooking the stream.  The trio then went out to hunt, returning with a few wild fowl and a basket full of berries.  Jahrra started a fire and Scede prepared the birds, roasting them on a crude spit over the sweltering coals.  They ate and went to bed early, eager to get moving before the heat swelled up in the morning.

Jahrra stared up at the glittering stars as her friends dozed quietly next to her.  She sighed inwardly and closed her eyes, trying to rest her mind.  Her conscience had been grinding on her the entire day.  She knew that she should tell Gieaun and Scede the truth about Ehnnit Canyon.  What was the big deal anyway?  It wasn’t like the canyon was dangerous or anything like that, right?  All she was going to do was gather some apples, how hazardous could that be?

It’s because Denaeh wanted me to come, and they wouldn’t approve of me doing any favors for Denaeh, she thought miserably.  She knew that her friends had never really trusted the Mystic, and they wouldn’t be happy if they found out they’d been dragged along on this strange mission. Oh well.  What’s done is done.  Hopefully they’ll never suspect anything at all.  Jahrra tucked these feelings away and after another few deep breaths, she was fast asleep.

***

Jahrra was sure she had just shut her eyes, but that didn’t stop the familiar morning sounds of birds singing and the shuffling of someone next to her packing up.

“Wake up you two!  Let’s get a move on before it gets too hot!” Scede snapped as he tied his sleeping mat onto Bhun.

Gieaun simply moaned and pulled her pillow over her head.

“Ugh, you and that wretched pillow!” he said in disgust.

After much coaxing and a few threats, Scede finally got the two girls to get up and pack.  Just as the sun was starting to peak over the eastern hills, the trio had their horses cantering down the road leading south.  The hills to the left of them cast a great, looming shadow over their heads and onto the Little Oorn Plain, which seemed to stretch on forever into the west.  Before long, they came to a wide wooden bridge that spanned the Oorn River.  The river was running low this time of year, and Jahrra noted many copses of willows and sycamores growing like thick tufts of green and silver fur along the river bank.  Once on the other side of the bridge, the horses picked up their pace with everyone hoping to cover as much ground as possible before the sun breached the hilltops and began to roast them.

As they rode, Jahrra inched her map out from the small front pocket on Phrym’s saddle.  She’d been secretly glancing at it every so often for the past several hours, and in the process had discovered that Ehnnit Canyon, the small ravine where she was to collect the apples, had a distinctive fan-shaped wash that spilled out onto the Oorn Plain.  Jahrra quietly tucked the map back out of sight, trying to fight the excitement and apprehension that was making her nerves grow taut.

“At last, some shade!” Scede was saying thirty minutes later.

The horses picked up their speed once they spotted the patch of trees and soon Jahrra, Gieaun and Scede were throwing down blankets and stretching their tired muscles.  To everyone’s delight, Gieaun discovered a hidden spring bubbling out from behind some rocks.  The three friends filled their water skins and then tied the horses up near the small pool below the spring, finally sitting down to eat once everything was in order.  While they ate, Jahrra took out her journal and began sketching a few of the animals and plants she’d seen that day.  After she was done with that, she pulled out her map to check and see how far their destination was from their current location.

Only an hour or so away, according to this map, she thought.  Now all that remained was to convince her friends that it was a good idea to explore Ehnnit Canyon . . .

“Are we anywhere near those hidden canyons you were talking about?” Scede’s question startled Jahrra, but she remained cool.

“Well,” she replied, trying not to sound too anxious, “the closest canyon is about an hour from here, but we could always keep moving if it looks boring once we get there.”

She bit her cheek and scoured the map once more to distract herself as she waited for a response.

“Is there anything written next to it, like a name?” Gieaun asked lazily as she finished up some wild berries, licking her fingers clean.

“I don’t know.  It’s not labeled on this map, but when I copied it from one of Master Hroombra’s maps, I copied this symbol next to it.” Jahrra pointed to the intricate ‘x’ painted on the map.  “I asked him what it meant and he said it stood for a place of interest, like a famous landmark or a historic battle site,” she lied.

“It’s not labeled?  How’s that?”  Scede stood up and was now coming over to look at the map.

“It’s, it’s labeled,” Jahrra quickly stammered, tripping over her own tongue.  “It just isn’t in the common language.  It looks like some kind of ancient runes or something, but you can try if you like.”  Jahrra handed the map over as Scede knelt down beside her.

He scrutinized the map for a few moments, then handed it back.  “Why didn’t you bring the other map?”

“I was in a hurry when I packed.  I grabbed this one without reading it closely,” Jahrra lied again, trying hard not to sound irritated.  She had purposely brought the map written in kruelt.  She could read just enough of it to know where they were going without enlightening her companions.

Scede was glaring down at her suspiciously.

“Look,” Jahrra said, “we’ve made it this far without getting lost, the map isn’t totally worthless.  The worst that can happen is we’ll get to this canyon place and there’ll be nothing there.  If that happens we can just turn around and come back the way we came.  Sound good to you?”

Jahrra looked at Scede with raised eyebrows, and then she looked over at his sister.  Gieaun was splayed out on the blanket, using her arms to prop herself up.  She seemed to be reveling in the coolness of the shade and the satisfaction of a full stomach.

“Sounds alright to me,” she answered. “She’s right Scede.  We’ve followed the map easily so far; why not check this place out?  If it were unsafe there would be something drawn to warn us off, right?  And Jahrra said Master Hroombra told her that the symbol meant it was a good place to visit.  You need to stop acting so suspicious.  Jahrra isn’t up to anything.”

Jahrra cringed inwardly and lowered her eyes.  Scede simply nodded and sat down next to his sister, his face dark in skeptical contemplation.

The three friends stayed within the grove for another half hour.  They then returned to the spring to fill up their canteens once more and to retrieve their horses, dousing themselves in the cool water before leaving.  The sun was now blazing hotter than ever, and Jahrra only hoped that they would have enough water to last them until they reached the canyon.  She breathed a sigh of relief as Gieaun and Scede led the group southward.  So far she had managed to trick her friends into following her, but she was also aware that they still had several miles of travel left and Scede could uncover her secret plans at any moment.

The final length of the trip took a bit longer than Jahrra had anticipated, the heat of early afternoon as real and daunting as fire.  Jahrra, Gieaun and Scede slowed their horses to a steady walk as Jahrra checked the map.  Below the symbol marking the entrance to the canyon was the familiar fan-shaped wash with a dark entryway painted in.

“This must be the mouth of the canyon,” she said, showing the image to Gieaun.  “We must be close.”

Jahrra squinted and shaded her eyes from the blazing sun as she looked into the distance, trying to spot the canyon’s entrance.  Just as she felt she could take the heat no longer, she saw it, about a mile off.  Stretching for leagues upon leagues in front of them, the bronze foothills met the flat, sun-seared lowlands in an almost perfect conjunction.  Jahrra could just make out a small, irregularity against the smooth curve of the hills in the distance.  She knew that this had to be the entrance to Ehnnit Canyon.  She pulled Phrym out of his slow walk, causing him to start and snort irritably.  He had had his head down and was concentrating on blocking out the swelter.  Stopping only meant standing in the sun even longer.  Jahrra reached back into her pack and fumbled for her spyglass.

“What’s the hold up?” questioned Scede.

“I think we may be nearly there.  See that wash spreading from the hills in the distance, just to the east?”  Jahrra held the spyglass up to her eye with one hand and pointed with the other.

Scede and Gieaun held their hands to their eyes and they too squinted to make out the landmark.

“Here, the map shows it.”  Jahrra pointed to the spot on the map and moved to hand it over to Gieaun, but something stopped her short.  She hadn’t seen it before while they were resting in the shade.  The writing was faded and was now just visible in the light.  Above the fan wash on the map were a multitude of draggish words.  Jahrra narrowed her eyes and concentrated very hard, doing her best to translate what words she could read: Ressehn epit edth Oehm Ceyvhe, cloess edth findell epit rissen desset dodthe hrechteh . . . Illiehs yhndth worrghe veieh mommreh drothe.  Chirehm litt boisciehn, heileh dohedth kitthe.  Savior of the Olden Race, at the end of this path you trace . . . Truth and danger may lie here.  Beyond this point, embrace your fear.

That much kruelt Jahrra understood, and after deciphering it she shivered, despite the scorching heat.  She now remembered writing these words in, but that was long before she knew any draggish, and she had never asked Hroombra what it had meant before.

“What is it?” asked Gieaun, urging Aimhe closer.

“Nothing.  Thought I might have been mistaken for a moment, but this must be it,” Jahrra recovered quickly, expertly moving her thumb over the words while still exposing the silt pile below the mouth of the canyon.

Gieaun glanced at the map sleepily, not thinking for once that her friend might be trying to deceive her.  All that she cared about was getting out of the glare of the sun for awhile.

“That has to be it,” Jahrra insisted.  “If that isn’t it, I say we turn around and camp out where we stopped for lunch.”

Gieaun and Jahrra both looked up at Scede with questioning eyes.

“Alright,” he said indifferently, wiping away the sweat that had gathered on his forehead.

The horses picked up the pace, straining against their fatigue to reach the canyon’s base.  Finally they reached the great pile of stones that betrayed the entrance to Ehnnit Canyon.  The travelers slowed the horses to a stop and glanced up at a massive stone arch, standing against the afternoon sun like a brave knight facing down the fiery breath of a dragon.  Jahrra’s face fell and her stomach dropped when she saw what was carved into the thick stone entrance to the canyon.  She braved a glance at Gieaun and Scede, sitting silently on Bhun and Aimhe, looking up at the draggish symbols etched deep into the arch.

“What on Ethoes could that say?” Scede said aloud, a confounded look gripping his face.

“I don’t know, probably some gibberish someone wrote long ago,” Jahrra said, shrugging her shoulders.

“What about that?” Gieaun asked in a quavering voice, her finger pointed rigidly towards the gaping mouth of the canyon.  Jahrra looked up at the arch once more, her heart threatening to stop beating.  She had seen the kruelt warning, but she had missed the words written in the common language just below.  Painted in a panicked, scraggly fashion were the black words: Beware this canyon.

Scede spoke aloud as he read them, and then he glared over at Jahrra.  Don’t panic, she thought as his eyes shot daggers at her, as far as Scede knows, I had no idea this canyon might be dangerous.

“Jahrra,” the calm, controlled tone made her even more nervous, “did you know about this, this warning?”

Jahrra looked up and tried to appear as innocent as possible. Scede’s face was slightly red, and she convinced herself it was the result of being in the sun too long, not the side effect of anger.

“No, I didn’t, how could I know?  I’ve never been here before, and the symbols on my map are in some strange language.”  Jahrra floundered with her answer, but for once she was glad that Hroombra had insisted she not teach her friends the dragons’ tongue.

“Are you kidding me?  You mean to tell me you just so happened to want to go on a long camping trip, you just so happened to want to travel south, and you just so happened to notice this neat little canyon that might be interesting to visit!?” Scede spat, his voice slowly rising to a shrill hiss over his barrage of questions.

Jahrra had rarely seen Scede so angry, and she attributed most of it to the influence the heat was having on him.

“Scede, calm down, Jahrra didn’t know that this place was dangerous, you saw the map!” Gieaun said, sounding slightly perplexed.  “It just shows an unmarked canyon, remember?”

Scede led Bhun over to where Jahrra and Phrym stood.  “Give me the map,” he demanded blankly, thrusting his hand out in expectation.

Jahrra knew that he would now see the other words in kruelt, and she feared his anger and suspicion would only grow.  Yet, refusing him would only make matters worse.  She reluctantly held out the map, flinching when Scede snatched it away from her.  He hastily opened it, spreading it across the back of Bhun’s neck so he could read it in the full sunlight.  He looked it over for a few moments and then thrust it out in Gieaun’s direction.

Gieaun looked confused, and when she didn’t take it right away he barked, “Look!”

He was pointing directly at the draggish words on the map.  Then he turned to Jahrra, his green-brown eyes looking like a forest consumed by a wildfire. “I know you know what that says, Hroombra has taught you!”

Jahrra gaped in astonishment.  She had never, ever mentioned anything about the secret language she’d struggled with for the past several years to either Gieaun or Scede.  However, when the shock of his statement passed and she truly thought about it, she wasn’t all that surprised.  Almost everything Hroombra owned had draggish characters inked upon it.  Scede was only right to think that he would teach their meaning to Jahrra.

Gieaun brought Aimhe closer, all the while looking at Jahrra in a suspicious and disturbed manner.  “Is it true?” she asked her friend feebly. “Do you know what that writing says?”

Jahrra took a deep breath and dropped her eyes, choosing her words carefully. “I honestly didn’t see that until we got into the sunlight, and I don’t know what all of it says,” she half-lied.  She continued on, improvising where she needed to, “I can only make out the words ‘canyon’ and ‘truth’.  The rest I don’t know.”

Jahrra hoped this part-truth was good enough for her suspecting friends.

“But Master Hroombra taught you, I know it!” Scede breathed heatedly.

Jahrra shot Scede a poisonous glance and murmured, “Just because he’s teaching me doesn’t mean I’m any good at learning it!”

“Jahrra, how could you?” Gieaun cried.  “Why did you lie to us?  Why did you really bring us here?”

Jahrra was crestfallen to see that Gieaun had suddenly lost trust in her too.  It’s your own fault, her conscience reminded her, you did lie to them after all.

Before she could answer Gieaun’s question, Scede cut in.  “I know this place now,” he said in a low, harsh voice.  “This is Ehnnit Canyon, the one we were told about as children.  The very place that leads into the mountains where the Crimson King’s men fear to go, the same place that is said to be the home of a monster far more terrifying than any boarlaque or goblin, or swamp witch.  This place is cursed and haunted, and Jahrra has led us here.”

Scede’s voice was an eerie monotone and despite the heat, Jahrra felt goose bumps prickling her arms.  Scede looked very angry, and Jahrra now knew that it wasn’t the sun’s heat causing his anger, but her own stubbornness and deliberate dishonesty.

As she sat burning under the glare of the sun and the scorn of her friends, Jahrra allowed her emotions to sort themselves out.  She felt that all too-familiar pang of guilt surging up inside of her.  She’d been utterly unfair to them, but she also felt a burning need to follow through with her promise to Denaeh.  Besides, she had come this far already, hadn’t she?  They couldn’t turn back now, not without looking for the apple tree Denaeh had told her about.  Jahrra’s conscience was chastising her for being so selfish, but with some effort, she managed to ignore it.

“Jahrra!  Why did you bring us here?” Gieaun said again, a little more forcefully this time.

“I didn’t know about the words on the arch until just a few minutes ago when we looked at the map again,” Jahrra insisted.  “I swear.  I couldn’t see the faded writing in the shade at the grove!”

Jahrra looked desperately between her two friends.  Gieaun’s eyes told Jahrra that she wanted to believe her, but her brother’s eyes were stony and untrusting.

“Why are we really here Jahrra?”  Scede’s calm question was sudden and cold and Jahrra felt all of her efforts to hide the truth slowly melt away.

“What do you mean?” she tried to recover. “We’re here because we wanted to take a camping trip.”

“No, that’s your cover up story,” Scede pressed. “Why are we really here?  This whole trip was planned by you, and we’re just the unsuspecting pawns in your little game.  You have a reason to be in this very place, to be here at the entrance to Ehnnit Canyon, and it’s not because it looked like an interesting place to visit.  You knew how to get here, someone told you how.  Who was it?  Was it Eydeth, or was it Ellysian?  Was it another stupid dare that you felt you just had to take?”

Jahrra was taken aback at the disdainful spite that seasoned Scede’s speech.  “No, it wasn’t a dare,” she answered automatically.

“Then what?”  Scede’s frustration was building, and Phrym moved nervously under Jahrra’s tense weight.

“Jahrra,” it was Gieaun who spoke next, sounding calmer than before, “just tell us why we’re here, you owe us that much.”

Jahrra took a deep breath, looking first at Gieaun and then back at Scede.  When she spoke it was in a low voice, her eyes glued to the parched earth below them.  “Denaeh asked me to get something for her, something from this canyon.”

She risked a glance at her friends, frightened of what she might read from their expressions.  Gieaun still had that look of disappointment on her face, but Scede’s expression, if possible, had grown angrier.

“What?!” he hissed. “We wasted two days’ travel in blazing heat to do a favor for that old want-to-be-seer?!”

“Hey!” Jahrra snapped.  “She is not a want-to-be-seer, she’s a Mystic!  You are just angry because I led you out here unknowingly!”

The moment the words tumbled from her mouth, Jahrra knew she shouldn’t have spoken them.

Scede, now a horrible shade of red, looked absolutely livid. “That old bag has you wrapped around her finger!” he growled.  “You would do anything for her, just look where you are right now!  You’re at the foot of a canyon that no one we know has ever visited; a canyon where people go and never come back.  She wants you to go into this canyon, you, a fourteen-year-old girl, to fetch something for her?  It had better be some great treasure or the key to eternal life.  Don’t you see?  She’s just using you Jahrra, using you to get what she wants.”

Scede’s angry words poured from his mouth like ash spewing from a volcano.  Bhun, sensing his master’s agitation, began stepping nervously beneath him.

“How dare you?!” Jahrra breathed, yanking back on Phrym’s reins in her anger. “You’re just jealous because she sees potential in me!”

Jahrra knew this was a weak response, but it was the only way to dull the sting of Scede’s words.  She had never before been on the receiving end of Scede’s wrath, and now that she was, she found it to be very painful.

“Jealous!  Are you kidding me?  You should take a good look at yourself.  You would do anything to fit in, wouldn’t you?  Especially with someone older and wiser like Denaeh.  Do you think if she likes you that it won’t matter that no one else in our class does?”

Scede had lost control of his temper long ago, and it was only getting worse. “You’re lucky to have us as friends!  Imagine how we’d be treated now if we had ignored you that first day of school!  Do you think Ellysian and Eydeth would be treating us as outcasts too?  Why don’t you think about someone other than yourself for once!”

“Scede!” Gieaun gasped in horror. “Stop it right now!  You know none of that is true!”

Jahrra blinked back the burning tears that had been forming in her eyes.  She was shocked, angry, humiliated and hurt, but what hurt the most was that it was all true.  She gathered her tangled nerves and tried not to let her emotions show.

With a raw voice she said, “If that is how you see it, I’m sorry.  But I made a promise to a friend of mine that I would try to get what she needed, and I’m going into that canyon with or without you.”

Jahrra shot a vicious glare at the two siblings and kicked Phrym towards the incline that led up to the great stone arch, looming overhead like the cavernous mouth of a great beast waiting to swallow her whole.

“Jahrra!  Don’t be ridiculous!” Gieaun shouted frantically after her.  “Scede is just suffering from heat exhaustion, plus he’s a stupid boy!  He didn’t mean it!”

Jahrra heard Aimhe trot up beside her and Phrym, but she was determined to look straight ahead.  Her tears had subsided and now she was running on pure fury.  Fury aimed mostly at her own stupid, selfish actions.  She was finally seeing the situation from her friends’ point of view and Scede was absolutely right.  She had only been thinking about herself and how best to please Denaeh.  She’d used her friends horribly and was ashamed of herself, but she was too proud to admit it.  Jahrra turned her head away from Gieaun and clicked Phrym onward.

“Jahrra!  Stop!  This is madness, you can’t go in there!”  Gieaun sounded slightly out of breath.

“It’s alright Gieaun, Scede is right.  I shouldn’t have deceived you two.  I’ll go on alone; you don’t have to come.”

“Jahrra!  That canyon is evil!  Didn’t you hear what Scede said?  I remember those stories too!”

“Don’t be ridiculous; those stories aren’t even half true,” Jahrra said angrily.  “That’s why they’re stories.  Adults tell them to us just to scare us so we won’t get lost in the wilderness.  We’re old enough to find our own way now.  I’m sure there are no monsters to capture us and eat us alive.  Remember the hag that was supposed to live in the Belloughs of the Black Swamp?  Remember what that came to?  And the lake monster?  This is the same exact thing.”

Jahrra continued leading Phrym toward the base of the canyon mouth as Gieaun reluctantly fell back.  Phrym climbed the steep incline of the rock pile, pushing many of the loosely piled stones noisily down the slope.  As each small boulder clattered down the fan wash, the racket of the falling rocks seemed to echo off of the dome of awkward silence that had enveloped the three friends.  Jahrra tried not to let her anger at Scede’s words overwhelm her, but the long journey and hot sun only grated at her temper.  She fumed inwardly, determined to defy him and his sister.  Yes, she had lied.  Yes, she was being selfish.  But now she had a task to complete, and focusing on that task would distract her from the hurtful words that had been traded today.

Phrym struggled up the steep slope, sending an avalanche of stones scattering down to the smooth plain below.  When he and Jahrra finally reached the top and the sprawling pebbles finally settled, Gieaun yelled up at them, “Wait!”

The energy that the Resai girl put into her voice made Jahrra stop and turn in the saddle.  Her friend was at the base of the wash, thirty feet below, and Scede was still a few dozen yards off where Jahrra had left him.

“We’re going with you!” Gieaun shouted.

Scede looked up suddenly from his brooding posture and kicked Bhun over towards Aimhe.  “We’re not following her into that canyon Gieaun!  What if we’re all killed?!” he whispered harshly, though Jahrra could hear his voice clearly from where she stood.

“Then we’re killed together,” Gieaun said rather valiantly.  “We’re friends, all three of us, and no matter what happens we can’t forget that.  Now, I know Jahrra lied to you Scede, and she has before.  But she has lied to me just as many times.” Gieaun paused and then raised her voice as she addressed Jahrra, “And I know Scede said some horrible things to you Jahrra, but even the best of friends have to fight at some point or another.”

Gieaun raised her head and aimed her voice towards the top of the wash once again, “I think we should stick together, because all we have is each other out here.  I would never want my friends to let me face the unknown alone, no matter how frightening it may be.  We’ll all go into the canyon, that way if we do meet danger, we have a fighting chance.  Alright?  Now let’s go, and no more arguing!”

Jahrra was very surprised at Gieaun’s speech and even more surprised when she urged Aimhe up the stone embankment and right past her through the stone arch framing the canyon.  Scede led Bhun slowly up the steep rubble pile a few moments later and paused beside Jahrra only for a moment.

“No more lies, alright?” he grumbled.  “We have to be honest from now on; we can’t act like children forever.” And then he added bashfully, “I’m sorry about what I said.  I was just so angry.”

“And I’m sorry I wasn’t truthful,” Jahrra offered, shaking hands with him and feeling her anger and fear melt away.  “I’ll make it up to you someday, I promise.”

“Ladies first,” Scede said, flashing his characteristically impish smile.

The two of them encouraged their horses forward, ready to follow Gieaun into the unknown.

- Chapter Seven -

Ehnnit Canyon

Phrym stepped gingerly upon the loose stones and pebbles as he made his way towards the canyon’s entrance.  Jahrra was surprised to discover that the archway itself was carved upon the face of a giant boulder that had clogged up the gully’s opening.  Curious as to where Gieaun had gone, she stood up in the saddle and peered into the dark tunnel that stretched beyond the arch.  Someone had bored a passageway through the solid rock, making it just wide enough to allow horses and their riders to pass through in a single file line.  Jahrra was fascinated, and impressed.

“Are you two coming or not?” Gieaun’s echoing voice called from somewhere up ahead.

Jahrra swallowed and looked at Scede.  With a nod, he gestured for her to follow.  She took a deep breath and clicked Phrym onward.

To distract herself from the suffocating closeness of the cramped passageway, Jahrra strained her eyes against the strange semi-darkness, looking for anything that might be of interest.  Her head barely cleared the rough ceiling, and as she peered down at the floor below, she noticed a dry, rocky stream bed.  The only sound in the tunnel was the echoing melody of snorting horses and shuffling hooves pressing painfully against her ears.  Jahrra shut her eyes tightly, hoping that this would ease the strangeness of the hollow sounds around her.

After several seconds she opened them back up again and gasped.  The walls of the passage were bathed in sunlight from what must have been the other end of the tunnel.  It wasn’t the bright light that drew Jahrra’s attention, however, but the pattern of markings tattooed upon the smooth granite.  All around her, in no particular pattern, ancient drawings and paintings of strange creatures and primitive runes spelled out stories and battles.

Jahrra squinted carefully at some of the markings and gasped.  She pulled up her sleeve and held up her wrist, comparing the rune marks on her wood charm bracelet to those on the walls.  Some of the marks were identical.  She quickly pulled out her journal and frantically began jotting down all that she saw.  She’d become so engrossed in the surrounding wall art that she didn’t notice when Phrym’s long neck pushed out into the open air once again.  She blinked repeatedly while her eyes tried to adjust to the full sun and then put her journal back into its saddle bag.  She looked for Gieaun and spotted her further down the path, waiting on Aimhe.

Jahrra breathed a weary sigh of relief, glad to be out of the confining tunnel.  Her enthusiasm dwindled, however, when she realized that she was once again out in the heat of the day.

Gieaun seemed to notice this and commented, “Don’t worry, we won’t be in the sun much longer.”  She nodded towards the path ahead.

Jahrra looked on and gaped in awe.  What she saw ahead was something quite amazing, something she had not expected.  More boulders, everywhere there were boulders, giant boulders that clogged the canyon from wall to wall.  Jahrra couldn’t help but imagine that long ago these colossal stones fell to this very spot, thrown down from the mountains by the gods themselves.  The massive stone they had just passed through obviously had no path leading around it, so whoever had discovered this canyon had made their own way long ago, straight through.  Now, as Jahrra looked on she saw that the trail wound downward, around a house-sized boulder and then onward, underneath another.

“I scouted ahead,” said Gieaun.  “The path goes right under that pile of rocks, and then I think it leads into the canyon itself.”

As the girls stood considering the scene before them, Scede emerged out of the passageway atop Bhun.

“I guess I’d better go first since you two went first last time,” he offered. “I just hope the whole pile doesn’t fall on us.”

Walking the horses through the massive rocks wasn’t as bad as it would have seemed.  The space between them was much wider than that of the first tunnel and the air was fairly damp, providing a welcome relief from the outside heat.  As the hoof beats of their horses echoed off the walls of this strange cavern, small animals yipped and scuttled in fright, angry for being chased out of their cool sanctuary.  This course was a bit longer than the one through the archway, but the cool air caressing their skin more than made up for it.

“Interesting place,” Jahrra commented. “Regardless of the reason for coming here, we can’t say it wasn’t worth the trip.”

She smiled at her friends, hoping they’d caught the note of apology in her voice.  They both smiled back, not with smiles of forgiveness but with the smiles of someone trying to make the best of a bad situation.

After several minutes of meandering down and around the curved slope of mountain-sized stones, the three friends emerged from their shady passageway into a strange new world. Jahrra sighed in wonder as the trio followed a path trailing just above the dry, rocky creek bed.  Jahrra tilted her head back, searching for the top of the canyon and found that its walls appeared to curve inward as they stretched towards the sky.

The entire floor of the canyon, only seventy to eighty feet across at its widest point, was littered with thousands of smooth rocks of every shape and size.  This gully obviously served as a major wash for the snowmelt and heavy rains from the mountains, and probably at some time, supplied the Oorn Plain with most of its silt and rich soil.  Very little vegetation was growing near the base of the ravine; only a few wildflowers, some succulents and cacti, and every now and again some type of chaparral bush or sage.

Of all of the new sights surrounding them, Jahrra thought the color of the rock walls and the stones that peppered the creek bed were the most intriguing.  She noticed two distinct types of stone: light earthy orange sandstone and a harder looking blue-green rock that she had never seen before.  When the group stopped for a break, she dropped down from Phrym’s back and picked up one of the large bluish pebbles.

“What type of rock is this?”  She turned to Gieaun and Scede, still squatting as she held the stone out to them. “I’ve never seen it before, have you?”

“No, but I like it,” Gieaun commented.

“It doesn’t look like turquoise,” Scede added as he dismounted Bhun.  “Maybe you should bring some back.  The stone masons or jewelers back home in Aldehren ought to know what it is.”

“Do you think there is anywhere to camp in this place?” Scede continued, now looking around with his hands pressed to the small of his back.  “It’s only three hours before sunset, I don’t want to get stuck wandering around in this canyon after dark.”

Gieaun eyed her brother nervously then glanced over at Jahrra.

“We’ll travel a little bit further, perhaps there is a dry sand bar where we can make camp,” Jahrra offered, standing up and pocketing the large blue-green stone she’d been turning over in her hands.  “It would be more comfortable than sleeping on these rocks.  And according to the map, I would say the end of the canyon can’t be more than an hour’s ride east.”

“You want to go all the way to the end and back again before sunset?” A note of anger peppered Scede’s response.

“No, what I’m saying is that, according to the map, there’s a spot marked out that is relatively flat and comfortable looking.  Now the map may not have been right about distance, but it wasn’t wrong about landmarks.  We can camp out there for the night.”

“Alright, one more hour, and that’s it,” Scede said, sounding more annoyed than before. “It’s bad enough you’re insisting we stay in this canyon over night!”

As the three friends led their horses deeper into the ravine, bypassing boulders and scraping past shrubs, Jahrra silently ticked away the minutes in her head.  After half an hour they came around a bend in the gorge and noticed that the stream bed began to curve northward.

“Is it supposed to curve like this?” Scede asked with an agitated tone. “Did we miss a fork somewhere?”

“Calm down Scede, I’m sure it’s normal for canyons to curve from time to time.”  Gieaun was becoming bothered by Scede’s constant paranoid questions, but she shot Jahrra a nervous glance nonetheless.

“Let me look at the map again,” Jahrra breathed irritably.

Scede’s constant accusing questions kept forcing them to stop and look at the map, further holding them back from making good use of her hour.  Luckily, she had resorted to keeping the map close at hand.  Jahrra unfolded the parchment and quickly darted her eyes to the now familiar gash representing the gully.

“It looks like it’s supposed to curve to the northeast.  In fact, according to this map it . . .”

But Jahrra never had a chance to finish what she was about to say.  Phrym bolted forward under her, not enough to knock her off, but enough to jerk her backwards, forcing her to grab for the saddle horn and the reins.  Jahrra, clutching the reins with one hand and pressing the map against the saddle with another, looked up to see what the commotion was about.  Aimhe had darted about ten feet, carrying a whimpering Gieaun while Bhun was nervously back-stepping, tossing his head and baring his teeth.

“What just happened?” Jahrra gasped, pushing a loose strand of her hair out of her eyes while reining Phrym back around to face her friends.

“Oh nothing,” Scede said with fresh ire, “only my sister just almost got bitten by a snake!  Luckily it struck that stupid pillow she had to bring with her!”

Scede was furious.  Gieaun was white.  Jahrra looked over at the sunny patch of rock just behind them and noticed that a very large rattlesnake was now slowly sliding off into the brush.

Jahrra glanced at Gieaun and with a shaky voice asked, “Are you alright?  Did it get Aimhe?”

“No, I-I think it just got the pillow.  Good thing I went back for it, huh?”  Gieaun smiled nervously, trying to cover up the fear in her voice.

“Scede,” Jahrra began carefully, afraid to look her friend in the eye.

But Scede cut in before she could continue, “That’s it, we’re turning back.  I’m not risking mine or my sister’s life on some aimless hike!  We have come this far, we have come into the canyon.  And look, you even have that blue rock to show for it.  I’ve never seen it anywhere else.  That’ll be enough evidence to prove to Denaeh that you tried.  I doubt that she’d want any of us to die over this.  Now come on Jahrra, think sensibly, we don’t know what else is in here besides that snake!”

Scede had a genuine look of desperation in his eyes.  Jahrra knew he didn’t want to stay, but she also knew that he would never leave her here alone, even if she had deceived him.  Sighing, Jahrra realized it was time to give up.  She had let Denaeh down, but she couldn’t let her two best friends down a second time.  She had lied to them and they still followed her into this canyon.  She owed them.  Jahrra shut her eyes and tried not to think about what was best for her, but what was best for all of them.

She was just about to tell them both that they were right when all of a sudden, without warning, something very large sprung from the side of the ravine wall.  The beast attached itself to Aimhe, and as the mare did her best to kick it off in a panic, Gieaun went flying forward onto one of the large boulders resting on the canyon floor.  At the same time, Bhun reared and kicked, but Scede was able to keep his grasp and his balance.  Phrym also started, but Jahrra pulled his head around and got him under control, only they were now twenty yards further down the canyon.

Jahrra frantically grabbed for her bow and arrows, trying hard to focus on what she had learned from Yaraa and Viornen.  Breathe, relax! she thought furiously.  Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, blocking out the sounds of the screaming horses, the scraping of hooves against the loose stones, and the terrified shouts of her friends.  She turned to face where Aimhe had been attacked and saw the great creature clawing at the ground.  It was some sort of large cat, and it was now shredding the pillow that had been tied to the back of Aimhe’s saddle.

Jahrra nocked an arrow and took aim at the cat, focusing on her target despite the sweat that stung her eyes.  But instead of seeing the ruthless predator that had almost killed Gieaun, she saw a strange and beautiful animal.  The cat was a golden yellow color all over, except for its belly, which was a pale cream.  It was tall with long legs and a small head topped with large, tufted ears.  Two saber-like teeth protruded from its lower jaw, and a short, thick mane ran down the length of its back.  Longer hair grew on the backs of all four of its legs and its tail was short and almost as bushy as a squirrel’s.  Dark spots ran down its sides, following the line where the golden yellow fur turned to cream.  The final thing Jahrra noticed as the great cat finished off with the pillow and turned its attention elsewhere, was that it had a brush of fine hair on its chin.

Suddenly, the strange, muffled silence that had engulfed Jahrra finally faded away.  She heard Scede yelling, as loudly as he could, in a panicky voice, “Hey! Over here!  Hey! Hey!”

He was trying to distract the large cat and was failing miserably.  It appeared Gieaun had gotten the wind knocked out of her and she was writhing on the ground, unaware of the hungry gaze of her attacker.  Jahrra quickly re-aligned the arrow and took aim once more.  She shot and just barely missed the flank of the cat, but the arrow had been close enough to grab its attention.

The great beast darted its head in her direction and glared at her with wild, green eyes, yowling its irritation.  It slowly hunkered down, like a housecat getting ready to pounce.  Jahrra quickly strung another arrow and shakily took aim.  Alright Jahrra, don’t panic.  Calm your nerves or you might end up dead.  She looked the strange cat in the eye, imagining she saw a hint of fear residing there, and faltered.  She could see the ridge of its spine and she could count every one of its ribs.  A pang of pity struck her as she realized she didn’t want to shoot it.  She couldn’t help but feel sorry for it; the great cat was only trying to survive.  Who could blame it for wanting to eat?  She closed her eyes as the cat settled its hind legs.  She tried to imagine the beast tearing her to shreds, tearing Gieaun and Scede and Phrym to shreds, but, not knowing fully why, she withheld her deadly shot a moment longer.

Jahrra sat there atop her restless semequin, eyes shut tight and waiting for the impact.  She could hear Scede, sounding as far away as the ocean, yelling at her to shoot.  She could hear Aimhe whinnying in fear somewhere far ahead of her.  She could feel Phrym’s muscles tensing beneath her, and she could hear her conscience telling her to save a life, to save anyone’s life.

Just then, when Jahrra thought she could wait no longer, a great shadow overtook the pleasant yellow darkness of her inner mind and a terrible screech filled the air, a screech that sounded something like a cross between that of an eagle and that of a dragon.

Gieaun screamed, Scede yelled out in surprise, and the horses snorted and stamped in terror.  Phrym squealed and blew out a great breath, but he seemed to have nowhere to bolt.  A blast of wind tossed Jahrra’s long braid and the dull beat of a pair of great wings buffeted her ears.  She quickly opened her eyes, still aiming her arrow, but dropped her bow in shock as she caught sight of what stood before her.

A great animal, smaller than a dragon but larger than anything else she had ever seen in Oescienne, was looming no more than twenty feet away.  The cat had vanished, and she could see that Scede had made his way over to Gieaun and was scrambling, unsuccessfully, to get her back onto Aimhe, the whole time looking at the great creature in naked horror.  Jahrra tried to pull Phrym around to run, but they were trapped in the small corner of the canyon that began to curve northward.

At first Jahrra thought that this monster was a type of dragon Hroombra had once talked about.  Its wings were definitely like that of a dragon, and from the torso down the entire length of its body, it was scaled.  It also had a long reptilian tail, complete with a spiked end.  The wings, too, had very long daggers at their tips and the creature’s hind feet had five toes, each equipped with a razor sharp talon.  The fifth toe, when the beast stood on its hind legs, which it was doing at the moment, didn’t touch the ground and looked like it would be used mostly for gripping.  Gripping victims, Jahrra thought as her blood ran cold and her skin turned clammy.  The upper half of the creature, however, looked like it belonged to a giant bird of prey.  The tip of its mouth ended in a hard beak and the muzzle was bald and reddish in color, like that of a vulture’s.  Mottled gray and brown feathers covered its face and neck, and its front legs were yellow like an eagle’s.

The beast screamed once again, and Jahrra cowered as Phrym reared and kicked in fear.

Without thinking, she called out, “Peace!” in the common language and then, for some reason she couldn’t explain, repeated the word in kruelt, “Traana!”

She held up her right hand, exposing her palm to her attacker.  The creature stopped its intimidating stance, and slowly came down on all fours, leaving its wings fully spread.

The animal tilted its head slightly and looked at Jahrra with an intelligent, yellow eye.  As Jahrra sat frozen in fear, she could see that Scede had stopped trying to drag his sister onto Aimhe.  Gieaun had managed to stand up and was now hanging onto her horse with Scede standing right next to her.  Both were looking over at Jahrra, panic scrawled all over their white faces.

Suddenly, the creature spoke, revealing two rows of small, pointed teeth and a forked tongue.  It was a raspy, snake-like voice, but it was clear nonetheless: “Dodthe zellhe edth chormiehn epit edth Arksuhlen?” You understand the language of the Ancients?

Jahrra, to her surprise, knew the draggish words, responding as best she could, despite her nerves, “Kei-Kei istaa durrst tellhenin.  Yihroeh criteh edth krilei chormiehn?” I-I’m still learning.  Do you speak the common language?

“Yes, I do,” it, he, rasped, his rough voice formal and cool as he spoke the common tongue. “But it comforts me to know that the language of the Ancients has not died and is still being taught.  Who are you, young creature, and what are you?”

“I’m a N-Nesnan girl.  My name is Jahrra.  And those are my friends, Gieaun and Scede.  They are R-Resai,” Jahrra answered with a shaking voice, pointing over to Gieaun and Scede.  She took a calming breath, extremely relieved that she could communicate with this animal.

“Why are you here?” asked the beast after looking over at Gieaun and Scede.

“I’ve come to collect something for a friend of mine,” Jahrra swallowed, “Archedenaeh, the Mystic.”

A spark crackled behind the creature’s eyes, but he continued his questioning undeterred, “What is it that you seek?”

“Apples.  Apples from the tree at the end of this canyon.”

The creature furrowed what Jahrra could only assume was his brow.

“Most do not enter this canyon.  Most fear what lies at the end,” he hissed quietly, sending goose bumps creeping up Jahrra’s arms.  “People believe the legends of the horrible monster lurking here, and they come in droves to slay it.  I usually kill those men.  They pose a threat to me and all that is kept here, both living and not.  I know Archedenaeh well.  She was here not a week ago, if she wanted apples, she would have collected them then.  Why send a child?” The creature paused for a moment, and then continued on, “So I ask myself, what shall I do with you?  You claim not to be hunters, but you wish to leave with a gift.  Should I treat you as the others, or do you have a reason for me not to?”

Jahrra quavered at the creature’s suggestion, and Phrym shivered in response to her mood.  The blood had drained from her face when the dragon-beast mentioned Denaeh’s recent visit.  Why did she lie to me? Jahrra wondered, genuinely questioning the Mystic’s motives for the first time since she’d met her.  She shook her head and looked over at her friends who were now both standing rigid with fright.

Finally, with as much bravado as she could muster, she answered the creature’s question, “Do what you will with me.  It was my idea to come here, not theirs.  They tried to talk me out of it, but I gave them no choice but to follow me.  Let them go, please.”

Jahrra tried to straighten up in the saddle in a brave sort of fashion, but she felt as though her very bones were melting.

The dragon-beast smiled and then replied quite smoothly for a voice that sounded remarkably like grating sandpaper, “A very bold answer, and a very selfless offering.”

The monster fluffed his feathers in a rather self-satisfied way.  “Do not worry young creature,” he continued nonchalantly, “I wish not to kill you or your companions.  I watched you when that sehnna had you cornered.  You refused to shoot, even after it attacked your friends and even when it was about to turn on you.  You saw that it was starving and you felt that it too was only trying to survive.  That is why you delayed your deadly shot.  I only interrupted when I knew you could hold off no longer.  This way, no one dies.”

Jahrra looked very relieved and allowed herself to exhale in what seemed like the first time in several minutes.  She heard Gieaun and Scede let out their own sighs of relief, despite the distance between them.

“Come now, I shall lead you to your Apple Tree.”

The creature turned to let Jahrra return to her friends.  The other two children silently climbed atop Bhun and Aimhe, allowing Jahrra to go first.  They both shot her a nervous glance as she led Phrym past them, then took their place behind her as the dragon-beast led them further down the canyon.

For some reason, Jahrra didn’t feel frightened any longer.  Instead she felt perplexed, and even a little angry.  Denaeh had lied to her; she had talked her into coming to Ehnnit Canyon when she could have collected the apples herself.  But why?  Why would Denaeh put her in such danger?  Jahrra wasn’t sure, but she had a feeling that perhaps the Mystic was trying to tell, or show, her something, something the woman couldn’t tell her herself.  Jahrra put aside her thoughts for later (they only made her head ache) and focused on the great beast that led them down the canyon.

With his great membranous wings folded, the strange creature didn’t seem nearly as huge as he had first appeared, and although he walked rather awkwardly over the rock-littered canyon floor, he managed well enough.

A few minutes further up the canyon, it dawned upon Jahrra that their leader must have a name.  “I’m sorry,” she blurted, breaking the uneasy silence, “but what should we call you?”

“I am called Cahrume,” he answered, “and I am what the common folk call a draffyd.”

The draffyd continued his awkward gate, his head roving back and forth, scanning the landscape for more sehnnas.  Jahrra relaxed a little and eased back in the saddle.  Cahrume the draffyd.  She vaguely remembered Hroombra teaching her about them once, years ago, and now that she scrutinized him in the golden afternoon light, she could see that he matched the old dragon’s description of the mythical animals.  Jahrra smiled, I can’t wait to see what we find next!

After awhile, she spoke up again, “Um, Cahrume?  Where exactly is it that we are going?”

The party had been walking now for nearly fifteen minutes and Jahrra was beginning to wonder if this strange journey would never end.  Cahrume seemed to know the trails that ran just above the canyon floor and had so far maneuvered them quite well, considering how narrow they were.  The group had been forced into a single file line, Cahrume followed by Jahrra atop Phrym, Gieaun on Aimhe, and finally Scede riding Bhun, bringing up the rear.

The draffyd waited a long time before answering Jahrra’s question, and she feared that she had irritated him.  When he finally did answer, he did so in a patient but gruff tone, “We are going to the very end of this canyon, where the Sacred Apple Tree grows.”  He stopped and looked around at Jahrra with his eagle eyes. “The tree from which you are to retrieve Denaeh’s apples.”

Then he revealed a very small smile.  At least that is what Jahrra thought it looked like.  She imagined such a creature either didn't, or couldn’t, smile that often.

“Do not fear, it is not very much farther,” he continued.  “We will be there before dark, and then you can make your camp for the night.”

To avoid further interruptions, Cahrume added, “I am sure you all have many questions about what you have seen in this canyon today, from the bizarre stone entrance to the sehnna that surprised you.  Have no fear; I’ll answer your questions later.  Conversation is very sparse out here and it would be nice to hear news from the outside world as well.”

Jahrra smiled at Cahrume’s comment, for she did have many questions to ask; she just hoped they would reach their destination soon.  She didn’t know how much longer they hiked, but eventually the sound of trickling water dominated the relative silence.  The air surrounding them had slowly become cooler, and Jahrra shivered with delight.  She knew that the temperature change had less to do with the setting sun and more to do with the sudden presence of water somewhere nearby.  She leaned over the side of Phrym and looked down at the rocky channel only a few feet below the trail.  A small trickle of a stream was flowing down the dry creek bed, leaving a dark trail of moisture in its wake.

Jahrra tried to look past Cahrume, but the canyon took another sharp turn to the north and she couldn’t see where the sudden tributary was coming from.  Not until the group was around the next bend did Jahrra spot its source.  Up ahead, the ravine widened dramatically and came to an abrupt end.  A very tall but narrow waterfall cascaded like liquid silver down a vertical cliff that protruded away from the canyon wall.  The cliff was about twenty to thirty feet high and was decorated with ferns and mosses clinging to the water-soaked rock, creating a green band that bordered the fall.  Jahrra pulled Phrym to a stop and admired the beautiful waterfall, shuddering from a sudden chill.  She looked around and saw that the sun was now only touching the very top sliver of the fall, leaving the canyon painted in a cool, blue shadow.

A few hundred feet ahead of the party there lay a bare patch of sand cutting well into both sides of the canyon floor.  The waterfall splashed boldly onto the rocky bottom bellow, its water gathering into a large pool rimmed with small boulders.  The precious liquid then slid past the rocks bedecking the creek bed and continued down the gully towards the Oorn Plain.

Cahrume stepped onto the soft, damp sand of the beach.  His reptilian feet sunk a few inches into the soil as he turned to face the riders filing in behind him.  “This is Ttuhrmet Falls, and the end of Ehnnit Canyon.  Or should I say, this is the beginning.  You can camp here for the night.  It is quite safe, as long as you keep a fire burning.  I will be perched above you.” He nodded his harpy-like head toward the top of the canyon where a great throng of trees stood, flaring green-gold in the late afternoon light.  “I will warn you if I sense any danger.  But for now, we can enjoy the rest of the day in peace.”

Cahrume whipped his great tail around and settled upon the soft sand like a great, lean lion and watched alertly as the three children began to make camp.  Scede glanced at Jahrra with veiled eyes, conveying to her that he wasn’t all that happy with their current situation.  Gieaun merely went about the business of unpacking Aimhe, moving mechanically as if in a trance.  Neither of her friends had spoken since they’d encountered the draffyd.  Jahrra hoped this was because they were too frightened they might annoy the great creature and not because they were angry with her again.  They’ll have to say something eventually, she thought, both wishing for that moment and dreading it.  She took a deep breath and searched for a way to break the uncomfortable silence.

“Where does the water come from?” she asked aloud, looking up at the top of the fall as she stepped down from Phrym.

Once again the draffyd waited a long time before answering, “The fall was once fed by a spring that flowed freely long, long ago.  Now most of the water from that spring is dried up.  The water you see today is the last remnants of the snow melt from the eastern mountains.”

Cahrume looked down the twilight-painted canyon with mournful eyes. “It was very different then, in that time now past,” he almost whispered, “when we creatures of myth had nothing to fear.”

Jahrra looked up at the great beast in sympathetic scrutiny.  This was not the first time she’d seen someone gazing off into the distance with such a deep and woeful look, as if remembering some great sorrow that had never completely worn off.  It made her think of all the ancient fairy tales she knew by heart, and she was starting to wonder if all of these ‘Stories of Old’ held more truth then she had previously thought.  Were those stories more than just imaginary tales of brave kings and fierce dragons and the triumph of good over evil?  Everyone she knew who seemed nearly as old as Ethoes herself (Hroombra, Yaraa, Viornen, Denaeh, and now this new acquaintance, Cahrume), all of them seemed to be distracted of late by something far away.  It was something that happened before this time, at least, that much Jahrra could fathom.  She was beginning to realize that perhaps, just perhaps, Hroombra’s and Denaeh’s tales had really taken place in the past, and that her elders may have even played some part in them.

Jahrra watched Cahrume silently, his gaze remaining distant.  He looked so sad, so old in the fading light, as if he might disappear before her very eyes like some phantasm left to haunt this place.  She closed her own eyes and pictured those that she knew, those who often became disconnected with this world as the draffyd was becoming disconnected now.

The scene she recalled was one of Hroombra sitting at his great desk.  He was looking over some ancient scrolls, crisp, yellowing parchment stained black with lines and lines of krueltish characters.  Jahrra had been studying near the fire, too wrapped up in her own world to notice her worrisome mentor.  When she’d finally bothered to look up, frustrated over a particularly hard problem, she had meant to pester him for help.  Just before her question rolled off her tongue, however, she noticed that the great Korli dragon had wandered from his studies.  His usual calm composure had been overtaken by a wearied, worn appearance.  His eyes, like fathomless depths, rested themselves upon the western ocean.  He looked like a weathered statue that might belong inside the Castle Ruin.  Jahrra had quickly forgotten her irritation and moved on to a different question.

Hroombra wasn’t the only one she had seen in this state, however.  During many of her visits to the Belloughs, Jahrra often noticed Denaeh falling victim to some indiscernible gloom, staring off into the deep of the swamp as if anticipating the arrival of a great horror she’d been expecting for years.  When the Mystic did this she didn’t necessarily look fearful, but mournful and sorry about something.

Even Jaax seemed concerned at times.  That is, when he was around long enough for her to take notice.  Jahrra’s temper flared at the sudden thought of the arrogant young Tanaan dragon.  It had been a long time since he’d graced Oescienne with his presence, but she didn’t regret it for one moment.  Life was so much more relaxing without him standing over her shoulder and breathing down her neck about one thing or another.  But she couldn’t help recalling the many times he disconnected himself with either her or Hroombra, only to gaze off into the distance thinking about Ethoes knows what.

Jahrra sighed, brushing away a hungry mosquito as she returned her thoughts to the present.  She couldn’t tell if her elders’ strange behavior had been going on for years, or if she had just begun to perceive it now that she was getting older.  She sometimes felt the way they behaved: that a sense of helpless dread was slowly taking over her.  She would shake it off and attribute it to the fact that she was simply picking up on the dragons’ and Mystic’s behavior.  Yet, she couldn’t deny that something wasn’t quite right in her world of late, like the feeling one gets before the arrival of a storm or the slow, gradual restlessness one feels between seasons.

“Do you see that Tree growing up there young Nesnan?”

Jahrra’s thoughts slipped from her mind at the sound of that harsh voice.  She turned her head back around to face Cahrume’s penetrating eyes.  She blinked dazedly and looked up to where he was now gazing.  Above the waterfall she could see the massive, black branches of a tree, twining and stretching over the cliff’s edge, reaching for the darkening sky.  It was much bigger and looked ages older than the many oaks and laurels that stood next to it.

“Yes, it looks enormous.  What kind is it?”

“That,” Cahrume said, again attempting his small smile, “is the Sacred Apple Tree of Ethoes, the first apple tree she ever created.  It is the reason why I am in this canyon.  I am here to watch over it, to make sure no harm comes to it.”

Jahrra absent-mindedly reached for the armlet secured snuggly to her wrist.  She had grown so used to it on her arm that she often forgot about it, but not today.  Yaraa had told her that the beads were carved from the wood of Ethoes’ sacred trees.  Could one of its beads have come from the tree up above?  And how was it connected to the runes in the tunnel?

Cahrume smiled proudly, this time his grin more apparent and surprisingly warm.  “And,” he continued, “the tree that bears the fruit that Denaeh sent you for.  But my guess is she sent you here for another reason, and I ask myself again, and you for that matter, why?  Why would she send three young ones on such a dangerous venture to an unknown place, knowing who I am and what I might do to you three?”

Cahrume now turned around and moved towards Jahrra.  Once he was only a few feet from her, he looked her straight in the eye and asked much more seriously, “Why did she want you to come to this canyon?”

The nearby campfire popped and several golden sparks escaped and fizzled in the cool sand.  The red-orange flames danced beside each other in the draffyd’s eyes and Jahrra took a tiny step back.  She felt very intimidated by Cahrume’s presence, but she wasn’t afraid.  She knew he would do her no harm.

“I have been asking myself the same thing, ever since I realized how dangerous the canyon is, and especially since I learned that she could’ve picked the apples herself.  Perhaps,” Jahrra added cautiously, swallowing back an uncomfortable knot in her throat, “perhaps it has something to do with the writing and the symbols that are etched in the archway at the foot of the canyon?”  She paused and took a steadying breath. “My guardian, the Korli dragon Hroombramantu, has shown me some symbols in books and manuscripts.  But I’ve never seen anything like the runes on the archway before.”

Jahrra looked up at Cahrume, but his gaze was suspicious.  The sound of blankets being shaken out and pans being stacked interrupted the temporary silence.  She had completely forgotten about her friends and now she looked over at them, barely able to make out their faces in the encroaching darkness.  Scede stood up and looked warily at Jahrra.  She nodded, letting him know she was all right talking to Cahrume alone.

“Perhaps Denaeh wanted you to know who came through this canyon long ago.  Maybe she wanted you to know its story,” Cahrume answered after awhile.  “Do you know the history of Ehnnit Canyon child?”

Jahrra shook her head.

“I know very little myself.  Few truly know the history of this place, for many have taken means to hide the truth in one way or another.”

Jahrra looked Cahrume in the eye, again thinking about the way she had been feeling about dreadful things happening.  Suddenly it felt as if this had something to do with it.

“I will tell you these stories, after you and your friends get your camp set up and get a bigger fire going.  This way I will have a full audience, receiving stories the way they were meant to be received, over a bonfire.  In the mean time, I will see if I can find you three some food.”

The great beast tilted his head skyward, then spread his immense wings and took flight, rising silently into the darkness.  Jahrra walked over and joined Scede and Gieaun who were now making good progress on their campsite.  She clutched her arms to her sides and as she looked up at the darkening sky.  She noticed that the stars, tiny pinpricks of light pushing their way through the thin veil of deep blue, were beginning to emerge for the night.  Jahrra smiled, feeling comforted by their continual endurance.  No matter how bad things got, those stars were always there, burning through the darkness like beacons of hope.

The three children spent the next several minutes quietly collecting what firewood they could find.  The wide beach of the canyon was littered with branches that had been bleached and dried by the sun.  Jahrra threw a few logs into the small blaze and dropped the rest of the kindling beside the fire pit, listening to the sticks clatter together like old bones.  She took a deep breath to calm her weary nerves and tired brain, picking up the wild aroma of the canyon as her lungs expanded.  The strong spice of the chaparral brush blended with the smoke of the fire, creating a scent that made her eyes water slightly.  The mournful cry of a dove drifted through the night and a soft breeze brushed against her sun-baked skin.  Jahrra took one more deep breath and sunk to the ground next to Gieaun.

“So, are you two ever going to talk to me again?” she asked quietly, burying her fingers into the dry sand of the canyon floor.

Gieaun looked over at her, her eyes reflecting the fire.  Scede picked up a piece of wood and added it to the flames.

“I’m still a little dazed by it all,” Gieaun admitted, her voice sounding dry as parchment.

“Me too,” Scede added as he silently settled down next to them. “I’ll feel better once I’ve eaten, I think.”

By the time Cahrume returned from his hunting trip, the sky had turned a deep, indigo blue with just a tinge of turquoise cresting the western horizon.  The great draffyd touched down lightly, his great wings stirring up dry sand and leaves into a silent whirlwind.  He carried what looked like three medium-sized game birds in his mouth.

“I hope these will suit your tastes young ones,” he said after dropping them beside the fire, “they are very common around here and I feel less guilty taking the plentiful prey.”

Jahrra, Gieaun and Scede nodded quietly in acceptance.  They had spent the day eating dried meat, cheese, bread, and wild seeds and fruits, so the fresh birds looked rather appetizing.  After the fire had died down to flickering flames and glowing coals, and once the birds were roasting on a spit, sending a tantalizing aroma drifting through the air as their skin browned and crackled, Cahrume began the tale he had promised them.

“Now, the story of this canyon begins long ago, long before the Tanaan race of humans ruled the province of Oescienne and long before the last human prince led his people to their doom.  The truth of this tale has been lost in time, and very few living souls can remember it.  All that remains is that which is now etched upon the walls of the stone tunnel at the entrance to this very canyon.  It tells of a saga of the past, and it reveals a glimpse of what is to come.”

The draffyd sat back, taking on a regal posture, and gazed wisely down upon the attentive children.  Jahrra looked over at her two friends, both finally appearing relaxed, their faces glowing orange from the hot coals of the fire.

Cahrume continued after his short pause, “Long, long ago, even before the Tanaan tribe of humans traveled over the eastern mountains to settle in this great province, Oescienne was unknown to all but Ethoes herself.  Everyone knows the story of how Ethoes, Mother of All, offered her own body to become the world we now know, creating and cherishing all that exists.

“She and Haelionn, the great sun god, gave rise to many children, all gods and goddesses to look after their mother’s creation and to be respected by those living on the earth.  Their final son, Ciarrohn, however, never appreciated his parents nor his brothers and sisters.  He turned sinister and attacked the earth, his own mother.  He turned the elves against her and many other races joined them in their attack on the land itself.  He proclaimed himself the one and only god, and that only his chosen should live a life of prosperity, power and wealth.

“Many years after the rise of the god Ciarrohn, and before the humans were even created, the sons and daughters of Ethoes, the good dragons and the good elves and all the other good races of the world, rose up against Ciarrohn and somehow defeated him, casting his body upon the western coast.  The ancient people believed, and many still do, that the Elornn and Thorbet ranges make up his skeleton, and that the land west of that, much of southern Oescienne, is a dreaded land.  The land where the Demon fell; the land that no one dares set foot upon.

“Others claim that Oescienne became a place of sanctuary, for if anyone could pass through the mountains they would be safe, safe from a world now thrown into turmoil.  Yes, the terrible god had been defeated, but those still hungry for power and wealth were hatching their own plots to rule the world.”

The fire leaped and flared suddenly when a runnel of grease from one of the birds dripped down upon it.  Jahrra, Gieaun and Scede blinked at the spot that still sizzled and bubbled, returning their gazes to the draffyd only after he continued with his tale.

“Years upon years passed,” he said, “and peace returned to the world when Ethoes purged the land of evil and created the human races.  The peace lasted for some time, but the great malevolence could not be completely defeated.  Many of Ciarrohn’s followers lived on, passing their hatred down from generation to generation.  The wicked god’s supporters increased and moved throughout the land, but there was one place where they feared to go.  The western mountains, you see, the very remains of Ciarrohn himself, frightened away those who were once loyal to him.  Many believe, still, that the mountains are corrupt, but the ancestors of the great Tanaan race of humans realized that they could use old superstitions to their advantage.

“Once a free and peaceful tribe in the east, the Tanaan now found their safe world torn apart by greed, hatred and terror, and their only choice was to move far away into the west.  A few hundred years before the Tanaan race became the Tanaan dragons, a large group braved the mountains and entered Oescienne.  Only half of them made it to this paradise alive, and it is said that the few that did make it here came down this very canyon, when it was still flowing with water.”

Cahrume paused and took a deep breath, the whispering fire, the play of water against stone, and the faint click-clicking of bats flying overhead the only sounds to disturb him and his small audience.

After a few moments, he continued, “You see, Ethoes herself led them here, or so they believed.  As they crossed the mountains in the late summer months, they had little food and no water.  But Ethoes pointed them in the direction of this canyon, and in the direction of her precious apple tree, heavy with fruit.  Normally, apple trees do not show their fruit until the autumn, but the people believed that Ethoes asked the tree to bear fruit earlier for the sake of her people.  Ever since, the tree’s fruit has ripened this time of year.

“Thus, the Tanaan people were saved by the early and abundant fruit and flowing water.  They named this canyon after their sovereign, King Ehnnit, and they gave thanks to Ethoes and the gods and goddesses of the earth and sky.  They found the entrance very much like it is today, later carving the tunnel and an archway to mark it as a sacred place.  They etched their story into the walls of the tunnel, adding more as the years went by.

“The story of the return of Ciarrohn and the rise of the Crimson King is written there as well, along with the account of the Great Tanaan king and the creation of the Tanaan Kruel of dragons.  It is written in the original language of the Tanaan, before they were taught kruelt, and it is said that no one alive knows the language any longer except for the last Tanaan prince, if he truly still lives in his dragon form.  It is rumored that he returned to this very canyon after escaping the Crimson King to record his own tragic story, signing it with his true name.  But, of course, it is only a rumor, one that has been passed down through time.  That is all I can tell you from my own knowledge.  I wish I knew more, but unfortunately, the language in the tunnel is a dead one.  No one can translate it now, not even I.”

Cahrume gazed at the three sitting across from him on the other side of the fire, a look of stoic satisfaction written on his sharp-featured face.

Jahrra remained quiet, her mind working furiously despite her own stony composure.  If only the words in the tunnel were krueltish!  At least I could write them down and translate them later.  How I would like to know the name of the last Tanaan prince!

While Jahrra tried to think of a way to sneak back to the canyon entrance without her friends finding out, she heard Gieaun pressing Cahrume about small details of the story that he couldn’t possibly answer, such as: “What did humans look like?  Did they look a lot like elves?” and, “Were you with the Tanaan race when they arrived here?” and “How exactly was Ciarrohn defeated the first time?”  Cahrume patiently answered all of her questions until it was time for them to eat.

The excitement gradually died down, but only after everyone was fed and lazing in the soft firelight.  A chorus of crickets boldly began their evening song and the cry of a coyote sent shivers down Jahrra’s spine.  Despite the morose sound, Jahrra leaned back with ease and looked up at the stars.  Before she could get too comfortable however, she suddenly remembered a question she’d meant to ask Cahrume.  She quickly sat up, causing the crickets to stop dead in their melody.

“Cahrume, the blue-green rock found throughout the canyon, what’s it called?”

Cahrume lifted his head from his meal and looked at the girl in puzzlement.  After a few moments, he answered, “It is called saerpint, and it is found only in this place.  Beautiful, is it not?  You may take some with you if you wish.  You and your friends have proved to be true of heart, and you deserve something to remember your trip by.”

Cahrume curled his mouth, pleased to have peaceful visitors for once.  Jahrra grinned and settled back down, feeling slightly bashful for already possessing a piece of the extraordinary stone.

The low flames of the fire shrank down into brilliant coals and Jahrra, Gieaun and Scede got ready for bed.  Once they were all tucked under their blankets, Cahrume stood up and stretched his great wings. “I will sleep above the falls at the foot of the Great Apple Tree where I always perch.  If anything dangerous should approach, I will let you know. In the morning we will pay homage to the Great Tree and to Ethoes, and then I will show you to the road that only the wild beasts of the wilderness know.  It will take you home around the Southern Cohn Forest and through the Easterly Longuinn Hills.  It should be a much safer route than the one through the canyon, for the sehnnas do not wander past Ttuhrmet Falls.” The draffyd took a deep breath and continued, “Good night young ones, I shall see you in the morning.”

With a great beat of his wings, the dragon-beast lifted above the campsite, causing the tired coals to glow angrily one last time.  Jahrra and her friends quietly watched his dark shadow, barely distinguishable against the night sky, blend in with the black arms of the apple tree.

“I would say this day turned out quite well, considering how it started,” Jahrra said light-heartedly.

Both of her friends were silent long enough to allow the crickets another chance to begin their chorus once again.

“Don’t push your luck, Jahrra,” Scede added cautiously after several moments, “we still have to survive the night.”

Jahrra knew that her friend was only being half serious.  He’s still a little upset about everything that happened today, and I don’t blame him, Jahrra told herself, beginning to feel guilty once again.  She took one more deep breath, whispered, “Well, good night,” and turned over to fall fast asleep.

- Chapter Eight -

The Apple Tree

The twitter of a small bird woke Jahrra the next morning, but she continued to lie still, forgetting everything that had happened the day before.  She imagined herself lying in her own bed back at the Castle Guard Ruin, listening to the happy rustlings of the animals feeding on the seeds of her garden.  She smiled to herself, eyes still shut, as she let the pleasant sound fill her groggy head.

As more movement and birdsong filled the air, Jahrra continued to doze with absolutely no intention of getting up anytime soon.  But the bright morning light filtering past her eyelids unexpectedly turned black, and something soft and warm touched her cheek.  Jahrra jumped awake, immediately realizing where she was now that her eyes were open.  Phrym, who had worked his way loose from the branch he’d been tethered to, faltered backwards in alarm.

“I’m sorry Phrym!”  The semequin looked very perturbed at his young master’s rejection, and Jahrra bashfully held out a hand to greet him.  “I forgot where we were.”

Scede and Gieaun slowly sat up, their eyes searching credulously for what had caused the commotion.

“What’s going on?”  Gieaun yawned.

“I just forgot we weren’t at home and I startled Phrym.  Nothing to worry about,” Jahrra answered, drawing Phrym’s head to her and patting his cheek.

“How could you forget where we were?” Scede asked, looking slightly dazed and bewildered as he removed grit from his eye with the heel of his hand.

Before Jahrra could answer her friend’s question, the morning air was churned by a pair of great wings.  Cahrume came to a shaky rest on the other side of the creek bed and shook himself like a wet dog.  “I hope you have not forgotten me, young Nesnan,” he rasped cheerfully.

“I very well remember everything now!” Jahrra retorted.  “I only forgot for a moment, until I woke up!”  She crossed her arms while she sat tangled in her bedroll and blanket, her hair looking like a perturbed tumbleweed.

Cahrume smiled even more broadly, and this time it actually looked like a true grin.  “Come now, you must eat and see the Apple Tree, and then you must be on your way.  The longer you stay here the more dangerous it will be for you to get out safely.”

Jahrra, Gieaun and Scede ate some of their bread and cheese as quickly as possible, then hurriedly dressed and packed up their belongings.  By the time the sun was just beginning to touch the very top of the canyon wall, Cahrume was leading them up a narrow and steep trail that climbed the north end of the gully.  The trail looked like it was frequented by wild game, and as they climbed, the riders and their horses were scraped and smacked by the thick brush growing on both sides.  Luckily, it was a short trail and ten minutes later they were all at the top of the canyon looking down.

Jahrra quietly admired the wide ravine.  In her opinion, it resembled a terra-cotta gash in the dry earth with hints of aqua blue spread throughout.  The beauty of the canyon couldn’t compare, however, to what Jahrra saw when she turned around.  There, where the small creek poured over the cliff’s side, stood a massive tree full of huge, ripe apples.  The bewildered girl slowly climbed down from Phrym and walked up to Cahrume, who was presently gazing dreamily up into the tree’s great branches.  He turned and looked down at Jahrra, and in his shining eyes she could see the respect and love he held for this tree.  Cahrume nodded, encouraging her to move closer.  Jahrra took a deep breath and cautiously approached the sacred Apple Tree of Ethoes, fearing that by just touching it she might bring down some horrible disease upon it.

The Apple’s gnarled roots coiled and tumbled and bore into the earth, as if they were clinging to the ground for dear life.  Its branches did the same, stretching their many twisted arms and fingers into the sky.  The bark was smooth and dark, and much of the roots and lower trunk was carpeted in a beautiful green moss covered in tiny lavender flowers shaped like stars.  The air was cool and silent, and all of the other trees and ferns surrounding the Apple seemed to be standing back in admiration and humility.

Jahrra wrinkled her nose at the lovely, tangy-sweet smell of ripe apples and cool freshness that hung all around her.  She tilted her head up toward the fruit-laden branches and breathed in the fragrant air.  The fruit itself was enormous, three times larger than any normal apple she had ever seen, and even more beautiful.  The apples were glossy green mottled with red and pink, and the leaves of the tree were a crisp green and gold.  Jahrra stared wide-eyed at Ethoes’ magnificent creation, following it from root to canopy, realizing that it was easily the largest tree she had ever seen.

“Is-is it alright for me to take the fruit?” Jahrra whispered to Cahrume.

“Only if you are pure of spirit and a true child of Ethoes,” Cahrume answered gently.

Jahrra approached the tree cautiously.  She wasn’t sure if she was truly pure of spirit or a true child of Ethoes, but she figured Cahrume would tell her if she wasn’t.  As Jahrra inched closer to the tree, she stretched out her arm and gently put her hand upon a root that was not covered in moss.  Instantly, she felt the passage of time, the coolness of rain, the warmth of the sun, and the love of many lives running through her body and coursing through her blood.  Her fingers seemed to fuse with the tree’s bark and a flashing heat, severe but not unpleasant, surged from her fingertips to the very marrow of her bones.  A roaring, suffocating sound similar to that of the roiling ocean clogged her ears.  Jahrra gasped, but her gasp was choked away as her eyes no longer saw the green, filtered light from above, but people, hundreds of people trudging through a snow-laden mountain pass.

Jahrra fell to her knees, at least it felt that way to her, but her palm remained attached to the tree, the strange burning sensation strongest now on one tiny spot on her wrist.  She took a deep breath, but instead of inhaling apple scent she inhaled the lung-freezing bitterness of winter.  The people continued on, and the scene shifted.  They came through the mountains and found themselves looking down on a beautiful land, a land full of rolling hills and green meadows, forests and rivers.  They found a small canyon, heavy with the waters of snow melt and vibrant with life.  She could see an apple tree, full of fruit, and a celebration that felt more triumphant and joyful than anything she had ever felt in her life.

A shiver ran through Jahrra and the scene changed again.  This time she was standing at the base of Ehnnit Canyon, looking up, looking at the entry way, but something was different, something felt out of place.  She could see figures working at something in the archway, and a dragon, no, the shadow of a dragon, a shadow that looked like a dragon?  It was so hard to tell, the scene was fading, like a reflection in a pool erased by a single pebble, the ripples washing everything away.

The light was returning to normal, the rushing in her ears fading away.  A wash of happiness flashed through her senses and her palm came loose from the tree, tingling and feeling icy and hot at the same time.  Jahrra took a breath, inhaling the clean air as if she’d been underwater for the past several minutes.  She crumpled to the ground and felt the cool, damp moss press against her flushed face.

“Jahrra!” called a familiar voice.

“Jahrra?!”  That one was Scede.

Jahrra blinked away the strange residue of the visions she’d seen and lifted her head carefully.  Funny, she was sure she’d have a headache after all that.  She pushed up her weight with one arm and leaned woozily against a thick tree root.  Although she seemed to have returned to her senses, some of the strange sensation lingered up her left arm.  Jahrra reluctantly lifted her hand, only guessing at what she might find there.  One bead in her tree charm bracelet felt warm, its odd rune glowing red, as if there were a tiny light shining through the marks from the heart of the wood.  So you must be the wood taken from the Sacred Apple . . . she decided with wonder.  The glow faded and then disappeared, but Jahrra could still feel a small trace of something, magic most likely, lingering in the tiny piece of wood.

She turned and looked at Cahrume, confusion and fear surfacing on her face.  What was that?  But what she saw in the draffyd’s eyes didn’t comfort her; it frightened her even more.  There was a revelation there, but it was so clouded with emotion that there was no way for her to interpret it.

“You can speak with the Trees,” the draffyd hissed harshly, almost fearfully.

Jahrra sat stark still, not knowing what to do or say.  She looked past Cahrume, hoping to get some reassurance from Gieaun and Scede, but they had the same look of bewilderment written across their own faces.

“What do you mean?” Jahrra asked anxiously.  “How do you know I can speak with trees?”

“It means,” Cahrume began, “that you have a gift that is granted to only a very few.  It is a true sign of one loyal to Ethoes who can speak with the Trees.  Many have claimed they can, few have proven so.  You see, the Sacred Trees of Ethoes hold deep, ancient secrets, secrets that contain power that could change the world.”  He paused dramatically, took a settling breath and then said, “The Goddess has blessed you.  How long have you had this gift?”

Jahrra didn’t know what to say.  She had always known she had a way with plants, and even Yaraa and Viornen had told her she was a child of nature, but she had no idea that she could actually communicate with them.  Maybe they knew all along; maybe that is why they decided to give her the armlet.

“I have a garden at home, and it always seems to do well,” she offered weakly after the momentary quiet.  “And when I’m among the trees, I often feel different, at ease and at peace.”

Jahrra dropped her eyes to the ground, the same way she had done when she’d first met Yaraa and Viornen.  Her elvin trainers were magical, and she knew that some way, somehow, Cahrume was magical too.

“I should think, then,” Cahrume spoke softly, breaking the uncomfortable silence, “that you should have no problem taking fruit from these branches.  This hallowed Tree is gladdened by your presence.”

He smiled and Jahrra looked back at the Apple Tree.  It truly was a majestic being.  A being?  The sudden thought and realization caught her off guard.  Jahrra suddenly felt like the trees were no longer just giant plants, but individuals with an essence equal to her own.  She felt that this tree had a coursing soul and spirit and a life force just as significant as any other creature’s.

It now made sense to her, the sacredness of trees.  This is why Hroombra and her father had insisted she treat them with respect.  Their lives spanned centuries, experiencing the changing of seasons and the erosion of time.  They gave so much to the world around them and they asked for nothing in return.  Jahrra smiled softly and sighed, wondering why she hadn’t realized all of this before.

For the next hour or so, Gieaun, Scede and Jahrra climbed into the heavy arms of the great Apple Tree and collected as many apples as they could fit into their saddlebags.  They even paused for an hour to enjoy some of the fruit high atop the interlacing boughs that seemed to stretch on forever.  They sprawled themselves out on thick limbs, as big around as a sea serpent and covered in the same soft, thick moss that covered the roots below.  While Jahrra munched on the sweet, tangy apples, she couldn’t help but sense the tree’s contentment tingling over her skin, especially her hand.  It warmed her heart thinking that this ancient being of the earth was happy to receive her company, even if all this talk about speaking with trees turned out to be a sham in the end.

Jahrra took another crisp bite of the apple she was eating.  She was surprised at their flavor; they were unlike any fruit she had ever tasted, even the rare apples her parents once grew.  From the first bite to the last, Jahrra could have sworn her mind felt sharper, clearer; that all of her life’s questions and uncertainties were finally making sense.  I can do anything, understand anything! she thought with delight.  She wondered if Gieaun and Scede felt the same way, but didn’t bother to ask.  She had too many important things to think about.  After some time, the fruits’ effects wore off and the three friends climbed back down from the tree, their arms laden with apples for Denaeh.

While they got ready to leave for home, Jahrra found that she was reluctant to part with the great tree.  It felt like she was about to say goodbye to a dear friend she wouldn’t be seeing again for a very long time.  Cahrume reassured Jahrra that she needn’t worry.  “Nothing shall harm this sacred one, I promise you that,” the draffyd avowed with a wry grin.

Jahrra walked away halfheartedly, the colors of her surroundings once again fading away as she pulled her fingers from the smooth, cool bark.  The Apple Tree’s sadness stung like an insect bite the moment Jahrra parted with it.  She stood in the shade of the great canopy for a few moments longer, soaking in the Tree’s unique magic before collecting Phrym and joining her friends who were already mounted.  She fed him one of the apples before climbing into the saddle and then turned him toward the game trail that headed northeast just behind Bhun and Aimhe.

“This trail continues north until it cuts through those two hills,” Cahrume instructed, jerking his head towards the two small peaks in the distance.  “Travel for about one mile down the narrow gulch ahead until the trail meets up with an old road known only to the folk and beasts of the wilds.  Take that road for about three or four miles, always heading west and always staying between the Cohn Forest and the hills.  You will then come to a crossroads that lies just to the east of a small lake.  Follow the eastern edge of the lake, and continue to stay on the edge of the forest, always stay on the edge of the forest.” Cahrume stressed this last statement and the three children nodded somberly.

Once he saw that they understood, he continued, “Another four miles north will bring you to a sign that reads Longuinn Valley.  Follow the road west and it will take you through the hills.  You will have to stop in the hills the first night, but be sure you are far from the Cohn Forest before you make camp.”

Cahrume looked the children sternly in the eye, and then added in a more serious tone, “The Cohn Forest is a formidable place, even more so than the Wreing Florenn.  If you keep heading west on that road, you will eventually end up in the southern part of the Longuinn Valley.  You should be able to find your way from there.  I would go with you, but I cannot leave this canyon.”

He finished in a regretful tone, but shook his great feathery head and bid them farewell. “Travel quickly.  It looks like we may be getting an early rain storm in a few days’ time.”

Jahrra looked up at the clear, cloudless sky and shook her head.  It didn’t look like a storm was coming, but she thought it best not to say anything.  The three children waved once more and set off on their horses, heading north along the trail the draffyd had instructed them to follow.

Cahrume shouted out after them, reminding them to stay beyond the perimeter of the woods and not to camp until they were far from its edge.  “The wild creatures know that you are here now.  I cannot stop all of them from taking advantage of easy prey,” the draffyd warned, “but if you keep to the trail and keep a steady pace, they should not harm you.”

“Thank you for everything Cahrume!” Jahrra called from Phrym’s back as she and her friends disappeared up the trail. “I do hope we meet you again!  I’ll give my regards to Denaeh.”

Cahrume nodded nobly, willing with all of his might that these three children might make it through the wilderness safely.  Very interesting, he thought as he watched them go, a bit of humor and admiration dancing in his eyes, very interesting indeed.

The draffyd thought about his unlikely meeting with the Nesnan girl and her two Resai companions.  In all his years guarding this canyon, he had spoken to no one, except for the Tanaan humans so very long ago.  Cahrume released a deep and long sigh, regretting their demise.  They had understood the honor and respect that Ethoes and all her creation deserved.

He shook his head and focused his thoughts on the three young visitors now disappearing between the hills.  The two Resai children were what they claimed to be, there was no doubt about that.  But the girl, could she really be a Nesnan?  The draffyd wasn’t entirely sure.  There was something different, something unusual, and something not quite complete about that one.  She was familiar, yet so strange and extraordinary, like the fading memory of a dream upon waking.  Archedenaeh knows something that I do not, he thought, I will just have to bide my time and wait.  All will reveal itself in the end.

Cahrume turned and walked over to the edge of the cliff where Ethoes’ Apple Tree stood, still glowing with the joy of receiving visitors, especially one visitor in particular.  The draffyd stretched out across its mossy feet like an attentive watchdog, his mind aflame with a thousand different thoughts and just as many worries.

***

The first leg of the children’s journey through the wilderness was slow going, but they remembered Cahrume’s advice and made sure not to stop, even when the thick brush tore Scede’s shirt.  “It’s alright,” he said, looking down at the rip in his sleeve, “it’s better than being torn to shreds by a sehnna’s claws.”

As they pushed their way through the layers of thick scrub in the hot sun, Jahrra, Gieaun and Scede passed the time by discussing the story Cahrume had told them.

“I wonder if the Tanaan prince is still out there somewhere,” Gieaun said aloud as soon as they reached the canyon between the hills.

“If he is, he’s sure to be far away from the mainland,” Jahrra postulated.  “He’s probably living on an island far in the western ocean where the Crimson King can’t find him.”

“I bet Master Hroombra knows where he is.  He knows everything,” Scede put in.

“Yeah, but he would never tell us,” Gieaun insisted.  “I wonder if Denaeh knows anything . . .” Gieaun would have said more, but she happened to catch a glimpse at her brother’s face and quickly clammed up.  She didn’t want to put him back in a foul mood.

After awhile, the three riders dissolved back into silence and let their surroundings entertain them.  Luckily, the small canyon Cahrume had told them about wasn’t very narrow, and they could easily lead their horses in a single file line with plenty of room on either side of them.  It was a cool and rocky gulch, but it wasn’t as beautiful as the aqua and apricot Ehnnit Canyon, and there wasn’t a trace of water.  Jahrra reached into her pocket and clutched the chunk of stone she had collected that morning.  She thought to herself that one day, when she had saved some money, she would have it set into a pendant or carved into a ring.

Scede and Gieaun reached the northern end of the ravine first, with Jahrra and Phrym trailing behind.  Jahrra had been distracted by the bead on her bracelet, for she was trying to decide if she could still feel the twinge of magic or if it was just her imagination.  She finally gave up, assuming it was her imagination after all.  When she finally caught up to her friends and realized that they had stopped, she couldn’t help but wonder why they were so very quiet.

“What is it?” she asked fearfully.  She glanced past them and caught a peek of what they had been looking at.  The trail ended where it met up with an old road, just as Cahrume had said.  What the draffyd hadn’t mentioned, however, was what they would find along the edge of the Cohn Forest.

Jahrra pulled Phrym up next to Bhun and then gasped once she finally spotted what had kept her friends so silent.  There, hanging on a tall wooden pole, was a decomposed carcass of some wild animal.  Jahrra had seen many dead animals before; it was nothing new to her eyes, but there was something about the way this animal hung, as if it had been tortured and left to die.  Jahrra peered down the road, first to the east and then to the west, and noted that every hundred feet or so there hung another carcass or skeleton on a pole similar to the one in front of them.

“What lives in this place?” Scede queried in a chilling tone.

“Maybe Cahrume forgot to tell us about something,” Jahrra murmured quietly.

All three of them shivered at the thought of some strange creature capturing them and eating them alive, leaving their remains on a pole just like these poor animals.

“Perhaps it-it’s just a war-warning, to stay out of the woods?” stammered Gieaun, gripping Aimhe’s reins tightly.

“Cahrume wouldn’t send us this way if it were dangerous,” Jahrra insisted.  “He said it was safe himself.”

“No,” corrected Scede in a morose tone, “he said it was safer than going down Ehnnit Canyon, not safe.”

Jahrra frowned.  She didn’t like the look of the path ahead of them.  The forest backed right up against the steep hills with only the old road between them.

“I think the best way to go about this situation is to get past these woods as fast as we can. Even the trees look unpleasant,” she finally said, eyeing the forest with suspicion.

So Jahrra, Gieaun and Scede turned their hesitant horses to the left and began traveling along the dusty road as quickly as they dared.  The time ticked by slowly, and every now and then a frightened bird or a creaking branch spooked Phrym, Aimhe and Bhun.  The horses felt a tense sensation of fear surrounding this place, just as their riders did.  Finally, after what seemed like ages, the three friends spotted the lake in the distance, glittering like a welcoming beacon.

“We need to get away from this forest!” Gieaun pleaded, and they continued on without resting or even looking out across the placid lake.

Jahrra had never felt so uneasy before, not even when she entered the Black Swamp for the first time.  She had always felt calm around trees, and just a few hours ago she’d learned that she was more connected to them then she had thought.  Something about these trees, however, made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.  She felt as if they were watching her, as if they had invisible eyes that bore into her soul.  Phrym shivered, reflecting his master’s mood, and Jahrra clicked him on nervously.

The children trudged on and the forest continued to watch, but it wasn’t the trees that held the three riders in their sight, it was something else.  Some wild thing eyed the trio closely, scarcely breathing in case the young ones noticed they were being followed.

The spy had been sent here from far away, sent by another, one capable of great evil.  A rumor had been brewing all over the land, a rumor about a prophecy from long ago.  The report traveled quietly and slowly, spreading like a sluggish disease, but it had reached the far corners of Ethoes, even into the far northeast where an immeasurable danger lay sleeping.  This was why the foreigner was here; to see if there was truth behind this ancient prophecy and all of the rumors surrounding it.

The creature blinked and refocused its attention on the three children it had been following for over an hour.  The dark onlooker grinned maliciously as it recognized one child in particular.  Not the two Resai, obviously siblings and no doubt of elvish blood, but the other girl had very few elfin traits, if she had any at all.  She was the tallest of the three, with golden hair and grey-blue eyes, yet this wasn’t the first time the creature had gazed upon this particular child.  For quite some time now it had stalked her, listening for any clues that might give her away as the chosen one.  Yes, the promised one, the creature thought to itself bitterly, that is why I’m here, to find the promised one that so many have begun talking about once again.  But could she really be human, the stranger mused, and not Nesnan as that old dragon claims?

Yes, the dragon and the girl had spoken many times and the foreigner had heard them, but that old Korli lizard had never told the girl, or anyone else for that matter, that she was human.  But he would keep the truth from her, for her own safety. Its lip twisted in thought. And why would an old dragon be so concerned about a Nesnan child in the first place?

The creature spat, curling its lips in disgust.  It hated Nesnans, hated all beings of elvish descent for that matter.  But here it was, thousands upon thousands of miles away from home, following a girl around like a starved flea, waiting for the right time to bite.  No, a dragon shouldn’t be concerned with a Nesnan child.  Unless . . . unless she was really a human.

Yet, there was still so much doubt . . .  Nesnans had enough human blood in them to deceive anyone who had never seen a true human before, and this particular foreigner had been born after the fall of the Tanaan.  The only way to be sure was to wait for the dragon to say something or for the girl herself to claim she was human.  Until that moment, the creature would continue to watch from a distance and continue to be silent, waiting until it could make its move.  Slowly and quietly, the spy crept back into the silent woods, and as it did so, the horses stopped dead and looked straight into the trees, their chests rumbling with abject alarm.

“What is it?” Scede asked rather frantically, tensing up to match Bhun’s attitude.

“The horses must have smelled or heard something,” Jahrra whispered harshly, her eyes wide with fear.  “Let’s just keep moving.  The sooner we get away from here the better.”

They urged their horses into a faster pace, and after several nervous minutes, they finally reached the trail that led through the hills and into the Longuinn Valley.

“Oh, finally!”  Gieaun breathed, looking truly relieved for the first time the entire day. “C’mon, let’s not stop . . .”

But she was cut off when she noticed Jahrra staring wide-eyed into the forest.  Both Gieaun and Scede followed her gaze and suddenly caught sight of what she had seen.  Just beyond the edge of the Cohn Forest there stood a unicorn, a real live unicorn.  This rare sight quickly brought Jahrra’s memory rushing back to the day she had found the unicorns in the Wreing Florenn, and she couldn’t help but stare, her body rigid with excitement.  This one was just as beautiful as the others and it looked like a mare, coppery red in color.  The lovely creature lifted her graceful head and noticed the three riders and their horses standing stark still, gazing at her in mesmerized wonder.

“Wow!!!!” Gieaun whispered breathlessly.

Scede just gawked, not believing what he was seeing.

Jahrra swallowed hard, her thoughts lost among her disbelief.  She felt Phrym tense below her, knowing he would want to move towards this other animal, this creature whose blood called out to his.  And Jahrra would have let him, despite the fact that approaching the magical animal would mean crossing the macabre barrier that surrounded the Cohn Forest.

Phrym moved to step forward, but every one of his muscles tensed and a bone-chilling fear gripped Jahrra’s stomach as a baleful howling filled the air.  The unicorn stiffened only for a moment, then took off deeper into the forest as several horrifying creatures broke through the undergrowth, their evil intent obvious.

The monsters, visions from Jahrra’s worst nightmare, barreled down on the graceful animal and although the unicorn disappeared over a small rise in the land before she could witness its demise, Jahrra had no doubt that the demonic wolves had captured it.  A strangled whinny, sounding like a glass chime breaking upon a stone floor, was quickly overshadowed by snarls and growls.  Jahrra felt the blood drain from her face.

A few of the beasts, those in the back of the pack, were forced away from the kill.  Having nothing better to do, they lifted their heads, scenting the wind, and immediately snapped their attention on Jahrra and her friends.  They had no eyes, that was the first thing Jahrra noticed, or at least it seemed so.  They were almost as big as the unicorn they had just killed and along their back ran a ridge of protruding bones.  Their faces were grotesque; a mixture of skull and rotting skin, and their teeth were like those of a bear.

“Run!” Jahrra hissed, barely above a whisper.

The corpse-like wolves hunkered down and started to lope swiftly in her direction, looking like the shadows of demons moving to emerge from the forest.

“RUN!” Jahrra repeated to her fear-stricken friends as she simultaneously kicked Phrym into a break-neck pace while turning him around.

The snarls and snaps of the pack followed Jahrra as Phrym flew down the dirt road, Gieaun and Scede barely a pace ahead of her.

“There!” Jahrra shouted breathlessly, “The road leading to Longuinn!”

Gieaun and Scede turned their terrified horses west up the winding road as Jahrra caught up to them.  She didn’t dare look back, for she could hear the blood-curdling howls of the demonic beasts that had been left behind, now joining their brethren for this new hunt.

Just as Jahrra thought they’d make the crest of the hill, one of the monsters leapt up and grabbed Scede’s leg, pulling him as easily from his horse as if he were a sack of flour.  The force of the attack slammed Bhun into Phrym, both horses screaming in fear and slowing to a nervous walk.  Jahrra grunted from the impact, wincing at the small pain that lanced through her leg.

“Scede!” she screamed as she turned to find the pack descending on her friend.  Without thinking, she slid from Phrym and slapped his rump so that he would run ahead with Gieaun and the other horses.  She pulled her bow over her head and an arrow from her quiver.  She smoothly nocked the arrow, took aim and shot.

As the missile broke free of the bowstring, a brilliant stream of yellow-orange light flashed down its shaft, speeding its flight and directing it between the ribs of the monster that still had a hold of Scede, hitting exactly where the heart would be, if it had a heart.  Jahrra didn’t think that it did.  The horrible creature yelped in pain, dropping Scede’s leg and collapsing to lie motionless in the dirt.

Jahrra swallowed hard and strung another arrow, not at all feeling guilty about taking the lives of these terrible beasts.  She drew back her bowstring as Scede scrambled painfully towards her, the both of them backing up into the gnarled roots and arms of an oak tree growing along the side of the road.  Its heavy trunk and branches grew close to the ground, and Jahrra cursed when she realized it also grew against a small embankment.

“We’re trapped!” she hissed in irritation and fear.  Scede merely gulped and nodded, his ashen face and fear-stricken eyes watching the approach of the evil creatures, some still stained with the unicorn’s blood.

Jahrra took aim and shot, the same brilliant light flaring as the arrow found its mark.  Another of the skeleton wolves fell down, but there were so many.  One of them howled, making Jahrra’s skin crawl and bones shiver.  She backed up slowly and felt for another arrow, but her quiver was empty.  She reached down and removed her trusty dagger from her boot, brandishing it as if it were a sword.  Her stomach fell even further.  There was no way that such a small weapon would be able to defend them against this pack.  Her one consolation, however, was the knowledge that none of these animals had followed Gieaun.

Surrounded with nowhere else to go, Jahrra and Scede moved closer to the tree.  Perhaps we could climb, Jahrra thought in desperation.  But she knew the branches weren’t high enough to escape the reach of the pack.  The rough, cool touch of bark shocked her when the fingers of her other hand finally found the tree they were being corralled into.  It was over.  They had nowhere else to go; they were going to die.

Jahrra secretly prayed that Gieaun would keep moving, hoping that her loyal friend wouldn’t come back to help them.  Then she would die too, Jahrra thought bitterly.  As the wolves drew closer, the acrid stench of rotting flesh accompanying them, Jahrra flattened herself completely against the oak tree and felt Scede do the same.  Her heart struggled to break free of her ribcage and sweat stung her eyes.  She reached for her friend’s arm, grabbing it too tightly for comfort.  But Scede didn’t mind and for that one instant she felt his muscles relax.

This is it, she thought.  She waited for the impact, for the air to be driven from her lungs, for the saber-like teeth to sink into her flesh.  She waited to feel the pain race down her nerves until she would feel no more, but all she felt was a warm tingling sensation running up her left arm.  The sensation heightened and spread, giving her goose bumps and causing her breath to catch.  She opened her eyes and saw that the monsters had stopped their approach, their heads turning and their tails lashing in irritation.  My bracelet . . .

Jahrra eased her stance and held her dagger out before her in a move she would never have attempted if she hadn’t been sure the wolves wouldn’t attack.  She bent carefully and re-sheathed her dagger, never once letting any part of her break contact with the oak tree.

“Jahrra,” Scede gulped, his voice heavy with fear and pain, “what are you doing?!”

Jahrra ignored him and reached down, picking up a rock.  The beasts snarled and snapped, causing Jahrra to jump slightly and Scede to cry out and slump to the ground.  The stone, about the size of a pear, felt right in her hand, and without a further thought, Jahrra drew her arm back and threw.  The rock jolted through the air, pressed on by a flash of pink light.  It hit the closest wolf’s snout with a nasty crack.  The beast yelped and howled, scratching at the hole the stone had left in its jaw.

Keeping her back to the tree, Jahrra picked up several more stones, throwing them with all her might, hardly pausing to take a breath.  Some of the magic-enhanced missiles met their targets, some of them did not, but they were enough to drive the wolves away.  When the last two beasts limped off into the edge of the forest, Jahrra let out the breath she had been holding, sliding down beside Scede, every last muscle seeming to have disintegrated.

Jahrra looked over at her friend.  His face was ashen and his hair was damp with sweat, but it was his eyes that were the most telling.

“I thought we were dead,” he whispered. “I was sure of it.”

Jahrra had never seen her friend so shaken, and she couldn’t blame him.  She was also pretty sure she looked about as bedraggled as he did.  She picked up her left arm, feeling several pounds heavier than normal, and draped it over his shoulders.  Scede let his head slump against Jahrra’s.  “I thought so too,” she responded, her voice weak and raw.

“How did you do it?” Scede asked after a moment of silence. “How did you call on the magic?”

Jahrra took a deep breath.  “I honestly don’t know,” she answered truthfully.  She took back her arm and held out her wrist. “But I think it has something to do with my bracelet.”

Scede lifted his head and eyed it with renewed interest.  “Did you know it contained magic?”

“No,” Jahrra said, “no, I didn’t.”

Before they could consider it any further, the sound of horse hooves reached their ears and a few moments later Gieaun came trotting down the road, Bhun and Phrym in tow.  As soon as she spotted her brother and friend, Gieaun burst into tears, falling from Aimhe and collapsing on both of them, pressing them uncomfortably against the oak tree.

No one spoke for a long time, all three of them glad the others were still alive.

“Cahrume was right!” Gieaun sobbed. “We need to get away from that forest!”

Jahrra couldn’t have said it better herself.  The girls worked together to get Scede back onto Bhun, his leg miraculously unbroken but sore.

“Thank Ethoes my boots are thick,” he said weakly.  The creature that had grabbed him hadn’t ever had a good grip on his skin, but Jahrra was sure the bruises would be severe and he would have to rest his leg for a while before he could put his full weight on it again.

Once everyone was mounted on their still twitchy horses, Jahrra turned one last time to eye the vile animals she had managed to kill.

“Thank Ethoes you have good aim Jahrra,” Gieaun whispered.

The corpses looked like they were already beginning to decompose, appearing more haggard and rotten than when they were alive.  Jahrra squinted at them more closely, her skin prickling in horror.  They looked like the remains of things that had been long dead, unearthed and asked to walk among the living again.

“What are they?” Scede wondered, daring to move his nervous horse a step closer.

“I don’t know,” Jahrra answered. “But I don’t want to be anywhere near them.  Let’s get out of here.”

The three of them opted for riding their horses hard, their goal to reach the Wreing Florenn by nightfall so they wouldn’t have to camp out in the hills.  By early twilight they were well into the great forest, seeking refuge from the swollen rainclouds that had slowly moved in from the coast.  At any moment the sky could open up and leave them stranded in a downpour.

“Can you believe this?” Jahrra noted as she squinted up at the heavy clouds. “First the attack on the edge of the Cohn Forest and now a storm.  We’ve had the worst luck!”

“We’ll have to find somewhere to camp,” Scede stated. He had ridden the whole day through without complaining.  Jahrra worried he might be angry at her.  This trip had been one disaster after another, the last one almost ending in their deaths.  She furrowed her brow and glanced around, trying to think of a solution.  In the fading light she spotted a familiar grove of black oak trees peeking their heads over a rise in the land.

“Look,” Jahrra said, pointing northward, “there’s the Black Swamp.  We can stay with Denaeh tonight, I’m sure she won’t mind.  It would be better than sleeping out here in the rain at least.”

Gieaun and Scede gave each other a hesitant look, but said nothing.  Jahrra was sure of what they were thinking and she had a sneaking suspicion it was the same thing that was on her mind: if those monsters had any desire to come after them, they would have a much better chance if they were sleeping inside of Denaeh’s cave that outside of it.

“Besides,” Jahrra braved against the silence, giving a begrudging pat to Phrym’s stuffed saddle bags, “I have to give her these apples.”

“Oh yes, the apples. The reason we went on this cursed camping trip in the first place,” Scede grumbled quietly as he reached down to rub his swollen leg.

Jahrra remained silent.  “I’m sure she never meant for any of that to happen,” she said after some time.

“Of course not,” Scede said spitefully, “she never means for anything dangerous to happen when she suggests it, it just does.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Jahrra asked, her face a mixture of slight anger and confusion.

But before Scede could respond and before the situation could escalate, Gieaun stepped in, “Look, we like Denaeh, we really do, but there’s something strange about her Jahrra.  I think it was very wrong of her to ask you to go to Ehnnit Canyon.”

She turned in Aimhe’s saddle to face her brother, and with a pleading look continued in a harsh whisper that a peeved Jahrra couldn’t really hear over the sound of the brewing rainstorm, “I don’t completely trust her either Scede, but like Jahrra said, she wouldn’t mind us staying and we do need a place to stay for the night.  It would be safer than staying out in the forest at least.”

Once again, Gieaun was able to make peace between her brother and her friend and soon they were heading towards the Black Swamp.  Denaeh greeted them like she always did, dressed as an old woman in ragged clothing.  As soon as she recognized them, however, she faded into her more youthful, charming self, despite the dismal weather.

“Ahhh!” she cried cheerfully, topaz eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.  “What brings you all here on this lovely day?”  She knew very well what had brought them, for she had sensed it with their approach, but she always liked to give them the benefit of the doubt.

“I brought your apples,” Jahrra said plainly, jerking her head toward her saddle bags.

Denaeh faked surprise. “On a day like this, and so late in the afternoon?”

“We were actually on our way home from Ehnnit Canyon,” Scede answered curtly, his eyes avoiding the Mystic’s.

Denaeh stood back with her arms crossed low, her hands gently grasping her elbows and her mouth screwed up in careful consideration.  She knew very well that this Resai boy didn’t like nor trust her.  Suspicious boy, she mused, he believes my motives might not have been in Jahrra’s best interests.  I hope his loyalty doesn’t turn into an inconvenience . . .

“We would have camped in the hills last night and made our way home tomorrow,” he continued, interrupting her thoughts, “but we were attacked.”

As if to emphasize this, Scede slid from his horse and landed with a grunt, favoring his left leg.

Denaeh’s eyes flashed. “Attacked?” she asked, moving towards the boy.  “Attacked by what?”

“We don’t know,” Gieaun said, looking to her friend.

“Wolves, or something like them.  They were horrible and huge and looked like nothing I’ve ever seen in Oescienne,” Jahrra said. “But only Scede was hurt.”

“That is a lucky thing,” Denaeh said quietly. “But come, if you have wolves on your trail, we must get inside, for the Deepening Twilight is nearly upon us.”

“The Deepening Twilight?” Gieaun asked cautiously as she climbed down from Aimhe.

“Yes my dear, the Deepening Twilight.  It’s the time of day when the troubled souls of the departed roam the earth, trying to find their way home to the afterlife.  I wouldn’t be surprised if these wolves of yours are of the same ilk.”

Gieaun made a small noise, Scede blanched and pressed further against Bhun, and Jahrra held perfectly still.  After what they had been through, the last thing they wanted to hear was that they may not have escaped after all.

When they didn’t move, Denaeh began removing the apples from Phrym’s saddlebags and continued her story, “The Deepening Twilight is also the time of day when the evil things of the world start lurking about, hunting for victims to torment.  It is said that they can only dwell in the dark, and that they can smell the fear that the darkness brings.  That is why I think you may not have escaped your hunters just yet.”

Jahrra thought that perhaps Denaeh was making this up to get a rise out of them, but she could tell from her tone that this was no joke.  The Mystic looked around at the grim faces of the three children, reading in their thoughts what they had encountered while traveling up Ehnnit Canyon.  She quickly smiled and said cheerily, “Don’t fret, you’re safe here!  And we always have the owls to look after us!”

“The owls?” asked Gieaun diffidently.

“Of course.  Ethoes bade the owls to guard the good spirits at night, swooping down upon the crawling filth that tries to harm us.”

This seemed to comfort Gieaun a little, but she still looked shaken up.

“Don’t worry.  Most spirits only come out on Sobledthe Eve anyways.”

The Mystic helped the three friends carry their sacks into the entrance of the cave she called home and then the four of them got the horses set up in her small, crudely made stable.

“The horses will be safe here.” She smiled as she patted Aimhe’s neck.  “The evil things fear horses, and especially unicorns, since they are creatures of good magic.  Phrym is more than enough protection for all three.”

Jahrra stiffened as the memory of their attack came flooding back.  It was a unicorn that had drawn the wolves out to begin with.  It was a unicorn that they had butchered.  Suddenly she wasn’t so sure about leaving Phrym and the other horses outside.  She looked at her friends and it appeared they were thinking along the same lines as she was.

“Denaeh,” Jahrra said, her voice tentative, “before they came after us, those wolves took down a unicorn.”

For the first time since Jahrra had met the Mystic, she looked truly shocked.

“Surely not!” she breathed. “A unicorn?  In Oescienne?  Your eyes were playing tricks on you!”

“No, we all saw it,” Gieaun insisted.

Denaeh started walking back around her small hill, making her way to the cave entrance.  The friends traded worried glances, then started off after her in the semi-dark of dusk, the girls helping Scede limp along.

“Denaeh, if those wolves come back,” Jahrra paused, “Phrym and Bhun and Aimhe . . .” she continued.

“You did not see a unicorn,” Denaeh said with such certainty and authority that Jahrra stopped what she had been saying.  “Oescienne is inhabited by many creatures, several of which look like what most people imagine to be unicorns.  The horses are safe, and if anything should enter my hollow, Milihn will tell me.”

Jahrra opened her mouth to argue, but Scede’s hand on her shoulder stopped her.  She looked back at him and it was only the dark look in his eyes and the slight shake of his head that told her not to argue.  She wondered why Denaeh was so adamant about not believing what they saw, but for some unknown reason, she started questioning her own beliefs.  Maybe Denaeh is right; maybe it wasn’t a unicorn . . . but I was so sure!  And its cry, and Gieaun and Scede had seen it!

“Come children!” Denaeh called from her dark cave. “It grows darker by the minute and Scede’s leg needs tending!”

A slight breeze, brought on by the storm, rustled the branches above.  The sound was soothing and comforting, and all of a sudden Jahrra’s recollection of the attack on the edge of the Cohn Forest seemed to fade around the edges.  It didn’t feel like a memory any longer, but more like a dream.  She blinked and looked at her friends and was surprised at their blank expressions.  Jahrra wondered about it for a few moments more, but the Mystic’s voice came to them again.

“I need help with the fire, for if you want supper it will have to cook first!”

All three children blinked and started.  Denaeh’s moss-draped silhouette appeared at her cave door.  “I would have thought you’d all fallen down dead!” she stated.

“Sorry,” Jahrra grumbled.  And the three of them made their way into the shelter of the cave.

Scede helped Denaeh get a fire going in the fireplace despite his injury and before long the flames were crackling and the three of them were lying in front of the blaze on a great big quilt.  Denaeh found some healing herbs for Scede’s pained leg before settling herself in a rickety rocking chair fashioned from wild tree limbs and covered in multi-colored cushions sewn together from scraps of old cloth.  They ate a dinner of wild rabbit stew and a boiled type of root from Denaeh’s garden that was actually quite good.

As the fire died down and the wind and rain began to gently stir the woods, Denaeh told the children some more stories about the Deepening Twilight and how Ethoes sent the owls to guard the good spirits from the evil ones.  Jahrra figured she would be too frightened to sleep from the tales Denaeh told and from the memory of the events of that morning, but the tuber they’d eaten must’ve had some sort of calming element in it.  She could feel the first waves of drowsiness begin to wash over her before too long, and soon she was dozing off and drifting into a deep sleep, aided by the lull of Denaeh’s soothing voice and the rhythm of the wind and rain outside.

Jahrra opened her eyes and saw that the rain had stopped and a mist had settled over the quiet wood.  She sat up and looked around groggily.  Funny, she couldn’t remember falling asleep outside of Denaeh’s cave.  She clambered up in order to get a better look and quickly clasped her arms around her body as she became engulfed with the still, chill air.  She stood, half crouching and curled in upon herself and stared around at the foggy scene surrounding her.  The Mystic’s cave was nowhere to be found and she was in a wood that looked nothing like the wood enveloping the Black Swamp.

Where am I? Jahrra thought as she tried to remember this strangely familiar place.  Then it struck her.  She hadn’t been here in so long that she had almost forgotten.  It was her recurring dream, and she was standing in an orchard of fruit trees in perfect, straight rows.  She looked down at herself and saw that she was wearing her long, white nightgown and not the clothes she had fallen asleep in.  The air felt unusually icy, not warm and humid the way it should feel after a summer rainstorm, and the ground, and her gown for that matter, was dry.

Jahrra glanced instinctively towards the edge of the orchard where the hooded figure always stood.  She waited for a short while, like she always did, and after a few minutes he stepped quietly out of the looming forest and into the realm of the orderly trees.  Her heart skipped a beat and then quickened, for she hadn’t seen him in so long.  His hood completely covered his head and even though she had no reason to believe so, she felt his concerned eyes watching her from behind the shadow of that hood.

Usually the dream ended here, but this time it dragged on, and finally when Jahrra felt herself turning away and seeking the world of the wakeful, something caught the corner of her eye.  She immediately became alert and turned towards the source of movement and was very surprised to spot another hooded figure moving through the orchard behind her.  This figure was much shorter than the more familiar green clad one, but his face was also completely covered.  The brilliant scarlet cloak he wore tugged at the heavy mist, creating small eddies across the ground as he moved through the lines of trees.

At first Jahrra thought that the red figure hadn’t noticed the green one, but then, suddenly, the scarlet cloaked intruder turned and headed straight for the far end of the orchard.  Jahrra stared in silent horror as the red-robed trespasser reached up with gloved hands and grabbed at the edges of the green man’s hood, trying desperately to pull the cloth back to reveal the face beneath it.

NO! Jahrra tried to scream as she watched the scene unfold before her.  She couldn’t tell why, but she didn’t want that face made known.  She didn’t know if it was because she feared what might be revealed or if she felt so close to her familiar visitor that she didn’t want any harm to come to him.  She was sure that this other person meant to do harm.

Jahrra made up her mind quickly to help her friend, but as she tried desperately to run, her feet stayed glued in place.  Her mouth kept forming the word ‘no’ in terrifyingly silent gasps, but try as she might, she couldn’t make a sound.  Jahrra struggled and struggled until her legs ached.  Her heart was hammering against her ribs and panic swelled up in her throat. The green figure was much bigger and stronger than the smaller red one, but the new intruder refused to relent on his attack.  The two of them fought back and forth, the tiny trespasser tearing and clawing at the other as he desperately held the hood in place.

“Jahrra!  Wake up!”

She could hear a distant voice calling, cutting through the sound of her racing heart and the loud rush of terror in her ears.  Jahrra was crying by now, sobbing in anger and fear and helplessness.

“Jahrra!” The voice sounded closer, and she could feel someone holding her hand and shaking her gently.

“Wake up, you’re having a nightmare!”

Jahrra’s eyes suddenly flew open and she saw Denaeh standing above her with her hand pressed against her forehead.  It was the Mystic who was holding her hand, trying to bring her back to the world of the conscious.  Jahrra was breathing heavily and she could feel a cold sweat coating her body.  Quickly, like a memory flashing past the corner of her mind, the images of her dream faded, and she drifted awake.

“Are you alright?” Denaeh repeated, concern etched deep within those yellow eyes of hers.  Her hand was gone from Jahrra’s forehead but the other she used to pull the panicked girl up into a sitting position.

Both Gieaun and Scede looked on in concern as Jahrra slowly let her mind settle.

“Wh-what happened?” she asked between raspy breaths.

“We woke up when Denaeh started yelling at you,” Scede answered timidly.  “You looked like you were having a bad dream.”

“I guess I should refrain from ghost stories before bed then,” Denaeh said with a quirky smile.

This made Jahrra feel a little better, and she did her best to make her friends believe that it had been the memory of their attack she’d been dreaming about and not something else.

“We still have several hours before dawn, so if I were you, I’d try and get back to sleep.” Denaeh said after Jahrra’s terror had passed.  “Do you think you can manage?”

“Yeah, I’ll just think about owls,” she grinned.

Everyone smiled and soon the cave was quiet once again, only the occasional pop of a hot coal or the whistling of the rain-soaked wind pitching around in the world outside to disturb them.

As Jahrra listened to the rhythmic sound of the storm, she thought furiously about the dream she’d just had.  No one else had ever entered her dream like that.  Who was this new person?  Why did they want to reveal the identity of the green-cloaked man so badly?  And most importantly, why did Jahrra care either way?  It was just a dream, right? she asked herself.  Just a dream, just a dream . . . she repeated in her mind as the warm coals and patter of rain soothed her back to sleep.

- Chapter Nine -

Runes, Riddles and Days by the Shore

The weeks following the trip to Ehnnit Canyon proved to be a bit unsettling in Jahrra’s opinion.  Not only was she still disturbed by what she’d experienced and what she had seen in her dream at the Belloughs, but she had Hroombra’s heated mood to contend with.  Jahrra and her friends had arrived at the Castle Guard Ruin a day later than planned, only to find the great dragon waiting for them.  As soon as she spotted his gray figure lumbering across the field to confront her, Jahrra had known she’d finally taken her sense of freedom one step too far.  Never had she seen her guardian looking so angry.

“Where have you been?” he growled.  “You three were supposed to be back yesterday.  I thought something horrible had happened.”

The many wrinkles on Hroombra’s face looked deeper than ever and his eyes were sharp with overwhelming relief.  Jahrra felt a bubble of remorse welling up inside of her, but she wasn’t about to tell him she had safely spent the night in the Black Swamp.  “We were late getting into the Longuinn Valley,” she muttered, “so we camped on the edge of the wetlands last night and made our way very early this morning.  We’re sorry, but we didn’t want to get caught on the road through the Wreing Florenn after dark.”

Jahrra looked up with her eyes drowning in shame and saw that it wasn’t just relief and anger lurking in her mentor’s eyes, but acute terror.

“Thank Ethoes,” he breathed, his tone lightening just a little.  Once his composure returned, he took a deep breath and continued in a more subdued tone, “School starts back up in a few days, so you had better get inside and start studying.  You have exams coming up.”

“In four months!” Jahrra exclaimed.

“Yes, but you have other lessons to consider.  The Fall Festival will be here before you know it and you’ll be wanting to go to Gieaun and Scede’s for a sleepover.”

Jahrra glanced over at her friends and they shrugged, looking as confused as she.  Hroombra smiled broadly and addressed the two siblings, “Your mother and father came over yesterday inquiring where you were.  They said if you all came back alive there would be a party at your house.  But I would head on home if I were you, just in case they decide to change their minds.”

Gieaun and Scede waved goodbye to Jahrra as they trotted their horses over the hill and headed for home.  Scede’s leg was much better this morning, but it would still be sore for quite some time, and the bruising would be bad.  Jahrra chose not to tell Hroombra about the attack.  She knew she should, but it would only upset him.  She took a deep breath and unpacked everything she would be taking into her room, leading Phrym across the open space to his stable when she was done.

The sloping pasture was now nothing more than a sea of golden brown straw, folded like frosting on a cake from the wind and rain that had passed through the night before.  A few late blossoming flowers added some color to the drab surroundings, but everything else, except for the evergreens of course, had begun their autumn change, turning gold, brown, red and orange.

After she rubbed Phrym down and fed him, Jahrra headed back to the Ruin to put her camping gear away.  She knew she should take out her books and practice the recent krueltish words Hroombra had given her the week before, but she had a sudden urge to make the large sitting room more welcoming.  She went out and picked the last remaining flowers in her garden and put them in an old milk jug and placed them upon Hroombra’s massive desk.

Jahrra fixed herself something to eat and plopped down in front of the large fire that Hroombra had lit for the cooling night.  As the dragon looked over his endless scrolls, Jahrra sat lying in the warm heat, leafing through her books.  Only, her mind wasn’t focused on draggish; it was pondering what she’d seen and heard during the past few days.  She wished she could confront Hroombra with these questions, but she knew he’d be furious about everything she’d ever kept secret from him, and she still wasn’t sure his irritation at her late arrival from her camping trip had completely diminished.  She would have to explain why she went to Ehnnit Canyon in the first place, and then she would have to tell him about Denaeh.

Jahrra didn’t know why, but she got the feeling that Hroombra wouldn’t approve of her enigmatic acquaintance.  So instead of voicing her thoughts aloud, she daydreamed about what everything might have meant: What did those runes say in the canyon entrance?  What more did Cahrume know that he didn’t tell us?  What kind of magic is trapped in the wood charm bracelet from Yaraa and Viornen?  What were those horrible wolves and why didn’t Denaeh believe us about the unicorn?  Who was the red hooded figure in my dream?

Jahrra sighed as she tossed these thoughts around her mind like pebbles jostled in a turbulent stream.  After an hour of exhausting thought, she gave up and made her way to bed.  In a few days she would be back in school with the evil Resai twins, and the very idea of being around them again was tiring enough.  I’ll just try to focus on schoolwork, she thought.  Perhaps that will get me through until exams.

The prospect of exams did indeed keep Jahrra’s mind preoccupied.  The simple challenge of surviving each school day and each night of school work kept her too busy to think about her strange dreams or her odd conversation with a sacred tree and an ancient draffyd.  The Fall Festival eventually passed and Solsticetide as well, and Jahrra found herself breathing a sigh of relief during the long break from school.  She worked extra hard at her defense lessons during this time, getting up early and staying late in the day until she had a new drill or exercise committed to memory.  Since she had been doing so well, Yaraa and Viornen gave her a full week off.  Jahrra was so excited she didn’t know what to say.

“We want you to use this time to rest your mind and body, to give it a chance to allow all that you have learned to settle in,” Viornen said, clapping Jahrra on the shoulder.

“Oh, don’t worry, I will!” she answered cheerfully.

Jahrra spent her entire week off with Gieaun and Scede.  Now that she was fifteen, Hroombra allowed her a little more independence, including the freedom to stay out later in the evening.  Jahrra spent most of her time, not surprisingly, with her friends, often visiting all of the places she had seen on Hroombra’s map that they’d never been to before.

Every now and then, when she was on her own with Phrym or relaxing in her garden, Jahrra would pull out her journal and puzzle over the runes she’d copied from Ehnnit Canyon.  She would spend hours looking them over, only to slam her book shut in frustration.  When this happened, she would lay back in the tall grass, green from the winter’s rain, or stretch out next to her silent pond and think about the other things that baffled her, mainly, the red-shrouded character that had visited her familiar dream that rainy night in Denaeh’s cave.

Who had it been?  Did they mean to do harm or good?  Could the green-cloaked man really be an enemy she didn’t recognize and was the red stranger only there to help?  What did it all mean?  Jahrra would screw her eyes shut and go over these questions until her head hurt and she felt sick.  In the end she would just tell herself consolingly, it was just a dream, just a dream.

Spring came early in the season and crept by with the speed of a glacier, slow and languorous.  Jahrra made the decision to be more resolute than ever this year, telling herself she was through with the childishness that had ruled her reactions to her classmates so far.  “I’m determined not to take any more dares from the twins, I promise!” she assured Gieaun and Scede.

The siblings merely gave each other a knowing look, but hoped Jahrra would stick to her promise just the same.  The warm, fragrant days grew longer, and Jahrra, Gieaun, Scede and all of their new friends at school spent their breaks in the schoolyard counting down the days until they would be free of Tarnik and their conceited classmates.  And, as always, summer did arrive and Jahrra felt liberated once again, at least for awhile.

***

“I can’t believe we’re all fifteen already,” Gieaun exclaimed.  “We’re getting so old!”

Two weeks had passed since the end of the school year and Jahrra could scarcely believe it.  It felt like just last month she and her friends had gone to Ehnnit Canyon, but it had almost been a year since.  Now it was summer, glorious summer, and she had the day off from Yaraa and Viornen’s strenuous training sessions to spend with her friends.

Scede rolled his eyes and groaned. “Gieaun, I’ve been fifteen for almost a year now.  In fact, I’ll be sixteen in a month!”

Gieaun didn’t let this bother her.  She always thought that it was nice that one month out of the year they were all the same age.  “I don’t care!  You are still fifteen for now, so enjoy it while it lasts!”

As a celebration for her birthday, Gieaun insisted that she, Jahrra and her brother meet a few of their other classmates at Lake Ossar for a picnic.  Rhudedth and Pahrdh had been their friends for quite a while now, but ever since the night Eydeth had been “attacked” by the lake monster, things started to change at the school house in Aldehren.  Many of the children were no longer listening to the twins and their lies, and even a few chose to spend time with the three outcasts.

Jahrra breathed deeply as they approached the wonderfully quiet boardwalk.  The lake was beautiful as always in the midday sun, the surface glittering like chipped diamonds.  The air was full of the sound of flickering dragonfly wings and twittering birds, and the horses’ hooves fell softly upon the sandy path.  Every now and again a swallowtail or monarch butterfly drifted along on a lazy breeze, and Jahrra would close her eyes and thank Ethoes that this place was finally free of her enemies.

Gieaun spotted their other friends first and she called out to them cheerily, “Rhudedth! Pahrdh! Kihna!  Hey you guys, over here!”

Jahrra turned to see her three other friends approach on their horses.  She grinned, suddenly overwhelmingly happy about her new position in the world.  For so long she’d been the outcast, but that was finally a thing of the past.  Now she knew the joy of acceptance; the thrill of being liked by more than just those who had loved her since she was young.  With relish, she recalled the first time Rhudedth and Pahrdh had stood up to Eydeth and Ellysian at their mansion in Kiniahn Kroi, and even before that in the schoolyard.  Her newest Resai friends may not have warmed to Jahrra right away, but they had shown everyone, apart from the twins and their most loyal followers of course, that Jahrra, Gieaun and Scede were no better or worse than anybody else.

Jahrra sighed and looked past the two ruddy-haired siblings and considered the newest member to their small circle of friends.  Kihna was tiny with pale blond hair and bright blue eyes.  She was petit and delicate-looking, and before she really knew her, Jahrra had labeled the small blond Resai girl as exactly the kind of person who would remain loyal to Ellysian.  Fortunately, she had been wrong.  It had taken Kihna and her two older sisters, Noehda and Heila, a few years to see Jahrra as anything other than what the twins had claimed her to be.  In the end however, they’d seen through Eydeth and Ellysian’s veil of shallowness.  Once the three sisters learned they were only being used and trailed along by Ellysian, they realized how horrible the twins truly were.  They immediately took a liking to the shunned trio and found that going on adventures with Jahrra and her closest friends was much more interesting than following Ellysian around town as she shopped for expensive clothes.

Jahrra was always glad to have her new acquaintances join them on a day at the lakes or a camping trip in the hills, and Gieaun was even more ecstatic to have more girls around.  “Not that you aren’t a girl Jahrra,” she told her friend as kindly as she could, “but Kihna and her sisters are more into fashion than you are.”

Jahrra didn’t mind.  She knew Gieaun always felt like the odd one out when it was just the three of them.  She was glad to see Gieaun feeling more comfortable and at ease on their excursions.  Usually she would trail behind her brother and her friend, or shrink away if Scede or Jahrra found a snake, lizard or even a bizarre insect.  Now, at least, Gieaun had someone to talk to when Scede and Jahrra raced ahead to chase after a wild animal or explore some strange corner of wilderness.

At first Jahrra and Gieaun hadn’t expected Scede to be happy about the girls tagging along, that is, until they discovered he had a crush on Kihna.  His sister and his friend would pester him to no end, but he would never admit to it.

“Just ask her to go to the Fall Festival with us already!  She’s so nice and I bet she likes you too!” Gieaun would encourage, but Scede would just get annoyed and walk away.

Even Eydeth had noticed the way Scede acted around Kihna, and he delighted in making a spectacle of it in front of the entire school. “Hey Scede!  There goes your freckle-faced girlfriend!  I bet if you didn’t hang out with that Nesnan she would actually notice you!”

The comment had caused Scede to blush horribly.  While Eydeth’s crowd let out a roar of laughter, Kihna looked daggers at them and Jahrra became furious. “I wouldn’t talk if I were you!” she shouted. “The closest thing you’ll ever have for a girlfriend will be a fence post Eydeth!”

This comment drew a few chuckles, but Eydeth was ready with a waspish reply. “As long as it’s not a Nesnan, I don’t care.”

The words were squeezed out of his mouth with such anger and hatred that even Jahrra, who was used to his scorn, felt taken aback.

Jahrra took a deep breath and shook these thoughts from her head.  They had happened several weeks ago, and now that school was out, she and her friends could relax in a world free of the twins and their acidic remarks.

“Where to?” asked Rhudedth happily as everyone finally met up just in front of the boardwalk.

“We were thinking of a picnic on one of the sand dunes further south along the beach.  Maybe even along the bank of the Oorn River,” Scede answered, darting his eyes sheepishly towards Kihna.

She smiled shyly, her pale blue eyes dropping as a pink blush touched her cheeks.  Scede looked away, pretending to be interested in a cormorant sitting on the pilings in the middle of the lake.

“That sounds like a good idea, I haven’t been out here in such a long time,” Pahrdh said dreamily, his hazel-brown eyes practically smiling.

Jahrra always envied Pahrdh and Rhudedth’s unusual eyes and unique hair.  She thought that Rhudedth’s hair looked like autumn leaves, and sometimes wished hers was that color too.

The six horses thudded over the boardwalk single file and headed west towards the ocean shore.  Jahrra, Scede, Gieaun, Rhudedth, Kihna and Pahrdh, in that order, waved to the local Nesnan farmers who were fishing or simply enjoying the day as they passed.  They all chuckled as Jahrra retold the story of the lake monster for what seemed like the hundredth time, and how it had almost devoured Eydeth that fateful night.

“Oh!” exclaimed Rhudedth, wiping tears from her eyes, “if only it was real and it did eat Eydeth.”

Jahrra, Gieaun and Scede had finally caved and told their other friends the truth about the lake monster a few months after it had happened.  They confessed to them one weekend on a camping trip to Lake Ossar, revealing every little detail: how they had come up with the idea (not mentioning Denaeh of course), how they had spent a year putting it together, and how they had finally tricked Eydeth into searching for it.  They even went out to the little island where Gieaun and Jahrra demonstrated the pulley system, bringing their now rather decrepit-looking creature out of the water.  Everyone had stared at the three friends in a combination of horror and admiration.

“Jahrra!  I showed up to make sure he went through with the dare!  It scared us half to death!” Pahrdh had said, more in shock than in anger.

“Yeah, but it was more fun that way, wasn’t it?” Jahrra had responded with a mischievous smile.

Since that first camping trip together, the newly formed group of friends had spent many fine days at the lakes, racing on the beach with their horses or just telling stories from school.  Jahrra’s favorite story, no doubt, was that of the lake monster, and she often changed the ending a little so that Eydeth got eaten of course.  Gieaun enjoyed telling everyone about the unicorn hair they had collected and Scede liked to tell stories, to Jahrra’s slight annoyance, about the dragon Raejaaxorix.  She enjoyed the fact that she’d been too busy to even think of the irritating Tanaan dragon lately, and Scede’s recollections only reminded her of her ire towards him.  When he insisted on telling everyone how Jahrra had acquired Phrym, she would just try and imagine he was talking about a different dragon.

Rhudedth, Pahrdh, Kihna and her sisters had been all very intrigued by the stories they’d heard and had a few to tell of their own.  Rhudedth and Pahrdh always loved to recall the story of Jahrra’s dramatic fall in Kiniahn Kroi, and Kihna loved telling everyone about what it was like shopping in town with Ellysian.

“You should’ve seen her at the tailor’s in Kiniahn Kroi once,” the Resai girl had said through tears of laughter, “she was so rude that the seamstress kept poking her with the pin on purpose, saying ‘I’m terribly sorry’, or ‘Oops, my hand slipped’.  She must have stabbed her at least fifty times!”

Everyone had fallen down laughing as they imagined Ellysian flinching, and they’d begged Kihna to tell more.

Suddenly, Rhudedth’s friendly voice cut into Jahrra’s happy reminiscing and she was brought back to the present.  “Oh, don’t you just love the ocean!” she sighed aloud as the horses stepped onto the soft, sandy trail opening out onto the shore.  The Oorn River curved out to the sea just to the north, slicing through the dunes and beach sand like a sapphire serpent cutting a groove through the desert sand.  The view, like always, was breathtaking.  The blue ribbon of water was lined on either side by the pale sand, and to the east it swept against the wetlands that eventually became scattered woodlands behind the dunes.

The six friends encouraged their horses into a gallop and then set them to a run, racing down the beach and tearing across the shallow delta of the river, startling a large flock of birds and sending a plume of briny water soaring into the air.

“Can you believe the Great Race is only one year away?” Pahrdh breathed as the children slowed their horses to a stop next to some trees on the other side of the river.

“Ugh, don’t remind us!” Kihna groaned, trying to catch her breath. “Eydeth can’t stop talking about how he’ll be old enough to enter the race and how he is definitely going to win first place with his father’s prize semequin.”  She shook her head in annoyance, her light blonde hair looking like a streamer of delicate dune sand caught in a gust of wind.

“I say we just forget about the twins and the race, and focus on Gieaun’s birthday,” Rhudedth added, not wanting to dwell on their common enemy.

As the day progressed, however, the girls couldn’t keep the boys from talking about the upcoming race.  “It’s nearly twenty miles long and only the best semequins can enter!”  Pahrdh chattered excitedly to Scede, ignoring Kihna and Gieaun’s baleful looks.

“What is so great about this race anyway?  And for goodness sake!  It’s a year away!” Gieaun said exasperatingly, finally ending all talk about the race.

With the boys’ enthusiastic discussion finally over, the conversation turned to the Fall Festival and Sobledthe.  “I can’t wait!” Jahrra practically yelled. “I’ll finally be old enough to go to Lensterans without adult supervision and stay the whole night!  And I’ll be able to take part in the scavenger hunt!”

“You and that scavenger hunt,” Scede mumbled, rolling his eyes dramatically. “Honestly, that’s not the only interesting thing that happens at the festival.”

“Oh come on, it’ll be great!  Don’t you think it’ll be fun Gieaun?”

Gieaun had no opinion either way, so she remained silent, shrugging her uncertainty.

“You three are going, aren’t you?” Jahrra turned her questions on Rhudedth, Pahrdh and Kihna, since her other two friends refused to comment further.

“I think so,” said Rhudedth, “and I think that Mahryn is coming too.”  Rhudedth grinned and gave Jahrra an impish wink.

Jahrra shrank back and slouched.  Mahryn was Rhudedth’s cousin from Glordienn, and it was common knowledge that he was quite fond of Jahrra. Jahrra had nothing against him; he was a nice boy, but he stared too much and never said more than three words together.  “Oh,” she managed, barely holding back a grimace, “that would be nice.  I haven’t seen him in awhile.”

Scede and Gieaun grinned, and Jahrra tried to ignore them.  She was just thankful he lived so far away and didn’t go to school with them.  She couldn’t imagine how Eydeth and Ellysian would treat him.  She shivered at the very thought of it.

The group laid out their picnic blankets and ate their lunches, reveling in the fine weather and laughing at the shore birds chasing desperately after sand crabs while trying to avoid the encroaching waves.  Before they realized it, the day was over and the children ruefully headed back home in the rich, golden light of the setting sun.  Jahrra, Rhudedth, Pahrdh and Kihna waved goodbye to Gieaun and Scede as they disappeared down the driveway leading to Wood’s End Ranch, turning north as they made their way home.  The four remaining companions tore down the road and around the town of Nuun Esse as they raced towards the Castle Guard Ruin.

“You’ll never catch us!” Jahrra called as she and Phrym jumped an old broken fence marking a fallow field.

“Of course we won’t!” Pahrdh shouted breathlessly from his laboring horse, “You have Phrym!”

Several minutes later, Jahrra slowed a lively Phrym to a stop in front of his stable.  While they waited for the others, Jahrra gave her friend a good pat on the neck.  Phrym whickered energetically, trying to convince her to let him cut loose once again.

“Maybe we shouldn’t run so far ahead of everyone all the time,” she whispered, smiling.  Phrym cocked his ears backwards and let out a small snort, as if doing such a thing would injure his pride.

Jahrra laughed. “You’re right, but maybe we could go just a little slower next time.”

The three riders came thundering over the hill just as Jahrra was climbing down from Phrym’s back.

“I know Phrym is a semequin, but I’ve never seen a horse move so fast!  Too bad you can’t enter the Great Race next year; you two would beat everyone by far!”  Pahrdh’s expression glazed over as he imagined his friend and her smoky semequin leaving all the other racers in the dust.

“Oh please!” Kihna breathed as she brought her white mare up next to the others. “I thought you were done talking about that race!”

The three of them bid farewell to Jahrra and headed north towards Aldehren.  As they disappeared over the edge of the Sloping Hill, Jahrra sat on Phrym’s wood pole fence and watched as he danced around his corral.  After a few laps, he trotted up and leaned his neck gently against her, forcing her to grasp the rough wood so that she wouldn’t fall over backwards.

“It would be amazing to run in that race,” she admitted to him, “but we’ll have to settle for our races down the country roads I suppose.”

Jahrra reached over and scratched Phrym on the neck.  She quickly jumped off of the fence and turned to face him in the darkening light. “We’ll have to dream about races later, Phrym.  Tomorrow we have lessons with Yaraa and Viornen, and you and I both need to rest.”  She kissed his silvery-dappled forehead and began the downhill walk towards the Ruin.

As she trudged through the long grass, Jahrra gazed up at the sky, searching for the first stars of the night.  Tomorrow she would be going back to her usual summer routine.  Her days, like many of the summer days before, would be filled with hard, physical work with the elves and the constant struggle against kruelt with Hroombra.  Jahrra sighed, realizing that she would have only a few chances to see her friends over the next few months, but knowing all too well it would soon be over and she would be back in school once again.

As the weeks passed, however, Jahrra grew more and more advanced in her complicated defense lessons.  She could now make herself relax and concentrate on the task at hand in the most stressful of situations and had even trained herself to hold her breath for nearly a minute.  She was now able to defeat Yaraa in a sparring contest while Srithe, Strom, Samibi and the family dog danced around them making a huge racket, and Viornen found it increasingly difficult to break past her defenses while they practiced fencing maneuvers.  Jahrra’s aim with a bow and arrow was close to perfect, and the tricks she could manage while on horseback rivaled those she read about in Hroombra’s old books of ancient sagas.

With her internal senses sharpened from the years of continuous training, detecting an encroaching enemy (or sometimes three if her trainers’ children were employed) became as easy as locating Atrova in the night sky.  Furthermore, to Jahrra’s great astonishment, she started to notice the emotions and earthy senses of the ancient trees surrounding her.  At first she wasn’t sure what that deep prickle of joy had been, that is until she remembered, with a pleasant shiver, how it had felt “speaking” with the sacred Apple Tree in Ehnnit Canyon.  Jahrra’s progress carried over into her lessons with the dragons’ language as well, something that pleased Hroombra very much.  She was able to recite to him, in almost perfect kruelt, a summary of what she’d learned from her elvin trainers that summer.

Although she had spent most of her vacation learning and not playing, Jahrra couldn’t help but be extremely pleased with herself, even on the eve of her return to school.  She had grown another two inches, bringing her just over five and a half feet tall (the tallest of her age level at school and only third tallest overall), and her many years of defense training had made her lean, quick and strong.

In fact, Jahrra was certain that if she were ever challenged by any of the boys at school, either those older or her own age, she would win hands down.  Any arm wrestling contest, fencing match or foot race would be no problem for her.  She grinned to herself as she imagined the pompous Eydeth challenging her to full-out, hand-to-hand combat.  What a delight it would be to rearrange his facial features and pummel him to a pulp in front of the whole entire school . . . Jahrra sighed.  No, she thought, that would be too easy.  And it would be an unfair advantage for me.  He wouldn’t stand a chance.

As she lay in her small bed that night, her arms folded comfortably behind her head, Jahrra found herself looking forward to the start of school for the first time in her entire life.  She no longer imagined herself as the awkward Nesnan without any friends, but a confident, young woman capable of defeating her enemies with one movement of her hand.  She took a slow, deep breath and closed her eyes, wishing that the dream world would welcome her soon.

***

The first few months of school proved rather dull despite Jahrra’s enthusiasm, but once it was full autumn and Sobledthe drew ever nearer, the pace of life picked up a bit.  Many of the children who were finally old enough to go to the festival in Lensterans on their own were bustling with excitement.  All Jahrra could think about, however, was the famous scavenger hunt, something she’d been looking forward to since she’d learned of its existence a few years ago.

The elders planned two hunts, one before sunset and one after.  The pre-dusk contest was for the children, and in Jahrra’s opinion, a rather boring and unchallenging event.  The clues were easy and it all took place within town.  The advanced hunt was much more appealing; what with its mind-boggling riddle clues and the mere fact that it took place after sunset, its boundaries including the farmland surrounding the town.  The second contest was a real challenge, and Jahrra would compete in nothing less.

“Our team will win the scavenger hunt for sure!” an older boy said one day at school.

Jahrra’s head shot up and her skin tingled.  She strained her ears to pick up any details she could as she listened from her favorite perch in the oak tree on the edge of the schoolyard.

“No way!  We’re still young enough to enter the children’s scavenger hunt.  There’s no way we’ll lose to a bunch of kids!” another boy sniggered. “We won’t stand a chance if we enter the real hunt.”

Jahrra was simply dripping with anticipation.  The only problem was, she was a little on the young side herself.  Mostly adults took part in the nighttime hunt with anyone under the age of seventeen limited to the children’s challenge.  That’s alright, she told herself with a degree of confidence, we’ll be in costume.  Besides, Scede and Pahrdh look old enough . . . She shivered with delight.  No one would ever suspect them.  Jahrra tried to distract herself by counting down the days before she would be taking part in the sights and sounds of the Fall Festival, but there was too much talk and anticipation buzzing around the schoolyard and around town that it was hard to concentrate on anything else.

As the fall progressed and the days grew closer to the Harvest Festival, the stories of the season became more and more tantalizing.  The very week before Sobledthe, Jahrra, Gieaun and Scede were stretched out on top of their granite slab when they overheard more students talking of the festival.

“Last year, they sacrificed a dozen live snakes!” It was one of Eydeth’s closest friends that spoke, but Jahrra remained rigid.  “And the year before that someone threw his friend into the fire, claiming he was overtaken by evil spirits!”

“No way!” answered someone in his small audience, obviously eager to hear more horror stories.

Jahrra sniggered mentally.  Many of the Resai and upper class families frowned upon Sobledthe, calling it an ancient, unruly holiday that only the “barbaric lower class Nesnans” celebrated.  But Jahrra was sure Eydeth would be there and perhaps even his witch of a sister.

During the past few weeks, she’d seen Eydeth acting extra-secretive and had even heard him say “festival” and “plan” a few times when he thought she wasn’t listening.  Thanks to Yaraa’s exercises meant to enhance one’s sense of hearing by closing one’s eyes and focusing on specific voice tones, she was able to pick up on much of what Eydeth was saying behind her back.  Unfortunately, this didn’t always result in positive news.  Great, she thought miserably after hearing her enemy’s secret conversations, he’s going to find a way to ruin it for us!

Jahrra didn’t let it get her down, however.  She had much to do before she could begin enjoying the festive holiday.  On the weekends, Jahrra, Gieaun and Scede had spent most of their time in the Black Swamp listening to Denaeh’s bewitching stories and working on their costumes.  Jahrra had always hoped Denaeh would tell them more about the story of the prophecy, but she never mentioned it, not since that day a few years ago.  Instead, Jahrra just tried to enjoy this year’s tale, one about a fearful boarlaque terrorizing the people of northern Felldreim, while completing her costume.  The three friends decided on animal costumes that were traditionally associated with the ancient tales Denaeh and Hroombra told.  Jahrra was going to be a black raven, Gieaun a white horse, and Scede a red boar.  The costumes were greatly detailed and the three friends were very happy with the results of their hard work.

Finally, after many weeks of anticipation, costume-making and story-sharing, the Harvest Festival was here.  The schoolhouse took its customary three day holiday in order to accommodate the traditional days of harvest, and many shops closed as they got ready for the big holiday.  On the night before Sobledthe Eve, Jahrra found herself reluctant to sleep.  When she finally did drift off, her dreams were awash with the colors and sounds of the amazing Sobledthe celebrations that took place after dark.

- Chapter Ten -

The Fall Festival

“Hey Jahrra!  Are you ready to go?” Scede shouted from outside the Castle Guard Ruin.

He didn’t have to worry, however, for Jahrra had been up for hours, dressed and waiting for her friends to come and get her.  She was beside herself with glee.  It was Sobledthe Eve and in just a few hours’ time she would be in Lensterans among the hustle and bustle of the season.

“Jahrra!  What are you doing?!” Gieaun bellowed. “If you keep stalling we’ll miss the street plays!”

Jahrra smiled to herself. Typical, they’re late and I’m the one holding them up.  She jumped up from her bed, hastily braided her long blond hair, and ran to the front door.  She waved out at her friends, Gieaun on Aimhe, Scede on Bhun, and Rhudedth and Pahrdh on their own horses.

She turned to Hroombra, still beaming, “Are you sure you don’t want to come for awhile?”

She’d hoped Hroombra would explain some of the symbols the festival participants would be displaying in the ceremony, but he had declined to join them.  The old dragon looked up over his specially made spectacles, a sight that always made Jahrra grin, and smiled at her.  “No young Jahrra, I’m afraid I’ll only delay you.  You would miss the scavenger hunt and that would be criminal.”

His mouth curled at the edges and his eyes twinkled. “Besides,” he added, “it would be no fun with me hanging around.  You go and enjoy the festival.”

“Alright, but are you sure you still want me to go?” Jahrra teased.  She’d been running off to dangerous places so often of late that she felt guilty when Hroombra told her she could go to the festival with her friends without supervision.  If only you knew where I’ve been without your permission, she thought ruefully.  Jahrra dashed these thoughts from her mind; no level of guilt was going to keep her from the Sobledthe festival this evening.

“Oh yes, I’m sure,” he said.  “Remember, this isn’t just a vacation.  I expect you to learn something, so be sure to pay attention.  I’m going to test you when you get back.”

Hroombra’s eyes had wandered back down to his manuscripts as he spoke, and Jahrra’s smile suddenly vanished.  She stared blankly at him, but just as she was about to protest, his eyes shot up and gleamed at her.  “I’m only teasing,” he insisted.  “Now go.  Your friends are waiting.”

Jahrra’s face broke out into a wide smile and with no further delay she shot out the door.

“Finally!” Scede said in a mock-exaggerated tone.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Jahrra breathed, “what took you so long to get here?”

“Gieaun slept in,” Scede sniffed.

“I did not!  You couldn’t find part of your costume!”

Before the two could start arguing, Jahrra cut in, “Don’t worry, we have plenty of time, it’s not even noon yet!  If we ride like we mean it, we’ll get there just before sunset.”

“As long as we get there early enough to register for the advanced scavenger hunt,” Pahrdh said, his face taking on a worried look.

Jahrra had badgered all of them into agreeing with her about partaking in the later challenge.  Although Scede and Pahrdh had liked the idea, they were afraid the judges wouldn’t let them enter.

“You have to be seventeen!” Scede told her.  “I’m barely sixteen.”

“What if I sign us up?” Pahrdh suggested.  He’d been seventeen for a few months already.  “And besides, Scede looks seventeen.  If Scede and I sign us up and you girls keep your masks on, we should be able to pull it off.”

Jahrra had grinned from ear to ear.  Gieaun, naturally, groaned and rolled her eyes. “Oh come on!  Let’s just do the children’s scavenger hunt!  Jahrra, I don’t know why you always have to pick the hardest challenge presented to you!”

Rhudedth had agreed with Gieaun, but she wasn’t nearly as vocal about it.  She hadn’t seen the point, for it was three against two.  They were going to compete against the adults in the after dark scavenger hunt whether she liked it or not, and there was nothing that either she or the huffing and glaring Gieaun could do about it.  Sometimes, Jahrra thought, it was good that Rhudedth had a brother, and not a sister.

Phrym greeted his master impatiently as she eventually made it to his stable.  He was already saddled and ready to go, the black raven costume secured safely in his saddlebags.  As Jahrra climbed into the saddle, Gieaun tried one last time to change everyone’s minds. “You know,” she said, “if we hurried we could still make it in time for the other scavenger hunt.”

Scede rolled his eyes. “Gieaun! Give it a rest.  After everything we’ve been through with Jahrra you can’t possibly be afraid of a little scavenger hunt after dark!”

Gieaun scowled at her brother.  Rhudedth gave her a sympathetic glance but refrained from backing her up.  She wouldn’t dare admit it aloud, but after having some time to think about it, the idea of traipsing around the festive town after dark sounded quite thrilling.  Gieaun huffed her irritation and resigned herself to pouting.

“Let’s get moving or we’ll never make it in time for either scavenger hunt,” Scede said irritably, kicking Bhun into a quick trot.

The five friends headed due south across the fields, all in a flurry of excitement and anticipation.  As they moved through the autumn countryside, Jahrra took note of the fields littered with yellow cubes of hay and ripening stalks of corn.  Small clusters of trees appeared along the road and disappeared as they passed, but the long shadows they cast stayed with them along the way.

A few hours after leaving the Great Sloping Hill behind, they spotted the broad, shimmering ribbon of the Oorn River in the distance.  Noticing that their destination was within sight, Jahrra and her friends brought their horses into a quick canter and were soon crossing the traffic bridge that carried the road into town.  The hollow thumping sound of the horses’ hooves fell into rhythm with the slow churning of the sluggish river and the distant humming of the city of Lensterans.  Jahrra tried to remember everything she’d seen and heard since her last trip here with Gieaun and Scede as they drew closer to the center of the great village.

Lensterans was a larger place than Aldehren and sat in the very middle of a dramatic landscape.  To the east the Elornn Range towered above the Oorn Plain and curled around the flat land like a giant, sleeping dragon.  To the north the trees of the Wreing Florenn loomed like a dark army of unkempt soldiers creeping up the Sloping Hill in the late afternoon light.

Most of the houses they passed on the outskirts of town where small and roughly square or shaped like large beehives painted white.  The nearer they got to the heart of the small city, the more crowded the structures became, like hunched, curious onlookers standing around a scene of interest.  Crude wind chimes made of wood, bone and bits of metal hung from the crooked porches of many a house, clattering and clinking eerily as they announced an invisible breeze.  Every now and then they spotted a snoozing dog on the stoop of one of these simple cottages, and more often than not he would open one eye and lazily watch the passersby.

The next dwelling they passed was decorated with an assortment of festive oddities.  There was a scarecrow in the front yard and an old, rotten wheelbarrow laboring under the weight of a massive jack-o’-lantern, grinning menacingly at Jahrra and her friends.  The scene was made complete with a garland of colorful native corn strung all along the house’s eaves.  Jahrra smiled at the sight, her skin tingling delightfully.

The five travelers eventually drew closer to the middle of town, and Jahrra found herself admiring the details surrounding them.  Harvest decor spilled off of porches and hung from street corners, strapped securely to fences and lamp posts lining the roads.  Clusters of dried corn stalks, complete with ears of colorful kernels, were gathered in bunches all throughout the town.  Pumpkins, squashes and turnips of every size and color could be found everywhere, either carved in the traditional custom and filled with a lit candle to ward off evil spirits, or piled high and teetering in unstable wagons to be hauled off to some unknown destination.

Cartloads of apples, cherries, apricots, lemons, oranges, and a plethora of berries were being taxied from one end of the settlement to another in order to make the many treats and beverages that would be consumed on this wondrous holiday.  The smell of sweet spices and cooking meats mingled with the aroma of crackling oak wood, and for the first time that day, Jahrra realized just how hungry she was.

Children and adults alike were roaming the streets cheerfully, some already in costume, adding their own unique spark to the thriving atmosphere.  Gieaun gave a delighted cry when she saw a troupe of actors performing on a street corner and they all paused to watch for awhile.  The children they were performing for cheered enthusiastically as they each gave a flamboyant bow.  Best be happy now before the darkness begins, Jahrra thought with a tenuous smile, thinking of the Deepening Twilight and Denaeh’s terrifying stories.

The actors moved on and so did the five companions.  Despite the crowded streets, the horses were able to push their way forward quite easily.  They knew the town center couldn’t be far, for the bustle and activity was increasing as costumed people gently shoved their way forward.  Luckily, Jahrra and her friends had the advantage of being much higher off the ground than most and they were able to spot the fountain marking the center of town, its stone basin now bone dry and filled with wood.

“They drain it and remove the tiers for the festival’s bonfire,” Scede explained to Rhudedth and Pahrdh, both of whom had never been to Lensterans for Sobledthe.

Once they arrived at the stables, Jahrra, Gieaun, Scede, Pahrdh and Rhudedth set their horses up for the night and quickly got into their costumes.

“What time is it?” Rhudedth asked.

“We have about fifteen minutes before the first call for the final scavenger hunt.  We’d better hurry,” Pahrdh answered breathlessly, the mounting excitement of the evening ringing in his voice.

Once properly clad, the five friends hurriedly made their way to the middle of town.  The commotion of the disguised crowd had begun to thicken along with the approaching twilight, and Jahrra could see many groups of older people in bizarre and ornate costumes gathering around the empty fountain.

The friends promptly pulled their masks on, both out of a respect for tradition and out of fear of being considered too young to enter the upcoming challenge.  “Scede, only you and Pahrdh take off your masks when you register us for the hunt,” Jahrra whispered through her raven mask.

“Alright,” Pahrdh answered from behind a bear’s grimacing face. “But it wouldn’t hurt if the rest of you stood up as tall as you can.  Uh, Jahrra, I think you’ll be fine just standing as you are.”

The town elders were gathered at the foot of the fountain, jotting down names on a very long piece of parchment.  Wow! Jahrra thought as she squinted through the eyeholes of her mask while scanning the large crowd gathered around, there are that many people signed up?  The prize must be a really good one!

To Jahrra’s great relief, the boys had no trouble registering for the event, and only a few minutes later the elders were calling the attention of the crowd.  Jahrra peered through her raven mask to get a better look at the three judges.  They were wearing long robes in the sacred colors of Sobledthe; scarlet, white and black.

When the crowd finally quieted down, the Nesnan man standing in the middle, the one dressed in black, raised his arms over the crowd and uttered a blessing in a strange dialect.  Jahrra could have sworn it sounded like kruelt, but she couldn’t tell for certain and Hroombra had assured her that no one else in Oescienne spoke it.

All the people bowed their heads, and Jahrra mimicked them, nudging Gieaun and Rhudedth to follow suit.  When he was finished, the elder looked up and addressed everyone in the common language. “Good evening, good Sobledthe, and welcome to Lensterans!”

The crowd cheered, and Jahrra and her friends joined in with everyone else.

“The rules to this scavenger hunt are simple: you’ll be given the first clue, and after that you must decipher the riddles on your own.  The locations of each of the five clues will lie along the paths that run throughout the city and up to two miles within the outlying fields.

“The clues will not be deliberately hidden in any way; it is up to the group or individual to decide which path he must take.  There is no time limit, but once the final prize is found, the fireworks will be set off and the bonfire and celebration will begin shortly afterwards.  All competitors are encouraged to return to town once the signal is given.  Now, go out and compete fairly!”

The first set of fireworks was lit and the signal to begin the scavenger hunt exploded as a thousand glittery stars burst into the approaching night.  A great bustling and murmuring began as the many throngs of people tore open the envelopes containing the first clue.  Scede and Pahrdh did the same and all five friends began to read furiously in the fading light:

My belly paRts the sand as I move,

My back Reflects the sky.

In summeRtime I leave a gRoove,

In winteR, I am satisfied.

The five companions read the riddle several times, juggling the words over and over again in their minds.  Jahrra could hear Gieaun and Pahrdh whispering the words incoherently under their breath, and all around her the murmur of low voices ensued.

“The River!” Gieaun hissed frantically after a few minutes of reflection.  “It has to be!”  She looked up at her friends, the horse-head mask hiding the expression on her face.

“I think you’re right,” Pahrdh added, pulling down his own bear’s mask. “Quick, back down the main road, the same way we came into town!”

“Belly parts the sand,” he was muttering as they walked quickly together back towards the river, “the river bottom running along the earth.  In winter the rains fill the river, and in the summer the river runs very low, leaving a groove.  It has to be it!”

The five of them moved quickly down the cobblestone road until they reached the traffic bridge fifteen minutes later, all breathing heavily and clutching their sides.

“Alright,” said Scede, panting from the combination of brisk walking and jogging, “I don’t think the next clue would be on the traffic bridge, but maybe on the foot bridge?”

“I think you’re right Scede,” Rhudedth added, tugging on his arm, “look.”

She was pointing down near the edge of the river, about a couple hundred yards away.  They could see the flickering light of a torch in the distance.  It stood still for a few moments before it began moving east up the riverbank.

“Quickly!” hissed Jahrra as she jumped past her friends, almost getting snagged on Rhudedth’s golden butterfly wings. She didn’t even wait for them as she started running down the small dirt road that intersected the main street.

The fields were sunken below the town’s main avenues and the small dirt road they now traveled down ran parallel to the river’s natural levee to their left.  Jahrra knew that as long as they stayed on this road they’d eventually intersect the path leading up to the foot bridge.

About half of the fields had already been harvested and the twilight shadows cast by the baled hay and bundled corn added an unnerving effect to the spooky feel of this Sobledthe Eve.  Jahrra tried hard to block out the images of evil spirits and goblins her imagination couldn’t help but conjure up, and her stomach lurched when she recalled what Denaeh had once told them about the spirits of the dark.  Jahrra shook these dreadful thoughts from her mind and soon felt the cool fall air pulsing through her lungs as she jogged.  Before too long, the group reached the trail that climbed the levee up to the footbridge.  Jahrra grinned, her thoughts of evil spirits gone for the moment.

“Alright,” she gasped as her friends caught up, “the footbridge must be this way.”

They all climbed the steep levee to find that a narrow wooden bridge did indeed span the river ahead.  It allowed only two to pass together and had a railing to keep pedestrians from falling off.  In the center of the bridge there appeared to be some sort of plaque or sign attached to the railing.  Jahrra quickly slid over to it, threw back her mask, and began to read in the flickering torchlight that Pahrdh provided:

StrAight As the hAckles on A dog we stAnd, fluid yet rigid,

AlwAys clothed, And never bAre.

We Are AlwAys moving, except when frigid,

Yet we go nowhere.

“What’s with all the out-of-place capital letters?” Rhudedth asked in frustration as she rubbed her glittered face.

“I’m sure it has a purpose,” claimed Scede as he removed his mask to get some fresh air.

“Alright, let’s focus,” Jahrra snapped, trying to remain patient. “What’s straight but at the same time capable of bending or moving?”

“Nothing,” snorted Gieaun, crossing her arms in an annoyed fashion.

“It has to be something Gieaun.  They wouldn’t give us a clue that doesn’t have an answer!” Jahrra retorted, her voice rising unintentionally.

“Well, you’re the one who insisted on taking part in this stupid scavenger hunt!  You wanted a challenge!  Why don’t we leave you here and you can figure it out on your own?”

Before Jahrra could give her rebuke, Pahrdh cut in, “Hey, calm down, we can do this!  It can’t be that hard.  Let’s start with the main parts of the clue.”  He read it aloud once more and then glanced up, looking truly perplexed.  “So it seems to be a little bit of a contradiction, but riddles are supposed to be that way, right?”

“Why don’t we just start listing off things that are straight, and then go from there?” Rhudedth squeaked, trying to keep her wings from getting bent by her pressing friends. “At least that’s a start.  But we’d better get off this bridge.  We could be giving this clue’s location away to other people.”

Jahrra quickly took out the small piece of charcoal she’d brought along and jotted the riddle down on the back of the paper with the first clue.  The group then moved back down onto the main road and huddled around the parchment, reading the riddle again and again.  After naming off a variety of objects that were straight (fence posts, roads, arrows), they moved onto another part of the clue.

“What can move but at the same time goes nowhere?” Jahrra asked, trying hard to keep the frustration out of her tone.

“Corn stalks are straight, but they can move in the wind, and scarecrows can move in the wind as well,” Gieaun said, looking out into the dark fields for inspiration.

“Maybe the next clue is attached to one of the scarecrows in the fields?” Rhudedth offered weakly.

“Yeah!  And scarecrows are always clothed, that has to be it!” Gieaun added excitedly.

“Wait a minute,” Jahrra said, holding up a black raven’s wing. “Always moving, except when frigid.  When is it frigid?” she asked, addressing the entire group.

“When it’s cold, windy or at night,” the red boar that was Scede rattled off absentmindedly. “Also during the winter time.”

“Huh,” Jahrra said in a pensive manner. “So whatever the answer to the riddle is, it doesn’t move when it’s cold.  So that would mean,” she continued slowly, “if scarecrow were the correct answer, then the scarecrows couldn’t move when it was cold out.  But wouldn’t they move when it’s windy?” Jahrra paused, screwing her eyebrows together, and then said abruptly, “I don’t think it’s scarecrows.”

Gieaun crossed her arms in a huff again, but Pahrdh understood what Jahrra was trying to say. “So we have something that’s straight and bending, never naked, moving and holding still, and only moving when it’s warm out?”

Pahrdh’s confusion was translated through his tone of voice.  Rhudedth released a pathetic sigh.  Scede kicked at the ground and Gieaun stood absolutely still, staring down the dark road as if the answer would manifest out of the darkness.  The friends had been standing motionless for over half an hour and the moon was beginning to show its face over the horizon.  A few groups of people had come and gone, and the five of them were growing more and more agitated as each minute passed.

“What could it be?!” Jahrra hissed in dire aggravation.  She was very close to shredding the paper to bits.

She looked up at the rising moon in the east for comfort and let her eyes wander to the shadowy crop of woods to the northeast.  The trees were very dark now, and their blackened, ragged edges stood out like wicked, serrated teeth.  Jahrra then looked down the main road in the opposite direction, spotting the old maple tree that grew a few hundred yards away, its few remaining red leaves looking like dark drops of blood against the washed out ultramarine of late twilight.

Suddenly, Jahrra shot her head back towards the forest.  She nearly jumped when the magic-tinged bead in her wood charm armlet flared minutely, tingling her skin for only a moment.  That’s all it took to make the answer click. “Pines!” she shouted louder than she had intended to.

Her four friends flinched and then turned to glare at her.

“What?” snapped Scede.

“Evergreens!” Jahrra rejoiced, the weak torchlight dancing in her smiling eyes. “They are always clothed: they don’t lose their leaves in the fall!  They don’t grow during the winter months, and they are always moving, growing, but always standing still.  And the wind makes them fluid!”

The group looked down at the paper one last time and Pahrdh said, “Hey, I think that’s it.  C’mon, those woods up ahead are the only group of pines within a two mile radius of the city.  The next clue has to be there somewhere!”

They hurried along the path, the looming grove growing taller as the group drew closer.  Jahrra placed a hand over her bracelet as she jogged, understanding now why the elves insisted it would aid her.  The tingling sensation was gone, but she could still feel the Apple bead’s warmth.  She smiled and picked up her pace as her small band of friends dashed down the road.

Every now and again a bat or an owl would fly by, clicking after insects or making a solemn cry, sending a chill through everyone as they moved closer to their destination.  The two torches that the boys carried fluttered in the crisp night air as they ran, and after a half mile or so, they finally reached the edge of the trees.  A small path, the white sand barely visible beneath the dark shadows of the forest, broke from the road and twined around the trunks of the conifers.

“I bet we have to go in there,” breathed Rhudedth ruefully.

“It can’t be that far in,” Scede offered, taking a deep, weary breath.

The children entered the woods, single file, Pahrdh in the lead with one torch and Scede taking up the rear with the other.  After several yards into the copse, the path ended in a tiny clearing where there stood yet another post and plaque.

“This is it!  Quick, write down the clue Jahrra, I don’t want to stand in here much longer,” Gieaun said, shivering a little in the shadows of the trees.  The flickering torchlight jerked and danced from side to side, casting living shadows that made the trees seem alive.

Jahrra quickly jotted down the clue and the group headed back out to the main road, once again gathering around the parchment.  This time Jahrra read it aloud:

The Various colors of fall adorn my lot,

across the Vast fields I roam.

Vermin prey upon me, though I hear them not,

both from aboVe and below the loam.

“This one’s as hard as the last one, but we need to figure it out fast,” Jahrra finished, pursing her lips under her mask.  The darkness was making it difficult to read and the sounds of the night’s denizens made it hard to concentrate.

“Let me see it for a moment, Jahrra.”

Jahrra handed the parchment over to Gieaun, grateful to let someone else have a shot at it.  Gieaun pushed back her mask and rubbed her eyes.  “It sounds like something that changes color in the fall, the maple trees perhaps?”  She sounded tired, like she didn’t want to have to think anymore.

“I think it’s talking about something that lives in a field.  Maybe some sort of crop that is grown there.  But why mention that it can’t hear?  Everyone knows plants can’t hear,” Rhudedth said in a flustered tone.

“It’s the native corn!” Scede said suddenly. “The cornfields, the ones east of town, the kernels turn to orange and red in the fall, just before harvest!  The farmers usually harvest them last, waiting for them to change color!  And they have ears, but they cannot hear, like the riddle says!”

“Good job Scede!” said Pahrdh, relieved to be moving once again.

The group ran the remaining five hundred yards to where the field of the native corn stood.  The road was now following the edge of the small forest; the river had long since headed northeast.  Jahrra didn’t like being so near to the wood at night, but she desperately wanted to win this contest, if not for the prize money for the glory.  Not to mention, it would give her another one-up on Eydeth and Ellysian.

After spending several minutes searching around the immediate area of the cornfield, the children grew restless once more.  “The previous clues weren’t difficult to find, where’s this one?” Scede complained. “They don’t expect us to traipse through the cornfields all night, do they?”

“Read the clue again, maybe we missed something,” Jahrra said, a little more irritably than she meant.

Gieaun cast her friend a frustrated glance before reading the clue aloud once more.  While the group stood there wracking their brains for some idea of where the riddle might be, a rustling noise in the field adjacent to the woods caught their attention.  Scede and Pahrdh wheeled around, torches held high, trying to see into the cornfields to judge what had made the noise.

“Probably a possum or a fox,” whispered Rhudedth nervously.

“We’re on the main path, so the clue must be around here somewhere,” Jahrra said, her focus returning to the paper that Gieaun clutched in her hands.

“The first riddle led us to the river, the second to the forest, but the path runs around the cornfields.  We already checked the entire perimeter, so the clue has to be somewhere within the fields.  Maybe we should see if any of the stalks are pushed aside; maybe someone ahead of us found the clue already.”

Just as Gieaun was tucking the paper away, a crashing noise, louder than the one they’d heard before, sounded from the dark tree line.  The five companions froze and stood staring at the spot where the commotion had come from.  Scede and Pahrdh held their torches up once again.  Before they could get a chance to see what had caused the ruckus, someone shouted, “NOW!”

Several people in costume came crashing out of the shadows and ambushed them.

“What the . . . ,” Scede started to say before being choked off by a hard shove.  Within seconds Jahrra, Gieaun, Scede, Pahrdh and Rhudedth were surrounded by six intruders.  Two of them wrenched the torches from Scede and Pahrdh’s hands and snuffed them out.

“Hey!” Gieaun yelled as one of the attackers grabbed her arms, trying to subdue her.

A scuffle ensued when someone else threw their arms around Pahrdh, pulling him roughly and noisily to the ground while another dark figure landed a blow to the side of Scede’s head, causing him to collapse with a winded grunt.  Someone massive and strong managed to seize one of Jahrra’s arms, but she reacted quickly, remembering one of Yaraa’s maneuvers, and twisted away, running head long into the sinister trees.  As Jahrra disappeared into the darkness, she heard more muffled yells as one of the ambushers restrained Rhudedth.

After a few minutes of agile running between the low pine branches, Jahrra no longer heard the sounds of pursuit.  She ducked quickly behind a huge tree and stood very still for a while, secretly appreciating the many years of defense lessons she’d taken with the elves of Dhonoara.  She was also especially grateful that her costume was black.  She listened for a moment and heard nothing, only the stifled sounds of people being gagged and tied.  She’d lost her mask somewhere (perhaps it was back with the group) but right now that was the least of her worries.  Who were those people? she thought.  But she knew she didn’t have to ask herself that question.  It was Eydeth and his thugs; she’d picked his voice out from the others immediately.

Gradually, Jahrra crept back towards the edge of the trees as quietly as she could.  It was no wonder they hadn’t seen anyone.  Despite the fact that the now risen moon was bright enough to bathe the fields in silvery light, the forest was well overgrown and provided many dark places to hide.  As she moved closer, Jahrra strained her ears to hear the attackers talking.

“Did you catch her?” demanded an annoyed Eydeth.  He was wearing a mask, the head of a lion, but Jahrra knew his voice anywhere.

“No,” answered what looked like an exhausted eagle, “she was too fast for me.”

“Great!  The whole point was to teach the Nesnan a lesson, and you let her get away!”

Jahrra looked around and saw that all of her friends had been tied up and gagged, but other than looking very angry and slightly frightened, they weren’t harmed.

“Can’t we do something to her friends to teach her a lesson?” a dark gray wolf with a gruff, muffled voice asked.  Jahrra recognized it as Criyd’s.  “It’ll teach them not to cross us again, won’t it?”

“I guess we could untie them and throw them into the river.  Or better yet, just throw them in as they are,” Eydeth said, having the nerve to sound disappointed.

Jahrra seethed with anger.  Why did Eydeth have to target them anyway?  And why was he even here when he should be at some fancy party in Kiniahn Kroi?  To torment us, of course, Jahrra thought irritably.  She took a deep breath to calm her temper.  She knew she had to do something, and something fast.  She couldn’t let Eydeth and his ruffians throw her friends into the river.

Suddenly, Jahrra’s armlet flared up again.  She nearly gasped as she clutched it with her other hand, and before she could figure out what was going on, a strange scene passed in front of her eyes: a scene of someone dressed in a dark costume running deeper into the woods as others followed.  The vision faded and the sensation passed, leaving Jahrra slightly dazed and confused.  She blinked several times and looked back towards her friends, realizing that Pahrdh was about to receive a cruel kick from someone in an ugly goblin suit.

Without giving it any further thought, Jahrra jumped out from behind the trees and shouted in the direction of the group, “Hey! Leave them alone, it’s me you want.  Let’s see if you can catch me you over-stuffed, un-bathed swine!”

She had a good dozen yards on them, so she began running back through the woods without even pausing to check if they’d seen her.  After a few moments she heard voices calling out behind her.

“Don’t let her get away!  Catch her!  Criyd, you go to the left, Broeghen, you to the right!”

And once again, without even trying, Jahrra found herself the object of yet another one of Eydeth’s manhunts.

- Chapter Eleven -

Fright and Flight on a Sobledthe Night

Jahrra heard the crashing of underbrush and knew she’d distracted enough of Eydeth’s gang to give her friends a fighting chance.  She ran for another few minutes until she came upon a small clearing in the woods.  The exertion had put her slightly out of breath, but she knew she’d gained some distance on them for now.  She leaned over, hands on her knees, sucking in great gulps of air while quietly blessing the strange bracelet for helping her out once again.

She decided to wait until they caught up a little before going any deeper into the dark forest.  She eventually straightened up and decided to look for a place to hide until her attackers arrived.  Before Jahrra could make any progress, however, someone much bigger than any of Eydeth’s friends grabbed her firmly.  A strong hand closed tightly around her mouth while another arm clamped itself forcefully around her waist.  Whoever this was, he or she was very strong.  Before Jahrra could think of anything else, she began to panic.  She kicked and tried to claw at the arms holding onto her, but to no avail.  She was sure that those chasing her were still far behind, but could she have been wrong?  Could Eydeth have set this trap for her?

The man, or creature, that held her was trying to drag her back into the woods away from the clearing and out of the only moonlight that was pouring down from the broken canopy above.  Jahrra felt hot tears welling up in her eyes.  She couldn’t tell if they were a result of fear, anger or from the strong smell of creosote, smoke and sulfur that enveloped the stranger restraining her.  She could hear his raspy breathing, but he didn’t attempt to loosen his grip or tell her to stop moving.  Jahrra feared the worst. I’m going to die! she thought frantically.  Her captor had successfully dragged her to the other end of the clearing and was about to disappear into the trees when the group that had been chasing her burst through the undergrowth on the other end of the tiny meadow.

“She must’ve come this way!  Look at the path she made as she tore through here!”

It was Eydeth.  He had his mask off and was pointing a great lion’s paw towards where they had just broken through.  She had never been so glad to see the horrid boy in her life.  Jahrra took advantage of this one moment of opportunity.  She quickly opened her mouth and bit down as hard as she could on the hand that covered it.  The man bellowed in pain and ripped his hand away.

Jahrra screamed, “HELP!  HELP ME!”  She had managed to get somewhat free in the confusion, but the stranger still grasped her around the waist as she struggled with all her might, trying to run to Eydeth and his friends.

“Eydeth!!  There is a strange person here, please!”

She broke free with one of her recently acquired defense moves and ran as fast as her wobbly legs would carry her.  Eydeth and three of his friends stared in shock as she hobbled towards them, only to look at the stranger when he shook off his injuries and started after her.  Jahrra reached the boys and glanced desperately into their eyes, but they were distracted by something just over her shoulder.  When she finally saw the composition of their faces, Jahrra’s blood ran cold.  Eydeth and his friends looked paler than death, something that was more than a result of the white moonlight.  They had a terror in their eyes she’d never seen before in anyone.

Jahrra’s heart began to race, and she could feel her arms and legs tingling, only this time it wasn’t because of her magical armlet.  She couldn’t bring herself to glance over her shoulder, and she couldn’t coax her dry, swollen throat to speak.  She just looked helplessly at the boys as they continued to stare like graveyard statues at the man Jahrra could feel approaching.  As soon as the boys got over their shock, however, they turned and ran as fast as they could.

Jahrra felt helpless, frozen, petrified, and she began to shake.  She now realized that it hadn’t been a trap; that this person had nothing to do with Eydeth.  She tried her deep breathing technique again, but breathing couldn’t help her now, nothing could help her.  Stop it! her inner voice screamed, you’ve survived many years of hard training just for this kind of situation, pull yourself together!  Jahrra reached out her trembling arm and placed her hand against a tree for support.  Suddenly, she stopped shaking and felt a flicker of ease rush over her quaking body, her armlet tingling once again.  I can handle this, she thought as the calming magic spread through her body, I know what to do.

As the sound of the boys’ crashing back through the dark woods faded away, Jahrra slowly began to turn around.  She knew she didn’t want to see what was there, but something made her turn, a voice, this time not her own, calling from somewhere beyond reach, telling her she must see . . .

She looked directly into the middle of the meadow, and there she saw him, the man who’d tried to abduct her.  The stranger was fumbling for what looked like a long cloth that had covered his face.  He wasn’t nearly as close as Jahrra had thought he would be, and was now falling back further and further away from her.  He managed to pull the scarf over his face before Jahrra could get a good look at it, and his eyes were shrouded in the shadows cast by the silvery moonlight.  He was wearing a heavy, hooded type of jacket or coat, and his pants and boots looked rather ordinary if not a bit threadbare in the dim moonlight.  If Jahrra were to place him, she would assume he was a common thief who’d just been trying to rob her.  But why did Eydeth and his thugs look at him as if he were a demon?

Jahrra didn’t stand around long enough to ponder the question.  She took advantage of the stranger’s scrabbling and began to run again, to run back to the path that led out of these dangerous woods and to her friends.  She didn’t even care if she stumbled upon Eydeth and his group.  She figured they had been scared witless and wouldn’t be coherent enough to try and capture her again.  She slowly regained her nerves as she made her way through the dark, hoping that the stranger had kept on going in the opposite direction.

Why did he back off after I got away? she wondered as she pushed past the prickly branches, moving further and further away from the meadow. I was standing still long enough for him to grab me again, so why didn’t he?  Maybe it had something to do with the wooden beads laced around her wrist.  Perhaps their magic had helped her after all.  Or maybe it was because Eydeth and his friends had seen the stranger’s face.  Yes, that must’ve been it, Jahrra told herself with a chill. I must thank Eydeth someday, she thought with sour humor, he unknowingly saved me.

Scede and Pahrdh were untying Gieaun and Rhudedth when Jahrra finally emerged from the woods.

“Jahrra!!!” squeaked Rhudedth, still sitting in the dirt, her brother trying to cut her hands free.  “What on Ethoes happened in there?!  Why did you go running off?  Why did Eydeth and his friends come charging out of the woods like they’d seen a ghost!?”

The girl was almost in hysterics, and her brother was trying to calm her down.  Jahrra looked around at her friends.  Gieaun and Rhudedth had been crying, Pahrdh appeared to be pretty shaken up, and Scede looked dazed and more worried than Jahrra had ever seen him.

“I’m alright, but what about you guys?”  Jahrra was still winded from the tight grasp the stranger had had on her, but she was more concerned about her friends at the moment.

“All we know,” Scede began quietly, holding his hand gently against the side of his head, “Is that you yelled at Eydeth to chase you and then he and three of his friends took off after you, leaving two behind to guard us until they returned.  We waited probably a half an hour or more before Eydeth and his goons came tearing out of the trees, making the most noise possible, and screeching, yes screeching, at his friends to “run and run fast”.”

Scede exhaled unsteadily, looking whiter than ever.  “They listened to him without blinking and they all took off running towards town, leaving us all tied up here.” He took a deep, shuddering breath and whispered, “I thought you had died.”

“Jahrra,” it was Gieaun that spoke this time, in an eerily calm voice, “what happened in there?”

Jahrra hesitated for a moment.  Of course they would want to know what really happened, but she wasn’t about to tell them, at least not now.  Scede and Gieaun would panic and say this was just like all the other times she talked them into doing something dangerous.  Pahrdh and Rhudedth might not ever associate with her again if they knew she was prone to being attacked by strangers.  They would also insist that she tell Hroombra, which was something she couldn’t bring herself to do.  He would worry too much, and she was alive after all, so why bother frightening everyone?

She darted her eyes over to Scede, noting the white tusks protruding from his mask, and blurted, “It was a boar!  A great big boar that came crashing through the underbrush!”

Jahrra’s four friends looked as if they’d been broadsided by a bear.  She swallowed the anxious lump in her throat and continued, “I ran until I came to a break in the trees, and while I caught my breath, Eydeth and his friends caught up to me.  Just as they stepped into the clearing, this wild pig came flying out of nowhere!  I jumped up the closest tree and watched as it chased after Eydeth and his friends.”

Jahrra ended her speech with a very dramatic breath.  Everyone gazed at her quizzically, but they were too tired, their nerves too jumbled to wonder if she was telling the truth.

“Weren’t you afraid the boar would come after you once it stopped chasing Eydeth?” Rhudedth asked timidly.

“Sure, but I was also worried it would get you guys.”  Jahrra smiled, pleased with her own quick thinking.

“I think we should go back into town, who knows what else is in that wood,” Pahrdh said, eyeing the dark edge of the trees suspiciously.

Everyone, not surprisingly, agreed with him.  They dusted themselves off and examined any injuries they might have received, Gieaun affectionately cleaning off the cut on her brother’s temple as he squirmed in annoyance.

“Too bad we couldn’t finish the scavenger hunt,” Jahrra mourned as they plodded back along the deserted road.  It was easier to dwell on her disappointment than to think about the fear she had felt in the woods.  Everyone gave her a scathing look, so she didn’t press the matter.

“Oh, here Jahrra,” Scede said, handing her the raven mask once they’d put some distance between the woods and themselves. “It fell off when one of the boys tried to grab you.  You should put it on, it’s still Sobledthe Eve, and there’s still a lot to do when we get back into town.”

“Maybe we should tell someone, you know, about what happened?” Rhudedth suggested carefully. “Not the boar part, but how Eydeth and his friends attacked us?”

“No,” Jahrra said automatically.  For one reason or another, she didn’t want anyone to know about the incident, and she really didn’t see the point.  Telling people about Eydeth’s attacks hadn’t helped her before, why would it help now?  “Besides,” she continued after noticing Rhudedth’s crestfallen expression, “I have a feeling they’re long gone.”

More importantly, Jahrra didn’t want anyone to know about the stranger who’d tried to capture her.  If Eydeth’s name was brought up, he may be questioned and he might say something about the man who had frightened them.  Jahrra wanted to keep on believing that the stranger wasn’t dangerous, and investigating the matter further could prove that he was.  She shivered at the thought of someone actually wanting to kidnap her, and then suddenly remembered the look she’d seen on Eydeth’s face once he spotted her would-be captor.

Jahrra squeezed her eyes shut and forced herself to believe that the look of fear on her classmate’s face was just a reaction to seeing someone who could actually harm him.  It wasn’t because this dark stranger was evil or particularly dangerous; it was because, no matter how much Eydeth told everyone how tough he was, he really was a big coward.  Yes, Jahrra reassured herself, that man was just a hermit or a drifter and we startled him.  And no one got hurt, so why bother telling anyone at all?  What good would that do?

She relayed her thoughts to her friends and they all agreed to keep what happened tonight secret.  They all accepted the incident as just another one of Eydeth’s foiled attempts to terrorize Jahrra.  They were just grateful the boar showed up in the nick of time to save their friend.

“You’re right, telling on them is a bit childish, and it won’t do any good,” Gieaun fumed after they’d made their decision. “But now I really want to get him back for this.  Throw us in the river?  I’d like to throw him in the river!”

“I know, Gieaun,” Jahrra sighed with a slight smile, “but just think!  We’ve had a real life Sobledthe adventure!”

“I hate to take the thrill away from your enjoyment of our narrow escape with death Jahrra, but can we walk a little faster please?” Rhudedth breathed as a raccoon emerged from the fields and onto the path in front of them.  “I can’t wait to get back into town!”

“I agree,” Pahrdh added nervously as he lengthened his stride. “Besides, I don’t want to give Eydeth and his friends another chance to attack us.”

Just as the children were coming up to the embankment of the main road that led into town, the sky suddenly lit with a flurry of burning red, gold and violet sparks.

“Ohhh!” Jahrra groaned in disappointment. “That’s the end of the hunt!  Someone’s figured out all the riddles.”

“Finally!  Civilization!” cried Scede happily, ignoring Jahrra’s obvious chagrin.

The five of them stepped a little lighter as they traveled past the ghostly white houses on the edge of town, every last one of them now guarded by small armies of glowing jack-o’-lanterns.  Jahrra squealed and then laughed nervously when a black cat hissed and went darting into the shadows.  Immediately after she recovered, however, a group of young children jumped out from behind a shrub and caused everyone to leap out of their skins.  The children laughed gleefully, proud of themselves for scaring Jahrra and her friends and then tripped off to find another unsuspecting victim.

“I don’t know if I can take any more surprises tonight!” Gieaun said in exasperation.

Scede, Rhudedth, Jahrra and Pahrdh nodded their agreement. They were all ready to grab some hot cider and enjoy the rest of the evening, without Eydeth, without wild boars and without strangers lurking in dark corners.

“I wonder what the prize was,” Gieaun speculated.

Jahrra wondered too, trying not to feel too disappointed about it.  It was our first try, she told herself, and besides, she thought with a shiver, there was no way we could’ve prepared for what happened.

As the blazing town square came into full view, the five friends noticed that someone was about to announce the winning team: four adults dressed in elaborate, tropical bird costumes.

“Congratulations to the winners,” the man in the black robes boomed. “They have won ten gold pieces each!”

The crowd began to murmur wildly and Jahrra noted the disgruntled looks on the faces of the other people she could only assume had come to the last clue just behind the winners.

“And,” continued the elder joyfully, bringing the crowd back to silence, “for an extra five silvers each, what is this year’s celebrated animal?  The answer is in the riddles . . .”

The man and his two comrades appeared mischievous with glee as the four bird heads lifted to reveal the faces of four Nesnan men, their expressions stony and rigid as they concentrated on the papers they held.  After only a few minutes and a banter of harsh whispering, the four of them stood facing the three men in the ceremonial gowns.

“Do you have an answer?” the man dressed in red asked anxiously.

“This year’s honorary animal is . . .” one of the Nesnan men paused for dramatic effect, “the Raven!”

“Correct!” the elders shouted, and just as the crowd began to cheer, one final firecracker shot up and exploded into a blackish purple rain of embers, outlining the figure of a giant raven.

“How about that Jahrra, you’re the honorary animal!” Scede said, elbowing his friend in the ribs.

“That’s why some letters were capitalized!  Look,” Pahrdh interjected, pulling out the paper they’d written the clues on, “we had R, A and V.  The other two clues would have had all of their E’s and N’s capitalized.  I bet you anything!”

“How clever!” Rhudedth commented.  But they didn’t have much time to ponder the intricacies of the clues, for the sounds of their voices were soon drowned out by cheering, laughter and music.

Jahrra smiled as she watched the start of the celebration unfold before her eyes.  After the fiery raven floated back down to earth, the bonfire ignited in one large plume of violet flame, slowly dying down into a tower of dancing orange and scarlet.  The musicians began playing pipes and flutes and drums, and fifty dancers, all dressed in matching raven costumes much more ornate than Jahrra’s, began chanting and prancing around the fire.  The people were all invited to join in the celebration, and before long, the hallowed rituals of the festival began.

Jahrra, Gieaun, Scede, Pahrdh and Rhudedth all watched in awe as corn, wheat and a variety of squashes were brought to the fire and thrown in.  Dried meat and leather goods were also sacrificed, along with old shoes and clothes and even a few pieces of jewelry.  Over the next several minutes, a multitude of objects were added to the fire, all of which symbolized an ending to the old year and the beginning of a new one.

Jahrra watched as the figures acted out the sacred vow, the fragile connection between life and death displayed for all to see.  She remembered the words of Hroombra and Denaeh as the music and the chanting voices drifted through the enchanted air: “Anything that distracts the people of Ethoes from the sacred Goddess and the importance of protecting and honoring her is fed to the flames on this holy night.  Everything old and worn out is thrown into the fire to show the acceptance of a New Beginning.  For the Dark Half of the year starts on this day, and both life and death are to be revered and respected during this festival.  Life is celebrated in the food that has been harvested for all to live on during the cold months, while death is acknowledged as these living things die to feed the people and creatures of the world.  The celebration of Sobledthe ensures that this respect and sacred cycle is instilled in all, a respect for life and a respect for Ethoes herself.  No one person ever leaves the Fall Festival not knowing how important it is to honor the one that gave life.”

The bonfire burned brightly for several hours through the night, casting strange shadows of costumed dancers and revelers against the buildings of the town, making it look as though the streets were alight with demons and spirits.  As the festive night wore on and as the leaping and wild flames became tame and cowering coals, so too did the many costumed celebrants.  The hours of dancing, singing and merriment had exhausted everyone present, including Jahrra and her four friends.  As Echnia the dawn goddess slowly awoke, the tired people of Lensterans began solemnly trudging out of town.

“Come on,” Pahrdh whispered quietly. “Everyone is heading towards the harvested fields to get ready for sunrise.”

Jahrra watched with a glazed expression as the throngs of people slowly drained out of the middle of town.  Gieaun pulled on her arm as Scede and Pahrdh led them all west towards the stables where their horses were sleeping.  Along the way, they could see that small, individual fires had been kindled amid the now barren fields, their brilliant orange glare looking like puddles of molten rock against the black.  Several families were camped out around these fires and were now settling in until the dawn arrived.  At first light, they would all rise and greet the sun, Haelionn, and give thanks for his nurturing of the earth and for giving them what light he could during the darkest part of the year.

The friends strolled by the last few vendors on the edge of town and each bought some hot apple cider, a roasted chicken leg and a caramel apple as they passed.  While she trudged along sipping her spiced cider, Jahrra looked up into the sky.  The moon was still above the western horizon, but its light didn’t drown out the stars as much as it had before.  Jahrra paused for just a moment and looked to the east.  The hills were lined with a thin thread of turquoise, rising and falling as it outlined the hilltops.  The dawn will be here soon, Jahrra thought, the winter’s dawn.

Jahrra followed her companions tiredly over to an open patch of broken earth and helped them spread a few blankets to sit on.  The boys got a fire going and the girls set out the extra food they’d brought with them.  Jahrra closed her eyes and breathed in the aroma of the early morning as the small crackling fire warmed her face.  Winter was just around the corner and in a few months’ time she would be sixteen years old, almost an adult.  She both dreaded and anticipated the fast approaching future.  She would be finished with school in just over a year, and she would probably be going on to study in the great city of Lidien afterwards.  At least that is what Master Hroombra will want, she thought regretfully as she watched a falling star.  The old dragon had mentioned it on occasion before, his golden eyes lighting up as he described the great city and all that one could learn there.

Jahrra sighed.  She didn’t want to leave Oescienne.  It saddened her to think of leaving Hroombra; Hroombra who couldn’t even make it to the Fall Festival.  How would he survive without her and what would she do without him to help guide her?  He had been her solid ground when her whole world had been ripped from beneath her.  He had taken her in, helped her get over the grief of losing two parents, and he had taught her just about everything she now knew.  Jahrra shook her head and brought her eyes back to earth.  Thinking about such things brought back old memories that made her sad.  I will think about what is to come some other time, she said to herself, but not now.

Later that morning she would head back home as the natives of Lensterans continued their festival.  She longed to see her Korli guardian, to tell him about the many celebrations and traditions she’d witnessed, but she knew she had to be careful not to mention what had happened in the woods.  Jahrra grimaced as she once again recalled the stranger’s tight grip on her.  Her rib cage hurt and she was sure she’d find several bruises in the next few days.  She would just have to tell everyone she’d fallen off of Phrym or tripped over her costume onto the hard cobblestone streets of Lensterans.  She couldn’t tell anyone about what really happened.

When the sun’s golden fingers finally reached up over the eastern hills, all of the people around, Nesnan, Resai and everyone in-between, sang a sad song of hope and finality as they made their slow, solemn march back to the dying bonfire in the town square.  The young women carried the last flowers of the year and tossed them upon the remaining embers, their bright lights quickly winking out.  As the flowers burned and hissed, purple, red and green smoke rose into the air.  Everyone bowed their heads in reverence, for the Dark Half of the year had officially begun.

- Chapter Twelve -

Lessons, Languages and Exams

During the weeks following Sobledthe, Jahrra found it impossible to forget about what had happened in the woods outside of Lensterans.  The dismal feeling of dread would have passed in time, she was sure, if only it hadn’t been for Eydeth’s strange behavior towards her at school.  Instead of glaring at her across the schoolyard and shouting out his usual insults, he resigned himself to keeping his eyes down and muttering nervously anytime she walked by.  Jahrra knew it wasn’t because she’d evaded his grasp once again; it had everything to do with the strange man who had almost captured her.  The fragile state of Eydeth, and his sister as well, made Jahrra feel even worse than before.  She now knew by the way they were acting that the man in the forest was much more than a mere vagabond or petty thief.  If he’d frightened the twins to the verge of tears, then he must be someone quite dangerous indeed.

Jahrra tried to shake off her troublesome thoughts so that she could focus on her studies.  The days were ticking by and as the winter months approached, so did exams.  She stayed up late every night with Hroombra, studying and memorizing and practicing.  Not only did she have her modern history, mathematics and writing lessons at school to contend with, but she also had ancient history, natural history and kruelt with Hroombra, not to mention lessons with Yaraa and Viornen as well.  She was busy with everything from interpreting difficult draggish passages, learning the dates of important events in history, and spending weekends pushing herself to her physical limits with the elves.  By the time all of her exams and tests were over, Jahrra was exhausted.

“Ah, very accurate,” Hroombra smiled as he looked down at Jahrra’s portfolio of maps, plants and animals of Oescienne.  He had allowed her to use them on one of his ancient history exams.  “Your ability to draw is one of your best skills, I have to say.”

Jahrra smiled, relieved she’d done so well.  Unfortunately, but not at all surprisingly, she didn’t do so well in kruelt.  “I’ll never learn this wretched language!” she fumed, throwing her pencil down in distaste and puffing a loose strand of hair out of her eyes.

“You must learn it Jahrra,” Hroombra frowned. “We just need to work a little harder.  You just need to practice more.”

“Well, maybe if you weren’t the only one who spoke it in all of Oescienne I would have learned it by now!”

She didn’t mean to get frustrated with Hroombra, but she’d been so tense lately because of all that had happened in the last few months that she often lost her temper.  Studying and struggling through her defense exercises was stressful enough and the knowledge that her would-be abductor (who was dangerous after all) was on the loose didn’t help matters.  Despite all of these misgivings, however, Jahrra managed to survive the final week of exams at school, ensuring her a final year of education at the small schoolhouse in Aldehren.  Once all of her tests were over, Jahrra was able to relax a little, and soon she was back to work at convincing herself that what had happened in Lensterans was all a misunderstanding.

Solsticetide and Jahrra’s birthday flew by so quickly that she barely had time to grasp that she’d turned sixteen.  Hroombra gave her an entire set of books containing the folktales of Oescienne.  Jahrra beamed at the leather-bound books and only did her smile fade when she saw that they were written entirely in draggish.

“Now you have a reason to learn my language well,” the old dragon told her, his eyes twinkling.

Jahrra slouched, feeling suddenly deflated despite her initial excitement at the gift.  She hoped that someday she would be able to read them all.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” the great dragon said suddenly. “Something came for you several months ago, but I wanted to save it for your birthday.”

Hroombra walked to the storage room behind the fireplace and came out with what looked like a large wadded, tattered quilt hanging from his mouth.  He set the bundle down in front of her, and Jahrra approached it cautiously but with great curiosity.

Once she finally peeled back the folds of the old blanket, her heart skipped a beat.  It was a brand-new, four pommel saddle.  Jahrra knelt down and ran her fingers over the finely worked leather, admiring the intricate oak leaf pattern and inlayed silver.  On each corner of the saddle, below each pommel, there was a plate of polished silver with a finely etched dragon upon each surface.

“It’s beautiful!” she finally said when she found her voice.  “How ever did you pay for it?”

Jahrra looked up at Hroombra with misty eyes.  The saddle was obviously very expensive and she wouldn’t have wanted him to spend so much.

“Now, what makes you think it’s from me?” Hroombra asked, grinning unflappably.

Jahrra furrowed her brow.  Who else could it be from?

“The saddle is from Jaax, Jahrra,” Hroombra went on once he saw the bewildered look on Jahrra’s face.  “I wrote to him many months ago and told him about your progress with Yaraa and Viornen.  He was very pleased with this news and he figured you might need a decent saddle for everything you did atop Phrym.”

He smiled down at her once more, but Jahrra didn’t smile back.  In fact, she pulled her hand away from the saddle as if it were red hot. “Oh,” she said simply, “I didn’t know that you had written to him.”

It was a lie, of course.  Jahrra knew that many of the letters her mentor received had been sent by the Tanaan dragon, she just didn’t want to acknowledge it.  She sometimes secretly hoped that Jaax had forgotten about them.

Jahrra wrapped the saddle back up and hoisted it off the ground.  “You must write back to him and tell him that I am grateful for it,” she said, more to fill in the silence than to express her gratitude.  She loved the beautiful gift, but she couldn’t bring herself to enjoy the fact that it was from Jaax.  Hroombra frowned after her as she carried it into her room, but he said nothing.  He only wished that Jahrra would have grown to know and understand the Tanaan dragon as he did.  But one cannot force roots to grow towards the sky.  The old Korli dragon sighed, realizing that Jahrra would always see things her own way.

Solsticetide passed and Jahrra took a deep mental breath, plunging into the remainder of the arduous school year.  The twins still kept their distance from her, but they no longer had that look of sheer panic in their expressions like before.  Instead, they donned a look of concern, something that appeared very strange on their usually sour faces.  On some days, Eydeth would brag enthusiastically to his friends as Jahrra walked up the path into the schoolhouse, but as soon as he spotted her, he would stop talking in mid-sentence, a worried look clouding his pale brown eyes.

This frightened Jahrra even more than the looks of fear.  Eydeth and Ellysian, concerned about me? She would shake her head in bafflement when she thought about it.  She didn’t really think that they could honestly be distressed about her well-being, but their expressions were clear and the truth was apparent; she was lucky she got away from that stranger in the woods outside Lensterans.  Who on Ethoes could he have been?! she would think in fear and frustration, the Crimson King himself!

Spring’s gentle weather was a relief when it finally arrived.  The long, rainy winter brought an abundance of flowers, and Jahrra’s garden looked better than ever.  The pond was brimming with water lilies and reeds, and the birds were building nests in the vines and shrubs along the crumbled wall.  The warm air and sunny days turned the fields of Oescienne from a sea of green to a sea of pastels, and as the season progressed, the weeks once again grew nearer and nearer to examination time.

“Ugh, I swear we just had exams!” Jahrra exclaimed to Gieaun and Scede one spring day after Professor Tarnik handed out the study guides in class.

“Yes Jahrra, five months ago!” Scede said, wondering if his friend was having an anxiety attack.

“Honestly Scede, it feels like it was only a couple of weeks ago!”

Jahrra had been so busy with all of her other lessons that she hadn’t noticed the days passing by so rapidly.

“Maybe you just need to relax,” Gieaun offered kindly.  “Exams are in two weeks, why don’t you take a break this weekend and we can go do something other than study.  I know, let’s go to the Eight Coves!  It would be nice to go somewhere else besides Lake Ossar, and it’ll help you ease your mind, Jahrra.”

Jahrra pursed her lips, her blue eyes sharpening with thought.  The Eight Coves were a network of small inlets situated along a lengthy stretch of rocky coast running from the mouth of the Raenyan River north to meet the western tip of the Elornn Mountains.  Although the southern, sandy beaches of the province were often crowded with people fishing, collecting seaweed and driftwood, or merely spending a day at the beach, the coves to the north rarely had such visitors.  They were isolated and almost inaccessible, and many people avoided them out of shear inconvenience.

“That sounds like a good idea,” she finally said, smiling.

“Tomorrow then?” Gieaun prompted.  “Let’s ask if Pahrdh and Rhudedth want to come too . . .”

***

As the dawn approached the next morning, Jahrra lie quietly awake in her small bed in her tiny room.  She watched the walls grow lighter as the sun’s rays poured in through her little window, and she thought of the dream world she had just left behind and the dream that had awoken her several minutes before. She now sat in mild frustration, wracking her brain, trying to remember when she’d last dreamt of the hooded figure.

Suddenly she remembered; it had been in Denaeh’s cave in the Belloughs of the Black Swamp over a year ago.  It was then that the red-cloaked stranger so rudely entered her subconscious world and tried to do harm to her familiar friend.  This newest dream had been vivid, but to her great relief, the red-hooded intruder had not paid a visit.  The landscape had been foggy, as it always was, and the rows of trees had disappeared into the hazy sky.  Jahrra remembered stepping silently over the leafy ground, detecting the faint fragrance of apple blossoms made heavy by the cool dampness of the dew.  She was wandering through the orchard, looking for something, and for a brief moment, she thought it might be Abdhe and Lynhi she was searching for.  She remembered long ago, just after their deaths, how she had always sought them in her dreams, but she couldn’t remember how long ago that had been now.  This is ridiculous, she had told herself in the dream, my mother and father have been dead for almost nine years.  I won’t find them here.

Then, Jahrra now recalled with a shudder, she had suddenly become very angry in her dream world, so angry that she couldn’t even cry.  She looked around frantically, her heart beginning to race.  She needed to run, run away from this foggy orchard she was trapped in.  She thrashed through the tangled grass and as she inhaled sharply, she could feel her lungs stinging from the chill surrounding her.  She didn’t know how long she had been running, or what finally made her stop.  She didn’t even know how it was that she had remained in the same spot, but the desire to run, to escape, was suddenly over.  She fell to her knees; standing had become too exhausting.

Jahrra hung her head and pressed her hands into the cold, damp soil, trying hard to catch her breath.  The darkness was fading and light was dawning, but not the natural light of the sun.  Off in the distance there was a glowing radiance; a soft cream-colored brilliance, as if its source were only yards away and not miles.  Jahrra looked up towards the strange glow and waited in exhausted patience as her breathing slowly abated.

She knew what was coming.  She always knew in these dreams of fog and trees and enchanted sunlight.  Then she saw him, the hooded figure who never failed to arrive.  He moved over toward the small tree-lined knoll, stepping in front of the creamy light, creating a halo around his figure, the same familiar figure she had known all of her life.

As Jahrra knelt there amongst the weeds and trees, eyes half closed from weariness, she wondered if she would ever learn who this person was.  Was it one of her parents?  Was it an enemy she would have to fight off her entire life?  Was it a spirit that looked after her?  Perhaps it was the man who had tried to kidnap her last fall.  Jahrra became lost in her train of thought and her quiet visitor began walking towards her.  She looked up and stared at him through glazed, half-shut eyes.  He moved closer, but Jahrra hadn’t felt that she was in any danger.  In fact, she felt as though a great weight was being lifted or a great hole in her soul was being filled.

The hooded figure stopped just five feet from her and Jahrra willed herself to look directly at where his face would be, the face that was shadowed by the hood.  Then he did something he had never done before.  He reached up, as if to pull the hood back and reveal his face.  Jahrra panicked, but she couldn’t move.  She was stuck where she was, staring blankly up at him.  So she did the only thing left that she could do, she allowed her eyes to close completely, just as he pulled the hood back.  That is when she woke with a start.

Jahrra ran the dream through her head, time and time again, trying to decide if she was frightened, happy or relieved.  Why had she shut her eyes in the dream?  Hadn’t she always wanted to know who this stranger was?  But she knew why she had done it: fear.  She feared what might lay hidden under the hood, so she avoided it by turning away.

A sudden song-burst from a morning sparrow brought Jahrra’s mind back to the world of the conscious and she realized that the dawn had begun to grow old.  Though the dream still troubled her, it would have to wait.  She threw back the sheets and jumped up into a sitting position, pulled out one of her many journals she kept under her bed, jotted down the remains of her dream in as much kruelt as she could, and then hurried to get dressed.  She met Hroombra in the common room reading at his massive desk as usual.  She said a quick good morning, grabbed some fruit and bread and then headed towards the door.

“Just one moment if you please,” Hroombra said pleasantly, his eyes still glued to the material he was studying.

Jahrra had both her hands on either side of the door frame and was just about to make her escape.  Great, what could he possibly want me to do now? Jahrra thought, dreading he would insist on her staying home all weekend to study.  She really hoped he wouldn’t.  Yaraa and Viornen thought it was quite alright that Jahrra take a weekend off to ease her weary brain, so why not her mentor?

Jahrra fell back within the common room and looked over her shoulder at her guardian.

“Yes?” she asked in the most innocent voice she could muster.

“And where are you off to today?” Hroombra droned, still not looking at her.

“To the Eight Coves, actually,” she answered, knowing full well that there was not an ounce of deception in her voice.

This time the great Korli dragon glanced up from his manuscripts, his reptilian brows raised.

“The Eight Coves?  I don’t ever remember you going there.  What’s the occasion?”

Jahrra was annoyed by all of these questions, but she didn’t want to end up on Hroombra’s bad side.

“Just a few of us from class are going up there to help relax before exams.  That’s alright isn’t it?” she responded, hoping the sarcasm she felt hadn’t carried over into her tone.

“No, I think it’s a lovely idea,” Hroombra replied, once again becoming engrossed in his work.  “Go on now, have a good time, and try to stay out of trouble.”  The dragon peered up at Jahrra without lifting his head and smiled crookedly.

Jahrra grinned back.  “I’ll see you tonight then.”

She flew through the door, wanting to get away from her mentor as quickly as possible before he changed his mind.  Phrym tossed his head playfully when he spotted Jahrra traipsing up the sloping field.  She fed him one of the apples she’d grabbed for breakfast and quickly got him ready to go, deciding to finally use the new saddle she’d received from Jaax.  It had been sitting safely in Phrym’s stable for many months now, slowing and determinedly collecting dust.  She had told Hroombra that she didn’t want to use it right away; Phrym’s old saddle still had plenty of wear in it, why ruin the new one just yet?  But that wasn’t why she had avoided using the fine saddle for so long.  She just couldn’t bring herself to enjoy anything Jaax had given her.

“Now Jahrra, do you think Raejaaxorix would be happy knowing that you haven’t made good use of his gift?” had been Hroombra’s reply to her veiled excuses. “He meant for you to use it, not to save it for a rainy day.”

Jahrra had smiled through gritted teeth.  I would be thrilled if that is what Jaax really thought, but then again, not using the saddle is also upsetting Master Hroombra, so I guess I had better get Phrym used to it.

Now, recalling the discussion that had happened weeks ago, Jahrra smiled quietly as she tightened the stiff, squeaky leather straps of her brand new saddle around Phrym’s middle.  She couldn’t help but admire the high quality, carved leather and the gleaming silver plates decorating the four pommels.  Once she realized how much she was gawking over the fine artisans’ work, she scowled and reminded herself who had picked it out for her.

“We may be making Jaax happy Phrym,” she sighed, “but just wait until Gieaun and Scede see it!”

Jahrra hoisted herself up into the new saddle, her skin beginning to tingle as she settled between the four horns.  It was astonishingly comfortable, and she felt much more secure upon it than her older saddle.  She leaned forward and whispered into her semequin’s back-turned ears, “Now for the real test, Phrym.  Let’s see how this thing handles our riding!”

Jahrra kicked Phrym into high speed, hurrying to meet up with Gieaun and Scede who were already waiting patiently for her on the main road.  She pulled her semequin to an abrupt stop, kicking up dust and rocks at a shying Bhun and Aimhe.

“Ugh, can you be any ruder Jahrra?” Gieaun complained, trying to get Aimhe to stand still.

Jahrra just beamed at her friends, suddenly in a good mood.  It was a really nice day after all, and she felt like a queen sitting in her new saddle, the one that Scede was now eyeing with a combination of envy and wonder.

“That’s not Phrym’s saddle,” he said plainly.

Jahrra grinned even wider, forgetting her irritation at who the gift was from.  “It is now,” she asserted.

“Where did you get it?!” Scede demanded.

He had a look of disbelief on his face.  Having been raised by parents who bred horses, he knew good leatherwork when he saw it.

“I got it for Solsticetide,” Jahrra sniffed. “I just haven’t used it yet, since Phrym’s old saddle was still good.”

“You’ve had it that long and you’re just now breaking it in?” he continued, looking even more flabbergasted than before.

“Who gave it to you?”  Gieaun had brought Aimhe around to get a better look at the object of conversation.

Jahrra tensed up suddenly, her smile vanishing.  She felt her face give a slight flush and was suddenly at a loss for words.  “Uh . . .” she stammered.

“Who did you get it from?  You said you got it for Solsticetide, did Master Hroombra get it for you?”

Jahrra flashed her eyes to the ground and took a swift breath.  “Jaax sent it,” she said in a low voice.  She gritted her teeth as she felt her friends’ surprised glances wash over her.  They knew how much she disliked the dragon; she could only guess they were surprised at her obvious delight in his Solsticetide gift.

“Wow,” Scede said, “that was kind of him.  It’s the nicest saddle I’ve ever seen.”

“Did he bring it himself?” Gieaun added hesitantly.

“No, no.  He sent it,” Jahrra answered.

An awkward silence followed, all three of them wondering what exactly had caused it.  Jahrra sighed, deciding to break the quiet. “Well, let’s get going.  If we linger here any longer we’ll never get to the coves.”

Jahrra let out a whistle and kicked Phrym into a full run, leaving Bhun and Aimhe behind on the wide dirt road.  A few moments later she heard her two friends riding up behind her.  She glanced back and smiled at them, bringing Phrym to a slow canter as they wound down the side of the hill.  The morning was cool, but it was early yet and the sun was still low in the sky.  The trip to the coves would take a few hours, but they were meeting Pahrdh and Rhudedth in Toria Town first.

The moment they reached the bottom of the hill the three riders encouraged their horses into a steady trot.  They cut through the rich and fruitful fields, waving at passersby along the way.  Jahrra, Gieaun and Scede laughed and shouted as they raced and wove through the farmlands, open fields and small crops of trees as they headed west.  At one point along their route, the three of them passed around a small hill crowned with eucalyptus trees, their branches full of cream-colored flowers.

Two miles later, they reached the outskirts of Toria.  The horses thumped over the wide bridge that crossed the delta of the Raenyan River and Jahrra stood up in the saddle to peer over the railing.  From her standing position, she noticed that the four small channels spreading to the sea like blue fingers were no deeper than Phrym’s shoulder.  Cliff swallows darted erratically to and from the underside of the bridge, their metallic purple and green feathers flashing in rhythm with the shimmering water below.  Several small boats were tied to shrub willows along the banks of the delta, where men were busy hauling great nets filled with fish and clams from their hulls.

Jahrra sat back down in the saddle and inhaled the salty ocean air as the bustle of the approaching town grew nearer.  Carriages and wagons passed by as they crossed over the last bridge into town, and the deep thumping of the horses’ feet upon the wooden bridge soon mingled with the sharp clipping of more hooves and wooden wheels playing against the cobblestone streets.

The outskirts of town were decked with tall, stone buildings housing two or more tiny stores each.  There were jewelry merchants and fabric suppliers, shops that sold crafts and businesses that specialized in trade only.  Open markets where vendors and fish mongers sold their merchandise and daily catch were set up along wide sidewalks.  The intense smell of dead fish, cleansed every now and then by a salty breeze, made the air all but putrid.  Noisy seagulls and sea birds soared above the bustling crowd, diving every now and again in an attempt to steal fish from the purveyors.  Jahrra had to laugh to herself at this sight, for more often than not as a vendor was busy shooing away one seagull, another was sneaking behind his back to take a fish.  Playing solemnly in the background of this strange orchestra of sights and sounds was the monotonous rhythm of the ocean, its waves rushing back and forth upon the shore just beyond the great stone wall that kept the town out of the water’s reach.

Jahrra led Phrym away from the crowded road so that she could get her bearings and figure out where they were.  Bhun and Aimhe followed them, Gieaun screeching as a flock of pigeons was startled into her path.

“Jahrra!!”

Jahrra turned and looked around, surprised to hear her name being called above all the ruckus.

“Jahrra, Gieaun, Scede!  Over here!”  It was Rhudedth, her auburn hair and moss green summer dress standing out among the majority of dark headed, plainly dressed pedestrians.

“Rhudedth!” Jahrra smiled as her friend came rushing over, pushing her way through the crowd.

“You’re late!” Rhudedth chirped, out of breath and pink-cheeked from the effort of working through the throng of people.

“Sorry, we left later than we expected.  Where are Pahrdh and the horses?” Scede asked, scanning the crowd for them.

“Oh, Pahrdh is just on the other side of the plaza talking to a group of street magicians.  We left the horses in the stables by the pier.  And,” Rhudedth’s eyes glinted with mischief as she glanced back up at Jahrra, “Mahryn is here visiting as well.”

Jahrra tried to don a pleasant smile, but she was afraid that Rhudedth noticed her cringe.  She quickly straightened up when she saw the two boys cross the street to come over and stand behind Rhudedth.

“Hello Jahrra,” Mahryn said quietly, blushing rather profusely.  He had sandy hair and quite a lot of freckles.  Despite the fact that he was a few months older than Jahrra in reality, he looked a few years younger and was a few inches shorter as well.  Rhudedth rolled her eyes in a loving fashion.

“I hope you guys don’t mind, but we invited Mahryn along as well,” Pahrdh said with a slight look of apology.  He knew how Jahrra felt about his cousin’s admiration of her.  “He came with our aunt and uncle yesterday and we couldn’t leave him behind at home.”

“No, that would have been rude!  Besides, we always enjoy the extra company,” Gieaun put in, grinning at Jahrra.  “Are you three ready to go now?”

“Sure,” said Mahryn, his voice sounding parched, “but we need to get our horses from the stable; it’s towards the beach and not too far.”

“Alright,” Scede said, “we’ll walk with you.”

Once they were all atop their horses, they made their way back to the main street.  Moving through town proved cumbersome for six horses and their riders, especially with all the merchants, shoppers and delivery carts buzzing about.  Rhudedth and Mahryn were nearly knocked out of the saddle by a very old, wiry man shouting at a donkey who was pulling a cart carrying much more than it was intended to.

“That was quite an ordeal!” Rhudedth breathed once they got out of the way. “Poor old donkey!  That load looked far too heavy for him!”  She turned to see where the old man and his donkey had gone, but they’d already disappeared into the torrential crowd.

“Let’s keep moving before we get trampled out here!” hissed Pahrdh as they started moving back up the street.

After several minutes of some rather dexterous maneuvering, the small cavalry finally made it out of town.  Jahrra took in a deep breath, soaking in the coastal air as they freed themselves from the bustling sea of Nesnan and Resai townsfolk.

“Ugh, finally!” Rhudedth complained.  “I hate crowds!”

“Me too,” Jahrra concurred.  She gazed at the scene surrounding them, shading her eyes from the blazing sun.  The land to their left stretched out for about a hundred feet before plunging into the churning waves below.  To their right, the fields rose into the low coastal hills that ran for miles in either direction, but just before them lay a long sandy road, stretched out like an endless carpet, beseeching them to reach its end.

“Well,” Jahrra grinned, “anybody up for a race?”

Before anyone could answer, she kicked her heels into Phrym’s ribs and the two of them took off down the pale ribbon of sand, daring the rest to follow.

- Chapter Thirteen -

The Ninth Cove

Jahrra and Phrym stayed well ahead of the others and their horses as they made easy progress along the dirt road hugging the bluff’s edge.  As Phrym covered the distance, Jahrra kept her eyes open for signs of the next town that shared this coastal road with Toria.  The warm air brushed past her face and the sound of the sea below complimented the drumming of horses’ hooves.  After a few short miles, the soft white sand below began to give way to darker, hard packed earth.  Jahrra eased Phrym into a slow canter, allowing her friends to catch up to her.

“We must be coming into Hassett Town,” Scede panted as he slowed a puffing Bhun to a walk.

“Wonderful,” Pahrdh muttered.

“What’s so bad about Hassett Town?” Gieaun asked, picking up on her friend’s dull tone.

“Oh nothing,” he droned as he ran one hand through his tousled hair. “Only that it’s just like Kiniahn Kroi, only worse.  This is where all the ‘nobles’ come to vacation.”

Hassett Town was nestled nicely between the rising hills on the east and the ocean cliffs on the west.  The children gawked in wonder as their horses clacked down the fine cobblestone street, their eyes brushing the wonderful vista.  The houses were amazing, far more beautiful than Jahrra had expected from her friend’s disinterested description.  They were constructed in the coastal stone style of the houses in Toria, but they were much larger and meticulously landscaped.  Large gardens and yards were encircled by fine iron fences with neat little stone paths leading up to graceful, arching doorways.  A multitude of blossoming coastal flowers and plants in pale yellows, pinks and greens billowed over the fences and gates.  Every one of the houses had at least one marble fountain of a sea nymph or dolphin in the front yard.

Jahrra was surprised to see very few people out on such a nice day, but she was pleased by it nonetheless.  She had a feeling that if there were any wealthy Resai families outside to see them, they would most likely chase them away with pitchforks the way a mob of country villagers would drive out a rabid wolf.

The pleasant jangle of a wind chime pierced the strange silence and Jahrra turned to her friends. “Don’t Eydeth and Ellysian have a summer house here?” She tried to sound bored, but feared she came off as agitated.

“Yes, they do.”  Gieaun, on the other hand, didn’t feel the need to hide her annoyance.

“That must be it over there,” Pahrdh joked, pointing out a small tool shed.

The children sniggered at his remark and urged their horses onward, hoping that the twins were still snug in their mansion in Kiniahn Kroi and not taking a stroll down the road somewhere up ahead.

“Look, there’s a sign,” Scede said. “Maybe it’ll tell us how far the coves are from here.”

Scede read aloud as his friends caught up to him, “The Eight Coves, 4 miles, Soarna Point Town, 13 miles.”

“Four miles isn’t so far, and we still have all day,” Rhudedth said, shading her eyes and looking toward the sun as her mare pawed at the ground.

“We could race again,” Jahrra offered, pulling Phrym’s reins back in anticipation.

“Jahrra, you always want to race!” Gieaun breathed.

“True, but it’s so much fun!” Pahrdh insisted.  “Besides,” he added to Scede and Mahryn with a wry smile, “we can pretend we are contestants in the Great Race of Oescienne!”

Gieaun looked over at Rhudedth and rolled her eyes.  “You boys and that stupid race!” she moaned.

“Ready?” Jahrra asked excitedly, ignoring Gieaun’s complaint.

“GO!!” Pahrdh shouted as he kicked his horse into full speed.

The five horses and one semequin struggled for a short while to claim the lead, but Phrym was much too fast for all of them.  After ten minutes of full-out galloping, the six companions slowed their horses to a walk and began glancing around at the changed environment, their breathing labored from the effort of keeping their mounts confined to the narrow dirt path.  The lane had gently climbed for most of the way, but now it started to decline into what looked like a redwood grove up ahead.  The hills to their right had also gradually crept closer to the coast, creating a small shelf of flat, wooded land between the cliffs and the base of the hills.

“If I remember correctly, we go downhill through those trees.  On the other side there’s a trail leading down to the base of the cove,” Pahrdh said to the group as they came to the edge of the trees.  He and his sister were the only two who had ever been to the coves before.

“As long as you know where we’re going,” said Gieaun, sounding weary.

The group led their horses through the redwood grove for another half mile or more, feeling grateful for the dappled shade protecting them from the burning sun.  Jahrra began to wonder where the start of the trail was, but once they came upon a small bridge arching over a tiny creek running across their path, she knew they must be close.  She stopped Phrym for a moment and took a deep breath, letting the air fill her lungs.  It smelled of pine oil, dust and ocean. Such a lovely combination, she thought as she smiled, urging her semequin on once more.

The six riders eventually came to a small clearing in the woods.  Scede spotted the trailhead right away; perched on the edge of the cliff before disappearing down its side.  Jahrra walked up as close to the edge with Phrym as she dared.  The fresh leather of her new saddle squeaked as she stood up in the stirrups, first to peer over the cliff’s side and then to glance behind her.  Her five friends stood back in a line on their horses, a look of patience on their faces, as if waiting for her to give them the all-clear sign.

Jahrra smiled as she turned to survey the breathtaking view ahead.  To her left, the land curved around, creating a giant hook of towering earth that eventually pointed to the north.  The land was like a ridge on the sea, its height adorned with a dusting of trees, acting like a great arm that gathered the pale blue water of the cove below into a great, rocky bowl.  A narrow footpath led up the hill and most likely to the edge of the point, but dead ahead of Jahrra, and just on the other side of this enormous jetty, sat the ocean, the endless western ocean.  Great, towering rocks, some as tall as fifty feet and just as wide, were scattered beyond the shore as if they’d been tossed there by an enormous hand.  Far below, the small, pebbly beach welcomed the glittering turquoise-blue surf of the sheltered cove, and a ribbon of water purled down from the edge of the cliff to meet the shore beneath it.  The small cascade was flowing quite profusely, and when she made an effort to listen, Jahrra could hear its light, almost melodic crash upon the gravelly sand below.

Jahrra reluctantly pulled her eyes from the veil of water falling over the cliff and scanned the rest of the beach.  She smiled broadly when she noticed the pock-ridden shelves of rock that littered the shore, imagining what kind of sea life might be lurking within those pores.

“Jahrra!  Are you going to sit there all day ogling those tide pools or are we going to go down there?” Scede called from behind.

Jahrra turned and saw that her friends had moved to the outskirts of the clearing where the creek made its final curve before falling over the cliff.  They were already off of their horses and were in the process of tying the reins to nearby branches.  Jahrra gently turned Phrym around and walked him over to join them.  He nickered lightly in disappointment.  She jumped from his back and walked him over to where all the other horses stood.  “Don’t worry, I won’t leave you here for long,” she said, patting his cheek.

“Who wants to go first?” Gieaun called from the edge of the cliff.  She was staring over the side with a look of dread on her face.

“I’ll go,” Jahrra volunteered.

After several minutes of careful scooting and clinging along the cliff wall, and after receiving a plethora of scratches and bruises from the rocks and brush, Jahrra, Gieaun, Scede, Mahryn, Rhudedth and Pahrdh finally made it down to the beach.

“That was fun,” Rhudedth said facetiously, picking dead vegetation out of her hair.

The tiny pebbles littering the beach radiated the mid-day heat from the sun, so the group of friends decided to make use of the abiding water.  Jahrra sat down on a nearby rock and took off her deerskin boots, promptly rolling up the legs of her pants while Gieaun and Rhudedth followed suit.  The boys joined them and in no time the six companions were running through the surf, kicking up salt water and laughing merrily.

“Quick, let’s jump through the waterfall!” Gieaun shouted.

Mahryn led the way as they ran towards the cascade of water.  Each of them darted through it several times, screaming as the chilled water cooled their sun-baked skin.  After they grew tired of chasing each other around the shore, they stopped and sat in the shade to catch their breath.

“I’m worn out, let’s go look for starfish,” Rhudedth suggested after awhile.

“Oh, I want to see the hermit crabs!” Jahrra said, forgetting about the cool water splashing down upon her feet.

For the next several minutes the children foraged among the slick, algae-covered boulders searching for urchins and anemones.  Scede found a very large hermit crab, big enough to fit in his opened palm, and Jahrra, Mahryn and Gieaun found several orange starfish.

“Hey, I have an idea!  Let’s play tag!” Rhudedth piped up after looking at what felt like the hundredth sea snail.  She was standing in the shallow water holding up her green skirts, the pale crystal water swirling around her ankles.

“Good idea,” Gieaun said, returning the hermit crab she was playing with to its tide pool. “I don’t think we’re going to find anything else.”

“Tag!  You’re it!” Rhudedth reached out and roughly poked her cousin, then took off in a flash.

“Hey!”  Mahryn rubbed his arm where she’d jabbed him and watched as everyone scattered away from him, laughing.

Jahrra ran through the waterfall in order to avoid Pahrdh, who was the next to be tagged ‘it’, and then paused to rest as he took off after Scede.  She bent over and put her hands on her knees, shivering a little in the cool shade of the rock wall that towered above her.

Deciding that the water provided a sufficient veil to conceal her, Jahrra took the opportunity to look for a good place to hide later when they would play hide-and-go-seek.  As she scanned the beach she noticed an obvious depression in the wall of earth further down several feet from where she stood.  Jahrra stood up and moved closer to the shore, curious to investigate this strange landmark she hadn’t noticed before.  It appeared to be the entrance to a tunnel, carved into the small rock mountain forming the point.  The tide happened to be just low enough to reveal a strip of solid ground running under the archway.  The space beneath the land bridge was probably twenty five to thirty feet high, and Jahrra had a sudden urge to see where this new discovery led.

“Jahrra!  What are you doing, Scede is going to tag you!” Gieaun called out to her friend.

Jahrra turned her head just in time to see Scede flying at her.  She reacted quickly and was able to dodge him, sending him careening into the waves.

“Come see what I’ve found,” she said, acting as if no one had just tried to tackle her.

“Oh great, Jahrra has found something,” Gieaun said to Pahrdh and Mahryn in a knowing tone.  Jahrra finding something always meant trouble.

“You’re just trying to trick us into getting tagged!” Rhudedth yelled good-naturedly.  When Jahrra started walking towards the opposite end of the cove, however, the entire group slowly made their way over.

“Here we go again,” Gieaun groaned.

“What have you found now?” Scede asked, still dripping from his tumble into the ocean.

“Look,” she said, pointing off to the left, “the beach continues on under that ridge. Let’s go see what’s in there.”

“I don’t think so,” Gieaun said uncertainly.

“There can’t be much, can there?  What harm could it do in checking it out?” Rhudedth offered lightly in Jahrra’s defense.

“You’ve never been on an adventure with Jahrra, have you?” Scede asked boorishly, shaking his dark hair out and splashing them all with water.

Jahrra shot him an annoyed look.

“I think it’s a good idea,” Pahrdh put in for Jahrra.  “Who knows what we might find?”

“Yeah, maybe we’ll find pirates’ treasure!” Mahryn said sarcastically, thinking about his childhood days at the coves with his cousins.  He dropped his eyes quickly and blushed when he caught Jahrra’s irritated glance.

“I’ll go first if it’ll make you feel better, Scede,” Jahrra said in a mocking tone.

“Sounds fine to me,” he sniffed.

As the group entered the depression in the wall, they discovered that the arch was really a series of several tunnels zigzagging through the solid rock.

“Alright, we’ve checked it out,” Scede said shortly.  “The path is obviously longer and more complicated than we thought.  It’s like a labyrinth!  What if we get stuck in here and the tide rises?”

He was right; the cave was more convoluted than Jahrra had thought.  It had five different tunnels branching off in five different directions.  “How about we explore for fifteen minutes, then we can turn back,” Jahrra pleaded. “We’ll leave a pebble trail so we won’t get lost.”

Gieaun and Scede knew that Jahrra would go on without them even if they refused, so they reluctantly agreed to look around for awhile, grumbling as they did so.  They were all very curious, however, despite their apprehension.

Jahrra led her friends through the tunnel directly in front of them, the one that eventually curved off to the left.  The passage was cool and somewhat suffocating with the muffled echoing of the churning ocean playing against their ears.  Five minutes later Jahrra, Gieaun, Scede, Pahrdh, Rhudedth and Mahryn stepped out onto a small secluded beach that was riddled with tide pools.

“Wow!” piped Rhudedth.  “Look at those!”

She ran over to the closest tide pool and peered in to get a closer look at the brilliant life within.  There were anemones painted in vivid color combinations Jahrra had never seen before, and some of the sea stars, in the deeper pools, were simply enormous, close to four feet across.

Jahrra and her friends carefully jumped and climbed over the many cracks and crevices of the rocky shelf laid out in front of them before dropping down onto the beach below.  As they looked around, they realized that the tunnels had led them to another tiny cove, a cove maybe only a third of the size of the one they had just been in.  It looked much like the other inlet, only this one had no waterfall and it was well tucked in behind the sea rocks.  Jahrra wasn’t surprised she’d never heard of it before today and she began to wonder if anyone had ever been here before.  So few people came to this part of Oescienne to begin with, and the beach was blocked off from any access from the ocean, so maybe she and her friends were the first to set foot in this new place.  She wagered that it probably wasn’t even marked on Hroombra’s maps.  She made a mental note to check when she got home.

Feeling a fresh burst of excitement, Jahrra allowed her eyes to wander around this unfamiliar world.  The rocks a few yards out in the ocean were just as rugged and dangerous looking as all the others off this part of the coast, but there was a newness and freshness to this minuscule bay.

“Jahrra, are you coming?” Mahryn asked, staring up at her.

She’d been lost in thought once again and hadn’t noticed she was the only one left standing on the stone shelf covered with tide pools.

“Yes, I’m coming.”  Jahrra took Mahryn’s outstretched hand and jumped down to join her friends on the beach.  The Resai boy released her hand and Rhudedth smiled and winked, nudging Jahrra slightly as she walked by.  Jahrra gave her a bothered look and brushed past her.

“There’s nothing too interesting about this place,” Gieaun remarked tiredly as she scanned the beach.

“Hey, over here!” Pahrdh yelled. “Come see what I’ve found!”

The group headed in Pahrdh’s direction, but Jahrra felt a sudden urge to look up at the cliff behind her.  She traced the ridge above with the tip of her finger and let her eyes wander over the tall, rough wall.  It was mottled with stray wild grasses and flowers, lichens and mosses.  This face of rock looked exactly like the wall on the other side of the giant hill jutting out to sea, but there was something different about it, something that made Jahrra want to study its surface.  Then, about halfway down the cliff on the opposite end of the cove, she spotted something.  It looked like a depression in the rock, perhaps just another anomaly along its rugged face, but she had to go and see for sure.

“Jahrra!  Come and see the crab Mahryn found!”

Jahrra looked at her friends, bent over observing something in the sand, but she felt more compelled to head towards the base of the cliff.

“Hold on, I think I see something,” she said quietly, heading down the beach as if entranced.

Gieaun and Scede watched her for awhile, but soon returned their attention to the irritated crustacean at their feet.

Once Jahrra reached the point below the depression, she discovered that it was more than just a mere pockmark in the wall; it looked like a cave.  She stared up the side of the cliff, searching for any way to climb up it.  After a few minutes, her mouth broke into a wide grin.  A few yards away there was a set of primitive steps carved right into the side of the cliff, starting at its base and stretching up at an angle.  Jahrra began climbing, oblivious to what her friends were doing further down the beach.

Gieaun looked up at that moment, expecting to see Jahrra where she had been a few minutes ago.  “Jahrra!  What are you doing?” she shouted.

“I think there’s a cave up here!” Jahrra called down from halfway up the staircase.

“Wait for us!” Rhudedth called as she quickly left the group to join her adventurous friend.

“A cave?  Maybe we will find pirates’ treasure!” Pahrdh called out hopefully.

Soon Mahryn was left alone on the beach and even he eventually joined the rest of the group.

As soon as Jahrra reached the top of the steps, she realized that she’d been right.  It was a cave and a fairly large one too.  She peered in over the lip of the dark cavern cautiously, trying to get a better view of its interior.  It looked to be about fifteen feet tall at its highest point and continued on past her range of vision.  She stepped up into it and was hit with a stale, musty smell of cool, damp earth and ocean.  A magnified dripping resounded nearby and somewhere towards the back of the cave a dusty beam of light cut through the soft darkness.  Jahrra looked up to locate the source of the light; a small hole in the roof of the cavern.  There was a large shelf directly beneath the beam of sunlight and another set of short steps leading up to the top of it.  Jahrra approached them just as Gieaun and Rhudedth’s silhouettes appeared at the mouth of the cave.

“Now where are you going?” Gieaun breathed, her voice echoing strangely in this enclosed space.

Jahrra looked back at her friend, the bright ocean glaring crystal blue behind her.

“There’s another set of steps leading up further,” Jahrra answered as quietly as she could.  “I want to see what’s up on that ledge.”

“Oh, alright,” Gieaun exhaled in exasperation.  “But be careful!  There could be poisonous spiders up there . . .”

It didn’t take long for Jahrra to reach the top and when she peered over the last few steps, she gasped and almost lost her balance.  Basking in the filtered glow of the natural skylight was a fully dressed skeleton.  The fine clothes were now mostly rotted away and moth eaten, a great, broad brimmed hat sat wilting on top of a smiling skull.  A cold chill played down her spine as she crouched low on the edge of the shelf, only her fingertips and her face from her eyes up peering over the top.

Despite her fear, Jahrra couldn’t help but stare at the remains of the poor soul.  Something gleamed in the corner of her eye and she refocused her attention onto the end of the skeleton’s arm.  When she squinted to get a better look, she noticed an old book and something small and disc-shaped clutched in its left hand.  It was this object, imprisoned in his skeletal fingers, which had reflected the light and caught her eye.

“What did you find up there Jahrra?” Scede said impatiently.

“Go get Mahryn,” she replied with wide eyes. “I think I’ve found a pirate!”

Before long everyone was crowded around the long-dead man, jammed close together on the small rock ledge.

“Do you think he’s really a pirate?” Mahryn whispered, his eyes glued on the costumed skeleton.

“Don’t you think this is a little spooky?” Rhudedth added slowly.

“Yes, but doesn’t it make you wonder who he was?” Jahrra said in quiet awe.

She had her eye on the book pressed to his side and the disk that was caught in his bony hand.

“Look!” said Pahrdh, pointing to a small pouch that Jahrra hadn’t seen before, “A coin purse!”

Pahrdh went to reach for it, but Rhudedth shrieked and grabbed his arm. “You’ll curse us!”

“Don’t be absurd!” he scoffed, jerking his arm free. “We’ll only be cursed if we don’t leave something in exchange for what we take.”

Jahrra glanced around at her friends and Scede nodded somberly. “Our parents used to tell us, in the old stories of pirates’ treasure, that you must never rob a pirate, dead or alive, or he’ll come back for revenge.  But if we trade, we should be alright.”

“I’ve heard that too,” Mahryn added, gulping back his eagerness and fear.

“I have a few coins of my own I’ve been saving for a new saddle, but I think a few treasures from that pouch would be much better.”  Pahrdh reached over and carefully picked up the heavy bag as if he were afraid the skeleton would come to life and grab him.  He quickly took out his own coins and switched them with a few of the ones in the dead man’s pouch, and Mahryn did the same.  Gieaun breathed in sharply from somewhere behind Jahrra, and Rhudedth was fidgeting nervously in the corner.

Scede was next, exchanging a small wooden flute he carried for one of the rings in the bag.  Gieaun was reluctant at first, but her curiosity overcame her trepidation and she swapped one of her shell bracelets for one of the pirate’s beaded ones.  Rhudedth was too frightened to exchange anything, and that only left Jahrra.  She didn’t have much to trade with, but she did have her small pouch she kept keepsakes in, and she did have her journal.  She pulled out her tiny bag and removed the blue-green stone she had collected from Ehnnit Canyon.  She picked up another rock in the cave and slammed it against her own.  Gieaun and Rhudedth gasped as a chunk of the azure rock went scattering across the floor, echoing eerily against the concave walls.  She then removed the round disc-shaped object from the left hand of the skeleton and replaced it with the chunk of stone she’d broken off.  She didn’t look at the object at first; she just stuck it in her pocket for later.

Jahrra blinked hard a couple of times to clear her suddenly foggy mind, pulling out her journal from the small bag she’d brought along.  She slowly began removing the book from the dead man’s grasp.

“Jahrra!  You wouldn’t leave your journal,” Gieaun hissed.  “That’s one of your most valued treasures!”

There was a strange crackling sound as she worked the fragile book free and everyone let out a breath as it finally came loose.

“Don’t worry,” Jahrra added once she had the book in her hands, “I’m only going to borrow his book for a moment, and then give it back.”

She carefully opened the dead man’s book, then her own journal, and began jotting down the words that appeared in the old tattered manuscript.  The writing looked almost like kruelt, but much more primitive, more like the runes she’d seen in Ehnnit Canyon.  Every page was covered in an abundance of words, maps or small sketches of various objects.

As she wrote, Jahrra found herself pausing many times to admire the intricate drawings, wondering what they meant and why this person had drawn them.  She even saw a rough sketching of the Baherhb, the symbol of the dragons that Hroombra had once shown her.  Like the runes she’d copied from Ehnnit Canyon, she hoped that maybe he could translate it for her someday.  That is, if she ever got up the courage to tell him why she had strange runes written in her journal and where she had seen them in the first place.  Jahrra quickly finished her work, wishing she could copy it all down, but it was well past noon and they needed to start heading back to the other cove.

Scede led the way to the opening of the cave and started climbing down, followed by Gieaun and Rhudedth, and then Mahryn and Pahrdh.  When Jahrra reached the mouth of the cave, she paused for a moment and reached for the object that had settled heavily in her pocket.  It was a very beautifully crafted compass, set in a dark red stone with a carving of some type of intricate flower on the back.  The facing was polished glass, and beneath it sat a surface of mother of pearl.  The arrow of the compass was crafted out of very delicate silver, with the initials of the ancient directions etched in and darkened: A, Alva for north, H, Hwyn for west, D, Dein for south and R, Rho for east.

Jahrra tightened her hand around the treasure, believing that it was more valuable than any of the other items they had found.  She checked to see if the compass was in working order as she walked out onto the first step and into the bright mid-afternoon light, smiling widely when the silver arrow spun around to show the proper direction.  Once the group had climbed back down the stairs and through the natural bridge, Jahrra looked back one last time and remarked in a quiet voice, “The Ninth Cove, the Hidden Cove.”

The six friends hurried back to the other beach, eager to get away from the eerie and discomfiting scene they had just witnessed.  They passed the waterfall once again, grinning and screeching as they dashed through the cool water.

Their laughter was cut short, however, when they spotted something at the end of the beach.  Scede was the first to see them, stopping abruptly in shock.  Gieaun and Rhudedth walked right into him.

“Scede!” Gieaun fumed, rubbing her shoulder. “What are you doing?  Why did you . . .” But Gieaun stopped her complaint after following her brother’s eyes to the far end of the shore.  A horse and rider had just finished climbing down the perilous path and were now standing at the base of the cliff, waiting patiently for the group as they slowly meandered toward the foot of the trail.

Jahrra eventually glanced up to see what all of her friends were staring at, her smile fading fast when she saw their visitor.  The horse looked like a semequin, snow white in color, not as tall as Phrym, but still more regal than any common horse she had ever seen.  Jahrra’s heart almost stopped when she glanced up at the rider, a boy about her age with a sneer on his face.  The young man, finely dressed in his mustard riding attire, complete with a hat, cloak and gloves, led his semequin towards the group.

That smug little . . . ugh!  Jahrra felt the fire flare up in her own eyes.  What is he doing here?  How is it he always manages to show up and ruin the day, no matter how remote or unlikely? she wondered in desperate frustration.  There was nowhere, it seemed, for her to escape from Eydeth.

“What are you doing here?”  It was Gieaun who asked the question everyone was thinking.  She had good reason, too.  This was the last place Jahrra would think to run into the twins.  She knew that Eydeth wasn’t as nervous as he used to be about being around her since Sobledthe Eve, but she didn’t think he was ready to return to his normal routine of harassing her.

“Oh, just surveying this part of Oescienne,” Eydeth drawled, sitting back comfortably in his expensive saddle and waving his hand around like a wilting prince.

Scede narrowed his eyes and looked up at their enemy. “Surveying this part of Oescienne?  What business could you possibly have here?  Since when have you cared about the terrain and wilds of Oescienne?  Aren’t you afraid you are going to get your clothes dirty?”  Scede’s observation would usually bring about a few laughs, but no one felt particularly humored at the moment.

Eydeth simply looked down his nose at Scede. “Anyone hanging around a Nesnan is likely to become filthy.  Luckily, that’s not my business here.”

Eydeth didn’t even have the courtesy to nod in Jahrra’s direction, but she didn’t care.  The more Eydeth avoided her, the better.  But Mahryn hadn’t liked Eydeth’s remark at all.  He glanced over at Jahrra, noticed the look of pure hatred on her face, and burst out, “Why is it that you insist on belittling those around you?”

Everyone started, surprised to hear such harsh words from the usually bashful Mahryn. “If we are so worthless, why do you even make the effort to come all the way out here just to mock us?  In fact, I’m a little embarrassed for you.  What would your family say?  I would think they would be ashamed that one of their own is not off bettering himself by taking etiquette classes or learning eloquent speech.”

Jahrra stared at him with her mouth hanging open in shock.  That was the most she’d ever heard Mahryn say at once.  She couldn’t help smiling with appreciation as the freckled boy crossed his arms and gave Eydeth a stern look of victory, his cheeks still flushed from his tirade.

Everyone fought the urge to burst out laughing, despite the look on Eydeth’s face.  He began to turn pink, but the bright yellow brim of his hat reflecting on his face made him look more orange than anything else.  Jahrra wondered if he had even understood what Mahryn had said to him.

“Well, well, don’t we have a lot to say?” the Resai boy answered after some time, his voice low and dangerous. “At least I don’t have trouble fitting in.  You can’t even get that worthless Nesnan to like you, can you?”

The poison in his voice stung harshly, and Mahryn turned bright red, the color drowning out his freckles.  Scede and Pahrdh had to grab Rhudedth and Jahrra, for they had lunged forward in anger.  Jahrra wasn’t thrilled with the fact that Mahryn liked her, but there was absolutely no need for Eydeth to drag it through the mud like that.

The evil boy sneered in triumph and continued on, “The truth is I’m here with my family.  While my father is taking care of business in town, I decided to take a ride down the country road.  You have no idea how surprised I was to find the small herd of nags tied up in the grove of trees above.  You see, my father sent me ahead to scout the area; he just bought several miles of coast between Hassett Town and Soarna Point.” He grinned and continued on in his droning tone, “Father insists that this land is worth the price he paid, but from the looks of it, and from the looks of how much you enjoy it, it must be worth less than the Nesnan’s life, which isn’t saying much.”

Gieaun and Scede looked deterred, and Jahrra looked simply horror struck.  She didn’t care that he referred to her as “the Nesnan”, she was used to that.  It was his implication that the Eight Coves had just been purchased by the most notorious landlord in southern Oescienne.

“What did you say?” It was the first time she’d said anything aloud since Eydeth’s arrival, but she wasn’t going to keep quiet any longer.

“That you’re worth nothing?” Eydeth sneered, eyeing his mustard-gloved fingernails indifferently.

“No stupid, about your family acquiring this land?” Jahrra snapped, becoming more irritated by the minute.

“Hmmmff,” Eydeth snorted, returning both hands to the reins of his semequin. “It’s ours now.  We figured that we had best be investing in the coast, in order to be absolutely sure that our merchant ships aren’t attacked by worthless ruffians.”

Gieaun, Scede, Pahrdh, Rhudedth and Mahryn glared at Eydeth, but held their tongues.  Jahrra, however, jumped to her feet and marched towards her life-long enemy. “You can’t do that,” she declared quietly, stone-faced, her clenched fists shaking with rage.

“My family can, and they did, and you and your fan club are going to have to move out of here immediately.  You’re trespassing and I have free authority to shoot any trespassers.  And believe me I won’t hesitate to do so.”  He glared down at Jahrra, almost daring her to make a move.  Jahrra searched his eyes, and it appeared, as she had suspected, that his fear from the night of the Fall Festival had finally faded.

“I’ve seen your archery skills first hand, Eydeth, and I assure you, my semequin can shoot better than you can,” Jahrra retorted, her eyes flashing.

The laughter that followed drowned out Eydeth’s seething remarks, but Jahrra kept her sight locked on her enemy’s face.  How dare he?!  How dare his family!  They can’t just go around buying up land wherever they see fit!

Eydeth saw the storm brewing on Jahrra’s face, and his lip curled in a horrible grin.

“I have also told my father about a very nice fishing lake to the south.  He has always wanted his own lake for vacationing, lake monster or not, and I think the boardwalk will come in handy when my entire family visits.  We might even hunt down and kill that monster.  It would make a nice addition to my father’s trophy room.”

Jahrra could no longer contain herself.  Hesitating not a second longer, she flew at Eydeth with the speed of a deer.  The charge caught everyone off guard, but instead of jumping up at him like everyone expected, she stopped abruptly and waved her hands in front of the white semequin’s face, causing it to rear in agitation.  Eydeth tumbled clumsily from his saddle and slammed into the rough pebbles below.  He quickly got up, cursing in anger and brushing off as much of the sand as he could.

“There!” Jahrra shouted, “That’ll teach you not to sit so smugly on your high horse!”

Eydeth grabbed the reins of his spooked semequin and managed to scramble back up.

He glared down at Jahrra, eyes burning, and spat, “When I run in the Great Race this fall and win that prize money, I’ll use it to buy that dump you live in and you and that stupid old lizard can live in the Wreing Florenn!”

Jahrra just glared back at him, refusing to let this pompous boy get the better of her.  He then turned and faced everyone, his voice raised but breaking, “I’m warning you all again, this is private property.  If you’re caught here again, there’ll be dire consequences!”

Eydeth gave them all one last furious glance and then expertly turned his semequin around and began the steep climb back up the narrow trail.

“Oh how I despise him!” cried Rhudedth.

“He thinks he owns everything just because his father does,” put in Pahrdh.

“How can anyone be so horrible?”

Jahrra looked over at Rhudedth, who looked to be on the verge of tears.

“It’s a good thing this place is too far away to visit often,” Gieaun added sadly.  “I really hope he can’t buy Ossar Lake like he says he can.  I thought we had finally turned him away from there.”

“Come on,” Jahrra said blankly, still numb from what had just happened. “Let’s get out of here.”

The six friends slowly made their way up the steep path, trying to think of anything but what had just happened.  A cool salty breeze picked up and pushed the loose hair from Jahrra’s sun-burned face.  Her jaw was set stubbornly and her forehead was creased in frustration.  She had been unsettled by Eydeth and Ellysian’s treatment of her after the night she was attacked, but she would do anything to have those uneasy looks back.  It was better than being scorned again.

“How did Eydeth possibly make it down here on horseback anyway?” Pahrdh wondered out loud, his sigh disappearing on the wind.

“I don’t know and I don’t care,” Jahrra snapped.

She immediately regretted her outburst.  It wasn’t Pahrdh’s fault Eydeth had ruined their day.  She shook her head to clear it and turned her head to face Pahrdh.  His lips were drawn tight, looking both irritated and apologetic at the same time.  Jahrra smiled.  He had received a lot of sun as well, his reddened face now matching his ruddy hair.  “I’m sorry,” she said, “I’m not mad at you, I’m just, just, well, sick and tired of it all.”

“I know,” Pahrdh answered reservedly, “I know.”

Jahrra took a deep breath as she and her friends crested the top of the cliff.  She could hear Gieaun and Rhudedth ahead of her laughing about something, but it didn’t lighten her black mood.  Instead of forgetting about the whole thing and joining in with her boisterous friends, Jahrra dwelt on Eydeth’s glorious return to his usual self.  The awful Resai boy may have fallen back into his habit of humiliating Jahrra and her friends, but she wasn’t about to lay back and take it like she used to.  Now it was time to do something about it, something bigger than lying about the Witch of the Wreing, something bigger than the lake monster.  Jahrra had something much more important and much more dangerous in mind.

I’m going to enter that stupid Great Race, she thought to herself.  I can beat Eydeth. Yaraa and Viornen have to be better trainers then the one he’s got.  I can’t let him win and take Lake Ossar from us, to use his money and status to take my home from me.  I’ve got to do something.

As they rode home down the dusty road late that afternoon, they all tried their best to set their minds on something more positive.

“Summer is coming up, can you believe it?” Rhudedth said, trying to drive Eydeth and his nastiness from everyone’s minds. “Then we’ll only have one more year of school with Master Tarnik.  I can’t wait!”

Soon everyone was talking about the upcoming summer and making jokes about their idiotic teacher.  Jahrra laughed along with them.  She smiled at the right moments and commented when questioned, but the entire time she was focused on something else, something much more vital than idle talk about summer vacation or ridiculous schoolmasters.  She was focused on something she never thought she’d want to consider again: racing in, and winning, the Great Race of Oescienne.

By the time Jahrra arrived at the Castle Guard Ruin it was already past dusk.  She quickly took Phrym to the stable and fed him.  “We’re going to have to work extra hard this summer,” she whispered.  “We’ll have to be in top shape if we’re to win this race in the fall.”

Phrym nickered tiredly and she patted him, grateful for his quiet support.  Jahrra shuffled back to the Ruin through the darkening fields, the blooming sun daisies almost lighting the way with their bright yellow faces.  Hroombra was up, reading through his manuscripts as usual.  He had lit many candles, as it was a warm night and there was no need for a fire.

He looked up to greet Jahrra as she came in through the door.  “How was your day?”

“Oh, wonderful,” she half-lied.  “I met a few more friends in town, along with Gieaun and Scede, and we all went to the Eighth Cove.  We had a good time, but I’m exhausted.  I ate in town with my friends on the way home, so if you don’t mind, I’ll head off to bed.”

Jahrra really was tired, and she had to go back to school tomorrow, not to mention face the twins after the incident today.

“Very well, have a good night’s sleep and I’ll see you in the morning.”  Hroombra smiled and tilted his head back down to read.

Jahrra walked off towards her room with a feeling of vengeance and anger.  To try and get her mind off of Eydeth’s words, she took out her compass and admired it once more before hiding it behind a loose stone in her wall.  She pulled her journal out of her bag and tucked it away as well.  The strange words and symbols would have to wait.

Jahrra drifted off to sleep and as she slept she dreamt she was flying through the sky on Phrym.  He had grown wings and they were both soaring high above all the other horses, leagues above the Great Race of Oescienne.  She could see the entire province, and in the distant ocean she spotted a proud and valiant pirate ship.  Jahrra thought, suddenly, horribly, that the crew of the ship had come back for the compass she had taken.

All of a sudden, Phrym no longer had wings and they began spiraling back to earth, the rushing wind making it hard for Jahrra to breathe.  She expected them to hit the ground any moment, but they didn’t.  Instead, they landed softly upon the sandy beach.  Jahrra glanced behind her, hoping to see the other horses far off in the distance, but they weren’t there.  She turned and looked down the beach, and far ahead of them she saw the large pack of racers.  She and Phrym had been passed up, beaten by all of the Resai men, led by one young man dressed in goldenrod astride a brilliant white semequin.

- Chapter Fourteen -

The Great Race of Oescienne

For the very first time in her life, Jahrra found the spring months much more miserable than they were enjoyable.  As summer approached and the school year wound down, her mind became more and more overwrought with a multitude of troubles.

First of all, she had school work and the twins to deal with; especially Eydeth’s nasty glares and comments because of what had happened at the cove.  Secondly, she had kruelt and Ethoen history with Hroombra, not so enjoyable now that everything she was reading and everything that Hroombra was telling her was in draggish.  Thirdly, she still had her defense lessons with Viornen and Yaraa on the weekends, and as soon as summer began she would once again be training every day.

The one thing that bothered her the most however, was the thought of the Great Race of Oescienne.  That day at the coves had caught Jahrra up in a determination she had never before experienced, a determination that was driving her on despite everything else that was wearing her down.  She was going to run an arduous race in six months, and she was going to win it.  Eydeth had finally pushed her over the edge, and this time she was going to hit him where it hurt most.  She was going to play his game and beat him at it.

Jahrra decided early on that as soon as school was finished for the year, she would be spending her every waking hour training with Phrym for the long race.  That is, every waking hour not devoted to lessons with Hroombra, Viornen and Yaraa.  As the summer days approached and slowly passed by, Jahrra made up excuse after excuse why she couldn’t spend more time with Gieaun, Scede and her other friends.

“I have extra lessons with Master Hroombra,” she would grumble, or, “I have a new difficult maneuver I have to learn for defense lessons.”

Gieaun and Scede were disheartened, but they knew how hard Jahrra was expected to work.  It just seemed strange to them that, all of a sudden, she had absolutely no free time at all.

“Maybe next week, then,” Scede would say begrudgingly.

So that was how Jahrra’s summer passed; training with the elves during the day, struggling over kruelt in the evenings, and racing Phrym across the beaches and up the dunes on her few days off.  Before she knew it, summer came to a close and autumn was just around the corner.  Jahrra now had only three months left before the race, and she found it harder than ever to concentrate on her school work.

As the day of the race grew nearer, the boys in school became more and more enraptured in the discussion of it.  This energetic talk made Jahrra realize that although she and Phrym would be more than ready for the challenging event, she really knew nothing at all about it.  She immediately made up her mind to go about gathering information carefully.  “But we have to make sure Gieaun and Scede don’t know what we are up to,” she told Phrym.  “You know what they’d say about all of this . . .”

Unfortunately, gathering information on the race itself was much more tedious than she had thought.  She couldn’t just walk up to her classmates and casually start asking questions about an event she was previously not interested in.  That would be far too suspicious.  What Jahrra could do, however, was keep her ears open and listen carefully for any conversation that might have to do with the famous event.  So, with the prestigious competition only a few months away, Jahrra took a mental deep breath and quietly delved into the secretive art of acquiring information, something she had plenty of experience in doing.

She lucked out one day when Ellysian was strutting about the schoolyard bragging about how her brother was going to beat out all of the other contenders in the Great Race: “He’ll be the youngest one to enter, but our semequins are much finer than any of the other nags that will be running.”

Jahrra’s ears perked up immediately and she stopped dead to listen carefully to Ellysian’s words.  “What’s so great about this race anyway?” she asked a passing classmate in what she hoped was a slightly irritated tone.

The older boy looked offended that Jahrra should ask such a question and replied, “Only the best athletes and semequins in all of Oescienne are allowed to enter, and only Resai men of the noble class for that matter.”  He finished his statement rather pertly, looking Jahrra up and down with a scowl.  He then turned and continued walking as if she hadn’t said a thing to him.

Further casual inquiry and careful eavesdropping provided Jahrra with the rest of the information she needed.  She learned that the race was only held every twelve years, and that the participants had to be at least sixteen years of age in order to take part.  They also had to be male, Resai, and members of the noble class, and they could only ride a semequin, not a horse.  The event took place the weekend after Sobledthe, and began a few miles south of Toria Town, ending in a strenuous climb up Demon’s Slide, a rather steep hill that was covered in wind-strewn dune sand.  No one could tell her exactly how long the race was; one boy insisted it was twenty five miles, while another said it couldn’t be more than fifteen.  It was no wonder only semequins were allowed to enter; any other horse might drop dead from exhaustion.

Why does this have to be so difficult? Jahrra thought infuriatingly.  She was sixteen, which made her old enough to participate, but she was female and definitely not a Resai noble.  She did have one thing going for her however; she had Phrym.  Jahrra wasn’t at all worried about someone catching him as an imposter.  He was a semequin, and he was more than worthy of being in the race.  It was disguising herself that Jahrra was most concerned about.

After spending weeks secretly unveiling the mystery of the Great Race, Jahrra now had something new to consider.  She had to figure out a convincing way to get into the event, and she had to do it fast.  In the meantime, she took her frustration out in her defense lessons, something that her elvin tutors found quite astonishing.

“Jahrra, I can’t believe how much you’ve improved in the last month, what’s driving this determination?” Viornen had commented one day, out of breath after a fencing bout that had produced him as the loser.  Jahrra had never once beaten him before.

“It’s just pent up stress from studying for the upcoming winter exams,” she lied.

Jahrra’s training was definitely going very well, and she was rather pleased with her own progress, despite her qualms about the race.  She didn’t have the entrance fee, something she’d learned about the other day from another one of Ellysian’s smug remarks.  There was no way she’d ever save enough even if she had all the time in the world.  On the verge of panic, Jahrra now spent her time thinking frantically of ways to find the large sum of money in so short a time.

“Maybe I can sell the compass I found at the Eight Coves,” she told Phrym.  He merely whickered quietly and nudged her with his nose, hoping she had a few apples hidden somewhere for him to find.  “Or maybe I could raise some money by selling the rare herbs and mushrooms that grow in the Black Swamp.”  She shook her head, trying to erase the thought. “No, I can’t do that.  Then Hroombra would find out that I’ve been in the Wreing Florenn, and it might get Denaeh into trouble.”

Jahrra ran her hands through her hair, as if doing so would squeeze the troubles out of her mind.  She thought of asking Denaeh, whom she hadn’t visited in months, but for some reason she felt she couldn’t tell anyone of her plan to enter the race, not even the Mystic.

One week went by, and then another.  Before long it was only two weeks until the Great Race, and Jahrra still hadn’t figured out how she would enter.  Gieaun and Scede had noticed that she seemed a little more stressed of late and asked what the matter was.  Jahrra only shrugged and said that she was worried about mid-term exams.  This excuse was partially true, and she hoped it would be something Gieaun and Scede would accept.  She felt guilty about the way she’d been neglecting her friends of late, but she still couldn’t tell them about what she was planning, and she was never going to.  They would never allow it, and this time she knew they would do something to stop her.

After nearly six months of hard work and constant anxiety, Jahrra finally relented in her training and took a break to enjoy Sobledthe.  Once again she and her friends went into Lensterans, but this time they stayed behind in town and didn’t take part in the scavenger hunt.  Jahrra didn’t want to take the chance of running into Eydeth and his mischief-makers again, and she definitely didn’t want to see if that stranger was still lurking around in the woods.

With all that had occupied her mind lately, Jahrra had almost forgotten about what had happened to her at the last Sobledthe Eve celebration.  Once in Lensterans, however, the memory came flooding back.  Every time someone in the costumed crowd walked by in a dark, hooded cloak, she would shrink away, her heart pounding in her ears.  The festival had been enjoyable, but it had done nothing for her frazzled nerves.  Until she found a way to get into the race, there would be no rest.

Two days before the long awaited contest, Jahrra was still without a plan to sneak in.  Luckily, school had been canceled so that everyone could witness this grand event, and she could spend the day trying one last time to come up with a solution to her plight.  As the day progressed and Jahrra still had no answers, she knew that the time for desperation was at hand.  By the next morning, the day before the race, she felt she had only one choice left.  She had to seek out help from someone, and Denaeh was the only person she could trust.

Jahrra arrived early in the Belloughs the next morning, riding Phrym through a thick autumn fog that matched his coat so well.  Denaeh welcomed them warmly, like she always did, scolding Jahrra for letting so much time pass between visits.  Jahrra gazed down at her, claiming she had been extremely busy, hoping the Mystic didn’t notice the grimace in her smile.

After they had settled around a fresh fire and Jahrra had her hands wrapped around a steaming mug of tea, Denaeh got right to the point, “Why don’t you just tell me what you’re planning to do tomorrow, I’d like to hear it with my ears and not just my mind.”

Jahrra didn’t even flinch.  She was so used to Denaeh’s ability to know exactly what she was thinking that it no longer shocked or surprised her.

“You are planning to run in the race,” Denaeh said, setting her cup down and rising. “That is why you came here, isn’t it?  To ask for my help?”

“Yes,” Jahrra breathed with a mixture of relief and anxiety, “I need to find a way to enter.  And I’ve spent all summer training for it, so don’t even try to talk me out of it!”

“Child!  I wouldn’t dream of it!” the Mystic said in mock-astonishment, hand pressed to her heart.  “Anyone who is acquainted with you knows that once you put your mind to something, you go on through with it.  I’m here to make sure you go about doing it the right way.”

Denaeh smiled and Jahrra suddenly felt ten times better.  “Luckily,” she continued without further delay, pushing her flame-red hair out of her face, “I’ve been to a few of these races before.  One advantage is that the start is so confusing and noisy that if you stay hidden amongst the hills and brush above the starting line, and if you time it just right, you can run Phrym right into the whole bunch just as the signal is given to start.”

Jahrra stared, unblinking, up at Denaeh.  Charge right in at the very beginning of the race, just like that?  Would anyone see her and stop her?  She took a deep breath and lowered her gaze. “It sounds too easy, but I guess it is possible.” Jahrra raised her eyes. “What about the fact that I’m a girl and that an entrance fee is required?”

Denaeh smiled, that all-knowing smile Jahrra was so used to. “Do you think that even if you win, entrance fee or not, they would give you the prize?”

Jahrra saw what Denaeh was saying, and dropped her shoulders in a sulk.  Sure I don’t care if I win the money or not, and of course they wouldn’t give it to me, she thought with a furrowed brow, but it’s still going to be very difficult to enter that race.  Someone is bound to see me riding up on Phrym!

“Some situations in life are difficult to figure out Jahrra.  This is one of them, but I assure you, it won’t be your last.”  Denaeh smiled, eyes glittering.

Jahrra looked up at the Mystic and smiled back weakly.  “I know I have to take my chances, and I guess entering just as the race is beginning is the only chance I’ve got.”  She sighed and then asked, “But how can I make myself less obvious?  I already run the risk of being disqualified by bursting in, how can I blend in with all the other noble Resai men?  I don’t own any fancy riding clothes.”

Denaeh grinned once more and answered, “So, all you have to do is dress so that your head and face are covered.  If I remember correctly, there is a grove of willows growing alongside a small canyon that opens up onto the beach.  You can use the trees to hide behind just before the race begins.  By the time the race is over and you have won, it won’t matter.  They’ll disqualify you, there’s no doubt about that, but you would have beaten them anyways.”

Jahrra sighed heavily as she thought about the plan she and Denaeh had devised.  It was a long shot, but there was no other way.  She tried to spend the rest of the morning in the Black Swamp relaxing in the cool shade of the dark oaks, but by the time she was ready to leave, Jahrra felt just as nervous and perturbed as ever.

The afternoon sun blinked through the tall trees as Jahrra and Phrym made their way back towards the Castle Guard Ruin.  She wanted to get Phrym home so he could rest up for tomorrow, and she knew she needed the rest as well.  Jahrra felt relieved that she’d spoken with Denaeh, even though the Mystic hadn’t given her any easy answers.  Sure, Jahrra now had a way to get into the race, but now she had a whole new set of obstacles to face.

To help disguise who she really was, Denaeh had lent her an old but finely-tailored plum colored cloak and a long scarf that would cover her entire head and face. “It’s not a fancy riding cloak, but it is made of Aellheian silk, so it should do,” the Mystic had assured her.

Jahrra sighed deeply as they moved away from the forest, Phrym breaking into a faster pace across the rolling fields.  With a little luck and the right timing, she might just be able to pull this off.  When they finally reached the Ruin, Jahrra put Phrym into his stable and made sure he was comfortable, rubbing him affectionately on his velvety nose.  “Tomorrow morning is our day Phrym,” she said softly, “the day we have been training for for six months.”

Phrym simply twitched his dark ears and gazed at Jahrra with kind, smoky grey eyes.  She patted him once more and walked briskly back to the old stone building she called home.  She mumbled something about being tired to Hroombra and went straight for her room, her eyes trained on the floor the entire time.

As she lay in her bed that evening, trying desperately to fall asleep, Jahrra kept picturing herself charging past Eydeth up the steep slope of Demon’s Slide.  She tried her best not to remember the dream she’d had several months ago; the dream where she and Phrym were left miles behind as the Resai men charged the steep hill onto victory.  Jahrra squeezed her eyes tighter, and after several more minutes of tossing and turning she gradually fell into a troubled sleep.

***

Jahrra rose early to a morning draped in a fog so thick that she imagined it might be the closest thing to breathing water.  Remembering why this particular morning was so important, she leapt out of bed and dressed quickly, her stomach twisting with anxiety as she pulled on her boots and tucked Denaeh’s robe and scarf into her bag.  She grabbed some bread and cheese she’d hidden away from the night before and crept past the main room, careful not to disturb the snoring blue-grey mountain that was Hroombra.  Even now, on the day of this daring scheme, Jahrra wouldn’t tell him what she was about to do.  She just couldn’t face his disappointment before the race, and she couldn’t risk being stopped from going through with it, not after all that she’d done to get to this point.

Jahrra made her way towards Phrym’s small stable in the near darkness.  When she was only fifty yards away he poked his head over the gate and let out a good-natured whinny.

“Shhhhhh!” Jahrra gestured dramatically.  She quickly picked up her pace but kept low as she dashed across the field, trying to dodge the large tufts of wild grass and mountainous gopher mounds that littered the field.

After Phrym settled down, Jahrra saddled him and led him past the sleepy Ruin and onto the road.  Just before sinking below the crest of the hill, she turned in the saddle and looked back at her home, hidden now within the mist like a worn headstone in a graveyard.

“I’m sorry Master Hroombra, but I have to do this,” she whispered.  She felt a small sadness welling up inside of her, but forced it to pass as Phrym let out a soft nicker.  Jahrra quickly snatched up the reins and took a deep, shuddering breath. “Alright, Phrym, let’s win this for everyone those twins have ever bullied.”

Once they reached the bottom of the hill, she urged Phrym into a steady trot.  They passed through the farmlands along the Aldehr River and Jahrra inhaled the cold, moist air, hoping that it would soothe her nerves.  She closed her eyes against the thick fog, gladly welcoming the cool mist gliding past her skin like liquid silk.  It reminded her of the Belloughs, and that thought comforted her.  She listened to Phrym’s steady hoof beats and the melancholy song of an autumn bird resounding through the bleak morning.

An hour later they crossed a wide wooden bridge spanning the Raenyan River, heading north.  By now, the fog was finally crawling back to sea, the bright sun of early morning burning the tips of its long white fingers.  Jahrra and Phrym traveled north until they reached the tiny, narrow gully leading down to the beach.  As they quietly traversed the rocks and driftwood littering the sandy gulch floor, Jahrra was able to distinguish the pounding surf from the murmur of a large crowd.  Her own heartbeat quickened and her palms began to sweat.  You’ve got to calm down or this will never work! she told herself as she licked her dry lips.  Her plan was to wait a little ways up the canyon and then join the race at the last second, exactly as Denaeh had suggested.

Phrym sauntered up to the last tree standing where the walls of the gully came level with his shoulders.  His ears pricked forward at the sound of a hundred whinnying semequins, but to Jahrra’s great delight, he didn’t answer them.  She carefully stood up in the saddle, trying not to reveal herself, and peered over the screen of leaves.  She almost laughed aloud when she saw the competitors before her.  They had their semequins lined up behind the starting line, falling back in groups until the last line was only one hundred feet from where she and Phrym stood.

“Oh, perfect Phrym!” she breathed with some relief. “We won’t be seen at all if that is how they’ll be lined up when the race begins!”

She kneed Phrym forward, stretching to get a better view of the entrants and their semequins.  The Resai men wore a variety of colorful riding clothes, but all of them well-stitched and crafted from the most expensive materials.  Surrounding the mounted horsemen was a sea of onlookers, writhing and swelling like a storm-brewed ocean.  Some of these spectators were dressed in attire Jahrra had only seen on the residents of Kiniahn Kroi. Those standing further away from the center of the race, however, wore everyday work clothes.

Jahrra willed herself to look further down the beach, her stomach turning to liquid when she recognized the colorful patches dotting the coastline for as far as the eye could see.  “There must be a hundred thousand people here to watch this race!” she hissed into Phrym’s back-turned ears.

Jahrra swallowed her apprehension and turned her head back to the immediate crowd just in front of her.  She let her eyes wander over the anxious mob until they fell upon a familiar figure.  She narrowed her eyes in distaste and felt a wave of nauseous fury rise in her throat.  Eydeth, perched atop his white semequin, stood in the third row from the back.  Ellysian, in a hideous canary dress, stood below him, giving him what Jahrra could only imagine was a gesture of luck.  The taller Resai couple standing behind Ellysian must be the twins’ parents; she remembered catching a glimpse of them a long time ago at their mansion in Kiniahn Kroi.  Jahrra grimaced.  Despite their obvious glee at seeing their son in this prestigious race, they had the same sour look about their faces that their two children often wore.

At that moment, Eydeth forced his semequin into a rear, aggravating the competitors surrounding him.  Jahrra’s face drained of color.  He was wearing the exact same goldenrod outfit she had seen in her dream.  She drew a sharp breath and took out her violet robe and quickly pulled it over her riding clothes.  When she finally managed to get her arms through the sleeves, she reached for the matching scarf, wrapping it around her head, making sure to cover her face.  She was meticulous about the task, acting as if it were the most important thing she would ever do.  As she tucked her long blond hair into the dark folds of the cloth, Jahrra kept her wrathful gaze locked on Eydeth’s pompous figure.  She narrowed her storm-blue eyes, the only feature of her face now peering from behind the bundled shawl.  She would beat him if it was the last thing she did.

Suddenly, there was a sharp horn blast that forced the semequins’ heads to jerk upwards in fright.  Jahrra had to grab for the pommel of her old saddle as Phrym started under her.  Although it was fairly worn out, her older saddle was smaller and lighter than her new one.  She quickly settled him down and directed her eyes towards a tall wooden platform towering above the crowd.  A man dressed in a fine blue tunic and cloak stood there with a great ram’s horn in one hand and a red flag in another.  The crowd’s murmuring faded away to silence until only the soft churning of the waves licking the shore and the occasional semequin snort could be heard.

When he had everyone’s attention, the man opened his mouth and bellowed above the ocean’s din, “Welcome to the Great Race of Oescienne!  All of you gathered before me are some of the finest athletes around, and some of you have even traveled from as far away as Terre Moeserre to take part in this renowned event!”

The spectators burst into excited applause, the gesture rolling down the beach like a great wave.  The semequins started pulling at the bit and shuffling their feet, including Phrym, but Jahrra just tugged on his reins and reminded him that it wasn’t time to run yet.

After the crowd settled, the man went on, “As you all know, the race runs from here to Demon’s Slide.  The first rider to make it past the marker at the high point wins the race and the prize money, along with the glory and honor that this coveted achievement brings.”

The man paused and took on a more formidable tone before he continued, “Cheating in any form is not tolerated, and any man caught doing so will be disqualified immediately!  Now, I will raise the red flag for you to get set.  When I bring it down, the race has officially begun.  Riders get your semequins ready!”

The many rows of horses and riders suddenly shifted together, as close to the starting line as possible.  The men were still and tense, their eyes trained on the top of the platform, but the semequins were becoming more and more uneasy in the pressure of the moment.  They tossed their heads and pressed their ears flat, ready to charge the moment their rider gave them the order.

Jahrra stiffened atop Phrym, sensing his restless feet below them.  Her heart was beating faster than she thought was possible, and her nerves felt like they were on fire.  But she kept her eyes fixed on the man standing on the platform.  Once satisfied that all the riders were in place, the official sharply lifted the red flag.  Alright, thought Jahrra, feeling her mouth go dry and her muscles stiffen, this is it.

The few moments that the flag hung in the air felt like an eternity to Jahrra.  When the official finally brought the scarlet banner tearing down, Phrym burst out from their hiding place, Jahrra urging him into full speed as they quickly caught up to the back of the surging pack.

There was a great bolt from all of the semequins as the crowd roared with excitement.  Jahrra watched Eydeth’s white mount tear into the lead with a dozen other horses as she and Phrym worked their way into the middle of the horde.  She knew Phrym was more than capable of keeping up with Eydeth’s semequin, but she wanted to save his energy for the big finale.  At the moment, she needed to focus on keeping Phrym with the middle of the pack without getting pummeled.

Once the distance between the racers and the starting line widened, Jahrra realized that the hardest part of the race, entering it undetected, was over.  She tried to relax a little, inhaling the sharp salty air as they sailed along the water’s edge.  Phrym had been tense because of her anxiety, but now she had to relax; she had to remember her lessons with the elves and trust the months of training she and Phrym had endured.

Jahrra closed her eyes for a moment as she soaked in all of the sensations around her.  The pounding of a thousand hooves beat in rhythm with the crashing waves, and the small flecks of wet sand bit at her exposed skin like shards of ice.  The rolling of the sea and the faint screaming of the onlookers urged them on.  Above the uproar, Jahrra heard the heavy breathing of the semequins and the frantic encouragement of their riders.  She could smell salt and seaweed, leather and the all-familiar scent of horses.  She could feel the cool air streaming by, the tugging of the wind, the smooth, athletic motion of Phrym running beneath her.  Jahrra allowed her senses to guide her, and finally she calmed down and became the competitor she had trained to be.  I’ve done it, she swallowed hard only to find that her mouth was still dry, I’ve made it into the most exclusive race in all of Oescienne!  Now all I have to do is beat Eydeth . . .

“Alright Phrym!” Jahrra shouted through her thick scarf, “Let’s go!”

Phrym immediately responded to this new burst of confidence from his master and immediately his gait smoothed out and quickened.  As the miles sailed by and the cheering crowd stretched thinner, Jahrra allowed herself to loosen up every now and again, trusting Phrym to keep his strong pace.  To their right, the ocean stretched on forever, covered by the blanket of fog that had finally pulled away from the land.  The sun was now very high in the azure sky, turning the tumbled gray dunes into a wonderful golden cream color.

Jahrra took her eyes from the distracting scenery and looked forward.  Beyond the several riders that led the troupe she caught sight of the halfway point, the delta of the Oorn River, about a mile ahead.  She felt a sudden pang of sadness.  This was the river that crept from Lake Ossar, her place of refuge that was once again threatened by the evil twins.  She closed her eyes as the river’s mouth drew nearer, imagining it was just another ordinary summer day and she was racing alongside Gieaun and Scede and not among a hundred strangers.

Jahrra took a deep breath and let out a long, joyous cry as she and Phrym went crashing through the brackish water.  The plume of water and the stampede of semequins frightened off the many sea birds resting along the shallow river bank.  Jahrra laughed despite the soreness that was already building in her muscles.  She felt free, truly free as she and Phrym easily kept on the tail of those in the lead.

Over the next several miles, Phrym slowly worked his way up to be among the top fifteen leaders.  Jahrra peered around, trying not to succumb to the exhaustion she was feeling, or to think about how tired Phrym might be.  The chestnut semequin next to her looked like she was faltering, and her rider seemed to be slackening his grip on the reins.  The charcoal stallion just in front of them was also showing signs of fatigue and Jahrra knew that she had to stay focused and alert if she wanted to win this race.  She set her jaw and willed Phrym to hold strong as the towering pale expanse of Demon’s Slide rose into view.  “Only a little while longer, Phrym!  Just a little while longer!” she shouted breathlessly.

The riders encouraged their mounts into a quicker gait as they closed in on the base of the hill.  Jahrra quickly brought Phrym up to pace and into seventh place.  The marble gray semequin seemed to understand exactly what was at stake here, and despite his fading strength, he sped up in order to stay with the leaders.

The semequins hit the base of Demon’s Slide at full speed, beginning the hardest part of the race, the treacherous half-mile climb straight up through deep sand.  Jahrra had trained Phrym hard through the dunes all summer long, but she couldn’t help but feel a little diffident.  They were now halfway up the mountainside and she could still hear the spectators down below, their faint cheers exploding into thunder as the race drew near its end.  Jahrra blinked and ground her teeth, her heavy breathing falling into rhythm with Phrym’s.  She gripped the reins and leaned forward, praising him in kruelt as he passed three other struggling semequins.

Jahrra lifted her head and glanced up.  Eydeth and two others were just in front of them, but she knew the three ahead of her would never make it to the top.  She grinned and reached deep within herself, pushing aside the fatigue, the worry and every last shred of resistance.  Somewhere beneath the whipping wind, the biting grains of sand, the harsh cries of the riders as they urged their semequins on, she found the courage and strength to finish this challenge.  She was exhausted, Phrym was exhausted, but they were so close to the end, so close.

“Come on Phrym, you can do this, we can do this!  We’re almost there!” she breathed more than said as Phrym’s hooves tore into the heavy sand.  Phrym strained even harder at the sound of Jahrra’s worn encouragement.

The highest point ever reached by previous racers was marked by a great red stone, glowing like a demonic beacon a couple hundred yards above them.  The four leaders, including Jahrra, were now only neck and neck and the distance from the finish line was dwindling.  One hundred yards, sixty yards, forty . . .  She and Phrym had to act now, or it would be too late; it would have all been in vain.

Without warning, Jahrra yelled out to Phrym in kruelt, “Laeni Phrym, laeni!  Llhoweh!”  Now Phrym, now!  Go!

Phrym surged forward and pulled away from the three racers, tearing up the sandy hill and crossing the marker a mere fifteen yards ahead of the others.  Jahrra let out a squeal of delight as the judge standing beside the red stone flew the green flag, signaling that she and Phrym had won the Great Race of Oescienne.

Jahrra threw her arms in the air, heedless of the scarf that was coming undone from her head, and urged Phrym to keep climbing, all the way to the top.  The crowd below would have looked very small if Jahrra had bothered to turn her head, but she had forgotten about them.  She could feel Phrym’s tired body struggling to climb, driving his front legs into the deep sand and kicking up with his hind legs, no longer able to run smoothly.  They were only yards away now and at the great hill’s steepest point.

“C’mon Phrym, you’ve got it!” she coaxed, willing all of her strength and joy to overflow into him.

As they breached the crest of the small mountain, Jahrra imagined she heard the other riders and spectators gasp, even from this great height.  She smiled and closed her eyes, falling against Phrym’s neck and giving him a victorious hug.

“We did it, we beat them all!  And we made it to the top!” she breathed quietly through a very tired grin.  She could have fallen asleep right there, lying against Phrym on top of Demon’s Slide, but all she did was smile.

Out of breath and dazed from her triumph, Jahrra slowly raised her head to look around, catching her breath at the scene surrounding her.  From this point, she could see all of Oescienne: the great extensive ocean, the Thorbet Range running northeast from where they stood, the Elornn Range meeting it in the east and continuing far away into the northwest.  Below them spread her beloved sand dunes, the lakes and the Wreing Florenn with the dark spot of the Black Swamp looking like a blemish on its eastern end.  She found the small Sloping Hill and her tiny Castle Guard Ruin and even the remains of the ruined castle itself, like a tiny pile of gray rubble on the edge of the bluff.

The familiar towns of Lensterans and Aldehren, Toria Town and Hassett Town, Nuun Esse and the edge of Kiniahn Kroi looked like little ant hills busy with life from this distance.  If she squinted and shielded her eyes from the sun, Jahrra could even see the hill where Yaraa and Viornen lived, the trees on the eastern side much greener than the others.  She even spotted a small orange and blue sliver in the east she knew to be Ehnnit Canyon.  But what astounded Jahrra the most were the mountains that piled beyond the Thorbet and Elornn ranges, stretching far into lands beyond her own small world, stretching far into the unknown of Ethoes.

Someday, she thought dreamily, I would like to see what is beyond these borders.

A sharp whinny from Phrym broke into Jahrra’s thoughts and she turned to look down the slope.

Eydeth had stopped his enervated semequin just past the stone marker along with the other competitors.  They all had a look of horror and shock scrawled across their weary faces.  No one had ever, in the history of the Great Race, climbed to the very top of Demon’s Slide, no one.  Jahrra grinned and felt the cool ocean breeze brush against her teeth.  Her shawl had finally come completely loose and was now only draped over her head like a loose veil.  She gazed down at Eydeth, wondering if the truth had hit him yet.  The horrible boy had a slight look of contempt on his face, as if angry not only at the fact that she’d won, but also that she had the strength and nerve to reach the top.  He was still too far away, however, to recognize just who it was that had beaten him.

Jahrra’s smile widened.  She knew Eydeth’s look of disdain would only intensify as she pulled the cloth completely free of her head. Her tangled hair fell loose, spreading like a banner in the wind as Phrym reared and kicked, stretching out the soreness in his legs.  There was no way to hide what the Resai men were now seeing: the young woman who had won the race.

Jahrra took one last look around, absorbing all that her eyes could take in, storing this memory close to her heart.  She then took a deep, calming breath and began the slow descent back down the mountain with Phrym, preparing herself for the angry mob that awaited them.  Only at this moment she didn’t feel apprehensive, she felt as light as air.

- Chapter Fifteen -

Dealing with Dragons

Eydeth glared at Jahrra as Phrym descended the steep hill.  “You’ll hang for this!” he spat, trembling with white-hot rage.  He looked ragged and worn, as if he’d fallen off of his semequin and been trampled.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Jahrra said calmly, for once looking down her nose at him.  “Your judges should’ve stopped me when I ran down onto the beach.  Besides, no one gets hanged for entering a race.  I’ll just be disqualified, but I’ll still have beaten you and no matter what you say, you and I will always know the truth.”

Jahrra thought she was quite brave to say such a thing to Eydeth in front of all the other angry Resai men standing on the hill, but the thrill of victory was numbing and her common sense didn’t have a chance to warn her to watch her tongue.

With his master’s gentle encouragement, Phrym continued down the mountain, leaving a fuming Eydeth and the other competitors behind.  Just as she had predicted, Jahrra was met with glares of anger, disgust and disdain as they passed the many other riders who had stopped to stare in shock at their unlikely, and unexpected, champion.  Jahrra couldn’t tell if these men simply hated her for beating them or hated her for being a Nesnan female who had ruined their prestigious race.  She didn’t care.  She stared them down and refused to look away from their spiteful gazes as she and Phrym passed one after the other.

Jahrra let Phrym take his time descending the steep hillside, moving at his own pace so that he wouldn’t injure himself.  When they finally reached the base of Demon’s Slide, the now silent crowd parted to let them through, keeping their distance and shaking their heads in aggravated disbelief.  Jahrra noted the race officials, scowling like the rest, and she even spotted her teacher, Professor Tarnik, looking as angry and disturbed as a wolf in a trap.

Jahrra turned her face from the gaze of her pompous teacher and caught site of something truly wonderful instead.  There, pushed up against the edge of a sand dune, stood Gieaun, Scede, Pahrdh, Mahryn, Rhudedth and Kihna and her sisters, all donning looks of delighted shock as they locked their eyes on the winner.  Jahrra couldn’t help but smile brightly in their direction, almost laughing out loud.  Gieaun and Rhudedth looked absolutely terrified, but Scede was smiling proudly.  Jahrra felt herself relax as she and Phrym began to part from the dismal throng.

All smiles and confidence vanished in a quickened heartbeat however, when Jahrra finally gazed beyond her small bubble of self-satisfaction and took in the entire crowd, not just those immediately in front of her.  Far away, on the very edge of the horde of spectators, stood two familiar figures; two dragon-shaped figures.  Jahrra flicked her eyes downward and hung her head for the first time since the race had ended.  She’d been so focused on the people around her, too busy keeping stubborn eye contact with her enemies that she hadn’t bothered to look up and notice the two most obvious onlookers standing just beyond the throng of people.  And apparently the crowd had been so enraptured by the scandal Jahrra had caused that they, too, hadn’t bothered to look anywhere other than Demon’s Slide.

What on Ethoes is he doing here?! Jahrra thought frantically once she’d gotten over the shock of seeing the young Tanaan dragon standing next to the old Korli one.  She had a feeling that Hroombra might somehow have figured out where she had gone and come down to the beach himself, but she had never, ever, in her wildest dreams, expected Jaax to turn up.  Hroombra hadn’t said anything to her about the younger dragon stopping in for a visit.  What could possibly have brought him here now of all times?

Jahrra stopped Phrym in the middle of the silent crowd and looked to Hroombra, whose eyes were almost unreadable.  He didn’t appear angry, that was a good sign, but he didn’t look pleased either.  She felt ashamed now for what she’d done and felt her face flush red.  The Resai judges and Eydeth could stand there and shoot accusing glares all they wanted, but they could never dent her.  Hroombra only had to look at her, without any anger, without any emotion at all, and Jahrra was once again an insignificant, vulnerable child.

Jahrra swallowed, then braved a glance at Jaax.  She tried hard to think of the last time she’d seen this dragon, and then remembered it was when she first started her lessons with Viornen and Yaraa, six years ago.  Jaax’s silver-green eyes seemed to hold a flare of disappointed amusement, blended with a hint of pity and disgust.  Jahrra set her jaw stubbornly and glared back at him, trying to interpret exactly what she saw there.  He thought it was ridiculous that she had joined this race.  She was obviously making a fool of herself and Hroombra.  How dare she?

How dare I? Jahrra thought, jumping to her own conclusions. Well, if that’s what he thinks . . !  She quickly changed her look of bashful inquiry to one of spiteful loathing in a flash.  She glared at the younger dragon with such contempt that he bowed his head only slightly, just enough to show that he had understood.

Jahrra hadn’t even come close to giving this look to Eydeth and the other Resai men while coming down the hill.  She had beaten them all today; she had proven something to them.  But with Jaax she felt she would never be able to prove anything.  He would always be the one to tell her: Not good enough.  No, Jahrra’s most intense anger wasn’t for her enemies, but for this dragon that underestimated and belittled her, not just once, but every time he had encountered her.

As the crowd turned to watch Jahrra’s progress, they also started to take note of the dragons.  Those people standing closest to them backed away, expressions of fear slowly replacing their expressions of distaste.  The Resai of Oescienne may speak ill of dragons, but it was a completely different story when the actual thing was standing just in front of them.

Jahrra grimaced when she noticed Tarnik making his way toward her, walking at a pace that suggested aggressive determination.  She was even more startled when her school teacher cut her off by placing himself firmly between the two dragons and Phrym.

“Young Jahrra,” his voice was tense and brimming with anger.

Jahrra glanced down at him and her eyes widened in surprise.  He was wearing a sash of red emblazoned with a line of prancing semequins.  Of course; he was one of the many volunteer judges of the race.  Why was she not surprised?  Jahrra forgot about the dragons and looked him straight in the eye, as if daring him to speak his mind.  She didn’t fear him; she didn’t fear any of them, not after what she had just accomplished.

He continued, now speaking on behalf of the race officials and registered participants, “You have insulted the integrity of this race, and you have blatantly and intentionally taken no regard for the rules and regulations of this honorable event.  Therefore, speaking as a senior volunteer official of the Great Race of Oescienne, you are hereby disqualified.”

The horrible man’s voice had risen from a harsh whisper to a mediocre shout, but now he struggled to gain control of his temper.  After a few moments he continued more calmly, “I don’t know how you managed to sneak into this race, but it only further proves your deceitful nature.  Think twice next time before doing something so foolish again.  And you will return that semequin to its proper owner!” Tarnik finished with an odd noise that resembled the cry of a chicken getting its neck wrung.

Jahrra would have laughed in his face, for his words were so ridiculous, so absurd, but the looks on the hostile faces surrounding her only proved that the opinion her teacher was expressing wasn’t an uncommon one.

During his little speech, Jahrra had been biding her time, preparing a response for him.  Now she turned to the shriveled, oily Resai man and, loud enough for all to hear, replied in a slightly shaking voice, “I insulted the integrity of this race?  How, by participating in it?  What is more horrifying to you Professor Tarnik, that I am female or that I am Nesnan?”  Jahrra took a deep breath, “Yes, I did sneak into this race; at the starting line I rushed in behind everyone else when the signal was given.  I would have liked to enter legally, but that opportunity was not extended to someone like me, so I did what I had to do to prove to you all that I was capable of winning.  And I did win, I beat all of your best racers, disqualified or not.”

Jahrra glared at him and glanced around at all the other angry, disapproving faces.  Not one of these people contained any hint of compassion or sympathy or even any sign of the ability to comprehend what it might be like to be in her position.  For a brief second Jahrra felt pity for them, her hatred seeming almost selfish.

She sighed, and in a softer yet still determined and passionate voice said, “You may be my school teacher, but you’ll never, ever tell me what my worth is again.  I have proven it today, whether or not you wish to acknowledge that fact.  Oh, and Phrym I’ve raised from a foal.  If he belongs to anyone, he belongs to me.”

Jahrra broke her gaze with the embittered Tarnik and cast her eyes upon the eerily quiet crowd surrounding her.  She only saw fire behind the Resai men’s eyes, their glacial faces not able to hide how they felt.  She knew she wouldn’t change the way they thought, but at least she had spoken her mind.  She sat up a little straighter in the saddle and took a deep breath.  Now she had to address her next challenge: facing Master Hroombra and Jaax.

As Jahrra turned Phrym towards them, she heard the beginnings of irritated whispering.  She thought that the spectators were just adding their last begrudging remarks, so she didn’t bother to stop.

“That semequin belongs to my father!” someone called out over the murmuring of voices.

This time Jahrra didn’t ignore it.  She turned so sharply that she spooked Phrym.  It was Eydeth, and he had followed her down the hillside.  She gave him a poisonous glare and said through gritted teeth, “He does not belong to your father and you know it!  You know he’s been with me for eight years now!”

Jahrra tried to control the anger in her voice, but it was no use.

“Obviously she is lying, Master Tarnik.  How does a Nesnan come upon a semequin, and one of such good bloodlines, without stealing it?  Did she find it?  In the Wreing Florenn?”

The murmuring turned to sniggering; the crowd pleased to find some way to ridicule the disgracer of their precious race.

“Come now Nesnan, give me the animal.  I wouldn’t want to humiliate you even more by forcefully taking him from you.”  While saying this, Eydeth led his own semequin over to Jahrra and Phrym with his hand outstretched.  Phrym sensed the trouble and became edgy and tense.

Jahrra tightened her grip on the reins. “He won’t go with you willingly,” she growled. “In fact, I doubt that you could handle him.  You had trouble with your own mount during the race.  I saw how you had to dig your heels into him in order to get him to cross the Oorn delta.”

Eydeth’s eyes became an inferno and he turned to two older Resai men who were with him. “Take the stallion.  My father will be glad to see him returned.”

Jahrra clung to her semequin’s back and put a comforting hand on his neck as he whickered in agitation.  Phrym began to panic and rear up again as the two men drew near.  Jahrra wanted to call out to Hroombra, but what could he do?  It was her own fault she’d gotten herself into this mess, and she would have to get herself out of it.

The men were now only a few feet away.  They reached up for Phrym’s halter, but before they could grab hold of the reins, Jahrra heard Jaax’s strong and steady voice call out, “Young Eydeth, since when has your father bred marble gray semequins?  Last thing I heard was that he preferred his stock to be pure and clean of color and his preferred color was snow white, like your fine stallion there.”

He nodded towards Eydeth’s own semequin and Jahrra could have sworn she saw fear behind the boy’s eyes.

“The semequin is mine, gentlemen.” Jaax’s tone held a tinge of fire as he addressed the entire crowd clamoring around to see justice served.  “I brought him here from the province of Rhiim and put him under the care of this young Nesnan.  It may have been a foolish move on my part, but it is the truth.  I ask that you never question this again.”

Jaax was always stern, but Jahrra thought she detected something more in his stance at this moment; a rigid anger she couldn’t remember ever sensing before.  She looked up at the younger dragon, her brow furrowed, but he was currently looking down upon Eydeth the way a cat looks at a mouse.  Or, Jahrra thought with some satisfaction, the way a dragon looks at something it wants very badly to burn to a crisp.  Eydeth made no further remark, but sat back in his saddle, cowering and fuming.

Jahrra knew that the Resai never liked Hroombra, not because they were necessarily afraid of him, but because they didn’t feel bothered enough to consider him a threat.  There was something different about Jaax however; something that demanded unquestioning respect.  Jahrra took this moment of silent challenge between the dragon and the crowd to quickly calm Phrym.  She whispered and hummed to him, leading him closer to the dragons before any more interjections could be made.

“And furthermore,” Jaax continued after Jahrra and Phrym were safely in front of him, “Jahrra will not be pulled from her lessons.  She’ll finish her last year at the schoolhouse in Aldehren.  She doesn’t have much schooling left and I believe you can tolerate her for a few months more.”

Jahrra could have sworn there was concern in that comment, but she let the thought pass.  She really wished Jaax hadn’t insisted she finish the year with Tarnik, though.  The one positive outcome from all of this chaos was that she wouldn’t ever have to listen to that old buffoon preach his nonsense to her again.  She could spend the entire day working on kruelt or taking extra lessons with Viornen and Yaraa instead.

While the bristling crowd let their hackles settle, Jahrra set her face in determination and turned to the pair of dragons, one the color of a distant storm cloud, and as unpredictable as one as well; the other an emerald pillar of strength and fire, and like fire, more likely to cause harm than good.

Jahrra tried not to look at Jaax, although she was kicking herself for avoiding his gaze.  I won’t let him take away what I’ve gained today, she told herself.  She knew the Tanaan dragon would have something demeaning to say to her, but she was determined not to let it get to her this time.  I won’t be ashamed of what I did, she reminded herself.  I did it for myself and I did it for my friends.  I had to run that race.

Jahrra looked up at Hroombra with apologetic eyes and was surprised at what she found there.  His ancient amber gaze held pride and joy, but those two emotions weren’t enough to mask the fear.  Fear for what the Resai might have done to me, Jahrra told herself remorsefully.  She swallowed back her guilt and said in a low voice, “I had to do it Master Hroombra.  I had to beat Eydeth.”

There was a short silence as Hroombra turned the words over in his head, only the thrum of the surf and the soughing of the wind to disturb his thoughts.  He took a patient breath and said quietly, “I understand child, but I wish you hadn’t.  How long have you been planning this?”

“Since the trip to the Eight Coves,”  Jahrra answered without pretense.  “Eydeth told us that his father bought the coastal land that the coves sit on and that he would soon buy Lake Ossar.  So you see, I had to beat him.  Lake Ossar means everything to me, just as the Great Race meant everything in the world to him.”

Jahrra ended her excuse in an exhausted huff.  She felt a little bit like an eight year old again, making her apology for the justified wrong she’d done.

Hroombra gazed down at her for quite a long time and Jahrra got the feeling that he was merely thinking about what she had just said.  After some time, he lifted his head and spoke roughly, “I do not approve of such dangerous behavior, but I understand it.  You’ll not do something so foolish again, Jahrra.”

Jahrra nodded in acceptance.  She knew that he had every right to be angry, and she knew that from now on she would obey him.  She was through with dangerous and reckless behavior.

Jaax, who had remained surprisingly silent this entire time, kept the same distant and demeaning presence he always reserved for her.  His face was set in stone, the spikes garnishing his triangular head like a crown, his bronze-green scales taking on a more azure shade to match the sea.  Jahrra hadn’t seen Jaax for several years, but he looked exactly as she remembered him.

“I see you’re still up to your usual antics, Jahrra,” he finally said, his voice sounding like rocks grating together in a landslide.  “Nothing changes much does it?” he ended with a slight grin, one that Jahrra knew was not out of kindness.

“Oh, and what concern is it of yours?” she braved haughtily.

He merely stared back down at her, unaffected by her brusque tone.

After he refused to answer her, she spoke again with some sarcasm, “How long do you plan to stay this time, five minutes?”  She straightened her back and sat as tall in the saddle as she could.

Jahrra knew she should be thanking Jaax for saving Phrym from Eydeth, but she was too proud to do anything of the sort. She sighed and slid down from Phrym, jarring her weak legs when she touched down.  She stretched out her abused muscles and turned to face the now dispersing crowd behind her.  Jahrra only stopped scowling when she recognized several familiar faces waiting patiently for her to notice them.  She let Phrym lower his head to inspect some beach grass and took several sore steps to reach her friends.

“We arrived at the Ruin this morning to see if you wanted to come watch the race with us,” Scede said in a low tone, keeping a nervous eye on Jaax.  He would display the full magnitude of his glee later, but not in front of the dragon that always put Jahrra in a bad temper.

“Jaax was already there, and when he went to wake you, he said you weren’t in your room,” Gieaun added anxiously.

“We figured you were out for an early morning ride, but Jaax guessed where you really were,” Scede added. “We didn’t believe it at first, but he insisted.”

Jahrra nodded and gave them a half grin.  She looked up at Hroombra and then took Scede and Rhudedth’s arms and led them away.  The deep sand made it feel like she was walking against the current of a strong river.

“I can’t believe you just did that!” Rhudedth piped up once they had moved far enough away from the dragons.  “That was amazing!  The look on Eydeth’s face was ten times better than his reaction to the lake monster!”

“Jahrra, who is that other dragon?” Mahryn asked nervously, eyeing the stern and watchful Jaax.  He had met Hroombra once before, but had never before seen another dragon in his life, especially not one with a look of savage fury surrounding him.

“Oh, that’s just Jaax,” Jahrra said rather boorishly. “Sometimes I think Ethoes carved him from stone and forgot to add all the pleasant emotions.  He is the dullest and most ill-mannered creature I know.”

Mahryn’s eyes widened with surprise.  He could never imagine anybody speaking that way about such a dangerous looking creature.

“Jahrra,” Jaax’s stern voice cut into the children’s conversation and Jahrra turned.  Both dragons gazed at her with well-reined patience and she knew it was time to head home.

“I have to go face my punishment now,” she said tiredly to her friends.  “I’ll see you all later.”

Before they could protest, Jahrra collected Phrym and headed back towards Jaax and Hroombra.  She tried very hard to calm her mind and sooth her spirit as she placed herself between the two brooding reptiles.

“So, do you have anything else to add to what my dear old school teacher just said?” Jahrra stated as she trudged through the loose sand.  “Perhaps he forgot something, let’s see: disappointment to my own kind, a disgrace, eternal banishment . . .” Jahrra listed off the insults on her fingertips. “What did he forget?  Oh yes, friend of dragons and semequin thief,” she finished rather dramatically.

“What did you expect Jahrra?  To be hailed and carried away on their shoulders?” Jaax remarked.  “Don’t let anger guide your thoughts, and watch the attitude you now display.  You are lucky Hroombramantu isn’t allowing me to deal directly with you in this matter.”

“What exactly are you doing here, anyhow?” Jahrra snapped, angry at Jaax’s patronizing tone.  “Don’t you have something better to do?  You can’t honestly have a good reason to be here.”

Jahrra regretted the harsh words the moment they were out.  She secretly cursed herself for letting everybody’s disdain get under her skin.

“Jahrra, Raejaax, that is quite enough.  Let us walk in peace the rest of the way back to the Ruin.  It’s a long journey and I wish to think, something I cannot do over raised voices.”

Hroombra was the only being that could get an obedient response from Jahrra.  She immediately focused her attention on leading Phrym and occupied herself with greeting the many Nesnan onlookers still gaping at the unlikely champion.  The path they took back home was the one that led past the lakes.  Jahrra grinned inwardly as the group approached the head of the trail, secretly recalling all of the fond memories she’d had traveling this exact route.

Before long the two dragons, Jahrra and Phrym were heading down the road that led through Willowsflorn and along the Danu Creek.  Jahrra had given up walking several miles back and was once again atop Phrym, very much aware of Jaax’s eyes boring into her back.

A soft breeze picked up and shuffled the leaves of the willows, stirring the stagnant silence.  Jahrra knew she should’ve been enjoying the walk on this wonderful day, but she also knew that it was only a matter of time before they got back to the Castle Guard Ruin, where the dragons would really let her know how they felt about the race.  She sighed and tried hard not to think these unpleasant thoughts.  When they finally reached the top of the Sloping Hill, Jahrra was surprised to see Scede and Gieaun waiting patiently for them.  They must have raced Bhun and Aimhe here, she thought complacently.  The warm greeting by both her friends caused Jahrra’s tension and anger to wane, and for the first time since leaving the beach, she smiled.

Scede and Gieaun regarded the two dragons as they usually did, grinning cautiously for fear they might get caught up in Jahrra’s punishment, whatever that might be.

Jahrra was surprised, however, when Jaax addressed her friends, “Now Scede, Gieaun, don’t look so nervous, you’re not at fault here.”

The siblings nodded and Jaax flashed them a genuine smile.  “It is very good to see you both.  You have grown into such fine young adults.”

What’s he doing?  Why is he being so pleasant?!  Jahrra fumed.  Jaax was never agreeable with her, even when she wasn’t in trouble.

Gieaun grinned weakly, shifting her weight from one foot to the other while she eyed the ground shyly. “Thank you,” she answered timidly.

“I guess we had better get going, it’s growing late,” Scede said cautiously. “We just wanted to say congratulations again without everyone else around.  We’ll see you tomorrow, right Jahrra?”

The siblings gave her an inquiring glance, but when they saw the sour look on Jahrra’s face they turned to leave with no further argument.  They had known Jahrra long enough to know that whenever Jaax was around it was best just to leave and wait for her to come find them.

Hroombra took a great breath, released it and proclaimed, “That is enough excitement for one day.  I think I’ll head off to bed early.  Jahrra, don’t stay up too late tonight, we’ll need to discuss several things in the morning.”  He took one hard look at both Jaax and Jahrra, as if warning them to watch their words, then turned toward the Ruin.

As soon as Hroombra was out of sight and out of earshot, Jaax got right to the point. “The last thing I expected when I arrived this morning was to find you making a spectacle of yourself in front of the entire population of Oescienne,” he said harshly.

“Then why did you know where to find me this morning if you didn’t expect it?” Jahrra countered rather cheekily.

Jaax just glowered down at her, his expression clearly showing his irritation.  Jahrra simply turned her back and let out a half triumphant laugh as she pulled Phrym towards the stable.  Phrym whuffled in aggravation, informing Jahrra just how rude it was to jerk him along.

On her way across the field, she decided that she was done talking to Jaax for the day.  Speaking with him only lead to arguing and arguing only led to more anger.  She stopped walking for a moment and held her hand up to shade her eyes as she peered out over the ocean.  The sun was only an hour away from setting, and Jahrra, despite the pent up anger that was driving her, was finally feeling the weariness of the race.  She closed her eyes for a moment, breathing deeply as she tried to calm her emotions.  A gentle breeze lifted her bedraggled hair and dropped it behind her shoulders, the sun caressing her skin like a fire-warmed blanket.  It was so calming just standing in the open field, listening to the music of the breeze-blown trees.  Jahrra flinched, however, when Jaax’s voice interrupted her sense of peace.

“You can ignore me all you want, but I’m not going away,” he said with a steady calm, the earlier hint of anger and rashness now gone.

Jahrra refused to answer him.  She snatched up Phrym’s reins once more and trudged on.  I won’t give in this time.  I’ll just keep walking and stay silent.  He’ll leave eventually.

“Rude silence is not very becoming of a young lady,” Jaax called out from where he stood. “You could use a few lessons from your friend Gieaun.”

Jahrra turned so suddenly that she wrenched Phrym’s head around with her, causing him to start just a little.  “Since when have you been on equal terms with Scede and Gieaun?  I thought your goal in life was to be far more superior to everyone you know, even Master Hroombra.”

Something dark crossed Jaax’s eyes and he lost his usual smirk and domineering gaze.  “Is that what you think Jahrra?” he asked in a dangerous tone. “Well, you don’t know me at all then, do you?”

“No, I don’t.  And I don’t wish to either.  I don’t even know why you keep showing up here, except to drop insults every chance you get.  You always have some patronizing comment for me, no matter what I do, and this time you greeted my friends in a perfectly civilized manner while scolding me like a seven-year-old child!”

Once all of her pent up frustration had been expelled, Jahrra felt worse than before, not better.  She thought, that after all these years, telling Jaax how she really felt about him would make her feel more confident and relieved.  But now, as she stood there exhausted, both mentally and physically, with the Tanaan dragon staring down at her with what appeared to be a look of pity on his face, she just wanted to curl up and go to sleep for a very long time.

With a final spout of gumption, she looked Jaax in the eye and said simply, “You don’t like me at all, do you Jaax?  I mean, I’m the burden you bear, aren’t I?  Having to check on me every so often to make sure I’m still alive, it must be a great inconvenience to you.  I’ll do you a big favor, alright?  Forget I exist; stop checking in on me.  Whatever reason there is for you to have some role in my life, it can’t be more important than anything else you could be doing.  So go, live your life and let me stay here and live mine.  I have Master Hroombra to look after me, and believe me, one dragon guardian is quite enough.”

The look of exasperation on Jaax’s face flickered to one of surprise.  He never imagined that Jahrra felt as strongly as this.  He took a deep breath, trying to push away the guilt that threatened to overwhelm him.  He had good reason for his absence from Jahrra’s life, but when he gave it a good amount of thought, he knew it was no excuse.

“You’re right,” he said plainly, “I am harder on you than anyone else you know, and I do test you, but it is for reasons you couldn’t possibly understand at your young age.  There are things in your future that you must be ready to face when the time comes, and you’re the only one who can face them.  My job is to make sure that you’re prepared for that.  You may not understand now, but someday you will.”

They had finally reached the stable and Jahrra had begun to loosen Phrym’s old saddle, the four pommel saddle that Jaax had sent her for Solsticetide almost glaring like a beacon on its shelf in the corner.  The young dragon sounded honest enough, but Jahrra couldn’t avoid the sour expression that dominated her face.  She refused to believe that anything he had to tell her could be inconceivable, and the fact that he suggested she needed to be “a little older” to understand simply infuriated her.  Hadn’t she just defeated a group of world-class riders?  Hadn’t she entered the Wreing Florenn on many occasions and emerged again unscathed?  Hadn’t she encountered a draffyd and a sehnna and lived to tell the tale?  She paused only for a moment, bade her tense muscles to relax, and continued with her work.

“You make it sound like I’ll be the only person ever to face the trials of life,” she stated with a raw voice as she heaved the saddle off of Phrym, her back still turned to the dragon.  “What could possibly happen to me that wouldn’t happen to anybody else?”

The silence that followed was as thick as harvest pudding.  Only the sound of clinking metal and stretching leather combined with Phrym’s soft breathing interrupted the quiet.  Jahrra plopped the worn saddle down upon a rickety wooden sawhorse next to the rest of her spare riding gear.  She felt uncomfortable in the lengthened silence, and she wished that Jaax would say something more, even if it was something demeaning.

“Someday you’ll understand,” he finally said, his voice grown soft.

Jahrra heard him begin to leave but she didn’t turn to say goodbye.  She was still too angry over everything that had happened that day, despite the lingering glow of her victory.  The last thing she wanted to do was wish the dragon Raejaaxorix a good night.

Finally able to relax now that she was alone, Jahrra breathed a sigh of relief and finished getting Phrym settled in his stall.  She patted him and said, “Good night my friend, you did a good job today.  I’m sorry I seemed harsh, but I promise none of it was aimed at you.”

She kissed his dappled forehead and he let out a soft whicker.  She gazed into his loving, smoky eyes and smiled.  It was as if he was trying to remind her that if it wasn’t for that dragon she despised so much she wouldn’t have her semequin friend at all.  Jahrra turned and faced the ruins of the Castle Guard and breathed a wearied sigh.  She was tired from the day’s efforts, but her mind was suddenly alive with action.  Her argument with Jaax had given her a new boost of energy, but all she wanted to do was settle down for the night.

Looking out over the edge of the Great Sloping Hill, Jahrra admired the changing of the sky as the red sun dipped into the sea.  She smiled.  Nothing was more peaceful and beautiful than the sun setting over western Oescienne.  It was like watching a rainstorm of color unfold before her eyes.  The eucalyptus trees, normally silvery green and creamy beige, were now bathed in a golden film.  The lakes of Oescienne were five dark sapphire abysses with rings of trees surrounding them, changing from warm chartreuse to a cold jade in the fading light.  The shadows that crept over the land painted the dunes with sharp angles and deep furrows, while the golden lavender tone of the mountains washed away to reveal a deep indigo beneath the shadow of early twilight.  Jahrra released her breath, unaware that she had been holding it, and started towards the edge of the bluff to watch the changing landscape.

She walked up to an ancient eucalyptus tree and placed her hand on the smooth trunk.  The bark seemed to quiver and the all too familiar twinge of magic tickled her wrist once again.  She thought of how Viornen and Yaraa’s bracelet had aided her on Sobledthe Eve, but frowned at the other awful memories from that night.  She took a deep breath and turned her thoughts instead to the time she first met Cahrume and learned of her gift from the Sacred Apple Tree.  Jahrra smiled as she carefully lifted herself up onto her favorite branch, a great thick arm that hung low to the ground and stretched out over the cliff’s edge.  She stepped carefully out to the end, using the smaller branches as her guide while searching for the place she liked to sit.  At last she found it, at the very end.

Jahrra settled herself into the well-worn seat, smoothed down from her years of perching, and let her head fall slightly to the side.  The sun sunk lower in the sky, casting its golden rays upon the shivering landscape.  She crossed her arms with ease and let her legs hang freely out into space.  She thought about what Jaax had said earlier, “Someday you will understand.”  Understand what? she wondered, Understand why I’m being raised by a dragon?  Understand why Jaax had me take self defense lessons with Viornen and Yaraa all these years?  Understand why he brought me to live here in the first place?

Jahrra blinked wearily and released a deep sigh.  She stared out over the west, finally letting her muscles relax.  She shook the troublesome thoughts of Jaax from her mind and grinned as she remembered the positive events of the day.  “I won,” she whispered to the encroaching twilight.  “I beat Eydeth in his own race; I beat all those pompous, conceited fools.”

Jahrra rested her head against the hard, rough bark, allowing the last vestiges of unobstructed sunlight pour over her face.  She may have wondered why Jaax had brought her to the southern part of the province, but she was never sorry that he had.  She couldn’t imagine any place more beautiful than her Oescienne and couldn’t picture herself living anywhere else.

Someday I’ll see more of Ethoes, thought Jahrra sleepily as she let her eyes rest for a moment.  But at this moment, she was content with her paradise.

***

Jahrra woke with a start.  For a moment, she didn’t know where she was.  She knew she wasn’t in her bed because she could feel the crisp, open air on her face, and she was sitting up instead of lying down.  She shivered and glanced up, blinking blearily into the diamond-frosted darkness.

The stars . . . ?  Of course!  She shot forward quickly and grabbed instinctively for a branch as she felt herself slipping off of something.  And then it occurred to her where she was.  She’d been sitting in the arm of her favorite tree, and she’d been watching the sunset.  But what day was it, and why had she fallen asleep in this tree?  It took her awhile to get past the confusion of sleep, but after a few moments everything came rushing back.  The Great Race!  I won! Jahrra recalled with a thrill, slipping slightly on the smooth limb once more.  Then she remembered why she had crawled out to the end of this branch to begin with; an argument with a young, ominous dragon who had decided to show up out of the blue.  Ugh, she thought drearily, almost wishing she had fallen off of the limb.

Trying to forget her perpetual irritation at Jaax, Jahrra shifted and began her sluggish climb down from the arm of the tree, wincing in the process.  Whether the stiffness and soreness was a result of the long day before, or from falling asleep in an awkward and hard place, she wasn’t sure.  Probably from both, she thought groggily.

As she slowly walked back across the dark field, Jahrra tried not to shiver from the cold that had settled in her bones or grimace from her aching muscles.  She wasn’t sure what time it was, but from the position of the stars in the sky she knew she’d been asleep long enough to arouse suspicion at home.  Luckily, Hroombra had probably fallen asleep before she had.  Jaax, on the other hand, was most likely sitting just inside the Ruin, waiting to give her another verbal lashing.  Sometimes I just wish he would set me on fire and be done with it, she thought morosely.

The night was very dark, but Jahrra’s eyes eventually adjusted to their surroundings.  She waded through the thick grass, determined to get to her soft bed inside the Ruin without the Tanaan dragon noticing.  She was almost to her destination when something made her stop in mid-stride.  A strange melody of hushed voices drifted from the very north end of the field near the edge of the wood.  Jahrra caught her breath and was suddenly wide awake.  She tried very hard to see who or what it was that was talking, but she could only make out shapes from the distance.  They were large shapes; dragon shapes.

Jahrra crouched down and quickly, but quietly, moved through the field, doing her best not to trip over the wet tangles of grass.  She shivered and felt her mouth go dry when she heard one of the voices more clearly, a voice she knew.  Jaax was speaking to someone, another dragon from the size of the shadows, but it wasn’t Hroombra.  It was an unfamiliar voice, a female voice: “Will you please hear me out?  You know how I feel about perching on icy mountaintops for days with no company.  Can you really blame me?”

The short, heated blast of breath that followed had to have come from Jaax, Jahrra decided.

“You were told not to come here with me.  I thought that had been made absolutely clear.”

A slight, simpering noise followed, but it was immediately quenched by Jaax’s chiding voice, “Shiroxx, now is not the time to be selfish about personal comforts!  I explained to everyone my reasons for taking leave.  If you had a problem with that, you should’ve voiced your opinion then instead of following me here like some forlorn puppy.”

Jahrra thought she felt the very air bristle.

“Well I’m here now Jaax; you had best come to terms with that.  And why is it, exactly, that you are the only one allowed to come and see this girl anyway?”

Jahrra felt her breath catch.  What was going on?  Not only had she discovered that there were truly other dragons in the world, but that these other dragons knew about her.  Why would a dragon want to see me? Jahrra wondered.

Jaax’s stern response to the female dragon made Jahrra start. “I have told you that already, and I will not change my mind.  You may be correct in the fact that I’m stuck with you for now, but the important issue at the moment is finding Jahrra, wherever she’s run off to.”

The female dragon, Shiroxx, sighed. “I’m sure the young thing is just off pouting about your reprimand.  You said so yourself she is very willful and prone to sulking.  Perhaps she took that semequin you gave her and fled to a friend’s house?”

The voice that had been whiny before was now suddenly cool and inviting.  There was something ingrained in it that Jahrra didn’t trust, something that reminded her of Ellysian’s voice when she was telling her lies.  She decided right then and there that she didn’t like this strange dragon at all.  Willful and pouting?! she fumed silently.  Who is she to judge?  She hasn’t even met me!  But with Jaax feeding her all of her information, Jahrra wasn’t all that surprised.

Hroombra had never mentioned any other dragons by name apart from Jaax.  Why had he not talked about this one?  Jahrra’s curiosity was definitely piqued, so she crouched even lower and crept closer to the large, conversing shadows.

“No, she’s not off pouting somewhere.”  Jaax sounded aggravated.  “More likely she has fallen asleep in some secluded corner second guessing her actions today.  She gave up pouting long ago, but I’ll admit she hasn’t moved far from it.”

Jahrra stopped dead in her tracks.  How could he possibly know that?  She had been sure he was gone from sight before she set off towards the trees, and she would have noticed if a fifteen foot tall, twenty foot long dragon had been following her.  Jahrra scowled. She had only met Jaax a handful of times in her entire life and each time it was only for a day or so.  How could he know so much about her character when she knew nothing about him?  Maybe it was a trait he had gained over time.  After all, dragons had plenty of time to develop such a skill.  Jahrra shook off her aggravation and strained her ears once more to listen to the conversation.  She knew it was wrong of her to eavesdrop, but she was determined to find out who this other dragon was and why she herself was such an important object of interest.

“Honestly Jaax, we cannot go wandering through these woods at night.  She could be anywhere, let’s just wait until morning.”

Jahrra detected something insincere behind the feigned concern in Shiroxx’s voice.  She’d had plenty of practice from listening to the children at school as they tried to impress Eydeth and Ellysian.  She wondered if Jaax could detect this deception as well.  She was a little disappointed when it seemed he had not.

“Very well,” he said on a sigh, “but she’ll get the bad end of it in the morning.”  Jaax started to move back towards the Ruin, but Shiroxx held back.  The dark form that was Jaax turned to look back at the other, waiting patiently for her to speak.

“Actually, I wouldn’t mind watching the stars from that clearing over there.  Would you like to join me?  I have forgotten most of the names of the old constellations, do you know them?”

The voice was perfect sweet politeness and had such an inviting charm that Jahrra made a face.  So, she thought haughtily, maybe Jaax does have a life outside of Oescienne after all.  She suits him.  Those two stuffy, assuming creatures can go live in the wilds of Felldreim for all I care.

Jaax’s dark form nodded once and then headed back towards the other dragon.  Despite her better judgment, and due to her overwhelming sense of curiosity, Jahrra continued after them.  She knew it was very rude of her, but she couldn’t help it.  If they continued their discussion, perhaps she would learn what Shiroxx had been talking about earlier, about an icy mountaintop and why Jaax had wanted to come back to Oescienne.

Jahrra continued silently through the field until she reached the edge of the tree line, crossing the small foot bridge over the Danu Creek as the dragons crossed the larger road bridge.  She made her way from one shadowy trunk to the next, making sure she was silent as she moved further and further away from her awaiting bed and closer to the dragons.  After several minutes, Jaax and his companion reached the tiny meadow at the edge of the forest and stopped.  Jahrra had stopped too, no longer able to rely on the noise of the dragons’ footfalls to drown out her own racket.  She strained her ears, listening for their voices once again, but they were just out of earshot.

Drat! she thought, they’ll surely see and hear me if I turn back now.  But she didn’t want to turn back; she wanted to hear what they were saying.  Jahrra took a deep breath and slowly began to inch towards them.  She knew that if she made any sound at all they would hear her, and with her luck, wouldn’t just dismiss her as a scavenging animal.  After several minutes of slow and patient progress, Jahrra had edged within twenty feet of the pair and could now clearly make out what was being said:

“. . . I don’t see why you must stay connected to this child Raejaax.  Hroombra obviously has everything under control . . .”

“You can’t possibly believe that Shiroxx!” Jaax cut in irritably.  “She does anything and everything that flies into her mind.”

“Jaax, I only wish you wouldn’t worry so much.  When was the last time you took a break from this chaos you call your life?” Shiroxx asked pleasantly. “In fact, I believe we all need a vacation.  It’s been seventeen years and nothing has happened, I think we can relax our guard a little.”

Jaax didn’t answer, but growled and moved away.  He turned his back on the smaller form across from him and stared further into the starry, moonlit sky.

“Raejaax . . .” Shiroxx said calmly, a pleading note in her voice.

Jaax interrupted in a cool tone that gave Jahrra chills, “Shiroxx, what you want can never happen, and I’m not talking about taking time off from our duty to Jahrra. You’re grasping at something that cannot be had.  I’m sorry, but I’m afraid it will always be that way.”

As Jahrra listened to Jaax’s cold words, she couldn’t help but feel a little bit sorry for Shiroxx and a little bit guilty she had eavesdropped on this private conversation.  Her reaction was both one of irritation and confusion, for although Jahrra had decided she didn’t like this new dragon, she disliked Jaax even more for his harsh rejection.  What he had just said was spoken without kindness, and it only added fuel to the fire of Jahrra’s dislike of him.

Her anger was only fleeting, however, because she was focused on something else they had said, something that confused her.  What had Jaax meant by “Our duty to Jahrra”?  Whose duty?  And what duty to me?  If anything, Jahrra was even more perplexed than before.  She gritted her teeth and tried to keep from going crazy.

“Very well,” Shiroxx answered after some time, matching Jaax’s chilling tone.

The female dragon turned her back on him, slowly making her way back towards Jahrra.  Jahrra froze for just a second, but then quickly shifted out of the dim moonlight.  She settled behind a screen of black leaves and took this opportunity to look the strange dragon over.  She resembled Jaax, smaller with less prominent features, but built in the same athletic way that he was.  Jahrra would guess she was reddish in color, for she looked dark purple in the dim light of the moon.  She walked with ease and a sort of grace, something Jahrra didn’t expect from such a large reptile.

Shiroxx stopped and turned her head back towards Jaax’s brooding shape.  He still stared at the stars, sitting down now, with his back to her.  “She’ll never make your dreams come true either Jaax, those ridiculous ambitions of yours,” she said with some spite. “She’ll never be the one to heal the wounds of your past, no matter how much you hope for it.  She is of a weak race as you very well know; you’ve studied enough of their history.  Time to wake up Jaax, for dreams are only real when you are asleep.”

Shiroxx spread her wings and took off into the night.  Jahrra watched closely as her dark figure disappeared into the black sky, and then she stole a glance at Jaax.  He stared at the stars like a great frozen jade statue, their faint light caught in his eyes the way a mirror captures the faint flicker of a distant candle.  Not once did he turn his head to watch Shiroxx leave. Jahrra stared at his still silhouette, growing more and more bewildered as the minutes passed.  Sometimes, but only on very rare occasions, she wished she could read the dragon Jaax’s thoughts.

Jahrra turned and quietly made her way back to the Castle Guard Ruin, her mind once again ablaze with questions.  Who exactly had this Shiroxx been and why was Jaax angry with her for coming here?  Why was there so much friction between them?  What had she meant about Jaax’s dreams coming true?  What dreams could the boring, dry Tanaan dragon possibly have, and what part, if any, could she, a simple Nesnan, play in them?  And even though she was a simple Nesnan, Shiroxx had no right to imply that Nesnans were weak.  Did she not just beat a plethora of Resai in the most competitive race in all of Oescienne?  It all made her head hurt.

Jahrra tiptoed through the main room of the Ruin fifteen minutes later, trying hard to put these thoughts behind her.  Hopefully someday I’ll have all these questions answered, but not now, she told herself, her mind limp with exhaustion.  Luckily, she was too tired to let these feelings keep her awake.  As soon as her head hit her pillow, Jahrra was fast asleep, her troubles, for now, long forgotten.

- Chapter Sixteen -

Eydeth’s Confession

The next morning, Jahrra rose late to find Jaax and Hroombra reclining before the large fireplace.  She shuffled into the common room, rubbing her eyes and yawning.  Both dragons looked up at her with shrouded eyes.  Jahrra lowered her head.  The entirety of the day before hit her like a blast of icy wind, shocking her into full consciousness.  She stood rigid, forgetting her grogginess, and shot a quick look at Jaax.  He had the same granite hardness to his gaze as always and Jahrra wondered if he was feeling guilty for what he’d said to the dragon Shiroxx the night before.  Jahrra turned her eyes to the ground and set her face in determined irritation, shutting her mind off to the scolding she was about to receive from both her mentor and Jaax.

“Risky”, “Foolish”, and “Disrespectful” were among the long list of words that fell through the thick veil of thought that surrounded her, but that was about all Jahrra heard from them.  She was too busy focusing on what she’d heard the night before.  After a few minutes, however, her bubble of contemplation was suddenly burst with the sound of Hroombra’s stern voice: “Jahrra, you will have to learn to mind what Jaax tells you.  He’ll be staying with us for a few months, and I insist that you treat him with respect.”

“What?!” Jahrra shot her head up in surprise, her eyes wide with horror.

Jaax merely gazed down at her from where he sat as if her loathsome reaction had puzzled him.  Jahrra caught herself just in time and instead of making a complaint, she inquired through gritted teeth, “Why will he be staying so long?  Doesn’t he have more important things to do?”

Jahrra tried not to sound bitter or frantic, but she was afraid her sarcasm rang clear.  Hroombra gave her a disturbed look and she quickly dropped her head again.  “He has important matters here as well, Young Jahrra,” The old dragon answered quietly.  He took a tired breath, releasing it slowly, “Go now, we’ll not hold you any longer.  You know that you have done something wrong, and I don’t expect you to do anything like it again.”

Hroombra sounded a little angry, a little weary, and Jahrra nodded solemnly before she disappeared through the door, not looking at Jaax as she left.  She went straight to Phrym’s stable and saddled him for a ride to somewhere far away from the Ruin and far away from the grumpy dragons.

***

An hour later she was sitting tensely upon Phrym, watching waves crash upon the ocean shore just west of Lake Ossar as her mind wandered back to the scene she had witnessed the night before.  She knew she should forget all about it, but something about what the female dragon said had been bothering her all morning.  Shiroxx had mentioned something about Jaax’s wounded past.  What could she have meant? Jahrra wondered, what could have possibly happened to him to make her sound so concerned?

Jahrra almost felt remorseful that she knew nothing about the other dragon.  After her parents had died, she stopped listening to the stories Hroombra told of him and Hroombra in turn stopped telling them.  Every time he visited, Jahrra avoided him every chance she got.  She never once tried to get to know him better, never asked him about his life.  He knew about hers, but all he had to do was ask Hroombra.  There was no way Jahrra would tell him anything.

Suddenly, she wanted to know all about Jaax: what he’d been like as a dragonling, what his life was like outside of Oescienne.  Dragons were hated creatures in most parts of Ethoes, so there was a good chance this had something to do with Jaax’s attitude.  “Maybe that’s what’s wrong with him,” she said cynically to Phrym, “maybe something awful happened to him long ago, and that’s why he’s so unpleasant.”  Jahrra shivered and added in a whisper, “Perhaps he had a family once, like me.”

Jahrra sighed, wishing the salty breeze would take her worries with it.  She knew that the coming weeks with Jaax would be nearly unbearable, but she told herself she would just have to grin and bear it.

Just as predicted, the following days found Jahrra far removed from her comfort zone.  She began to dread leaving her room in the morning, often contemplating sneaking out her garden window more often than not.  Normally, Hroombra would gently remind her to pick up her things or finish her homework or to come home early from a ride with Phrym.  With Jaax it was a constant, patronizing nagging on top of Hroombra’s reminders, grating away at her patience.  Just ignore him, just ignore him . . . it’s just like Eydeth and Ellysian; I can’t lose my temper, Jahrra would tell herself every time she heard his voice barking out another command or insensitive remark.

Gieaun and Scede tried their best to distract her from Jaax’s presence, but they weren’t always successful.  To Jahrra’s utter annoyance, they often found Jaax interesting company and were swept away on one of his daily surveys of the countryside.  Nothing was worse, in Jahrra’s opinion, than to have her friends come over for a day at Lake Ossar and then forget all about her when Jaax offered them a ride on his back.

Jahrra was often asked politely by the dragon to join the group, but she told herself that he had other sinister plans in mind and she refused to subject herself to them.  So on the days that Gieaun and Scede were off flying the countryside with Jaax, Jahrra would take Phrym down to the lakes or to the beach to let off steam.  The smooth rhythm of the ocean always helped cool her nerves when she was so rudely left by her friends.

When the ocean didn’t soothe her, Jahrra would find solace in the Black Swamp.  Once at the Belloughs, Denaeh would always make her feel better by telling her a story or teaching her about a new plant she’d acquired.  Jahrra had never before complained to Denaeh about Jaax, but then again the Tanaan dragon had never been a big enough part of her life to mention.  When he visited, it was only for a few hours, or even a day, but absolutely not more than a week.  Now that Jaax was staying for several months, and now that Gieaun and Scede had been completely beguiled by him, Jahrra needed Denaeh’s companionship more than ever.

It was a few weeks after Jaax’s arrival that Jahrra paid Denaeh a visit.  The moment she stepped down from Phrym into the late fall gloom of the swamp, Jahrra immediately jumped into the story of why she was there.  Denaeh listened patiently, her eyes narrowed in thought.  A dark cloud fell over the Mystic’s face as she registered what she was hearing. So it all makes sense now, but how on Ethoes could I not have realized . . . ?  But her time for reflection would have to wait.  Jahrra still had much more to tell, and Denaeh wanted to hear all of it.  From what Jahrra had said so far, and by drawing her own conclusions, Denaeh could clearly see that the root of the problem was a clash of personalities.  The dragon Jaax had a very dominant, determined disposition, one that often came to battle against Jahrra’s own stubborn independence.

As Jahrra rattled off her many grievances about the dragon, Denaeh would offer a sprinkling of advice here and there.  The only problem was that Jahrra didn’t seem to take any of this advice to heart.  She would look at her friend, aghast, after Denaeh suggested she swallow her pride and compromise with her reptilian visitor.  The Mystic only smiled kindly then, knowing that the girl would have to learn for herself. I have a feeling you’ll be stuck with that dragon longer than you expect, she thought with a wry grin.

Once Jahrra was done complaining, she began telling Denaeh about what she’d heard the night after the race, about the conversation between Jaax and Shiroxx.  The Mystic listened patiently, one elbow tucked into her hand while her chin rested in the palm of the other.  Jahrra looked up at her once she was through with her tale and the woman, even in the younger guise of herself, reminded her of a great old tree, still and frozen in a century of thought.  Jahrra could have sworn she saw something dark flicker behind Denaeh’s eyes, but before she could consider it, the woman spoke, “I have no idea who this dragoness Shiroxx might be.  Dragon’s aren’t very common, but there are larger numbers of them outside of Oescienne.  Perhaps she is a childhood friend of your dragon Jaax.”

Jahrra wrinkled her nose at Denaeh’s claim of Jaax being ‘her dragon’, but nodded her head in calm acceptance.  If Denaeh didn’t know who Shiroxx was, then she would just have to live with that, unless she wanted to ask Jaax herself and admit to him that she had been spying.  Jahrra sighed.  It was far too stressful to think about strangers and the odd things they said.  She now wished she had never followed after them in the first place.  This is what I get for being nosey, she thought ruefully.  As much as Jahrra was dying to decipher every word that was exchanged between the two dragons, she knew that she’d just have to live in ignorance.

Denaeh and Jahrra shared a short silence while they got their own personal thoughts together and then they discussed the Great Race of Oescienne as the crackling fire and two steaming mugs of tea warmed them.  Denaeh was thrilled to hear that Jahrra had won and Jahrra smiled proudly. “Hroombra and Jaax may disapprove, but it’s the best thing I’ve ever done.”

“They’re proud of you,” Denaeh said smiling, “they just worry about you.”

Jahrra shrugged and sipped her tea.  She knew that Hroombra was proud of her, even though he had been angry.  She had read it in his eyes; pride, hurt, anger and fear.  All of those emotions had been there, but pride had shown the strongest.  Jaax’s eyes, on the contrary, had remained as icy and dark as ever.  She knew that he felt some concern, but was it for her own sake or was it somehow for himself?  Was it something that her behavior affected that really had him distressed?  Jahrra shut her eyes and let the spicy tea comfort her.  She had enough to worry about without wondering why Jaax acted the way he did.  You don’t even care what he thinks, remember? she reminded herself.

Jahrra breathed in the fog-tinged air and shivered despite the warmth of the small fire.  She tried to relax, but there was simply too much on her mind.  Later that afternoon she rode Phrym over to see Gieaun and Scede only to find that they had gone into town with their parents.  “Well,” Jahrra said aloud, looking down at Phrym, “we’ll just have to wait and talk to them tomorrow at school.”

Jahrra groaned at the sudden thought of what tomorrow might bring.  The simple act of going to school had become especially difficult after the race of Oescienne, what with the majority of her classmates doing everything short of murder to get revenge on the “Nasty Nesnan”, her new, awful nickname.  Gieaun, Scede, Pahrdh, Rhudedth and a few of her other friends would angrily defend her, but they were only jeered at and reminded of Tarnik’s declaration from that day: If you know what’s good for you, you will cease from socializing with anyone of the Resai race. Luckily, these were only words and the Resai children at school soon grew tired of repeating a command that Jahrra and her friends refused to follow anyway.

The weeks passed and Jahrra found herself struggling between the distractions at school and the demands at home.  Winter exams were closing in and now more than ever she needed to focus.  This proved to be a bit of a challenge, however, now that there were two dragons breathing down her neck.  Many times during the evening Jahrra simply gritted her teeth and pressed harder down on the parchment she was writing on, grateful that the shadows cast by the flames of the fire contorted her aggravated expression.  She just had to make it through her exams and once exams passed, she would have the relief of the winter break to ease her stress.  There was only one problem: Jaax was still in Oescienne, and the Solstice would be miserable with him there.

Exams were grueling, but they came and went and Jahrra managed to survive them.  Yaraa and Viornen also wanted to test her and so during the last week of school Jahrra was competing in her hardest defense tests yet.  This time Jaax was there to watch her every move like a hawk.  The elves of Dhonoara had been so delighted to see the dragon Raejaaxorix walking down the lane that first afternoon of testing that it made Jahrra’s stomach lurch.  What if they judge me more harshly now that he’s here? she thought in horror.  But she did well, despite her nervousness, and even Jaax, miraculously, had no complaints to offer her.  Finally, after weeks of late nights and long days of practice, Jahrra found herself anticipating her time off for Solsticetide.  Unfortunately, she would have to spend it with someone she hated just about as much as she hated Eydeth and Ellysian.

Solstice Eve was quiet, with only Hroombra, Jahrra and Jaax celebrating at the Castle Guard Ruin.  Hroombra gave Jahrra more books in kruelt and some blank scrolls to sketch on.  “Thank you Master Hroombra.” Jahrra smiled, holding up the fine set of volumes.  “I think I might be able to read these now.”

Jahrra also received some more arrows from Gieaun and Scede, fletched with the feathers of wild fowl, and all of her friends had saved their money together to get her a hand-crafted dagger from the Toria Town market.

“Wow!  Look at this!” she exclaimed, pulling the knife out of its leather sheath.  It was long, nearly as long as her forearm, and its hilt was intricately carved in a knot-work pattern.  Jahrra admired its comfortable weight and polished blade, turning it in her hands.

“Do be careful with that young Jahrra,” Hroombra said, smiling quietly.

Jahrra grinned and put the dagger carefully away in its leather case.  She yawned and stretched and began to gather her small pile of treasures, intending to head off to bed.

“Now wait just a minute Jahrra, you’ve forgotten this,” Jaax said.  The Tanaan dragon had been relatively quiet the whole evening, so the sudden sound of his voice made her jump.  She turned to see what he was talking about and was surprised to find him nudging a tiny silver box towards her.  She set down her bundle and took the box carefully into her hands, opening it with a creak and a snap.  Inside was a silver chain with what looked like a glittering stone pendant strung upon it.  When Jahrra pulled it out and looked at it in the flickering firelight, she realized that the multicolored stone was actually a dragon scale.  She gasped as she realized what it was.

“Is this . . .” she began quietly, her mouth suddenly going dry.

“So you do remember,” Jaax intoned slyly.  “I had some acquaintances of mine in the north make it into a pendant for you.”

Jahrra couldn’t believe it.  As much as she thought she disliked this awful dragon, she couldn’t help but be touched by the gift.  The gold and green flecks in the scale glittered, and when she turned it in her hand the fire in the hearth caused the many hues of blue and copper to spark across its surface.  She smiled faintly as she remembered the day she had knocked this very scale off of the dragon’s toe.  It had seemed like a lifetime ago.

“Th-thank you,” she stammered, not knowing how to react and feeling a little guilty because she had no gift for him.

“Now you have proof that you defeated a dragon once.  Dragon scales are not collected very easily,” was his simple reply.

Jahrra quickly looked up at him, only to find that same demeaning and obstinate smile.  Yet there was something different about it this time; a look so unfamiliar to her that she had no idea how to translate it.  Jahrra didn’t know what to say.  That was the closest thing to a compliment she had ever received from the dragon.  She held the cool scale and chain carefully in her hand, treasuring it above all her other gifts.  She smiled wickedly as she looked at it one more time. My very own evidence that I beat Jaax once, she reminded herself.  This thought cheered her, allowing her to enjoy the remainder of her Solstice break.

Late winter brought with it the first week of school and Jahrra braced herself for her final months of learning among the Resai.  She looked forward to the coming spring, but having Jaax around made the time pass more slowly.  Jahrra had done her best to be patient with the Tanaan dragon, especially since he’d been so generous with his Solsticetide gift, but his continued rude remarks and cold demeanor only rubbed Jahrra’s nerves raw.  She kept telling herself he would only be in Oescienne for a little bit longer, but she never really knew exactly how long that would be.

I’ll just have to be patient, she told herself.  I just hope there aren’t any more surprises between now and the time Jaax leaves.  Jahrra smiled dryly.  She couldn’t imagine anything else happening that had thrilled her like the race, shocked her the way seeing Jaax standing on the beach had, or baffled her like hearing the voice of a strange dragon on the edge of the Wreing Florenn.  But the future was yet to happen, and as everyone knows, it is impossible, sometimes, to prepare for its many surprises.

***

Barely two weeks into the second half of the school year and life was already proving to be most unpleasant for Jahrra.  Gieaun and Scede were stuck at home with a fever, so she was forced to attend school by herself.  She left the schoolhouse at the end of that gruesome week, grateful another day was over, and walked over to the stables to gather Phrym.  She’d been so busy lost in her own thoughts and daydreams that she hadn’t noticed Eydeth standing next to Phrym’s stall.  Great! she thought in anger once she spotted him, This is all I need right now, a personal harassment session with Eydeth.

As she approached, the boy stayed where he was, not saying a word.  Jahrra, wanting to get this over with, said, “What could you possibly want now?” She stopped short and crossed her arms.  “Still crying over the fact that I beat you in the race?”

Eydeth just sneered and then smiled sweetly. “I just thought you’d like to know that father purchased the land rights to your mucky lake this morning, and next week he is going to have it cleansed of the parasitic Nesnans that live there.”

Jahrra could feel her ears turning crimson and instead of ignoring him, like she ought to, she let him have it. “Your father can’t do that!  If he drives those families out, their children will go hungry!”

“So?” Eydeth sniffed, pretending to brush some imaginary dirt off of his arm.  “They’re just a bunch of Nesnans.  They can find some other wasteland to infest.”

Jahrra was beyond upset.  She thought that winning the race would make this less painful, that is, if Eydeth had ever really followed through with his threat.  Now it appeared that he had followed through and if anything, it made everything worse.  This wasn’t just about losing her place of retreat any longer; it was about all those people who would be forced out of their homes.  As simple and poor as they might be the Nesnan men, women and children were still people, and the thought that Eydeth had pressured his father into doing this, all to get back at her, made her skin crawl and her stomach turn.

Jahrra had worked so hard and given everything to beat Eydeth, and now he stood there right in front of her, basking in her defeat once again, telling her that all her efforts were wasted.  She tried to tell herself that he was lying; that he was just trying to get a rise out of her.  But if he’d wanted to lie about it, he would have done so long ago.  Jahrra tried to take a deep breath, silently working against all of her instincts to keep herself from attacking him or from breaking down on the spot.

“That’s fine.  I’ll just go to another lake and the fishermen who frequented Lake Ossar never caught much anyways.  Perhaps they’ll have better luck at Nuun Dein or Lake Aldalis.”

Jahrra’s anger rang through in her voice, and Eydeth smiled even more broadly.  “Actually,” he said smoothly, “my father is in the process of purchasing all of the lakes, so if I were you, I would stay away from all of them.”

Jahrra, blinded by rage, shouted, “Tell your father to go on ahead, and furthermore, not to waste his time hunting lake monsters because they don’t exist!”

Eydeth laughed. “Yes they do, I faced it once, remember?  I even brought one of its horns back.”

For the first time in this conversation, Jahrra felt less angry and more amused.  “That was no horn!” she laughed.  “At least it wasn’t a monster’s horn.  We got it from a pair of antlers, just the same way we got its hair from Gieaun and Scede’s horses and its skeleton from driftwood.  We created that lake monster to keep you and your goat of a sister away from the lake!”

Suddenly, Eydeth didn’t look so smug and self-assured anymore.  His smile was gone, and his cheeks were beginning to turn pink.

“You didn’t invent any lake monster!” he tried to say, but Jahrra just laughed.

“Ha!  And you didn’t scream like a little ninny when the whole thing knocked your canoe over and you had to swim for dear life back to shore!”

This time Jahrra hit a nerve, and she could see the damage on Eydeth’s face.  “You had better watch what you say Nesnan!  All you have to do is slip up once and I’ll tell my father you attacked me, and then we’ll see what happens!”

Jahrra fired right back, not giving Eydeth an inch, “Oh, will you pull me off a cliff side to let me fall to my death again?  Or will you chase me into a dark wood in the middle of the night to have some assassin do me in?  Or will you think up something even more devious?  Kill me and claim that my ‘pet dragon’ did it?  You don’t frighten me you spineless little coward!”

Jahrra was almost screaming by now, but what she hadn’t noticed was that after her mention of the assassin in the woods, Eydeth’s flushed face had drained to a stark white.  When Jahrra finally stopped her tirade, she could clearly see that the Resai boy now stood as if frozen with fear.  It didn’t take her long to remember how Eydeth had acted after that fateful Sobledthe festival a year ago.  She had always wanted to find out who her attacker had been, and now was the opportune time to get it out of this frightened little weasel.

“Oh, wait a minute,” she said, taking advantage of the moment Eydeth’s frozen silence had created, “that stranger in Lensterans couldn’t have been your idea, you were scared out of your wits if I remember correctly.  If you had put him up to it, you would’ve been smiling, not running in fear.  But you must have known who he was.  So, who was he Eydeth?  A civil rights activist for the local Nesnan tribes?”

“You wouldn’t be able to handle the answer,” was all Eydeth could muster in a gruff, quiet voice.

“Try me,” Jahrra said seriously.

“No, I don’t think I will.  You can just wait until he returns to kill you.”

Jahrra started at the chilling tone of Eydeth’s voice, but she refused to let her mind register what this could mean.  Instead she quickly turned on the attack once again. “You’re too frightened to tell me, aren’t you?  I knew it!” she laughed. “You let a silly fake lake monster scare you away from Lake Ossar and you allowed me to defeat you in your precious race.  You couldn’t handle telling me who that man was; it scares you too much.”

Eydeth had turned to receive his own semequin, but as soon as Jahrra had finished talking he whipped around to face her, almost knocking her down.  “You’re going to be so sorry I told you this Nesnan, but you deserve all the bad luck you can get!  Do you really want to know who that man was?” he spat, panic flashing behind his brown eyes. “I’ll tell you.  He was a mercenary for the Crimson King.  When the moonlight hit his face, I could see the blood rose symbol, the mark of the Tyrant, branded on his cheek.  I don’t know what the Crimson King could possibly want with a worthless Nesnan such as yourself, but he won’t stop sending his henchmen until he gets you, so you had better watch your back!”

Eydeth turned and walked aggressively towards the stable where his semequin stood munching oats.  Jahrra stood where she was, mute with shock.  She knew that this time Eydeth had spoken the truth; she could see it as plainly as she could see the terror distorting his face.  The Crimson King?  After her?  Why?  Eydeth was right, she was a worthless Nesnan, what could the Tyrant King possibly need or want her for?

“Maybe,” Jahrra swallowed, her voice almost a whisper as she answered, “maybe he made a mistake.”

Eydeth pulled himself into the saddle of his white stallion and turned to face her, his expression looking grim. “The Crimson King doesn’t make mistakes.  Father has told me enough tales to give you nightmares, Nesnan.  If I were you, I’d jump into that precious pond of yours and end it now.”  Eydeth dug his heals into his semequin and took off, galloping to the north.

Jahrra shivered as a cold breeze drifted by.  The schoolyard was empty and the sun was dipping lower into the sky.  She wondered if anyone had witnessed her encounter with Eydeth, but she guessed everyone had cleared out long ago.  She quickly saddled Phrym, threw on her jacket and headed home.  As Phrym galloped across the chilled countryside, Jahrra tried furiously to make sense of what Eydeth had just said.  She wondered if she should finally tell Hroombra about what had happened that night in Lensterans, but that would mean telling Jaax too.

She slowed Phrym to an easy walk and pulled her jacket more tightly around herself as they moved past the outskirts of Aldehren.  Even if Eydeth was telling the truth, which I’m sure he isn’t, that mercenary couldn’t possibly be after me.  He made a mistake and is most likely somewhere far away searching for someone else.  Eydeth is only trying to scare me, as usual.  Well, I won’t let him.  Jahrra reluctantly took her own advice and put the thought as far from her mind as she could.  I don’t need to tell anyone.  Nothing bad happened, and nothing bad will happen.

Phrym rounded the last bend of the road leading up the Sloping Hill just as the sun touched the horizon.  Once they reached the stable, Jahrra hurriedly got her semequin ready for the night, covering him with a blanket and giving him extra oats before walking back to the Castle Guard Ruin in the early twilight.  She clasped her arms around herself, trying to keep the cold at bay, glad that tomorrow was the weekend and hoping that it would be a better day.

Jahrra stepped through the doorway of her home only to find Hroombra at his massive desk looking through a mountain of maps.  She smiled and wondered if she would ever find him anywhere else when she got home.  She walked past him and took her coat off to hang it by the fireplace on the opposite end of the room, stopping in midstride before she got there.  Jaax was lying ever so proudly in front of a blazing fire reading an ancient, disintegrated tome.  Jahrra didn’t recognize it, but then again, she had never looked too closely at any of Hroombra’s private books without permission.  She let out a short, aggravated snort.  All she wanted to do was get to her room so she could rest in peace, but there was no way she would be able to sneak past Jaax without his noticing her.

“Well,” he said, looking Jahrra over with his calculating eyes, “where have you been?  You should’ve been home at least two hours ago.”

“Uh,” Jahrra found it very hard to lie to this dragon.  She had a distinct feeling that he could read her mind just as Denaeh could, but he was more brutal about it.  She did her best, however. “I got caught up after classes.  Kihna and her sisters wanted to talk about getting a study group together for final exams before graduation.”

Jahrra cringed inwardly.  Exams were months off, but it was the best lie she could come up with in such a short amount of time.  Jaax seemed to accept this answer, but he only smiled smugly and replied, “I see.  One can never start preparing for such things too early.”

He went back to his reading and Jahrra glowered.  Does that mean you think I need all the help I can get!? she wanted to shout out, but under the circumstances she thought that wouldn’t be such a good idea.  She settled with the task of carrying her jacket over the space that was between her and the hook on the wall beside the fireplace.  As she went to hang her jacket, something small and hard fell out of the pocket and clanked upon the stone floor.  Jaax immediately looked up from his reading and eyed the object curiously.  Jahrra realized, with sudden horror, that it was the compass she’d found at the coves last year.  She had taken it out recently to see how well it worked on the way to school and had forgotten to put it away.

Jahrra dove for it, but Jaax stopped her by holding out his great forearm.  “Wait.  What is that?”

The sudden shock of seeing the compass, which should have been tucked away behind the stone in her wall, made it impossible for Jahrra to come up with a good excuse.  She knew that she couldn’t lie this time, so she reluctantly picked up the compass and moved closer to him.  Indignantly, she thrust her hand towards the dragon with the old instrument facing upward.  Jaax peered at it in the dim firelight and suddenly, without warning, something flared up within his emerald eyes.  Jahrra saw the reaction and cautiously backed away.  She had never seen that look cross this dragon’s face ever before.

“Hroombra!”  Jaax breathed harshly, “come here!”

If Jahrra hadn’t known any better she would’ve said that Jaax was trying very hard not to panic or cry out in exaltation.  She couldn’t tell which he was feeling.

Hroombra looked up from his scrolls, acting as if he hadn’t heard the last five minutes of conversation that had occurred between his young ward and the other dragon.  “What is it?” he said lightly, eyebrows arched above his reading glasses.

“Come and see what Jahrra had in her pocket.”

The voice was calmer, but Jahrra could sense a glimmer of apprehension.  She stood there, burning with annoyance, confusion and even fear.  How would she explain where she got the compass and why had Jaax reacted the way he had?  She would have to tell them about the Ninth Cove, there was no way around it.  She inwardly kicked herself for keeping her compass in such an accessible place.  Why didn’t I just put it away the other day?

Hroombra got up and slowly walked over to where Jaax sat and Jahrra stood.  He peered down at the compass just as Jaax had, and as soon as he saw it the look in his eyes changed from sleepy astuteness to flashing awareness.  He jerked his head up at Jaax in disbelief.

“Jahrra,” Hroombra whispered, speaking as if his voice might bring the Ruin crashing down upon them, “turn it over.”

Jahrra obeyed silently, becoming more confused and worried about the way the two dragons were behaving.  She flipped the compass over, revealing the carved flower on the back.  Both Jaax and Hroombra shot their heads up to look at each other in disbelief.

“Jahrra,” Jaax finally said, “where did you get this compass?”

His tone was stern and taut with tension.  Jahrra took a deep breath and braced herself for the worst.  She knew, for once, that she had to tell not the partial truth like she had with the unicorns, but the entire truth.

She took another deep breath, closed her eyes and opened her mouth to speak, “Last year, my friends and I went up to the Eight Coves.  When we were on the beach, I noticed that there was a maze of tunnels that ran under the hill that cut the coves off from the southern beaches.  We went exploring and found a smaller ninth cove, and once we stepped onto the beach I spotted a cave that was halfway up the side of the cliff.  We climbed the steps and found the skeleton of a pirate inside the cave.  He had a book and this compass, and a pouch full of coins and gems.  We traded something of our own for something of his.  I left an interesting stone I once found at the lakes in his hand and took this compass.”

Jahrra finished her story without once looking at the dragons, glad she had enough sense to quickly change the location of where she had found the blue stone of Ehnnit Canyon.

After a few moments, when no one spoke, she braved a look up at them.  Jaax, whose expression was hard to read, looked as if he might be slightly concerned.  Hroombra, on the other hand, definitely looked troubled.

“Did you happen to look in the book?” Jaax asked, as patiently as his strained voice would allow him.

Jahrra reluctantly nodded. “I copied down some of the writing and symbols I saw in it, just in case someday someone might be able to recognize them for me.”

“Jahrra,” Hroombra said quietly, “you need to go get those writings and symbols and bring them back here, right now.”

Jahrra immediately obeyed her mentor’s command and ran to her room to get her journal.  When she returned the two dragons were speaking very quickly in kruelt, but her swimming mind couldn’t decipher what was being said.  She hated that she hadn’t pick the language up as easily as she had other things, and she thought right now it would have definitely come in handy.  Both Hroombra and Jaax stopped talking the moment she reappeared and looked down at her.

“Show them to us,” Jaax stated stonily.

Jahrra opened her journal up to the pages where she had written down the symbols.  Jaax looked very closely at them in the flickering firelight and then allowed Hroombra to do so.  When Hroombra was done, he gave Jaax a frail look.

“Jahrra,” Jaax finally said in a strained, weary voice, “You have to take me to where you found that book, first thing tomorrow.  I need it, and you must get it for me.”  He took a breath and shot a look at Hroombra.  The older dragon nodded once, then told Jahrra, without looking at her, “You may return to your room now Young Jahrra, there is much Raejaaxorix and I must discuss, all of which is not meant for your ears.”

Jahrra glanced between the two dragons, blinking in slight confusion.  Hroombra wouldn’t meet her eyes, but Jaax did.  The dismal look on the younger dragon’s face startled her and before she could think of some excuse to defy either of them, she nodded her head in defeat and headed off to bed, only to face a night of seemingly unending darkness.

- Chapter Seventeen -

The Magehn’s Journal

Jahrra tried hard to fall asleep that night, but all she could do was lie wide awake in nervous thought.  It seemed that without warning she no longer had control over her life; that everything she had once thought was insignificant suddenly meant everything in the world.  According to Eydeth, an assassin was after her, and a compass she’d found in a cave frightened two dragons.  What was going on?  She could feel something changing in the world around her, but she didn’t know what that change was, or what it meant.

Jahrra decided that after she took Jaax to the Ninth Cove tomorrow she would come back and have another long talk with Denaeh.  She knew that talking to the Mystic this time meant that she might have to finally say everything out loud, about finding the journal, about the stranger on Sobledthe, but she didn’t care.  Jahrra was worried, more so than she had ever been.  Maybe Denaeh could ease her mind once more and offer her the logical explanation she always seemed to have at hand.

After several hours of tossing and turning, she finally fell into a restless sleep, drifting right into a mystical orchard draped in mist.  Jahrra looked around at her surroundings, blinking in the strangely bright, foggy light.  The tall grass surrounding her was a fresh green and a few white flowers dotted the landscape like fallen, faded stars.  She looked up into the gray sky and saw that the trees were just starting to bloom, blossoms of buttercup and pink.  Jahrra smiled at the sight, glad to find something pleasant and calming.  It must have been just before dawn, because the light in the sky was slowly spreading, just as it always did in this familiar dream.  As if led by some internal force, Jahrra took a few steps forward and then faced the tiny hillock where she would wait for the hooded figure to arrive.  He never failed to make an appearance, and perhaps he had some comfort to offer this time.

As Jahrra waited, the eerie glowing light that rose from the distance began to engulf the scene surrounding her.  She focused on the edge of the forest, knowing what was to come, and right on cue a looming figure stepped up over the hill.  Jahrra waited for him to stop and gaze down at her, but instead of stopping he kept moving forward.  For a fleeting second, she wanted to bolt and run away, but something told her to stay, something she couldn’t explain.

Jahrra took several deep breaths, trying to calm her fluttering heart as her familiar stranger moved ever nearer.  He stopped five feet in front of her, like he’d done last time when he’d removed his hood.  This time however, he made no reach for it.  Jahrra forced herself to look up to where his face might have been, but she wasn’t afraid to look this time.  Try as she might, however, she couldn’t see beyond the shadow of his hood.  The pang of regret coursed through her as she recalled the time before, when she had recoiled from his attempted revelation.  She had been afraid then, but now she wanted to know who this strange man was.

As she stood there, shading her eyes from the growing brilliance, he reached into his pocket and pulled something out of it.  He held out his closed, gloved hand to Jahrra.  To her surprise, her arm reached out, as if it had a mind of its own, and held out its bare palm.  The gloved hand opened and as the carved stone compass fell into her hand, Jahrra woke with a start.  She sat still in bed for awhile, breathing frantically and trying to calm her racing mind.  Why did I wake up?  Why do I always have to wake up before my dreams are over?! she thought furiously.  Then she heard what had awoken her.

“Jahrra, it’s time to get up.  We need to get to that book as soon as possible.”  It was Jaax’s voice, this time coming from the great room inside the Ruin.

Jahrra grumbled and rolled out of bed.  That’s right, she thought in irritation, Jaax wants the pirate’s journal.

“Do you mind?” she asked grouchily as she pulled out her clothes to get dressed.

Jaax simply turned his head and walked away.  Within ten minutes Jahrra was dressed and ready to go, but she still couldn’t shake the memory of the dream.  Had the compass belonged to the man in her dream?  Or had he led her to it, hoping it could do her some good?  Or, she thought with a shiver, perhaps it is meant to bring me harm.  Jahrra shook her head and focused on the task at hand.  She refused to believe that the same figure who had helped her get over her parents’ deaths could bring her harm.  He may only be a figment of her imagination, but she always felt that somehow he was a real person somewhere.  She yawned and stretched her way out the doorway into the pre-dawn light, finding Jaax waiting for her.

“It’ll take me fifteen minutes to get Phrym ready,” she said sleepily while she rubbed the grit out of her eyes.

She neglected to tell him about Eydeth’s claim to owning the cove, and that she was banned from ever going back there again.  She partially didn’t believe the Resai boy but she also knew that Jaax would have no trouble getting his way if Eydeth’s father had posted guards.

“We won’t be taking Phrym,” Jaax said plainly.

Jahrra stared at him blankly, her mind and eyes still glazed with sleep. “Do you know how long it will take us to walk there?” she asked in a how-dumb-can-you-be tone.

Jaax just grinned and released a small laugh.  “You’re forgetting one thing Young Jahrra,” he said, his voice dripping with amusement.

Jahrra rolled her eyes.  She hated being called “young” by him.

“I’m not Hroombra, my wings still work.”

In the blink of an eye he thrust open his great wings, knocking her to the ground.

“Quickly, climb on,” he commanded, obviously not noticing an irate Jahrra dusting herself off.

“I’m not accepting a ride from you!” she said irascibly.

“You have no choice,” Jaax drawled in a bored fashion. “I need to have that book and you’re the only one who knows where it is.  It’s pointless to take Phrym when I can just as easily fly and get there much quicker.”

Jahrra stood up straight and crossed her arms, meeting the dragon’s frosty green gaze with her own stormy blue one.

Jaax’s look hardened. “Perhaps you would rather ride in my teeth?”

Jahrra growled in exasperation and reluctantly climbed onto Jaax’s back, settling herself behind his neck.  She was used to Hroombra’s relaxed and laid-back stance, but Jaax was exactly the opposite.  This dragon was tense and powerful and Jahrra had a terrifying image of being thrown off as they soared over the farmlands.

“What’s so important about this book anyway?” she inquired, trying to shake her image of being catapulted to the earth.

“That is not your concern at the moment,” he snapped.  “Now, which way is this cove of yours?”

Jahrra yawned again and pointed northward, trying not to be annoyed at Jaax’s tone.

“Very good, now hold on tight.” The dragon beat his giant wings and with a little effort, they were airborne.

Jahrra found herself clinging for life as Jaax swooped off of the edge of the cliff of the Sloping Hill.  The crisp winter air stung Jahrra’s eyes and after only a few minutes of flight she could feel her hands and face growing numb.  After the initial shock of the take off, she braved a look beneath her.  The farmlands, hills and trees glided past them as they made their way westward.

Once she had regained her balance atop the dragon’s back, Jahrra sat upright and gazed towards the great ocean.  The sun was just coming up in the east and its morning light was staining the landscape with a beautiful hue of golden peach.  The dunes caught the light on their eastern sides, looking like hundreds of eyes opening to the sun’s rays.  Jahrra smiled as the dark hills slowly turned to a deep grass green and the vast ocean changed from a stormy grey to a deep blue.

After ten minutes of gliding over the sleepy Aldehr Valley, Jahrra pointed out Toria Town and Hassett Town.

“The coves are just beyond that hill north of Hassett Town.  There, where that point is!” she shouted out to Jaax over the rush of the wind and the beat of his wings.  “The ninth cove would be on the southern side of it.”

The Tanaan dragon swooped down toward the great arm of land that reached out to the sea, causing Jahrra to screech and cling even tighter to his neck.  She thought she heard him chuckle, but her stomach was swimming so badly that she feared if she opened her mouth to chastise him she might be sick.

As he descended closer towards the point of land marking the southern end of the coves, Jahrra began to see clearly the tiny beach her friends had explored almost a year earlier.  Jaax made a rocky landing, crunching roughly upon the small pebbles and Jahrra had to hold on even tighter to keep from slipping off his scaly skin and crashing into the surf.

“Sorry,” Jaax said as she slid off of his back, clearly shaken. “I’m not used to having passengers.”

Jahrra hit the pebbly shore hard and once her wooziness passed, she began scanning the cliff side for the cave.  If Eydeth’s father had posted guards around the cove, she wanted to get the book and be gone as soon as possible, even if a formidable dragon was there to guard her.  “Do you just want the book?” she asked wearily, trying not to sound agitated.

Jaax nodded. “And anything else you can bring down.”

Jahrra trudged over to the old worn steps in the side of the vertical rock face and began climbing.  She didn’t like the idea of robbing the dead man without leaving anything in return, but she figured he would do less harm to her than Jaax would if she refused.  She found the cave just as it had been the last time she was here and she gathered the coin purse and the book and set them aside.

“I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean for this to happen,” she whispered apologetically as she searched the skeleton’s pockets with some hesitation.  Nothing.  She climbed back out of the cave and saw that Jaax was watching anxiously.  By the time she reached the dragon’s side, the sun was fully up.

“Can you tuck those into your coat without dropping them?” he asked.

“Yes,” Jahrra answered snippishly.

“Very well, let’s get back.  Hroombra will be wanting to see those.”

Jahrra climbed back onto Jaax’s shoulders and tucked the items safely away.

The Tanaan dragon took his time on the flight back to the Ruin.  He knew Jahrra had never taken a ride on a dragon before (at least not one that could fly) and even though she had turned down his many offers before, he could tell she had secretly yearned to see Oescienne from these heights.  Jaax blinked against the stinging wind and lifted a little higher into the sky as they passed over the Aldehr Hills, quietly settling his thoughts on what was to come if the journal Jahrra carried in her coat was what he thought it was.

Jahrra tried her best to enjoy the beautiful aerial view of the Raenyan Valley and the Sloping Hill as they glided along, but she, like Jaax, was too busy thinking about the book.  What is so important about this book anyway? she wondered once again.  She braved a look down towards the earth and saw the Castle Ruin settled among the scattered trees on the highest point of the Sloping Hill.  She couldn’t help but remember that the symbols in the old diary reminded her of the mural on the wall of the old crumbled fortress.  Maybe, she told herself, they are linked somehow.

Jahrra shook her head, letting all of her thoughts jumble around inside of it.  Jaax and Hroombra would never tell her what was going on, not unless they needed to.  She had a terrible feeling they wouldn’t, and she had a terrible feeling that she was somehow going to be in a lot of trouble.  She needed to talk to Denaeh, and she needed to do so soon.  If the Mystic didn’t have any answers, no one, minus her two guardians of course, would.

***

As Jaax descended upon the sprawling field between Phrym’s stable and the Castle Guard Ruin, someone watched from the edge of the woods.  The stranger’s eyes sparkled as it surveyed the dragon escorting the girl towards the crumbling walls of the old stone building that stood so precariously close to the edge of the bluff.  For many months now the creature had felt the coming of change; the coming of something terrible and something good.

A sudden gust of cold wind caused the curious creature to shiver.  It had been raining on and off for a few weeks now and it looked like these few sunny days would soon be visited again by heavy clouds.  The silent spy shook off the thought of more chilling rain and kept its focus on the two figures far across the field.  The girl would be coming into the woods soon; the being could sense it.  She would be going into the bog seeking advice and help from her, that woman of the swamp.  Whether the girl would have her questions answered or not was a different matter.

Finally, after pausing for several minutes, both dragon and girl disappeared into the depths of the withering fortress.  The creature put on a sly grin, Oh yes, you have many questions child, Bane of the Tyrant, but I do not know if there will be answers for you in here.  The creature slinked back into the dense wood, disappearing far into its depths.

***

Jaax had sensed someone watching them, but he didn’t know who, or what, it could possibly be.  That forest holds too many secrets and too many secret spies, he pondered, searching the woods with his keen eyes.  I only hope it isn’t an enemy that I feel watching us now.

After taking Jahrra inside Jaax had turned around to peer out of the great dragon’s entrance in the north end of the Ruin.  His eyes were drawn to the Wreing Florenn and once they had rested upon those dark trees, he immediately felt a presence, an ancient presence.  His rough skin prickled with the familiar feeling of his scales changing color as they worked to match the lichen-plastered stone surrounding him.  He could smell something familiar in those woods, but it was a very old scent, something from perhaps his childhood.  He shook his head and stepped back into the great hallway that led into the last enclosed room in the Ruin.  Maybe it’s just my nerves, he hoped, thinking about what Jahrra was carrying in her jacket pocket.  I’m only imagining things.

Once inside the Ruin, Jaax noted that Jahrra had placed the book in front of Hroombra.  Both girl and Korli dragon were silent, the only detectable sound coming from Hroombra’s deep breathing.  Jaax stepped further into the room, filling up some of the large space that remained.  Hroombra’s eyes stayed fixed on the old, tattered journal, but Jahrra looked up to meet the Tanaan dragon’s gaze.

Jaax returned her look and said, rather harshly, “You are no longer needed.  You had best find something to do with the rest of your day.”

Jahrra stood speechless.  How could he be so callous after what she’d just done for him?

“What am I supposed to do?” she asked shakily when she finally found her voice.

“Take a ride to the beach,” Jaax suggested.  “Just don’t go near the forest, I sense something strange coming from there.”

Jahrra stood glaring at the emerald dragon, wanting very badly to repeat her act from several years ago and chip off another scale.  The forest huh? she thought angrily, Well, that’s exactly where I’m going.

Jahrra pushed past her two guardians forcefully and headed for Phrym’s stable.

Hroombra looked up and frowned. “Now, was that entirely necessary?”

Jaax turned towards the older dragon, sitting peacefully next to the empty fireplace.  Sitting too peacefully, Jaax thought impetuously.  How is it he isn’t up pacing?  Finding this book may very well mean . . . But Jaax forgot about what it meant; they would soon be discussing it and the last thing he needed to do was waste his mental energy pondering why Hroombra didn’t seem at all concerned.

“Do you think she would have left if I asked nicely?” he questioned accusingly.  “I knew if I angered her she would leave for sure.  We can’t have her around when we discuss this, even if we discuss it in old draggish.  She may still be able to understand and we can’t risk her hearing anything we say.”

Hroombra sighed and spoke very quietly, “It’s almost time we told her.”  He paused for a moment, as if he was afraid to go on.  “I think we should have told her long ago.”

“We will tell her in due time,” Jaax snapped back immediately, his eyes flashing.  “Let’s just look over this book and see what it can tell us.  Then we’ll decide what to do about Jahrra.”

Hroombra nodded and breathed a steady stream of ruby flame over the wood piled in the fireplace.  As the fire caught and spread the two dragons began reading the text aloud with fragile tones in a dialect of kruelt that hadn’t been uttered in centuries.

***

Phrym knew exactly where they were going as soon as Jahrra turned him eastward; they were headed into the Wreing Florenn and eventually into the Belloughs.  Jahrra was aware that the dragons would be too busy pouring over their precious journal to notice in which direction they had gone, so she didn’t even bother to glance over her shoulder.

“Like they really care anyways,” she said to Phrym bitterly. “At least Denaeh enjoys having us around.”

Jahrra and Phrym tore across the shivering fields, freshly sprinkled with the rain that had fallen a few days before.  Although the sky remained dark, the rain had stopped for now and the sun’s rays were bursting through the broken storm clouds like water streaming through a sieve.  Looks like another storm is coming.  Great, that’s all I need, to be locked up in the Ruin with Master Hroombra and Jaax, Jahrra thought as the cold water droplets clinging to the grass blades soaked through her boots.

In her mind, the trees of the Wreing Florenn looked like frightened peasants fighting against the black clouds.  Jahrra smirked, recalling the memory of the day when she first stepped foot into the swamp.  Eydeth had said that dragons feared this wood.  Well, maybe he was right after all.  Jaax had warned her away from the trees, hadn’t he?  He hasn’t detected any danger, she convinced herself haughtily, he’s just afraid of the Black Swamp.  She snorted smugly and brought Phrym to a stop at the edge of the forest.

Jahrra peered deep into the dripping wood and then glanced back at the distant Castle Guard Ruin.  If Jaax thinks I’ll obey him so easily he has another thing coming, Jahrra thought defiantly.  She kicked Phrym more aggressively than usual and as he let out a whinny of annoyance, he careened through the shivering trees and down the path that would take them to the Belloughs.

Phrym’s hooves sank softly into the dark, leaf-plastered earth of the forest floor and as the minutes ticked by, Jahrra wondered once again about the diary she had recovered.  She’d looked over the words and symbols copied down in her own journal many times, but had never been able to discern anything from them.  The only two symbols she recognized at all were the Baherhb, the draggish symbol that Hroombra had pointed out to her long ago, and a symbol of what looked like some sort of flower, identical to the one on the compass.

Jahrra recalled the skeleton sitting alone in that cave and she shivered. Could that man really have been a pirate, or worse, one of the Tyrant’s mercenaries?  Could the writing really be code for some secret treasure somewhere, or the instructions on how to torture and dispose of those opposed to the Crimson King?  Jahrra tossed these thoughts around in her head as a gust of strong wind caught a branch and whipped it like a wet cloak somewhere high above.  The best explanation that she could think of was that the book had been a resource guide for coastal raiders, but if that was the case, why on Ethoes would Jaax and Hroombra be so interested in it?  Jaax spent his time surveying the land and making maps with elves, or so that is what Hroombra had told her, and Hroombra himself did nothing but look through manuscripts all day.  Why would either of them care so much about ancient pirates?  Maybe that man is somehow a descendent of the last Tanaan king, she thought with relish, or maybe he knew what happened to the lost prince.  Oh why didn’t I just sneak back into my room after I left the Ruin?  I could be getting the answers to all of my questions right now!

Jahrra glanced up, looking at her surroundings for the first time since entering the forest.  She and Phrym were slinking down into the tiny hollow that came to an end at the Belloughs.  She saw evidence of the recent wind and rain; it had flattened much of Denaeh’s garden, but the mushrooms looked as healthy and un-harassed as ever.  A thin tendril of smoke curled from a tiny vent in the hillside, the chill wind sending it dancing through the trees.

Jahrra had already climbed down from Phrym and was leading him to the lean-to stable when Denaeh stepped out from behind her moss curtain, quite surprised to see her visitors.  “Why Jahrra, whatever brings you out in this weather?  What if it were to start raining again?”

The Mystic looked slightly concerned, her topaz eyes evaluating the scene before her.  She melted into her younger form and stepped down from the stone stairway below her cave, her heavy, patched dress dragging sluggishly across the damp ground.

“I had to get away from the Ruin,” she answered grimly, “and I have to talk to you.”

Denaeh watched her closely, as if trying to figure out what she would say to the girl next.  “You have much to tell me, don’t you Jahrra?  But for goodness sake, let us go inside and hear this tale by the fire.”

The Mystic held back the curtain of thick, hanging moss for Jahrra to pass, then held her fingers to her teeth and let loose a trilling whistle.  Milihn, who had been sitting quietly in the bare branches of a tall eucalyptus tree like a grave sentry, croaked and flew down past Denaeh and into the cave.  He landed delicately on an old coat stand fashioned with a perching stick that sat in the corner of the room near the fireplace.

Jahrra and Denaeh followed the bird into the dark cave and sat down by the crackling, blazing fire.  Milihn gave Jahrra a curious glance from a glittery black eye then ruffled up his feathers and tucked his beak beneath one glossy wing.

“I have to tell you about something I found, something my friends and I found almost a year ago,” Jahrra said grimly as Denaeh handed her a cup of hot tea.

Jahrra took a deep breath and delved into the story of how she and her friends had come to find the new cove and all that they’d discovered there.  Denaeh listened patiently, nodding her head every now and again, with her arms crossed, her lips pursed and her eyes narrowed in that all familiar way of hers.

When Jahrra finally finished telling her tale, she risked a look at the Mystic.  Denaeh sat patiently in front of her, a million different sentiments playing across the youthful face she always managed to keep placid.  Jahrra stared at her for a long time, attempting to read the Mystic’s thoughts as easily as she always read her own.  After finding this impossible, she settled into the thick quilt Denaeh had given her and turned her eyes back to the dancing fire.  She took a deep breath and waited for the Mystic’s response.

Denaeh’s mind raced furiously.  She was sure that if Jahrra had kept looking at her face even a moment longer, she would’ve seen those thoughts written there as plain as words were written on a page from a book.  Jahrra has found the Lost Magehn!  It can’t be!  But the journal and the compass . . .

The young woman let out a short sigh and addressed Jahrra. “Do you have the book with you?” she asked, trying hard not to let the emotion in her voice break free of the weak hold she had on it.

“No,” Jahrra said shortly, staring into the cup of black tea in her hands. “Jaax snagged that right up.  He and Hroombra are looking through it right now.”

Jahrra kept her eyes lowered, so she didn’t notice the change that flared up in Denaeh’s eyes.

“Did you get a good look at it?”  Again, the Mystic tried not to sound too impatient, but Jahrra heard it in her voice this time.

She looked up, head slightly cocked, and inspected Denaeh through narrowed eyes.  “You know what’s in that book, don’t you Denaeh?” she asked slowly.

Denaeh glanced back at Jahrra, determined not to falter, but it was no use, she would have to tell the girl the truth.  The woman rose out of her old rocking chair and walked past her young friend to gaze out of the entrance of her cave.

She crossed her arms and pulled her faded mustard shawl tightly around her shoulders and began, “I don’t know the truth Jahrra, but I have an idea of what might be in that book.  If the man you found is who I think he is, then there is much that needs to be said.”  Denaeh paused and shot Jahrra a meaningful look. “He could be the last Magehn of the Tanaan King from so long ago.”

Milihn released a grumbling croak without lifting his head from his wing, perhaps in response to an avian dream, and fluffed his feathers as the fire popped and crackled.

Jahrra just stared blankly at her friend.  What on Ethoes was a Magehn?

Denaeh took a short breath and continued on stoically, “The king’s Magehns were magicians, warriors and spies all wrapped into one, and they were valued above all of the king’s soldiers and servants.  This particular Magehn of whom I speak was not human but an elf, and he was the most loyal of all the king’s men.  He carried with him a secret book which gave the true names of the king, his queen and his eight sons.”

Denaeh swallowed and continued, her eyes still focused on the bleak world outside.  “The king and his family went by code names in public and kept their true names secret.  But The Book of Kings, as it is sometimes called, holds other secrets, great secrets that only the Oracles know.  It is said to contain history that is no longer known by any living soul, and it is said that the chosen child, the future savior of this world, is listed by name somewhere on its pages.  The Magehn,” Denaeh turned and glanced down at Jahrra with a gaze as solid as stone, “the Magehn guarded this book with his life.”

Jahrra gave Denaeh a strange look.  She had never heard this woman sound so detached from the living world before.  Before she could ponder it any further, Denaeh started speaking as if reading from a book, “It is said that the youngest son of the king, the last Prince of Oescienne, owned a magic compass, passed on to him after his father and brothers perished in the east.  The compass had one of the symbols of Ethoes etched into its dark red base, the blood rose, and its face was that of mother of pearl.  The compass you described sounds very much like it.

“Legend says, for no one knows for sure, that when the young prince and his army marched upon the Crimson King, and after they were transformed into the Tanaan dragons, that somehow, the Magehn got hold of the compass, vowing to keep it until the prince was found.  But no one ever found the young prince after that dreadful day, and many believe that this last Magehn of the king wandered the world looking for him.  While he searched, he allegedly kept a meticulous journal, a journal written in the ancient script of the royal family. What led him to Oescienne and what caused his death is a mystery, that is, if the skeleton you found is really the remains of the one most loyal to the king.”

This final statement by Denaeh was almost a whisper, breathed out as if speaking it any louder would cause her pain.  After a few moments’ time, she took a deep breath and murmured, in a tone that seemed strange coming from this woman who was usually so vibrant, “Yet again, he may not have heard of the transformation of the Tanaan, but how could that be?”

She was no longer talking to Jahrra, but to someone, or something, beyond the boundaries of time.  She had her arms clasped across her stomach now and was once again gazing past the dripping ropes of moss tangling up her doorway.  Something left her then, part of her spirit or some hope she clung to.  Jahrra wasn’t sure what had happened, but she could feel a deep loss saturating the air.

Jahrra blinked away her confusion and reflected on the story she had just heard.  The hair on the back of her neck had stood on end as she listened, and she’d grown more and more uneasy.  The Mystic hadn’t noticed, but when she spoke the words “blood rose” Jahrra had turned stone cold.  Denaeh had named it as a symbol of Ethoes, but Eydeth had told her it was the symbol of the Crimson King.

Jahrra suddenly felt she could no longer stay quiet.  For months she’d been telling herself that the man who had attacked her in Lensterans wasn’t dangerous.  She had been ignoring her conscience when it warned her of the danger and she had ignored Eydeth when he told her the dark stranger was associated with the Tyrant King.  She had to ask someone, someone she could trust, someone unlike Hroombra or Jaax who would lock her up for the rest of her life or burn her to a crisp if they knew what had really happened.  Denaeh’s description of the blood rose was a perfect opportunity, so, erring on the side of caution, Jahrra thought of a way to ask her friend without actually telling her what had happened.

“Denaeh, I’m a bit confused,” she queried cautiously, “I was told in class that the blood rose was a symbol used by the Crimson King.  Why would the Tanaan prince have a compass with the Tyrant’s symbol carved into it?”

Denaeh stayed silent for a long time, her head bowed low.  Finally, after Jahrra was beginning to think she hadn’t heard her, the Mystic exhaled softly and said remorsefully, “It wasn’t that way before, but it is so now.  He adopted it as his own emblem after the mass slaughter of the Tanaan and the good people of Ethoes, after he spilled their blood upon the Desolate Plain.

“You see, the blood rose only grows when blood has touched the soil.  A long time ago, it was seen as one of the symbols of Ethoes because blood is equated with life, and Ethoes gives life.  There is an ancient story about the first creature that shed blood.  Ethoes’ children were fighting over their belongings on the earth, and an innocent was killed over it, spilling his blood upon the ground.  Ethoes was horrified at what had happened, so she willed the first blood rose to arise from the bloodshed and claimed that life should never again be taken in the name of anger, hatred or greed.”  Denaeh paused. “Only a few know this story now,” she continued softly.

“What does it look like, this blood rose?” Jahrra asked, trying not to sound too anxious.

As Denaeh meticulously described the very flower etched into the back of the compass, Jahrra became white with fear.

It had to be the compass of the Magehn that she had found.  The compass of the prince of Oescienne!  But that also meant that her would-be-captor in the east wood of Lensterans really was loyal to . . . Jahrra gulped and pushed that thought away from her mind.  Maybe it was a coincidence, maybe it was the way the moon’s light fell on his face that made Eydeth think he saw the Crimson King’s adopted mark.

Denaeh finished her description, all the while staring sadly past her moss curtain, not once seeing Jahrra’s surprised and frightened expression.  After a few more moments of quiet reflection, Denaeh turned her golden eyes onto Jahrra and said with a voice that sounded more like her old woman’s rasp than her youthful melody, “What exactly did you see in that book?”

Jahrra looked up, not knowing precisely what to say.  She thought for a moment, and then answered, “Lettering of some sort, not the writing I’ve seen in Master Hroombra’s books and maps, but it looked similar.”

“So it isn’t written in draggish?”

Jahrra shot her head up in surprise, but Denaeh just smiled sadly. “I’m a Mystic dear girl, I know many of your thoughts, remember?  Besides, I’ve been alive long enough to have heard the language spoken between many and I had no problem recognizing the random kruelt words that play around in your mind.  But the Magehn and the king had a unique code they used to communicate.  Perhaps this is what you saw.”

“Well,” offered Jahrra, getting up to go to her saddlebags, “I wrote a few things down in my journal when we found the book the first time.”

Denaeh looked as if she might faint, but she did her best to recover. “And you have your journal with you?” she inquired in a harsh whisper.

“Why yes, of course.”  Jahrra smiled as she stepped through the tangled moss to retrieve the tome.

As soon as the girl was out of sight, Denaeh began pacing frantically.  If that book is really the Magehn’s log, I must see it!  But how on Ethoes will I get it away from those dragons!

Jahrra pushed back through the strands of moss a few moments later carrying her own leather-bound book.  Denaeh abruptly stopped her pacing.  The Mystic watched patiently as Jahrra flipped through the pages, pages that suddenly looked alive in the dim firelight.  Drawings of various birds and insects, reptiles and mammals of all shapes and sizes skipped by, but she had no time to admire them.  A few of the sketches even looked like unicorns, but she let the thought escape her mind as the images of maps, creatures and writing flew by.  Finally, Jahrra reached the pages where she’d jotted down the characters from the dead man’s book.  When Denaeh saw the black scrawl, her heart nearly stopped.

The Mystic knew then what this writing was, even if she couldn’t decipher it.  She now knew for a fact that this was the book of the Magehn and that Jahrra had made a very important, but very dangerous discovery.  For a few moments, Denaeh thought of proclaiming this truth, but then she realized what telling the young girl would do.  She shrouded her eyes as best as she could and released a long sigh, trying hard not to let her sorrow escape with it.

“Is this the writing from the Book of Kings, the book of the Magehn?” Jahrra asked eagerly.

“No,” Denaeh lied, speaking with a tone of disappointment, “it looks like some rubbish language the pirates might have used in keeping their coastal lairs safe.  I’m afraid that book may only be useful in finding a treasure that no longer exists.”

Jahrra was puzzled by Denaeh’s disappointment.  The Mystic had been so sure, why this sudden change of heart?

“What about the compass?”  Jahrra offered. “The description you gave me was exactly accurate.”

Denaeh smiled and said, “Many compasses were made to resemble the one belonging to the prince.  It could very well be one of those, stolen by the ruffian who crawled into that cave and died.”

Jahrra was unable to pick up the deceit in Denaeh’s tone; the Mystic was far too good at lying and Jahrra had no idea if more compasses had been made or not.

She looked down at her journal pages once more and shrugged. “If it really is an ancient code to a hidden treasure, then it could be more exciting than the book of an old Magehn.”

Denaeh winced at Jahrra’s words, but she knew the girl knew no better.  She smiled despairingly nonetheless. If only you knew the truth, child.  For the smallest of moments, Denaeh had been overwhelmingly tempted to tell Jahrra of her purpose in life, to tell her the truth about the book and about the elf who had guarded it with his life.  She held back, however, knowing that all too soon Jahrra’s true identity would be revealed to her by those who cared for her.

“Thank you for helping me with the mystery of the book Denaeh, but I had better be getting back.  I’m sure Jaax and Master Hroombra will have plenty more questions to ask me.”

Jahrra made a face and got up, heading towards the cave entrance once more.  This long talk with the Mystic, although not as revealing as she’d hoped, had calmed her temper and soothed her nerves, if only just a little.  She no longer felt as irritated or uneasy as she had when she’d stepped through the door of the Castle Guard Ruin earlier that morning.

Denaeh watched Jahrra riding away from the cave’s mouth, pausing to wave from the top of the tiny hillock leading out of the Black Swamp.  She clenched her arms together and heaved a deep sigh.  A sad, sweeping knowledge wore at her mind, the way a chill mountain stream bites away at the land.  Milihn woke from his nap and flew to his master’s shoulder, grumbling affectionately into her ear.  Denaeh reached out and stroked his smooth feathers, grateful for his companionship at this moment.

She could feel what was coming; she could feel it in her heart, in her bones, in her soul.  She shivered in the cold of the late afternoon as she moved back through the shrouded doorway of her cave, sobbing freely into her hands, anguished for what she had foreseen and for what she had learned.

- Chapter Eighteen -

Painful Words and Stubborn Ways

The brisk winter wind picked up as Jahrra emerged from the Wreing Florenn with Phrym.  The sun was still hours away from setting, but the cold of the coming night was approaching fast.

“Let’s get moving Phrym, I think it might start raining again soon.”  Jahrra eyed the dark clouds above and shivered.

Once clear of the woods, she brought Phrym into a steady gallop, hoping they would get home before the rain came.  Jahrra dreaded going back home for fear that Jaax and Hroombra were waiting inside, ready to drill her with a hundred questions she didn’t want to, or couldn’t, answer.  Even if the book she’d found was what Denaeh said it was, nothing but a pirate’s journal, Jahrra had a bad feeling it was much more complicated than that.  Maybe it was the weather that made her feel so uneasy.  Or maybe it was Denaeh’s confirmation and her own final acceptance that the man from the wood so long ago was a threat and not just an imagined phantom.  Something was brewing in the wind, Jahrra could feel it, and it wasn’t just the storm.  It was something else, something older, something more sinister.

The Castle Guard Ruin came into view and Phrym picked up his pace, eager to get into his warm stable.  But Jahrra didn’t feel relieved; she only felt her stomach sinking like a stone into a deep pool.  Maybe I could just sneak into my room and go to bed, she thought hopefully as she trudged through the trembling weeds, leaving an anxious Phrym to gaze after her.  She knew the unease she felt was written all over her face, and that the dragons would sense immediately that something was wrong.  Jahrra hung her head against the occasional gust of wind, its cool breath pulling tendrils of her hair loose from their braid.  Smoke was rising from the ancient chimney of the common room, but she could detect no movement coming from the cold building.  Her heart began to beat rapidly with a sudden hopeful thought: Perhaps Jaax has finally left!

She stepped bravely through the door and noticed that Hroombra sat in his usual location, behind his enormous desk reading his scrolls.  What about the book? Jahrra wondered in dreaded silence.  The great dragon didn’t say anything right away.  He waited for Jahrra to hang her jacket and scarf before addressing her.

“Jaax has gone out for a while,” he said quietly, not even glancing at her.  “He’ll return later this evening.  We will have something important to discuss with you in the morning.”

Jahrra looked up at Hroombra, her mouth going dry.  She could’ve sworn she heard sorrow in his voice, but she couldn’t say for sure.  He finally looked up at her and she immediately knew something was wrong.  She had seen this look in Denaeh’s eyes on many occasions (when the Mystic didn’t think she was looking), but she had never seen Hroombra appearing so troubled before.  What could possibly be written in that journal?!  Jahrra thought furiously, now realizing that Denaeh might have lied to her.

“Have something to eat and then go to bed.” Hroombra’s voice brought Jahrra’s thoughts back to the present.  “A good night’s rest will do you some good.”

“Why must we wait until morning to talk?” she braved, trying to keep her voice steady.  She hated the tense emotion hanging in the air and she would rather have it out of the way than to dwell on it the entire night.

Hroombra smiled a sad smile. “Because it is something important we must discuss, and it would be best if you were rested.”

Jahrra simply nodded, the knot of dread tightening in her stomach.  She wanted to ask where Jaax had gone, but thought better of it.  I’m in trouble, I know it.  Because of that stupid book!  Rhudedth was right.  We should have left it all alone!

Jahrra tried to eat some dinner, but she could only swallow a few spoonfuls of stew before feeling sick.  She left the fireside and headed for bed, dreading the several hours she would be tossing and turning in turbulent thought.  When she finally did fall asleep, Jahrra dreamed of pirate ships and lost treasures.

***

The early sun shone through the small, west-facing window the next morning, but it was the veiled sunlight that pushes its way through clouds.  Jahrra tried to roll over and go back to sleep, but the tirade of shouting coming from the main room of the Ruin prevented her from doing so.  She bolted upright, eyes still closed, and listened to the familiar voices.  It was Hroombra and Jaax, and they were fighting.  Fighting about me, she thought, her head pounding as the memory of yesterday’s events came flooding back.

“It’s the only place for her now Hroombra!  I’ve been scouting the area and it is no longer safe as you had once thought.  She may finish her final year in school here, but come this summer, she’ll be going north, whether you like it or not!”

Jaax sounded rather angry, angrier than Jahrra had ever heard him.  Hroombra, on the other hand, sounded weary as he tried to plead with the other dragon, “Jaax, be reasonable.  No one knows who she is.  She’s safe here, as long as she is with me.  We must allow her to make her own decisions, when she knows the truth.”

Suddenly there was silence.  Jahrra crept to the door, trying hard to listen over the rapid beating of her own heart.

After awhile longer Jaax responded quietly, his voice calmer now but not devoid of a biting chill, “Hroombra, were you aware that she has been visiting someone deep within the Wreing Florenn, someone we would have never allowed her to make contact with?  Someone I thought had been driven from this world long ago?”

Jahrra froze.  Denaeh!  In the many years she’d known and visited Denaeh, she had never told Hroombra about her, not once.  She’d always been afraid that if Hroombra had known about the Mystic, he would have forbidden Jahrra from visiting her.   Now it appeared that her suspicions had been correct all along.

“What are you talking about?” Hroombra sounded as if his own anger was starting to brew.

Jaax took a deep, wearied breath. “The Mystic Archedenaeh has been living in the Black Swamp for many years now.  And would you know it, Jahrra just happened to stumble upon her?”  The dragon’s sarcasm was almost painful to listen to.  “I fear she’s been visiting the woman for quite some time now, for several years in fact.”

The silence that followed was too much for Jahrra to bear.  She charged out into the great room, which now seemed much smaller filled with two full grown dragons staring each other down.  Both Jaax and Hroombra looked down at her in slight surprise.  Jahrra, who had planned to attack Jaax for spying on her, was suddenly at a loss for words.  She simply stared up at the both of them, feeling smaller and smaller as she looked first to Jaax and then Hroombra.

“So,” Jaax said in his patronizing voice, “how much did you hear?”

Jahrra didn’t want to answer him, but she knew, by the look on his face, that she had better.  “Only that you plan on sending me away and that you have been spying on me,” she said as spitefully as she could.

Jaax merely smirked, that horrible, annoying, stupid, infuriating smirk of his.  Jahrra seethed with anger, but she did her best to keep control of it.

“Well, that is all you need to know for now.  The day after your graduation from the school in Aldehren, you will be moving up to the city of Lidien to continue your education.  How long you remain there,” Jaax paused and looked Jahrra up and down, “is yet to be known.”

Jahrra stared at him, her mouth hanging open in absolute horror.

“Furthermore,” Jaax continued, undeterred by Jahrra’s mute but obvious reaction, “between now and then, you will not be visiting that Mystic.  I had felt something strange about those woods and now I know why.  How you found her, I don’t know, but it would have been better if you hadn’t.”

Jahrra was shaking with rage.  How could he say these things?  And how could Hroombra stand there and let him?

“You can’t tell me what to do Jaax!  You’re not my guardian, Master Hroombra is, and I’ll never leave Oescienne, it’s my home!”  Jahrra could feel the tears burning in her eyes, but she held them back.

“Hroombra, tell her,” Jaax said quietly, his stony eyes looking pained.

Hroombra appeared even more crestfallen then the night before.  “I’m afraid he’s right Young Jahrra.  You must stay away from the Black Swamp.  Now that I know of the Mystic’s presence, I must urge you to go away for a few years, off to Lidien to continue your education.”

Jahrra couldn’t believe what she was hearing.  “How could you!  Denaeh means no harm, and I won’t leave Oescienne, how could you even consider it?!”

Hroombra looked as if each word he said caused him pain. “Young Jahrra, you have no further say in this matter.”

Jahrra found herself sinking, sinking in the turbulent waters of her many years of keeping secrets, finally rising up to drown her.  The surprise of everything that had happened in the past week overwhelmed her, and now she found she couldn’t think straight.  This is all Jaax’s fault!  He has come and ruined everything, just like he always does! her mind blazed in fury.

She shot a hateful glance at Hroombra, the kind dragon that had cared for her all these years who suddenly looked menacing.  “I wish you would stop calling me “Young” all the time!  I’m not young anymore, I’m seventeen, and I won’t go!”  Jahrra was so enraged that she screamed before she stormed out of the room, “I hate you, I hate you both!”

She ran from the Ruin and across the rain drenched field to Phrym’s stable.  She couldn’t go back to Denaeh’s in this state, not yet at least.  She quickly threw her old saddle (she was determined to burn the one Jaax gave her) onto a rather confused Phrym and headed south, not to Gieaun and Scede’s, but to the lakes and to the shore.  She had to run up Demon’s Slide one more time.  She had to feel that rush, that sense of freedom.  She had to burn off the rage that engulfed her and threatened to choke her.

Jaax watched as Jahrra took off on her semequin through the window beside Hroombra’s great desk.

“So this is the liberator of the world you have raised?  Defiant and stubborn, complete with a bad temper!” Jaax sounded quite harsh as he turned his head back to Hroombra, his great brow furrowed in frustration.  “How do you expect me to prepare her for her future if she can’t even be brought to Lidien without such behavior?”

Hroombra stood quietly, head bowed low.  He didn’t answer, so Jaax ploughed on, “What do you have to say for this?”

The younger dragon was brutal, unwavering.  He demanded an answer that Hroombra simply did not have.

“She is her own person Jaax,” the old dragon said at last, his earlier anger snuffed out. “No style of upbringing would have turned her out differently.  She is passionate, determined, cares deeply for those less fortunate than others and, believe it or not, she is loyal.  She’s exactly what this world needs.  Once you understand this, perhaps it won’t be so hard.”  Hroombra took a deep, rattling breath and then turned his weary eyes on Jaax. “We can no longer keep the truth from her, she must know,” he murmured. “Once she knows, she’ll be more understanding.”

“No, keeping the truth from her is crucial,” the young dragon insisted. “Once she knows the truth, her safety will be at stake.  Imagine, after we have told her, if she were to run off and tell . . . no, it’s not yet the time.”

“Jaax, we must . . .” Hroombra insisted.

“When the time is right, we’ll tell her!” the Tanaan dragon hissed. “Until then, she’ll need to learn to do as she is told.  It’s for her own good and the good of all Ethoes that we delay as long as we can.”

Jaax spoke with such anger and force that Hroombra couldn’t help but be reminded of the very young, very damaged dragon from the past.  Hroombra had always wanted to confront him about what had happened so long ago, but the years had made Jaax more and more resistant to the concern felt by others.  No more waiting, no more delaying.  I’ve put this off long enough, I must try now.  I must try before it’s too late . . .

“Jaax, you’ve been carrying this guilt and anger on your shoulders for far too long now.  This thing, this passion for what is past has poisoned you like an evil infection.  There is no one left to blame, there was never really anyone to blame, especially not yourself.  You must move on now Jaax, you must put it behind you; it has been far too long, it is time for you to start living again.  Don’t take your anger out on Jahrra, it is wrong.  She isn’t the one to be angry with.”

Hroombra knew he awakened old ghosts by saying this, but he knew most of those ghosts were already awake, haunting the young dragon the way the ruined castle haunted him.  Yet, he knew that Jaax must confront his own demons before he tried to conquer Jahrra’s; it wouldn’t work any other way.

Jaax didn’t answer right away.  Instead he sat rigid, focusing on the empty fireplace as if it were about to spring to life.  Finally, he closed his eyes and took a great, hissing breath. “And I suppose by living you mean hiding out in a forgotten land, babysitting a child who has turned into another lost cause?  Is that what you mean?”

Jaax’s remark was biting and he made no attempt to hide his scathing resentment.

“I never believed you to be a lost cause Raejaax, and neither is Jahrra,” Hroombra responded with a hurt voice. “You two have much more in common than you even know.  Especially the most obvious thing: you both have a problem with letting go of the past.  The only way you’ll ever be able to help one another, and anyone else for that matter, is if you learn to forgive and move on.  I fear you’ll have to learn that in your own time, however, whether or not it takes another hundred lifetimes.”

Jaax knew that his mentor was right, but he wasn’t in the mood to admit it.  He needed to focus on Jahrra right now.  She was the one who needed guidance at the moment, and she had to be coaxed into cooperating, not himself.  The easiest thing to do would be to give in to Hroombra’s cajoling, but Jaax was far too proud for that.  So he did what most would do when cornered with a truth about themselves they were too proud to admit.  He turned on Hroombra, bringing to light his own faults. “I’m glad you are able to sit back and navigate the lives of others Hroombramantu.  We both know that you’ve always been good at that,” Jaax said acrimoniously. “You may come off as unassuming and wise, but you never have been able to keep your opinions to yourself, have you?”

Hroombra looked slightly taken aback by Jaax’s words and the younger dragon felt a small pang of guilt.  But he was irritated by Jahrra’s behavior and the last thing he needed right now was the same old lecture he’d been getting since his first lesson with the old dragon so long ago.  His usual biting replies had been falling short on Hroombra for years now, and Jaax finally found it necessary to speak his mind.

“I didn’t leave Jahrra with you to let her get away with whatever she wished.  Your job was to keep her safe and teach her what she needed to know to survive in a world where she’ll have far more enemies than friends.  In the past seventeen years, every time I returned to check on your progress with her, she’d grown worse.  And each time I suggested that you be a little firmer with her, but obviously you haven’t been listening.  You know what dangers await her, yet you’ve done a terrible job in preparing her.”

Jaax felt his anger being displaced onto Hroombra, exactly what the old dragon had warned him against a few minutes ago.  He didn’t care, however.  He’d grown more and more frustrated with his old Korli friend, and in Jaax’s anger-distorted opinion, Hroombra deserved everything he got.

“Jaax, I have taught her everything I know, and I hope someday she’ll prove that to you.  I wished to tell her more of the truth, something that would have left her better prepared, but you insisted that I not, and I understood and respected your reasons though I disagreed with them.  And you should know from personal experience that one cannot bottle up a spirit, especially that of Jahrra’s.  Do not blame her disdain for you on me.”

Jaax bared his teeth in fury. “She has disdain for me because she has no discipline!  She should have learned to respect her elders long ago, and that includes respecting you, or did you not notice the way she speaks to you as well?  I’m finished with this conversation, Hroombra.”

Hroombra started to say something in reply to Jaax’s harsh comment, but the young dragon turned and faced him with blazing eyes, and in a cruel whisper added, “You are not my father Hroombra, and you never will be.  You’ll never replace her parents either, so stop trying.”

Jaax stood steadfast and tall, refusing to let Hroombra see the shame that was brewing in his heart.  His words had been formed by passion alone; he hadn’t at all thought them through.  Hroombra had angered him, hitting a raw nerve, and Jaax had wished to return the ill favor.  Before the guilt could overcome him, Jaax continued, “I should have left her in Crie.” Then he added stoically, “The elves there would have done a much more adequate job in training her.  I now wonder if age has played a part in your inability to deal with a simple child.”

Hroombra lifted his head and gazed directly into Jaax’s eyes.  In a calm and eerie voice he replied, “I never wanted to be your father Jaax.  I of all dragons know I could never be that.  I never wanted to be Jahrra’s father either, she had a good father and I wouldn’t want to displace those memories.  As for Jahrra being undisciplined, you are very wrong.  She has worked very hard to become the person she is and forgive me for saying this, but you were never there to see her grow and mature.  She has a spirit and a mind that no one can tame, and my only wish is that some day you will be able to appreciate and understand that.”

Hroombra continued to gaze at Jaax with those all-knowing eyes.  The old dragon was good at hiding emotion, but the pain of what he had just experienced couldn’t be masked.  Jaax turned to leave, weary of arguing and wishing for nothing but to be alone, to allow his flaming anger to burn out.

“One more thing Jaax, please.” Hroombra sounded frighteningly desperate, forcing the Tanaan dragon to turn despite his irritation. “Know that I forgive you, both you and Jahrra for what was said this day, and know that I love you both very much.”

Jaax furrowed his great scaly brow, perplexed by Hroombra’s fraught tone.  The great Korli dragon looked very old at that moment, like any animal does when he knows that his time in this world is drawing to an end.  Jaax hesitated for just a moment, just long enough for Hroombra to remove the sadness from his eyes.  At first he felt sympathy, even fear for his one-time mentor, but then he remembered how angry he was and shook off his small moment of exposure.

The young Tanaan dragon sighed deeply and fought against the headache that was growing beneath his skull.  He would have to find Jahrra eventually and try to smooth things over with her, but for now, while his fury was still fresh, he needed to confront someone else, someone he was not looking forward to visiting.  Jaax stepped out of the Castle Guard Ruin and headed east, following the Danu Creek towards the forest while Hroombra retired to the common room to wait.

***

Jaax decided to walk through the Wreing Florenn instead of flying over it.  He figured that if he walked, perhaps he could have the element of surprise.  Ha, he thought bitterly, nothing surprises that woman.  He walked cautiously between the great trees, feeling like a thief sneaking through a grand fortress.  All was quiet except for the sound of the treetops moving occasionally with the wind.  Jaax walked on until he found himself looking down into the tiny hollow that was the Belloughs of the Black Swamp.

The dragon blinked up through the treetops into the dimmed light of the black and gray morning.  It had rained last night, but he knew that those swollen clouds hadn’t finished their job quite yet.  He let out a sigh that held a mixture of guilt and frustration.  Perhaps he had been too hard on Hroombra.  After all, Jaax had to admit to himself, he had spoken in anger.  He would have to go back and apologize later, but first, he would deal with the Mystic.

As quietly as he could, the dragon crept down the small slope and onto the flat ground in front of the moss-shrouded cave.  He sniffed the air and immediately detected an aroma of oak smoke, sauteed mushrooms, some kind of wild incense and the tang of sweet tea.  Nothing too surprising.  He folded his wings and sat down regally, allowing his changeable scales to blend somewhat with the grim colors of his surroundings.  He took a calming breath, released a stream of scorched air, and waited for Denaeh to sense his presence.  It didn’t take her very long.  Within five minutes, the haggard woman came limping over the top of the hill that rose above her cave.

“Who goes?”

It was the crackled, raspy voice of a very old woman, the guise she always wore when strangers came into her part of the woods.  But Denaeh knew who had come to visit her, even before she’d seen him.  She had been expecting him ever since Jahrra had last visited.

“You know exactly who it is, now come down from there.  We need to talk.”  The stern voice of the dragon Jaax sounded strange to her, like an old song playing once again that she hadn’t heard for a very long time.

“Raejaaxorix!  Could it really be you?” she said in a sweet, grandmotherly way.

“That’s enough Denaeh.  You’ve been expecting me for some time now, so don’t try and play coy with me,” Jaax replied shortly. “Furthermore, you have some questions to answer.  What are you doing in Oescienne, and what is your business with the young girl Jahrra?”

Denaeh chuckled.  This dragon didn’t waste any time with petty sentiments, even going as far as dropping the required politeness for meeting very old acquaintances.  She clambered down the hill, and once she reached the bottom she said pleasantly, “Just allow me to slip into something more comfortable.”

And just as quickly as the light changes beneath a passing cloud, Denaeh became her younger self.

“You’re looking mighty well for your age,” Jaax commented drily.

“Aah, and you too, dear Jaax.”

The dragon sneered in disgust, and Denaeh’s smile faded.

“But you’re not here to chat and pay compliments, now are you?”  Denaeh no longer promoted her sunny demeanor, and she could tell an uncomfortable conversation was on the horizon.

“Why are you here, in this province?” Jaax repeated the question, unsmiling and severe.

“In case you haven’t noticed, this is a rather lovely part of Ethoes,” Denaeh waved her arm around pleasantly, “and the swamp provides ample cover . . .”

“Don’t try and lead me on with that rubbish,” Jaax interrupted with a snap of his teeth.  “There are plenty of places in this world to hide, better places.  Felldreim is far more appropriate for your needs, I should think.  You came here for a reason.”

Denaeh simply stared at the dragon, knowing that he was right.  She only hoped that she wouldn’t have to reveal all of her secrets.

“I have only been doing what you and many others have done,” she said, beginning to lose what remained of her cheerfulness. “I’ve been hiding from the rest of the world, yes.  What does it matter where?”

Jaax was becoming irritated once again, and they were getting off track of the main issue.  I can question her motives later, he thought, but right now I need to get to the root of all this. “Listen, where you decide to live really isn’t what matters here,” he stated. “What I want to know is why have you entangled yourself in Jahrra’s life?  Why have you been manipulating her?”

The question was simple, but Denaeh felt its cruel intent like one feels a dagger at their back.

“Manipulating?” Her calm voice burned and her golden eyes flared. “Far from it.  I have been guiding her ever since she first wandered into my realm five years ago.  You and Hroombramantu have kept the truth from her for her entire life.  I have simply been helping her.”

The fire in the dragon’s eyes seemed as real as if he had just breathed it. “What have you told her?” he growled. “You had no business and no right!  And now, because of your meddling, she’ll be even more difficult to deal with when the time draws near for her to continue her education in the city of Lidien.  She is my responsibility, not yours!”

His nostrils were smoking, but Denaeh wasn’t going to let a little thing like dragon smoke intimidate her.

“Is that so?” she asked with a little more gumption than one facing an angry beast should have. “When did she become your responsibility Jaax?  When you dropped her at the feet of the old Korli dragon, or now, now that the hard work of her upbringing is over with?”

Jaax was definitely piqued, but he brought his anger down to a manageable level.  “You have no say in this matter Archedenaeh,” he said quietly, his jaw set firmly. “In fact, you should have never interfered in the first place.”

The small woman stared Jaax down for a few minutes before she responded.  When she answered, her intentions were made very clear. “She found me Jaax.  I did not go looking for her.  She answered a dare from her classmates and wandered into the Black Swamp on her own.”

Denaeh paused when she saw the fury building in the dragon’s eyes once again, but she continued on nevertheless. “Yes, I knew she was coming, but it was of her own accord.  Don’t be angry that I influenced her, I couldn’t help it.”

Jaax narrowed his eyes, taking in every inch of this woman he did not trust.  She seemed sincere, but she was leaving something out, something that was important.  It didn’t take Jaax long to realize what it was. “You knew she would show up here in Oescienne someday, didn’t you?” he almost whispered.  “That is why you came to this particular province, not just to hide out, but because Hroombra was already here.  Somehow, you discovered that he was in Oescienne, and that made your decision easy, didn’t it?”

Denaeh said nothing; she only stood still as stone, her flame-red hair the only thing moving in the damp breeze.

“You knew that if the human child was ever found that Hroombra would be directly involved with it.  So you came here, and waited.  Waited until you knew the child was present, only to lure her into your trap.”

Jaax wrinkled his horned nose in antipathy and curled his lip back into a disgusted snarl.  “You can stand there and tell me that Jahrra came to this swamp on her own accord, but I don’t buy it.  You drew her to you, the way a burning flame draws an ensorcelled moth.”

Denaeh rubbed her arms as if she were cold and took her time to answer. “You can draw your own conclusions if you want to,” she finally said, her eyes lowered. “Nothing I say will change your mind.  Furthermore, I didn’t “lure” her, as you claim.  She came to me like I said, and I told her and taught her what I could while she was here.”

A look of fear flashed across the dragon’s severe face and Denaeh chuckled. “Don’t worry.  I only gave her clues, and she hasn’t yet figured out the truth yet.  She is convinced that she is Nesnan, and she only knows what you and Hroombramantu have told her about her past.  I only hope you tell her soon.  Believe me, time is growing short.”

Denaeh crossed her arms and turned to look deep into the forest.  Jaax let go of an exasperated laugh. “Don’t be so ridiculous.  There has been no activity in the east in years.  I have been scouting the provinces since I brought Jahrra here nearly two decades ago.  The most activity I’ve detected is a few stray troops roaming the borders in search of a way to get into Oescienne, and they have already been taken care of.  If anything was amiss or suspect, I would have noticed it.”

“Then you haven’t been paying attention!” Denaeh swung around and shot a fiery gaze at him.  She let her eyes smolder for a few moments and then shut them, allowing her anger to subside.  She put her hands to her temples and began to massage away the pain that had suddenly erupted there.  After a few moments she returned her wearied gaze to Jaax, her voice a worn and desperate plea, “We cannot deny that the signs are more prevalent now, even though you wish them not to be so.  Jahrra needs to know the truth Jaax, she deserves to know.  Her part in this may be starting sooner than you have anticipated!”

Jaax exhaled a frustrated cloud of hot smoke.  Here he was, sitting in the middle of a swamp trying to reason with a crazy woman while Hroombra sat sulking in the Ruin and Jahrra was out somewhere fuming about her unfortunate situation.  The last thing he needed was some old coot playing mind games with him.

“I’m not trying to play mind games with you, Raejaaxorix, but I would like to discuss something with you that you refuse to see.”

Denaeh had read his mind, just as she had read Jahrra’s so many times before, and now, Jaax feared, she was about to unleash the same lecture Hroombra had given him only a few hours before.

“Hear me out for once,” she said, holding her hands up in a gesture of peace.  “I wish to help you with the child, Jaax, not turn her against you.  You wish to convince Jahrra to leave her home, to remove her from my influence, to see her someday fulfill her role in the prophecy you hate to discuss.  I understand that the prophecy brings up hard issues, so I won’t discuss that with you now, but I will discuss Jahrra.”

Denaeh took a deep breath to clear her mind, secretly waiting for Jaax to protest or simply walk away.  When the dragon made no attempt to leave or interrupt, she forged on. “Part of your problem with Jahrra is that she is still very much a child.  She is young, although she doesn’t think so.  You have forgotten what it’s like to be that young, a very long time has gone by since you were anywhere near that age.  Both humans and dragons, and all other creatures for that matter, need time and life experiences to mature.  Given time, she’ll grow out of her childish ways, but you must give her patience as well.

“Another part of the problem is that Jahrra is female and that she stands up to you.  Don’t get me wrong Jaax, you have always respected females, whether they be dragon, Nesnan, Resai or what have you.  You have always treated the female gender very well, but you are not used to the idea of females standing up to you.

“Your whole life you’ve been admired and praised by them.  Now, don’t give me that look,” Denaeh grew stern as the young dragon shot her a perturbed, unconvinced glance, “you know as well as I do that this is true.  You can’t help it anymore than I can help being born with the abilities that I have.  You have dealt with Jahrra poorly, and it’s partly due to the fact that you don’t know how to deal with a strong woman who thinks for herself.  And Jahrra is definitely a strong woman.

“Lastly, like I’ve mentioned before, it’s about time you tell Jahrra the truth, not the entire truth mind you, but the truth pertaining to her.  She’s just over seventeen years old, and she is about to have the world thrown up in front of her.  She is more than entitled to know what her part in all of this is.”

The Mystic took a deep, soothing breath. “Now, that’s all I have to say.  Just remember, you must play by her rules this time if you wish to get her on your side.  Make it a challenge, an adventure moving onto this next big step in her life, and she’ll go to Lidien.  But if you try to force her to go, she’ll defy you until you are driven mad.  You two must find a way to coexist.  It won’t be easy, but it is necessary in order for her to be the person she needs to be.”

Denaeh ended her speech with a rather dramatic huff and crossed her arms once more, waiting for Jaax’s reply.  The young dragon stood silent for a long time.  Whether he was absorbing everything Denaeh had just said or whether he was considering a witty response, for once she couldn’t tell.  His thoughts were too jumbled for even a Mystic of her distinction to read clearly.  He simply gave a short nod after the space of time and turned to leave.

“I will consider your thoughts,” he spoke over his shoulder, his voice calmer this time, “but I make you no promises.  As much as you think you know me, there is still much you don’t know.”

Denaeh nodded in response to Jaax’s statement and waited for him to say more.

“Jahrra left on Phrym this morning after our argument about Lidien,” he finally said.  “She was quite angry, but I suppose I had better go and find her.  You wouldn’t happen to have any clue as to where she might have gone?”

“I would try the shore, or the lakes,” Denaeh answered, her arms still crossed, her chin set almost stubbornly. “She goes there often.  But you should give her a little more time.  She’s very angry with you at the moment, and trailing after her so soon might end in disaster.”

“Very well, though I think nothing could be more disastrous than what has already occurred,” Jaax responded acidly.

He turned and lifted his head, looking to the northwest.  He closed his eyes and sniffed the air again, catching an old familiar scent drifting on the damp wind.

“And what shall you do until then?” the Mystic murmured. “Shall we chat some more until Jahrra has a chance to cool down?”

Denaeh gave an impish grin, and Jaax just looked back at her, his face expressionless. “I’ll go to the Castle Ruin.  I haven’t been there in a very long time.  Perhaps I can think clearly there; perhaps I can find some answers.”

Jaax began to walk away, but then paused for a moment.  He turned his head to look back at Denaeh one last time.  She discovered a hint of kindness deep in those clear eyes of his, buried somewhere beneath the anger, sorrow and disappointment.  The Mystic did her best to return the look, a mixture of remorse, longing and compassion swimming in her own eyes.

The dragon turned his head once more and headed up out of the Belloughs and into the northern boundary of the Black Swamp.  Denaeh let out a long, sorrowful sigh.  She knew what was coming that day; she had foreseen it for quite some time now, but today it burned more brightly than ever in her mind.  She knew that both dragon and girl faced hardship and struggle, and sooner than they could possibly accept it, loss.

Denaeh shivered in the cold winter air and clasped her faded shawl around her shoulders.  She looked up at the cloud-mottled sky, the late morning sun hidden by the thunderheads, and closed her eyes for only a moment.  She tried with all her might to imagine a clear blue sky with golden green sunlight filtering through the forest canopy.  She wished with all of her heart to see such a scene, but all she saw was blackness and fire and ruin.  Denaeh opened her eyes, wondering if what she felt on her face was the first drop of rain from the swollen storm clouds or the grief that was finally breaking free.  Quietly, she walked back to her cave entrance and disappeared within, her heart heavy with sorrow.

- Chapter Nineteen -

Terror

Jahrra breathed in the salty air, hoping that it would somehow soothe her chaotic mind as she gazed out over the expansive ocean.  The scene was just as breathtaking as ever: the water stretching on for eternity, shaded by the charcoal-hued storm clouds dropping threads of silvery rain.  The mountains were more blue than violet, and the low valleys and rolling hills wore the frigid green of late winter.  The running climb up Demon’s Slide had helped to release some of Jahrra’s anger, but she could still feel the sting of Hroombra’s words from earlier that day.

How could he agree to send her away?  She had once thought about going away to Lidien, about seeing the entire world, but not now, not when Jaax said that she must.  She loved it here and she would never leave.  At least not until the summer, she thought miserably, remembering what the Tanaan dragon had said.

Jahrra sighed loudly, casting her worries out into the icy wind that was biting away at the side of the mountain.  Perhaps I can run away and live with Denaeh, she thought hopefully.  But what if Denaeh had no place for her?  The Mystic had always welcomed her into the Belloughs, but Jahrra could tell that the woman valued her solitude.  I know!  I’ll steal that book back and take Gieaun and Scede on a wild treasure hunt!  No, that wouldn’t work either.  Jaax would find us.

Jahrra huffed angrily, knowing all too well that she had no choice in the matter.  She could never run away from Hroombra, not without telling him where she was going.  It would hurt him too much.  Jahrra grimaced at that thought, for she had already hurt him.  She had said horrible things to him; told him she hated him.  She pushed away this feeling of guilt, her injured pride firing up once again: Why must he send me away?  Why does he have to listen to Jaax!  Who gave Jaax all the power over everybody?!

Jahrra was slowly growing angry again.  She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head slowly, trying to think about all of this without becoming frustrated.  Master Hroombra wouldn’t let Jaax tell him what to do unless it was something he wished to do himself.  He must have some reason for agreeing to send me away so soon.  Perhaps I can persuade them to change their minds, at least Master Hroombra’s.  Jahrra shivered, the chill gusts finally reaching to her bones.

“Perhaps this is my punishment for lying all these years about the Wreing Florenn, about Denaeh and about Ehnnit Canyon,” she said aloud.  “What do you think Phrym?”

Phrym nickered under her, ears alert, his head pointed to the north.

“Yes, we should be heading back down now, but let’s stay up here a little bit longer,” she answered, then added bitterly, “This may be my last chance to take a good look at Oescienne for Ethoes knows how long.  I would like to enjoy it.”

Phrym nickered again, but this time he sounded agitated.  He started pawing the ground and he became unnerved, rearing up enough to get Jahrra’s attention.  She reacted just in time, clutching at her semequin’s dark mane.

“What’s the matter?  Calm down, I’ll take you with me if I go north!”  She patted his neck, but this time she followed his gaze with her own. “What do you see Phrym?”

Jahrra squinted in the direction her semequin was looking.  Rising off of the small western edge of the Great Sloping Hill was a large plume of smoke, several shades paler than the threatening clouds above.  Jahrra sat rigid in the saddle, focusing her eyes as hard as she could.  She felt the blood drain from her face when she saw a tiny flash of deep, red fire, looking like a glinting speck of red gold dust from such a long way away.  Her heart hammered against her ribs when she saw two more tiny scarlet flashes.  Hroombra was breathing fire, and not just once, several times.  Oh no, she thought, her skin tingling with dread, something’s wrong at home!

“Come on!” Without pausing to consider it any further, Jahrra kicked Phrym into a full trot down the steep, sandy hill.

He ran under her with no trouble at all, seeming just as anxious to get back to the Ruin as she was.  The two of them tore down the hillside, not caring how recklessly fast they were going.  The wind and the sand cut at them as they careened headlong toward the miles of beach that lay before them.  The cool air poured past them like ice water, and the wet sand felt like bits of frost hitting Jahrra’s skin, but she didn’t care.  They raced down the beach, faster than Jahrra could ever remember, the pounding waves seeming to rally them on.

The semequin and his rider cut through the Oorn delta, sending up fans of brackish water and clouds of shore birds emitting stressful cries.  As the miles streaked by, all Jahrra could think about was how horrible she had been to Hroombra that morning.  I hope he’s just trying to demonstrate to Jaax who’s in charge! she thought, tears stinging her eyes along with the cold.  But she knew that Hroombra would never act out violently; that just went too strongly against his nature.  Horrible images flashed through her head, but the one that stood out the most was the one of Eydeth and his father surrounding her guardian with several of the Resai men from the great race.  Jahrra blinked hard and shook her head.  No, no; Eydeth wouldn’t dare . . .

After many minutes of hard running, Jahrra and Phrym made a hard right turn and began traveling up the path that led across Lake Ossar.  Several fishermen and women had to leap out of the way to let them pass, shouting in anger as they dragged their children out of harm’s way.  Jahrra didn’t care; she couldn’t afford to stop.  Once Phrym crossed the lake, they took the road heading east, flying across the valley like lightning.

Jahrra urged Phrym on as he climbed the road that trailed up the southern end of the Sloping Hill.  “C’mon Phrym, it’s not much further!”

Phrym crested the top of the hill and tossed his head nervously.  It was obvious he was exhausted: his mouth was foaming and his breath was coming fast, but Jahrra couldn’t bear to stop now.

“You’re doing great Phrym!  Only a few more miles.  Imagine we are racing Eydeth again!” she shouted over the pounding of his hooves.  He picked up his pace in a sudden burst of energy and Jahrra only hoped that when they came over the last rise above the Ruin, that all she’d seen atop Demon’s Slide had merely been an illusion.

***

The old castle looked exactly as Jaax had pictured it, so similar to the image he’d kept in the secret corner of his mind since his childhood.  Of course, it wasn’t the shining fortress it had been then, but that was before the Crimson King tried to destroy it.

Several years after his terrible curse, the Tyrant had found many of the Tanaan dragons living here peacefully in the land they once ruled as humans.  Many had started over with their lives, had accepted their dragon form and some had even started new families.  But the evil king would never allow any degree of happiness for the people who had tried to destroy him, even after he had cursed them.  Nearly one hundred years after he had defeated the Tanaan king and his people, Cierryon cursed the castle as well, turning it into the ruined building it was today.  The Tanaan dragons and their dragonlings had chosen to leave, unable to stand the sight of their beautiful home slowly eroding, reminding them too much of the state of their own spirits.

Jaax closed his eyes and let out a long, sorrowful sigh.  He remembered the castle from his youth, before it was cursed, and up until this moment he thought that he would never be able to face it again.  He had been among those to flee the last reminder of the Tyrant’s fury.

Apart from the few crumbled walls and the overgrown exterior, the castle looked as if it had been sleeping for the past few centuries.  Somehow, some of the beautiful glass windows still remained intact, but they were now coated with a thick layer of ancient dust.  It must have been from the magic the Korli dragons put over it, to try and protect this place.  That is why some of its walls still stand, Jaax thought to himself.

The castle was immense, even from an adult dragon’s point of view, and the trees that surrounded it had changed.  The young saplings he had once known were either taller than before or had grown and died, giving way to new seedlings once again.  Some of the walls seemed lower, but that could be due to the fact that he himself was taller and not because the castle had further crumbled.  Jaax shook his head forlornly.  He was certain it was because of the latter that the walls weren’t as high as they used to be.  The Korlis’ protection and the castle’s own magical defenses were failing.  The palace had been fighting against this curse for four centuries; it couldn’t resist such strong dark magic for very much longer.

Jaax let his eyes trail over the picture before him, taking in the rest of the scene.  The garden, once as finely manicured as the castle itself, had become a tangle of wicked looking brambles that crawled up the injured walls, threatening to pull them down into the earth.  The sprawling patios and verandas, once beautiful mosaics set upon the ground, were now invisible, covered by years of leaf litter and earth.

A blast of chilly, moist wind shook the treetops above as if to remind Jaax of what had happened here.  He shivered, but it wasn’t from the cold.  He took a deep breath and stepped forward, entering the castle for the first time in centuries.  He walked through the ancient entrance hall and, as if driven by some internal force, turned toward the north side of the building.  He walked past broken staircases and wove between massive columns, standing in a row like cold, white tree trunks.  He hung his head the entire time, relying on memory to take him where he knew he must go.  When he finally stopped and looked up, he found himself standing in the ancient remains of the great dining hall.  Of course, he thought to himself remorsefully, of course.

Jaax simply stood there, letting his mind forget the distant past for now.  Instead he reflected on what had just happened between himself and the Mystic.  He hated to admit it, but she was right about Jahrra.  The girl had spirit; he had known that ever since his first visit after leaving her with Hroombra.  Even as a child she had shown signs of the strength she would one day need.  This visit to the Castle Ruin had fulfilled its purpose; it had helped Jaax focus on what was important.  A pang of remorse hit him as he realized how awful his behavior towards Hroombra had been.  I must apologize, he thought to himself, Hroombra has raised Jahrra the best way that he could, and no one could have cared for her better, not even I.

He blinked and turned his face up to what was once a great painted ceiling but now was only a canopy of green.  It was no more than an hour after mid-day, and he could smell the approaching rain over the ocean.  Another storm, he thought ruefully, perfect weather for the mood of the hour.

Jaax gazed over at the faded murals upon the dying walls.  He closed his eyes and reluctantly let his mind travel back into the past, into the past of his ancestors.  He wondered if he could even conjure memories that old, but he knew that he could, even though it haunted him to do so.  He sighed and forced those depressing thoughts from his head and instead replaced them with more pleasant ones.  He pictured a time when the castle was at its finest, when the sweeping drive and elegant entrance hall were gleaming with life and joyous activity.  He thought of a time when the gardens were overflowing with flowers of all colors, shapes and sizes, and not overrun with threatening thorns.

He tried with all his might to hear the sound of happy voices that might have once graced these halls.  Like Hroombra a few years before, Jaax imagined children chasing each other through the grounds with music and laughter floating from the dance hall.  In that moment he could see it, the shining castle in a time of great celebration, but after awhile the music transformed into the clamor of battle and the laughter became screaming.  The bursting flowers became angry flames and the children weren’t chasing each other in mirth, but running, terrified, from some unseen enemy.

Jaax opened his eyes and found himself face to face with the final scene of the mural, the scene of the dragon shadows and the men fleeing in fear.  He heard the sounds of torment and destruction and he tried to tear his mind away.  He tried to will himself back to the present, but the shouting in his mind only grew louder and after awhile he heard something else.  The scream was not human, or elvish; it was the sound of a dragon in distress.  Could my imagination be this real? Jaax thought in frightened astonishment.  Could these horrible sounds be so loud in my own mind?  He shook his great head and waited, and then he heard it again, the bellow of a dragon suffering.  A real dragon, its roaring cries carried on the wind, a wind that was blowing from the south.

A cold chill crept over Jaax’s scales as he realized what he was hearing.  “Hroombra!” he rasped silently.

Hundreds of years of avoiding the wrath of the Crimson King had made hesitating second nature to Jaax, but he could hesitate no longer.  He began to move quickly, but as stealthily as possible, back towards the Castle Guard Ruin.  While he hurtled towards the Ruin, a dread slowly filled his heart.  His mind was working furiously, a hundred possibilities flashing through his head, but he couldn’t stop and review them now.

Jaax broke through the last clump of trees at the edge of the wood and shot his green eyes in the direction of the Ruin, his heart almost stopping as he took in the scene before him.  Several yards away many broken groups of men had Hroombra surrounded, throwing stones, shooting arrows, and thrusting lances and swords at him.  They wore crude armor and shouted out harsh phrases in a foreign tongue.  Smoke was rising from a few charred patches of earth where Jaax was sure Hroombra had breathed fire, and a large pile of firewood was aflame, the thick smoke billowing high into the sky.

The Tanaan dragon seethed with heated rage and hatred, but his blood froze when he saw who could only be their leader, a dark figure astride a tall horse.  No, not a horse, Jaax shivered, a low rumbling beginning in his throat, a quahna.  The dragon recalled what he knew of the terrifying animals.  The quahna were horse-like creatures that the Crimson King had developed near the beginning of his reign.  Massive in size, cloven-hoofed with the teeth of a boar, this monster struck fear into the hearts of the bravest warriors.  The quahna were known to tear a soldier from the saddle, kill his horse, and then come after the soldier himself.

Jaax shuddered once again, feeling like his blood was draining from every inch of his body.  He didn’t fear the frightful animal or even the men that had assailed Hroombra and the Ruin; it was their very presence that terrified him.  He now knew that Denaeh’s predictions were right; the Tyrant had finally found Hroombra and in finding Hroombra he had finally found Jahrra.

Jaax opened his wings, ready to leap into the air and rain a torrent of fire down upon the mercenaries, but at that very moment another rider came charging over the crest in the road.  Jaax nearly choked in horror.  “Jahrra!” he whispered hoarsely.

She must have seen the smoke from wherever she had been and rushed back, for Phrym was slathered in sweat and the girl looked like she was about to fall out of the saddle.  Jahrra wouldn’t know the danger she was riding into and the thought of what could happen if she was recognized was something that terrified Jaax more than anything.

“Don’t come any closer!” he tried to roar, but his warning only came out as a faint croak, impossible for her to hear over the distance and shouts of the attackers.  He crouched to take flight again, but before he could leap into the sky the dark figure on the quahna turned and spotted Jahrra gazing down upon the scene in horror.

“JAHRRA!  RUN!” Jaax roared successfully this time.

The dark figure pulled his monster around and spotted the dragon just on the edge of the woods.  Jaax couldn’t see the cloaked man’s face, but he could feel his malicious grin, cutting across the distance between them like a scythe.  No! he thought desperately as the man turned his quahna once more, drawing a wicked-looking sword and charging full speed towards Jahrra and Phrym.

No longer frozen in shock, Jaax spread his wings and took off from the ground with great speed.  He flew low over the field, wishing he could help Hroombra who now lay unconscious beside the Ruin, but knowing nothing, not even aiding the old dragon, was more important than protecting Jahrra.  It took Jaax only moments to reach the top of the gentle slope.  With the grace of Ethoes, he managed to land right in front of the girl, just before the dark rider reached her.  The man pulled his beast to a skidding halt, almost crashing into the Tanaan dragon.

Jaax unfurled his giant wings to their full extent and stood up as tall as he could on his hind legs, completely blocking Jahrra from view, as he roared a stream of jade and sapphire flames directly at the mercenary.  The quahna screamed with rage and fear, but its hide was too thick to suffer much damage from the dragon’s breath, and its rider blocked the torrent of flame with a long shield.  The men who had been harassing Hroombra stopped dead and stared blankly at this new, much more powerful dragon in unsettled awe.

Jaax had a feeling that whoever had sent these men hadn’t counted on another, much more ferocious adversary to stand in their way.  He glared down at the man on the demon horse and caught a small glimpse of the right side of his face.  The Tanaan dragon lost some of his rage then.  He dropped to the ground, staring at his enemy in raw horror.  The stolen emblem of the Tyrant: the mark of Cierryon.  It was the blood rose of Ethoes, but tainted and twisted in its design.  Branded onto this man’s face, it no longer symbolized the life-giving force of the Goddess, but the evil carnage wrought out by the Crimson King.

The dark stranger pulled his hood tighter over his head and in an angry, foreign voice, shouted out an order to all of his men.  They quickly stopped gawking at Jaax and ran for their horses, tripping and shoving each other out of the way.  Within minutes, they had all disappeared over the edge of the northern end of the hill, followed closely by the Tyrant’s servant on the quahna, his dark cloak flapping loosely behind him.

Jaax stood still for several moments, no longer looking menacing, trying hard to make sense of all he had just witnessed.

“Jaax!  Master Hroombra!” Jahrra said in a panicked voice.

The Tanaan dragon immediately pulled himself back together and glanced behind him at Jahrra.  She had been crying, he could tell by the subtle change in her blue eyes, but the threat was gone for now and she hadn’t been harmed.

“Stay here,” he said gruffly.

He turned without waiting for a response and beat his great wings once, lifting easily into the air, gliding down to where Hroombra lay like a small, cold mountain. When he landed Jaax realized, with overwhelming relief, that the old dragon still lived.  He lay there motionless, looking faded and destroyed and Jaax knew with a painful wrenching of his heart that his oldest friend wouldn’t be with him for very much longer.

“Hroombramantu!” he breathed, his voice thick with sorrow and regret.

A small flicker of movement shivered over Hroombra’s worn face, and the Korli dragon opened his golden eyes, peering solemnly up at the young dragon standing before him.  A slight smile, pained but necessary, pulled at the corners of his mouth.

“No Jaax, I only have strength and time for a few words,” he murmured in a voice that didn’t sound like his own.

Jaax found it very hard to look down at his mentor, bloody and broken on the cold earth.  He wanted to interrupt, to say something, anything, but when he opened his mouth, nothing came out.  All of the apologies he should have made that morning, all of the kind things he had always meant to say, became lodged in his throat, turning into one, great painful lump.  Jaax couldn’t speak, so he listened to what Hroombra wanted to say instead.

The dying dragon took a long, rattling breath and spoke on, “Know only this, you and Jahrra have each other now and you must rely on one other.  I will always love you both, no matter where I am, and I will be watching over you.” Hroombra paused and took another ragged breath, his strangely determined voice sounding once again like sandpaper. “Take care of her, as I have cared for her.  Promise me you’ll let no harm come to her, promise me!”

It was so hard to look at Hroombra now, but Jaax knew he owed the old dragon that much.  He still owed him so much more.  When Jaax finally spoke, his voice faltered.  “Hroombra, I, I’m sorry-”

“That does not matter,” Hroombra cut in, whispering on a smile as his eyelids drooped.  “I know your spirit and I know hers.  You are both eternally forgiven for what you have said before; you must now set forth and finish this.  I have done everything I can and my time is now up.  It is your time now, and hers.  Jaax, you must tell her now, it is time, it is time for both of you.”

With those final words, the old dragon that had been Jaax’s mentor and friend for so many long years, lay his head down and closed his eyes for the last time.

Jaax stood there for awhile, not knowing what to do, not believing what had just happened, and realizing that everything would now change.  He knew, as the sorrow invaded his thoughts, he could no longer put off what his fate insisted on.  He could no longer sit back and wait; it was time for him to act.  He thought back to the pain of his younger years and allowed it to meld with the ache he now felt.  The sorrow and loss, both from the past and from this very moment, slowly filled the emptiness within him, burning him like poison.

He didn’t know how long he sat there in that position, staring over the lifeless body of his dear friend.  It felt like ages, but it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes.  The world around him had disappeared and he had grown numb.  The clouds had broken and shifted above him, but he couldn’t sense that the sun was no longer directly overhead.  It was slowly falling towards the west, painting the thunderheads vermillion, gold and coral, but Jaax didn’t see the sky’s beauty and he was too distracted with grief and shame to hear Jahrra approaching on Phrym.  When he finally heard them he suddenly became rigid and turned around very quickly, feeling dizzy from his sudden movement after sitting so still for so long.  It felt like his head was filled with water, sloshing around his mind as it drowned out all of his senses.

His sudden movement surprised Jahrra, causing her to jerk back in the saddle, but not enough so to unnerve Phrym.  Jaax flared his wings to their greatest extent and avoided her eyes, gazing off to the side like a child being scolded.

“What’s wrong?” Jahrra said simply, her voice shaking with fear.  “Master Hroombra is hurt, isn’t he?” she continued when Jaax didn’t answer her.

Jaax could hear the panic and strain of anguish rising in her voice, and he dreaded telling her the truth.  “Jahrra, you must not see what is behind me.” The young dragon could hear his own emotion as he spoke, but he didn’t try to mask it.

“Master Hroombra!?”  Jahrra shouted through a clenched throat.  She jumped off of Phrym and tried to run past Jaax.

He knew there was no use in hiding the reality of what had happened any longer.  He just wished she didn’t have to see another one of her loved ones lost to evil.

“Jahrra, I don’t want you to see what is behind me.  Please stay back,” Jaax pleaded desperately, his entire body seeming to wilt.

But Jahrra had a look of knowing in her eyes, and she took a short breath and spoke the words she feared the most, “He’s dead, isn’t he?”

She barely got it out, some of the words getting caught in her throat, some of them refusing to form.  Jaax slowly and reluctantly lowered his wings and stepped away from Hroombra’s lifeless body.

Jahrra looked past him and let out a choked sob, her eyes now streaming like the rain clouds to the west.  She slowly stumbled over to Hroombra’s body.  He was so still, and he looked almost like stone.  She knelt down and placed her trembling hand on his icy forehead, her tear-blurred eyes taking in the horror before her.  It looked like his attackers had broken his wings, a sight that made it hard for her to breathe.  He had a few large cuts and abrasions, and Jahrra’s heart clenched at the thought of what he’d gone through.  She counted every injury she could find, but couldn’t tell what had caused his death, something she was actually grateful for.

Finally, Jahrra looked at her guardian’s face and there, at least, she found some comfort.  It didn’t look like he had been in agony, in fact, it was the exact opposite.  His eyes were closed and he looked asleep, fast asleep and partaking in a wonderful dream.

She stroked Hroombra on the head, counting his many wrinkles, all the while trying to remember what the last thing she had said to him was.  And then it came back to her.  Her face, which was moments ago covered in a mask of sorrow and agony, was now a face of anger and disgust. The last things she had said to Hroombra had been horrible things.  She had told him to leave her alone, that she even hated him.  Jahrra balled her fists in anger and clenched her teeth.  Jaax had done this, all of this.  He had made her angry and caused her to attack Hroombra.  He had told Hroombra that she would be going away.  He had tried to hide the truth from her just now, and he hadn’t been there to protect Hroombra from those horrible men.  Just as she had always done in the past, Jahrra now turned her torment onto Jaax.

Before she could verbalize her thoughts, however, Jaax spoke up, whispering gently, “Jahrra, we need to mourn Hroombra’s death, I know.”  She could hear him swallow, struggling to keep his voice steady. “But there is something you need to know, something I must tell you.  Please, you have to trust me now.”

“Trust you?”  Jahrra shot back, her voice a quivering whisper. “You want me to trust you?  Where were you Jaax!  Why weren’t you here when those evil men came and attacked Master Hroombra?  He is dead Jaax, he’s dead!” Jahrra screamed with rage, her voice worn raw.  She took several short breaths, trying very hard not to break down completely.  Jaax merely sat there, taking her harsh words, believing he deserved every last one of them.

Finally, Jahrra spoke again, her voice the smallest of whispers, “He is dead, you came here and caused all of this turmoil, and now he’s gone!  Then you ask me to trust you?  You who wanted to send me away from my home without even asking my opinion?”

Jaax took a deep breath, gazing sympathetically down at the shattered young woman below him, hoping that he could find the words to comfort her.

“Jahrra,” he began weakly, “you have no idea the danger your life is in now, how Hroombra died to protect you.  You must understand, it’s up to me now to keep you safe.”

Jaax wasn’t prepared for Jahrra’s enraged response. “Who are you to run my life!  You’re a stranger to me!” she fired.  “That’s all you’ve ever tried to do, and now Master Hroombra is gone!  He’s gone!  I bet you’re grateful!  Now you can make me do anything, can’t you?  No old dragon to stand in your way!”

Jahrra collapsed fully against the ground, sobbing loudly, letting years of bottled up sorrow, hurt and anger come out all at once.  Phrym moved nervously around, blowing and nickering in distress, worrying about the way his friend was acting.

Jaax understood Jahrra’s anguish more than she realized.  He did the only thing he could do for the suffering girl, he stood over her, head bowed, joining in with her pain.  Jahrra hated the fact that Jaax was attempting to comfort her, but she was too weary and too weak to run away from him this time.

“Come Jahrra,” he said in a surprisingly compassionate voice once she’d calmed down a little, “there is something you must see, there is something you must understand.  Hroombra wanted you to see this, to know this, and we mustn’t waste anymore time, for dark is soon approaching.  Come, and we’ll send Hroombra off to the stars when we return.”

Jaax slowly coaxed Jahrra away from Hroombra’s still body.  She was upset now, but Denaeh and Hroombra had been right all along.  She needed to know the truth of who she was, and the sooner she knew the better.  Best to get all of today’s shocks out of the way at once, Jaax thought morosely.  He hated leaving Hroombra’s lifeless form lying there, but he had to grant his old friend his last dying wish, and he had to do it before sundown.

Jaax took a breath and turned to Jahrra, who had finally stood up.  She was covered in dirt and grime from lying on the ground, and her eyes were red and puffy.  “Perhaps you should ride?” he offered kindly.

Jahrra, numb with shock and slightly dazed from her sudden burst of anger, obeyed without a fight.  She still hadn’t fully accepted what had happened and secretly, she felt the need for a distraction.  She reluctantly pulled away from Hroombra’s cold body and dragged herself over to Phrym, using Jaax’s forearm to pull herself into the saddle.  Jaax slowly led them through the woods and to the north to where the walls of the Castle Ruin lay waiting, waiting to tell its story.

- Chapter Twenty -

The Words on the Wall

The soil was damp and soft underfoot as dragon, girl and semequin made their way across the rain-swept landscape.  They slowly ambled northward, keeping their tumultuous thoughts to themselves.  Hroombra’s death had been completely unexpected and the truth of it left Jaax cold and empty.  He was overwhelmed with sorrow for the loss of his old friend and mentor, but that wasn’t all that troubled his mind.  It was now completely up to him to help Jahrra fulfill her destiny.  Hroombra was supposed to be here until the end, the dragon thought grimly, how am I going to do this on my own, without his guidance?

Jaax dropped his head and kept following the winding, overgrown path to the castle.  The sun had once again become shrouded with heavy clouds, their cobalt and ash hue painting the world around them in cool colors.  Soon the dark walls of the eroded fortress came into view, and Jaax’s heart began to quicken.  Suddenly he realized what exactly he would be telling Jahrra in only a few minute’s time.  How will she take the truth?  What will she do when she learns she isn’t Nesnan like she believed, but human, the only human in Ethoes? he wondered. Hroombra would have done a much better job of telling her than I.  Jaax stepped up to the withered façade of the building and then encouraged a very grave Jahrra to tie Phrym up outside.

The young woman obeyed quietly, her mind too bogged down with emotion to argue.  Why would anyone want to hurt Master Hroombra? she thought sadly, vacantly following the murmur of Jaax’s voice like someone under hypnosis.

“Jaax,” she said suddenly.  Her voice sounded lumpy and harsh. “Who were those men, those men that . . .”

She couldn’t finish her sentence, and fresh tears sprung to her eyes once again.  Jaax answered her unfinished question calmly and patiently, “They were mercenaries of the Tyrant, or the hired thugs of one of his lords.  He has been searching for Hroombra for many years and he’s been looking for you too, Jahrra.” Jaax was no longer careful with his words.  He didn’t need to be; Jahrra was about to know everything very soon.

Jahrra shot a surprised and watery glance at Jaax.  After a shaky sigh he said, “Don’t worry, I’ve frightened them off for now.”

Jahrra continued to give him a confused gaze, forgetting her anger towards him for the moment.  Suddenly, Eydeth’s words from a few days ago came rushing back to her: Do you want to know who that man was?  I’ll tell you, he was a mercenary for the Crimson King.

She shivered and turned her eyes away from Jaax, afraid he would see the truth.  Had this all been her fault then?  Should she have told them earlier about the man from the Fall Festival?  Jahrra tried to choke back a sob, but it was no use.  “Why would they be looking for me and Master Hroombra, what did he ever do to deserve this?” she cried.

“Jahrra, whatever you think, you must never think that any of this was your fault.” Jaax locked his eyes with hers, making sure she understood.  “Both Hroombra and I took on this responsibility long before you even existed.  Any battle against the Crimson King is going to have severe losses.  It’s just unfortunate that you’ll ever have to be part of any of them.”

A flash of alarm sparked across Jahrra’s face, changing her expression.  “What on Ethoes are you talking about?” she rasped.

“Come on, I have much to tell you, but first you must hear the story from the walls.”

Jahrra stared at him, more perplexed than ever.  Jaax turned and led her through the entrance hall and toward the ancient dining room where she had once stood many years before with Hroombra.  The memory brought back the recent pain she was trying very hard to defeat.  It was just after her parents’ deaths that her mentor had brought her here, and now she was back, once again after losing someone else that she loved.  She would rather not have gone into that ancient dining room, but she didn’t want to be left alone right now, even if it meant being in the company of Jaax.  She followed him, and once they were both within the remains of the great hall, he began reading the krueltish words, translating them into the common language, as if reciting a somber tragedy.  Jahrra forced herself to look at the words as he read them, comprehending each and every one of them the way she could not have those many years ago:

Feel the wind blowing on your face,

Taste the water clear,

Steal the day and all this space,

Waste not any time but here.

*

Yonder does the time now go,

Care not whether it stays,

Wander long, to and fro,

Where it ends it stays.

*

Mountains tall across the land,

Valleys low and cutting,

Fountains trickling in the sand,

Galleys proud and strutting.

*

Home to where the heart lays beating,

Far, far over the western hills,

Roam where the land and sea are meeting,

Star and moon thy burden fills.

*

Here you will find her, child of lore,

Eyes of sea, hair of gold,

Near the Oak that Nature bore,

Lies she, with fortune yet untold.

Jaax stopped reading and took a step back.  Jahrra stared at the wall, her eyes streaming.  She wondered why he didn’t continue; the words seemed to go on forever.  She also didn’t know what to think of what he’d just read.  For so long she had wanted to know what those words had said, for so long, but now it seemed so unimportant.  So much had happened today and her mind wasn’t ready to decipher such obscure riddles.

Jahrra stood silent for a long time.  Finally, Jaax spoke aloud, making her jump a little, “That is the Great Prophecy of the Oracles, the very words that an unknown scribe took down long ago when the Crimson King’s reign was young.  It is the prophecy that foretells of a savior of Ethoes, someone to overthrow the Tyrant’s terrible evil.  You have heard of this prophecy before?”

It was half a statement, half a question.

Jahrra nodded her head numbly. “Denaeh once told us about it.  Every year, around Sobledthe, she would tell us tales of old and one year she told us this tale.  She never told us those exact words, but she spoke of a human child.  A girl.”  Jahrra gazed up at Jaax, a hint of desperation in her eyes.  “Why do you tell me this now, what does this have to do with what has happened?  What does it have to do with me?”

Jaax looked down at her and took a deep, uneasy breath.  Perhaps if circumstances were different, if she didn’t have this recent pain to distract her, Jahrra would have puzzled it out by now.  But it was no wonder she couldn’t think straight, he could hardly think straight . . .

Jaax swallowed. “I’ll tell you this then: the prophecy tells of a human child that will be found, a child whose destiny it will be to defeat the Tyrant King and his immortal accomplice, the god Ciarrohn.  Many believe that when the Crimson King and Ciarrohn are defeated, the curses they dealt out will be lifted, including the curse on the Tanaan and this castle we now stand within.”

Jaax shifted his weight uncomfortably before continuing on, “You see, human beings became extinct when the Tanaan dragons were created; it was their punishment for resisting the Crimson King and Ciarrohn.  Hroombra, I am sure, has told you this before.  The Tanaan dragons descend from the original humans who suffered this curse.

“The Tanaan were among many races who hoped for their world to return to peace, but they had no idea they would be waiting for so long.  Some of the Tanaan moved on and accepted their place among the dragons, just as the other races of Ethoes accepted that the Crimson King was now their ruler.  But some of them still wait to this day for the prophecy to be fulfilled.”

Jaax took another deep breath and continued as calmly as his voice allowed him, “Hroombra and I searched many years for this child, waiting and listening for any word of such a girl.  We knew that the human race no longer existed, but we also knew that if a human girl was found, then she would be the one we’d been looking for, the one to change the world.”

Jaax paused and let Jahrra absorb all that she was hearing.  Jahrra blinked up at him as a chill wind swept past them both.  She had no idea that Hroombra and Jaax had been looking for the child of the prophecy.

“Is that where you’ve been all these years?” Jahrra asked wearily, shivering in the cold, “Away looking for this girl?”

The young dragon smiled gently despite his recent sorrow, and this time his smile contained none of its usual smugness.  “No Jahrra,” he said quietly, patiently, carefully. “You see, I found that girl long ago, a little over seventeen years ago in fact.”

He paused and watched her reaction, allowing her to place the pieces of the puzzle together on her own.  He watched as the realization slowly filled her the way a newly lit candle wick spreads light throughout a room.  Suddenly, Jahrra’s storm-blue eyes flashed with the knowledge of the truth.

“The peoples of Ethoes are waiting for a new hope,” Jaax said gently.  “You, Jahrra, are their new hope.”

Jahrra felt a strange, cool sensation prickle throughout her entire body.  Her head was spinning and her heart was pounding.  Too much had happened this day and her brain couldn’t grasp this unbelievable revelation.  He makes it sound like I . . . Jahrra shook her head, refusing to even consider the possibility, refusing to acknowledge what Jaax was indeed telling her.  Finally she found the strength to talk.

“What?” her voice was harsh with disbelief.

“Yes Jahrra, you’re the human girl I’ve spent so much of my life looking for.  You are the child of whom the prophecy foretold.”  He curled his lip grimly, looking weary and just as overwhelmed as Jahrra felt.

“No, no, I couldn’t be!  I’m not human!” Jahrra said, her voice growing shrill. “I’m Nesnan, a simple Nesnan orphan from Oescienne!”

Jahrra was backing away from Jaax now, her eyes darting around as if she were looking for a place to run.

“Yes Jahrra, ‘Far, far over the western hills, Roam where the land and sea are meeting’, I found you in Crie, in the Saem Hills, the western hills in the northern-most part of Oescienne.”

“I still don’t believe you!” Jahrra shouted, growing angry as the panic rose up inside of her.

“‘Eyes of sea, hair of gold, Near the Oak that Nature bore’, Jahrra, you were found by a tribe of elves under the Sacred Oak of Ethoes.  You were barely a newborn when I came for you, and the elves told me you had blue eyes when they found you.  You were only a week old, and only humans, pure-blooded humans, have blue eyes when they are born.  Hroombra and I only kept the truth from you for your own safety.  You had to believe that you were Nesnan, it was the only way to keep you safe from the Tyrant’s knowledge!”

Jaax had stepped forward, following Jahrra as she kept falling back.

“No, no!  It can’t be true!  I’m not the girl from the stories, I can’t save Ethoes!”  Jahrra suddenly became nauseous.  She stumbled to the closest bush and fell clumsily to her hands and knees, becoming sick behind it.

Jaax stayed back and let her get over her fit of panic.  He felt guilty for telling her like this, so soon after Hroombra’s death.  Jaax would have rather waited, but if he had it would only have been harder for her to understand what would be coming in the next few months.  They had a harsh future ahead of them and the sooner she realized why, the better.  Finally, after several minutes Jahrra stood up, still wobbly from her fit of shock.

“Jahrra, believe me, you are the child of the prophecy.  I knew it the moment I saw you, and Hroombra knew it as well.  Even the Mystic Denaeh knows the truth and now the Crimson King will know you are on this earth and he’ll hunt you until you are destroyed.”

The dragon’s eyes shone fierce and all that Jahrra could do was look up and stare back, her own eyes becoming glazed over.  Her head was spinning and she felt that she just might faint.  Jaax sighed and shook his head.  I can’t expect her to understand all of this right away.  I just hope she can learn to trust me.

“Come,” he said gruffly, “let us go back and send Hroombra off to his afterlife, as the dragons of old once did.”  He paused, trying hard not to choke on the sudden remorse that rose in his throat.  “You’ll need time to let this all soak in.  I know it’s hard, and I know it’s unexpected, but you had to know Jahrra, even if it seems cruel to tell you so suddenly after what has happened.”

The distraught girl nodded feebly and they walked slowly back to Phrym, who looked somewhat distressed at Jahrra’s appearance.

Jahrra felt displaced from her body, like her spirit had left and found a safe place to hide.  She couldn’t be human, she just couldn’t be.  This was just another one of Jaax’s lies.  And Master Hroombra couldn’t be dead . . .

When they finally arrived back in front of the Castle Guard Ruin, it was very near sunset and the new storm clouds were beginning to spread over the land.  Jahrra and Jaax numbly gathered up wood to pile around the lifeless form of the great dragon that had once cared for them both.  Jahrra shed silent tears the entire time, feeling like her heart would give up its struggle and stop beating at any moment.  When they finally finished, Jahrra stood back as Jaax let out a great burst of jade and sapphire flame that lit the entire funeral pyre.

“Master, go now to the stars.  Go and join Traagien in that honorable place where you belong,” Jaax whispered deeply as the flames licked up at the blackening sky.

Jahrra stood silently beside him, eyes shining from the light of the dancing fire.  Jaax looked down at her and let out a small, scorching breath through his nostrils.  As the flames grew higher, he watched the young woman before him struggling against her emotions as he told Hroombra’s departing spirit, I will take care of her, I promise you that.

They stood silent watch over the funeral pyre well into the night and when the coals were nothing more than glowing embers on the bare earth, they both retired inside the Castle Guard Ruin to prepare for the long evening.

Jahrra gasped in surprise once she’d lit a few candles.  She hadn’t been inside since that morning, since before the tragic events of the day, so she hadn’t seen the damage done by the Tyrant’s men.  The main room where Hroombra had looked over his manuscripts for so many years had been ransacked and destroyed.  The men had somehow overturned his massive desk and many of his papers and maps were missing or ruined.  Jahrra released a fresh supply of tears as her eyes swept the study and then she turned and quickly ran to her own room.  Remarkably, the Tyrant’s thugs hadn’t touched anything in there.

She came back out into the main room to find that Jaax had started a fire in the great hearth.  “Sit down Jahrra,” he said wearily, “there is more you need to know.”

Jahrra feared what Jaax would say.  Learning that the entire fate of Ethoes depended on her was terrifying enough.

“As you well know, the plan was for you to go on to school in Lidien.  Obviously, those plans have changed.”

Jahrra hung her head.  She had been so angry when the two dragons had told her this earlier, now she was ashamed at how she had reacted.

Jaax took a deep breath and got right to the point, “We must flee Oescienne.  Tomorrow.  Before sunrise.”

Jahrra shot her head up in surprise.  She opened her mouth to protest, but Jaax cut her off, “Jahrra, I’m asking you to make a decision, a very hard decision, I know.  You can either stay here and await your doom, or you can run with me and escape the clutches of the Tyrant until you are ready to face him.”

Jahrra didn’t speak.  She simply stared into the fire that flickered up the carved hearthstone, hoping its dancing flames would give her some sign of encouragement.

“Jahrra,” Jaax murmured, “I’m asking you to trust me and I’m putting my trust in you as well.  You must make the right decision for yourself.  You are old enough now,” Jaax paused to see if Jahrra was listening, “to make the right decision.  If you remain here, you will be found.  Those that search for you now are a real enemy, not simple school children who humiliate you out of sheer boredom.  Outside of Oescienne you face real dangers as well, but at least you’ll have a chance.  I can’t guarantee that we will evade those who seek us, but I promise that I’ll protect you to the best of my abilities.”

Jaax stopped speaking and looked into the flames with Jahrra.  He knew that this had to be incredibly hard for her, so he squeezed his eyes shut and continued on very carefully, “I know you don’t consider me a friend and I do admit that I’ve been hard on you, but right now we need to have faith in one another in order to survive.  So, do you accept my challenge to face your fate, or do you wish to decline and take your chances here?”

Jahrra swallowed back her pain and forced herself to truly consider what Jaax had just said.  Leave Oescienne?  Tomorrow morning? she thought.  That’s what Jaax had wanted all along, for her to leave and go to school, but now everything had changed.  Hroombra was dead and she wasn’t a common Nesnan after all.  Her life had completely flipped upside down in the course of a single day.  She was a human being, the only one of her kind . . .

Jahrra took a few deep breaths, trying hard to think clearly.  She had to admit that Jaax was right; as much as she wished to defy him even now, it was no longer safe to stay in Oescienne if what she had learned today was true.  Without Hroombra, she had no idea how to fight off the Crimson King.  As much as Jahrra hated pleasing Jaax, and as much as she hated the thought of leaving the only home she’d ever known, she also wished to live and the only way to do that was to leave.  Jahrra closed her eyes and breathed deeply through her nose, a trick Yaraa had taught her.  She repeated calming words, over and over again in her head and after several minutes she had finally cleared her mind enough to allow rational thought.

Jaax watched her intently, practicing his patience as he waited for her answer.  His nerves were on edge and he hoped beyond all hope that this method of the Mystic’s, this idea of offering a choice and not forcing her, would work.  After several silent minutes, Jahrra opened her eyes slowly, and Jaax’s heart leapt as she gazed solemnly up at him.

“Very well,” she said in a whisper, “I’ll go with you.”

***

The night was dark, even darker than usual.  There was no moon or stars to lend any light, and Jaax was glad for it.  The new storm was finally upon them, not a very strong one, but hopefully the intense dark and the wet land shivering with rain would discourage the Tyrant’s men from returning tonight.  There was work to be done and it had to be done before the mercenaries returned.  There were some critical items that Jaax had to destroy, move or secure.  That is, if these items hadn’t already been taken.

As Jahrra slept, the young dragon began looking for any of Hroombra’s old documents that might not have been destroyed.  She had fallen asleep on her old bed very quickly and Jaax was grateful for it. Jahrra must sleep, he thought wearily, she has been through agony today and the long journey north will be a harrowing one.  A light rain began tapping on the roof, steadily growing stronger.  Jaax headed towards the northern end of the building and squeezed into the small storage room where Hroombra had kept all of his most important documents.

As the dragon searched the supply of maps and books that still remained, Jahrra slumbered in her own bed for the last time.  The rain made a rhythmic sound that kept the strange noises of the outside world at bay, but after some time Jahrra awoke with a start.  She sat up in bed for awhile and tried to remember why she felt so bad.  She choked back a fresh wave of tears as she recalled the earlier events of the day.  “Oh Master Hroombra!” she cried silently.

Suddenly, Jahrra was overcome with a chilling sensation of dread.  Whether it was caused by a sound or a movement or a slight breeze just outside her window, she wasn’t sure.  All she knew was that something was wrong, something was coming.  She shot up out of bed and headed to her window.  She couldn’t see anything moving outside, but she could hear Phrym’s low, uneasy nickering above the light din of the rain from his stable.  Jahrra darted her eyes around the dark room and wondered, with a rush of fear, if Jaax had been awakened too.

A sloshing splash and a curse in some unrecognizable language cut through the still night.  The pond! Jahrra thought, her heart in her throat.  Someone or something had just tripped into the small pool in her garden.  At least now she knew where this person was: on the western side of the building.  Without thinking, Jahrra grabbed up her long coat (secretly thanking Ethoes it was dark blue) and darted into the main room.  The great fire Jaax had built up was now only a pile of glowing embers, but the dragon was nowhere to be seen.

Jahrra cursed and tried not to panic.  How many people were outside?  Did they have the building surrounded?  Were they in Hroombra’s study, looking for more documents?  She knew she had a decent chance of making it to Phrym in his stable; it just depended on how much noise she would make dashing out of the front of the building.  For a split second Jahrra thought of calling out for Jaax, but she knew that that would be unwise.  The dragon could be anywhere and if there was a chance the enemy hadn’t heard her, she would certainly draw their attention by calling out.  No, Jahrra thought, I must get to Phrym before they find me.

The soft rain cooled her skin and dampened her hair as she bounded across the uneven field.  Although the drizzle and darkness hindered her sight, she was able to run the expanse of the field with relative ease.  She had gone this way a hundred times and didn’t need any light to see exactly where she was going.

Somewhere in the distance, Jahrra could hear a few shouts over the pounding of her heart; someone had discovered that she wasn’t inside the Ruin.  She began running faster, her cloak becoming heavier with the precipitation and water coating the grass.  Her thick boots and pants were becoming sodden and she could feel the dampness reaching to her toes.  She frantically brushed the dripping hair out of her eyes that had become plastered across her face.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, Jahrra was within yards of the stable, Phrym’s anxious cries urging her on.  She knew she would make it, she had to.  Jahrra smiled in spite of herself, but the moment she thought she’d escaped, she heard the strange voices only a few yards behind her.  Her smile faded immediately and she broke into a full sprint.

Just as the stable came into view through the thick darkness, Jahrra’s foot suddenly and violently broke through a gopher tunnel, wrenching her to the ground.  The fall was fast, and as she crashed to the ground her knee bashed hard against a stone set deep in the soil.  The pain was unbearable and as the shock of the fall left her, Jahrra realized that she was lying helpless in the path of her enemies.  She breathed in and out sharply, trying with eyes stinging, not to cry out or groan.  The wind had been knocked out of her and from the waves of agony rushing up her leg she knew that she had severely sprained or even broken her ankle.  She bit down hard on her lip and dragged herself with her arms out of the path she had made in the grass.  She hoped dearly that the men pursuing her couldn’t see well in the dark.

Jahrra crawled over to a thick growth of some kind of thorn bush.  Oh thank goodness! she thought as she was hit with a wave of relief.  She reached out to pull the branches aside, her hand meeting angry thorns.  Wincing, Jahrra pulled her arm back sharply and at the same time, reached into her boot for her dagger.  She thanked Ethoes a hundred times over for having the sense to grab it before darting out into the damp night.  She began hacking at the branches she felt in front of her, the thick rows of thorns tearing her skin with every cut.

Angrier that the branches heeded her progress than they hurt, Jahrra gave one last aggressive slash and felt the wall of thorns give way.  She wrapped her sodden cloak around her arm and pushed through the cavity she had made.  Luckily, the cloak was thick enough to protect her from most of the thorns.  She grasped at the broken branches around her and tried to pull up as many as she could to block the opening.  She then threw the remaining length of her cloak over herself, hoping its dark color blended in with her surroundings.  The movement caused a sharp pain in her ankle and she let out a small, stifled cry.  She mentally kicked herself for giving into the pain and tried hard to concentrate on keeping still, willing the strange men to go away.

So, this is why Jaax and Hroombra made me take all of those defense lessons, she thought with some relief.  They knew that someday I would be hunted by assassins.  Too bad all the maneuvers I learned won’t work with a sprained ankle!  The rain began to come down harder and as the pounding in her head subsided, Jahrra could hear the strange voices drawing near.

“I know she is around here somewhere, she couldn’t have gone far,” a cold voice said from somewhere nearby, but Jahrra couldn’t tell how near.

“She hasn’t reached the animal, or we wouldn’t be hearing its cries,” answered another. “It still calls for her, so she must be nearby.”

“Maybe we should kill the beast?” suggested a third voice shortly.

Jahrra squeezed her eyes shut and shivered as the cold rain ran down her hot face.  She tasted blood in her mouth.  She had probably bitten her lip when she fell, but who could tell?  The hot aching of her knee and ankle and the stinging of the scratches on her hands and arms grated at her patience.  She could make out Phrym’s whinnies and wanted more than anything to give up her hiding place and run to comfort him.  She knew he was more afraid for her than he was for himself and at that moment she felt the same way about him.

Get away Phrym, she thought desperately, run!  Break out for once in your life!  But she heard him thumping around in his well-secured stable, frightened by the clamor and unfamiliar smells in the air.  Oh! thought Jahrra, where is that accursed dragon when I need him!  They’re going to kill Phrym!  How can he not hear what is going on?

The sound of the rough voices broke the quiet rhythm of the rain once more and Jahrra strained to listen.

“No, if we kill the animal we won’t have bait for the girl.  Just keep looking, someone go and stand guard over the creature to make sure she doesn’t crawl over there.  I’m going to go get the hounds.”

Jahrra relaxed only a tiny bit when she heard the men walking away.  At least Phrym would be safe for awhile, but she knew she couldn’t lay in the brush forever.  These men hunting for her would find her eventually; they didn’t seem the type to give up easily.  Besides, if they had hounds to search for her scent, it would only be a matter of time before . . . Jahrra sighed as quietly as she dared.  For the first time in her life, she wished that Jaax would hurry up and find her.

A familiar, bone-wrenching howl suddenly reverberated through the night, jerking Jahrra from her moment of calm.  A cold sweat broke out over her skin and her heart quickened its pace.  She knew exactly what manner of unnatural beast emitted those baleful sounds: the demon wolves of the Cohn Forest.  So these were the hounds her pursuers had gone for . . . How long have these people been in Oescienne, then? she thought with a horrified shiver.

Jahrra curled into a tighter ball and felt the bitter prick of tears at the corner of her eyes.  If she had only been brave enough to tell Hroombra about her close calls, what horrors might have been prevented?  But it was too late now; all Jahrra could do was reach for whatever last shred of comfort she had left.  She thought of her bracelet, wrapped snuggly around her wrist, but she had no tree to aid her this time.  All she had was a patch of thorny brambles.

The baying of the horrible hounds drew closer and Jahrra’s stomach churned like the sea before a storm.  She gritted her teeth and tried to force her heart to silence its racket, sure that the awful monsters could hear it.

Just as she was sure she would be discovered, Jahrra heard a crashing and a growling in the distance and the angry shouts and hungry yowls turned into terrified screams and pain-laced yelps.  Through her clenched eyes she could see the orange glow of a light coming from somewhere in the near distance.  A few times she heard feet falling just near her head and more than once she felt the ground shaking from the roaring and the heavy footfalls of a dragon.

After several minutes, Jahrra found herself listening to the light rainfall once again.  She was now very cold and her injuries had subsided to a dull throbbing; her head and body aching from her fear.  Her knee was burning with the typical pain of a scrape and she knew that it was probably badly bruised.  Only after she was certain the hounds were gone did she dare to uncurl and let her body ease a little more.  She slowly sat up and looked out into the field, but all she could see at the moment was the dark silhouette of the tall grass just in front of her.  After a few minutes more, she cautiously tried to stand up.

A sharp acidic pain shot through her leg and she fell to the ground wincing.  While she lay on the damp, matted grass clutching her ankle, Jahrra sensed the arrival of something large.

“There you are!” Jaax growled.  “I feared they had captured you!”  The dragon’s voice was raw with anger, but it was also fringed with fear.  “I didn’t detect the men right away, the rain hindered that, and the hounds . . .” He paused and drew a sharp breath before continuing harshly, “Are you alright?  What happened?”

Jahrra told Jaax the story in small spurts of broken sentences.  Talking seemed to elevate the pain in her leg so she must’ve sounded ridiculous.

Jaax sighed with irritation. “Well, at least they didn’t find you, but your injury will slow us down.”

Jahrra frowned.  Before she could grumble however, Jaax continued, “I was hoping the mercenaries wouldn’t return tonight.  It appears I was wrong.  You should have stayed in the Ruin, Jahrra.  I was just in the other room, and Phrym would’ve been fine.”

Jahrra was irked at Jaax’s reaction.  Her injury seemed an inconvenience, which she knew that it was, but the dragon made it sound like it had been her fault, like she had meant to be chased and tripped up by a gopher hole.  Besides, she thought angrily, what good is a dragon if he can’t even keep a few thugs away from me?

“We won’t be able to assess the total damage you have done to yourself until the morning,” he continued.  “You’ll just have to keep it elevated for the rest of the night.  When we return to the Castle Guard Ruin, I’ll find some herbs that’ll help relieve the pain.”

Jahrra clenched her teeth and forced herself to stand.  The pain returned, but this time she managed to stay up, putting all her weight on her good ankle.  She didn’t want to have to ask Jaax for help, but she knew in the end she would need his assistance to get back to the Ruin.

With the use of Jaax’s foreleg as a crutch, Jahrra limped the entire distance back to the building she had called home for so many years.  She tried as hard as she could to think of anything that would take her mind off her throbbing knee and ankle.  The odor of charred flesh permeated through the cool scent of rain and she found it hard to convince her stomach to stop its retaliation.

Jahrra blinked back the tears and swallowed the bile rising in her throat.  In order to forget about the ugliness that surrounded her, she turned her thoughts over to the path her life would now take.  She had decided to leave Oescienne with Jaax without a fight.  It was no longer safe here and she couldn’t possibly battle what was coming.  That is, she couldn’t battle it on her own.

Jahrra struggled as she walked, her sudden grief at knowing she would be leaving her home very soon making her ankle seem to ache all the more.  It was bad enough losing Hroombra, but the realization of leaving her Castle Guard Ruin and her friends was too much to bear.  She swallowed a sob, secretly knowing that she would give anything to be the poor orphaned Nesnan once again.

- Chapter Twenty-One -

Farewell

Jaax left Jahrra at the small entrance of the Ruin while he headed for the larger opening.  She hopped through the door on her good leg and made her way to the main room.  The fire had burned out, but after Jaax threw in some more logs and coaxed it back to life with one fiery breath, the room was bathed in warmth once more.

Jahrra plopped down in front of the hearth and pulled up her rain-soaked pants leg to glimpse the damage beneath.  She whimpered when she saw her swollen ankle, already turning deep blue.  Her knee looked worse than she’d thought; it had been severely scraped and it too was swollen and as dark as black squash.

“That will need tending to,” Jaax noted, eying the bloody gash across her knee.  “We can’t risk infection.”

The Tanaan dragon pulled Jahrra’s old bedding into the room so that she could rest next to the giant fireplace.  He then helped her lie down and found a cushion she could prop her foot on.

“I don’t know if you’ll be able to fall back to sleep, but hopefully you can rest here.” Jaax quickly added the remaining wood to the fire and then disappeared again to find some herbs to help with the ache and swelling.

Jahrra let out a long sigh and looked up at the carvings around the hearth of the fireplace through pain-drowsed eyes.  She had always enjoyed these etchings, but she had never looked at them as closely and as intently as she did now.  They depicted scenes of animals and beasts, the mythical creatures she imagined might live in an enchanted forest, creatures she had once pictured living in Oescienne hundreds of years ago: unicorns, winged horses, griffins, fauns and faun-like creatures, fairies and pixies.  The group of animals and beings were dancing and making merry amidst a floral garland all along the arch of the stone, their movement becoming even more realistic in the flickering firelight.

Jahrra could almost hear the music and laughter as they played and frolicked.  She was so wrapped up in the enchanted scene that she hadn’t noticed Jaax watching her from the far end of the room.  The great dragon dropped the satchel of dried herbs he was carrying in his mouth and said quietly, “There was a time once, long ago, when it was safe to celebrate like those creatures around the fireplace do.”

Jahrra started slightly at the sudden sound of his voice, but he didn’t notice and she didn’t respond.

“There would be many more celebrations, not just the small Fall Festival held on Sobledthe in Lensterans,” he continued.  “All four of the solstice and equinox festivals would be celebrated every year, and especially the Harvest festival and the winter solstice.  In fact, it often took a whole week or two to thoroughly enjoy the festivities the fall and winter ceremonies offered.”

Jahrra continued to gaze at the carvings as she listened to Jaax’s story, glad to be distracted by a tale.  “There was a tolerance in the land once, long ago; a freedom.  In fact it wasn’t uncommon in Oescienne to have many different races living together in peace.  It is no longer like that now, but for one place.  We will travel there soon and you will see how the world once was, how it will be again someday.”

The dragon moved forward and curled up as best as he could in the small room with the tall ceiling and watched the fire with Jahrra.

“How do you know such things Jaax?” Jahrra asked, her voice sincere and free of sarcasm for once.

Jaax smiled in his usual proud way, but she didn’t see it and he didn’t look down.

“I used to live in Oescienne you know, long ago, when I was very young.  I was born during that time of turmoil, when Oescienne had just been dealt a terrible blow.  My ancestors, the Tanaan race of dragons and before that, the Tanaan race of humans, once inhabited this land.  Their king and his family reigned from the castle itself.

“I was told of the peace and prosperity that once flourished throughout the land.  The king of the Tanaan, when they were still human, was very wise and very good and his people thrived and loved him.  Anyone of any race or species could live in his kingdom as long as they followed one rule, the sacred rule of Ethoes, to be tolerant of others.”

Jaax’s voice was rough with emotion and if Jahrra had bothered to look up, she would have seen it clearly on his face as well.  Before his moment of reverie lasted too long, however, Jaax took a calming breath and continued on, “But the evil king in the eastern province of Ghorium, one who is no longer a man but not anything else either, formed an alliance with the cast-out son of Ethoes: Ciarrohn.  The being created through this unnatural bond, the Crimson King, despised tolerance and justice and peace; he preferred war, hatred and self-righteousness.  The king of the Tanaan saw this and saw how the Tyrant was poisoning the land and its people.  The great king realized that his only choice for true freedom was to try and reason with or stop the Tyrant, but it all ended in tragedy.

“As a child, I witnessed the aftermath of the Tyrant King’s destruction, and I hoped that someday, someone would have the power to stop him.”

Jahrra had heard different versions of this story before, but she allowed Jaax to tell his without complaint.  She felt he needed to tell her all of this, that he had wanted to tell her for a long time.  If she had interrupted, it would have destroyed this fragile start to their future, a future that would mean their absolute trust in one another.  Jahrra fought back a grimace, something that had become a habit in all thoughts pertaining to Jaax.  But that would have to stop now, now that everything had changed and now that her life depended very much on him.  Perhaps this is the beginning of our understanding of one another, Jahrra told herself as Jaax went on.

“The Crimson King still searches out those who have defied him, which is why dragons are not commonly seen.  They were the ones that disobeyed the god Ciarrohn from the beginning, and they still resist this new oppressor today.” Jaax finished with a somber tone, his eyes still fixed austerely upon the dancing flames.

Jahrra no longer felt sleepy after listening to the dragon’s strangely soothing voice.  She took a ragged breath and spoke, her eyes glittering from the flames. “Master Hroombra,” she began, swallowing back a lump of sorrow, “Master Hroombra used to tell us tales of the past, tales of the human race that used to rule this land.  He brought me to the Castle Ruin once and told me that when I could read kruelt, then I could know the real stories.  I’ve heard these tales before, but I’ve never truly believed them until now.”

Jahrra paused, still keeping her eyes on the dimming fire.  Then after some quiet reflection she said rather knowingly, “The world is changing, isn’t it Jaax?  It has been asleep for so many years, but something has awoken.”

Jaax looked down at Jahrra then.  The firelight made his features appear gruesome and cruel, but his eyes held a solemn sadness, something she had never seen in him until this day.

“Yes Drisihn, the world is changing,” he said softly, “and I believe Ethoes herself is getting ready to fight back.”

Jahrra brought her eyebrows in close together and looked up at the dragon.  “Why did you call me Drisihn?”

“It’s the name the elves gave you when they found you.  It means ‘Little Oak’.  In the future, I may call you this to keep your true identity safe.  We’ll also need to start speaking draggish more often.  It’s one of the forbidden languages, therefore only those whom we can trust know it.  If we need to speak to one another and there is a possibility that the enemy is near, we won’t have to worry about being understood.”

“My draggish isn’t the greatest,” Jahrra grumbled, burying her face in her pillow.

“Then what a perfect opportunity to improve it, no?”

Jahrra slumped back down on her mattress and sighed.  That was all she needed, another challenge.  But in a way, she yearned for this new distraction.  Unfortunately, it might also remind her of Hroombra.  Jahrra blinked away her tears and focused on the list of words she did know in the dragons’ language.  It was still too soon for her to comprehend that her mentor, and in a way her foster parent, was gone forever.

“Priuht useih choemreh laeni?”  The question was spoken in kruelt, the kruelt only a dragon could pronounce properly: Shall we begin now?

“Tehna,” Jahrra answered grumpily, “Yes."

The conversation continued in the dragons’ language with Jahrra struggling every now and again to answer Jaax’s questions or to comment on some obscure statement.  After the lesson was over, Jahrra found that she could hardly keep her eyes open.

Jaax stood up and grasped a few more logs with his teeth, rolling them into the dying fire.  He breathed gently on them until the green flames became orange, devouring the wood hungrily.  Now, with the improved firelight, he could see the strained look on Jahrra’s face and knew it was because of her fears, the fear of who she was and what might come after her.  Her most immediate dread, that of the men who’d attacked the Ruin earlier, could be taken care of.

“Those men were merely scouts Jahrra, they won’t come back tonight, not for a third time,” he told her after she yelped for the fourth time because of a crash from a log in the fire. “But the sooner we leave Oescienne, the more of a head start we’ll get on them.  They’ll need many more numbers if they are to take on a Tanaan dragon and it’ll take time for them to gather enough troops.”

Jaax adopted a more serious tone when he spoke up again, “In a few hours we’ll begin a journey Jahrra, but not just any journey, an escape.  It will be difficult, but it cannot be helped.  Get what sleep you can now because it may be some time before we get a chance to truly rest again.  Don’t worry,” he assured her as she shot him another timorous glance, “I’ll stay up until morning and keep watch.  I have to finish checking for missing or destroyed documents.”

Jahrra swallowed hard and with a voice no higher than a whisper, asked, “What about those, those wolves?”

Jaax didn’t speak for several moments, his eyes, like Jahrra’s, fixed intently on the fire.  When he finally answered her, it was with some restraint, “They are called death hounds, murhx glehssen, and they are the Tyrant’s newest creations.”

“Grouldahs?” Jahrra turned her eyes towards the dragon standing above her. “Denaeh told us about them once.”

Jaax smiled, but it was anything but friendly. “Oh no,” he said quietly, “grouldahs are an entirely different matter altogether; they are made of something far more ancient than the death hounds and their intent is not nearly as malicious.”  He took a pained breath and continued, “The death hounds are a recent development of Cierryon’s, created using the darkest of magic and the remains of once living things.  They can smell only fear and respond only to their master’s words.  They are truly an abomination in the eyes of Ethoes.”

Jahrra shivered, thinking about how close to death she and her friends had come that fateful day on the outskirts of the Cohn Forest.

“Do not fear them Jahrra,” Jaax said, mistaking her trembling, “I killed them all.  And if the Tyrant’s vermin happen to have more stowed away somewhere nearby, they’ll think twice before offering them as dragon’s fodder a second time.”  He grimaced and added, “Not that I would ever eat anything so foul.”

Jahrra relaxed at Jaax’s words and nodded silently, then closed her eyes and listened to the whispering coals of the fireplace.  She was grateful that she was so exhausted.  If she hadn’t been, she’d never be able to fall asleep.  So much had happened that day, so much pain, so much hurt and anger.  Her entire world had been shattered and she didn’t even know how to start rebuilding it.  Everything that she knew, everything that she believed she was part of, was all a lie.

Jahrra tried not to think about the fact that Hroombra was gone, she tried not to think about leaving Gieaun and Scede and all of her friends, and she tried not to think about never visiting the Black Swamp or Lake Ossar again.  To distract herself, she focused on the gentle fire and the carved fireplace once again.  It took her a long time to relax, but finally her mind calmed enough for rest.  The last thing she remembered before falling asleep was the image of the group of joyous creatures on the rounded top arch of the fireplace.  They were all smiling and all looked happy and content with the world.

As Jahrra drifted off into the land of dreams, she imagined the mystical world carved into the hearth coming to life.  She found herself in the magical meadow where she had first seen the unicorns in the Wreing Florenn so many years ago.  They were galloping about the clearing, sending up clouds of painted butterflies and fairies.  Jahrra was smiling and when she looked around she discovered that she was holding hands with the marvelous creatures she’d only seen in drawings, dancing and making merry.

The music and laughter filled the glen and there was no longer any sorrow.  Jahrra had a sudden urge to glance toward the edge of the meadow, her heart nearly stopping when she saw that her cloaked stranger from so many dreams before was standing just on the edge of the tree line.  He had visited her dream world only a few days ago and she was surprised to see him again so soon, especially in this unfamiliar setting.  For the first time in her dreams, Jahrra smiled up at him, welcoming him, encouraging him to join in with the merriment.  Slowly, the figure stepped back and turned to the forest.

The darkness of the woods seemed to swallow him and Jahrra felt disappointed and sad.  Where is the glowing light he usually brings with him? she wondered.  She grew even more disheartened as he completely disappeared behind the black veil of trees.  Soon after he left her dream world, her growing sorrow and regret caused the bright glow of magic to fade from the meadow as well.  The unicorns became agitated and they scattered into the woods.  The fairies dove and took cover in the ferns and grasses.  The creatures that had been so happy to dance with Jahrra pulled their hands away and kicked at her as she clung to them.

Jahrra was still too caught up in the actions of the hooded figure to notice her unhappy companions.  She stared at the spot where he had just left and wished that he would come back. She barely noticed when the clearing suddenly became dark and cold.  After a few dizzy moments she broke free of her trance.  That was when she first began to feel and smell the fire.

The sounds of howling, a howling so similar to that of the death hounds, almost like a distant, deep siren, went off in the dark.  The trees came crashing down around her, torn and singed by an angry blaze.  And then she felt fear, a fear like she’d never felt before.  A huge, dark figure, too big to be her familiar stranger, moved towards her.  Her mouth went dry and her skin became clammy.  She squinted through the dark to see who this man was, but the heat and smoke of the fire burned her eyes.  All around there were the howls and moans of suffering; animals and beings, the ones who she’d been playing with only moments before, being tormented and murdered.  Jahrra backed away from the looming black figure, feeling as helpless as a rabbit trapped in its burrow.

A smoldering tree came crashing down in front of her and Jahrra jumped up, awaking from her nightmare.  She felt exhausted, cold and petrified.  Her heart raced and for a moment she forgot where she was.  She quickly darted her eyes around the nearly dark room and saw that the fire in the hearth had once again burned down to embers.  The figures carved into the hearthstone were no longer dancing, but staring down at her with malice, as if they had created the nightmare themselves.  Jahrra gave them a cautious look and then turned as she heard a noise.

“Good, you’re up.  I was just about to come and wake you.”

Jaax appeared to have some burned documents at his feet and a grim look on his face.  Jahrra was grateful to be distracted by the dragon’s interruption and she quickly pushed the awful dream from her mind.

“What are those?” she inquired shakily, still half covered by her blanket.

“Maps,” was Jaax’s simple reply.

“Maps?” Jahrra repeated.

“Maps of Oescienne and other parts of Ethoes.  But not just any maps.  These maps mark a few important locations of those opposed to the Crimson King.  It appears the scouts from last night have acquired some vital information and we must leave as soon as you can get ready.”

Jahrra looked at the dragon in bewilderment.  “What, right now?  How will I say goodbye to Gieaun and Scede, and Denaeh?  And what about Viornen and Yaraa?  I was supposed to have an endurance test with them next week!”

Jaax turned his eyes away from Jahrra’s confused and desperate gaze.  “There’s no time now,” he said hoarsely, confirming his weariness and guilt, “and it is better for them if we leave without their knowing.  That way if the enemy ever does question them, they can honestly say that they have no idea where you have gone and they won’t become the victims of torture.”

Jahrra’s eyes burned with rage and her throat ached from this new sorrow.  How much more was he going to ask her to sacrifice?

“Are you telling me that you expect me to leave my home, possibly to never return, without saying goodbye to my best friends!?”  It was a harsh whisper and it made Jaax rather uncomfortable.  He had already done enough to upset her, now he had to do this.

“I know you think I’ve no concern for your feelings; that I only wish to ruin your life, but believe me, if I could make it any other way I would.  You must trust me!” he growled lowly.  “Please. . .”

Jaax was slowly becoming impatient.  He hated doing this to Jahrra, but he was also growing fearful of what the Crimson King might already know.

The embers of the fire burned Jahrra’s cheeks just as the anger smoldered inside of her.  Now what was she going to do?  She was injured, incapable of walking on her own and, although she hated to admit it, Jaax was right, it would be better for her friends if they just left.  She was starting over with an entirely new life and she knew that Gieaun and Scede wouldn’t understand, at least not right now.  But then again, leaving with no word could also be just as damaging.  They’ll think I’ve been kidnapped.  They might even think I’ve died, she thought, her heart breaking all over again.  But I have to make the right decision, the one that is the best for them, even if it is the hardest one I’ve ever made.

Jahrra took a short breath, releasing it in a hiss, and made up her mind.  Through gritted teeth and forced back tears, she said thickly, “We are not leaving Phrym.”

She crossed her arms and stared at the dying coals, her eyes turned away from Jaax’s.

Jaax breathed a great sigh of relief and said, “I wouldn’t dream of it.  Now what do you want to bring along with you?”

Jahrra stood slowly and limped her way into her old room, trying her best to ignore the dragon’s harshness.  The pain had eased a little, but her knee and foot were very swollen and matched the stormy sky outside.  She grabbed all the clothes she could find, her journal, her notes on kruelt and her books of folklore, and the maps she’d made under Hroombra’s supervision.

Looking around the room, Jahrra found her bow and arrows and the stick she used as a sword when she first started her lessons with Viornen and Yaraa.  Hah, she thought bitterly to herself, I wonder if Yaraa and Viornen knew who I was all along.  Then she smiled wryly, Of course they did.  And perhaps that is why they gave me this armlet . . . Jahrra stretched her arm in front of her, scrutinizing the rune-etched beads.  Well, despite everything, it’s a good thing I did better in defense lessons than I did in kruelt.

Jahrra gathered her weapons: her bow and arrows, the long knife from her friends and her trusty old dagger she kept tucked away in her boot.  She also sought out some other items she’d collected over the years, including the scale pendant Jaax had given her (which she looped over her head and tucked beneath her shirt), a bag of dried mushrooms and medicinal herbs and Milihn’s feather from Denaeh, the blue-green rock she’d found in Ehnnit Canyon, and the small leather pouch filled with the unicorn hair she had gathered from the meadow in the Wreing Florenn.

Jahrra pulled back the loose stone in the wall, just in case she had missed something, and found one other treasure.  She scooped up the necklace and earrings Hroombra had bought for her for the party in Kiniahn Kroi and dropped them into the pouch with the unicorn hair.  Finally, she located her small spyglass.  She fingered the smooth, cool brass tenderly as she thought of Hroombra, then wrapped it in soft cloth and placed it gently into her bag.

Once absolutely sure she had everything she wanted to take, Jahrra gathered it all in her spare quilt and dragged it back into the common room.  She looked around for Jaax, but she didn’t see him anywhere.  After taking one regretful look around her home, she pulled her bundled quilt over to the entrance of the Ruin and found the Tanaan dragon waiting in the pre-dawn light with a box of his own.

“I don’t know if Phrym can carry that box,” she said wearily as she hobbled out into the cold, open air.

“I only want a few things from it, the rest we’ll have to destroy.”  Jaax opened the box and pulled out some maps and documents, the book Jahrra had found at the coves, and the compass with the mother-of-pearl facing.  Then he grasped the box with his great clawed foot and turned it upside down.  A tiny object clattered out and hit the ground, rolling to a stop in front of Jahrra.

“What’s that?” she asked, eyeing the small, shiny almond shape in front of her.

“That,” Jaax said, bowing his head ever so slightly, “is an acorn from the Sacred Oak of Ethoes.  That’s where the elves of Crie found you.  They gave me that acorn to keep for you, so you could have something from where you came from.  It is yours now.”

Jaax stepped back a few paces, giving Jahrra room to think more clearly.  She reached down and touched the cool acorn and her fingers began to tingle.  She pulled her hand away sharply, but then remembered how she had reacted to the Apple Tree in Ehnnit Canyon.  She reached down again, and this time she picked it up.  It felt safe in her hand; it felt happy.  Jahrra smiled with tears in her eyes as she decided what she would do with it.  She stood up slowly, grimacing from the ache in her ankle, and shuffled over to the blackened patch where Hroombra’s lifeless form had rested the day before.

Jaax hesitated just a moment, and then made to move towards her.

“Jahrra . . ?” he queried cautiously.  There was concern in his voice, but Jahrra just turned and smiled back at him.

“I’m going to plant it, here, where my home is.  I’m going to plant it where Hroombra,” Jahrra took a shallow breath and closed her eyes, “where Hroombra fell.  It will grow to be a magnificent tree someday.”

Jahrra plopped down onto the cold, charred earth and dug a deep hole with her fingers.  She kissed the plump acorn as if it were a part of her own soul and placed it gently in the hole, covering it up safely.  She left her hands over the freshly buried acorn for a few minutes, trying to transfer all of her hope and energy into the young, unborn tree.

After several moments, Jahrra stood back up and limped over to Jaax and the pile of maps, books and other objects from the discarded trunk.

“What are we to do with these then?” she asked, feeling empowered by what she had just done.

“You can tuck them into your saddle bags, but we must never let anybody get a hold of them, understood?” Jaax said, looking Jahrra squarely in the eye.

Jahrra nodded her head.

“I’ll help you over to Phrym, but you’ll have to pack all of this on your own.  Can your leg handle it?”

Jahrra nodded wordlessly once again.

The short walk to the stable was a grueling one.  Jahrra stumbled a few times on the wet, uneven ground and had to pull herself up painfully each time.  Jaax was patient with her, however, and didn’t make his usual rude remarks.  Phrym was quite pleased to see Jahrra, especially after what had happened the night before.  She had him saddled (with her four-pommel saddle of course) and ready to go in no time.  Getting atop Phrym’s back proved difficult and she had to ride slowly so as to not aggravate her knee and ankle.  By the time Jahrra and Jaax had everything packed up and ready to go, the sun was just starting to come up over the eastern hills.

“Wait, I have to say goodbye,” Jahrra said, her voice trembling a little.

She led Phrym around the southern end of the Ruin, past her old window, beyond her small garden and out towards her favorite eucalyptus tree.  She wished with all her heart that she could sit in its branches one last time, but she knew her leg wouldn’t allow it.  She settled for sitting on Phrym right beside it instead.

Standing on the edge of her Sloping Hill and looking out over the land had finally brought the reality of what was happening crashing down on her.  It was all such a great shock: the tragedy of Hroombra’s death, the unexpected knowledge of finding out who she really was, and the pain of knowing she would be leaving her friends so suddenly.  All of this had numbed her, but finally that numbness was wearing off.  With hot tears in her eyes, Jahrra looked out over the edge of the bluff one last, lingering time.  She knew that leaving with Jaax meant she may never see this place again, and she wanted to make sure that the image she held in her mind would always be one of this scene.

She gazed at her ocean and her dunes, her hills and her lakes, her trees and fields.  Yes, this land was hers and as she stared, her heart breaking, at her home, Jahrra finally understood that her destiny was more important than she had ever dreamed.

“I must save this land,” she whispered to her tree, to her home, to Oescienne.  “I must save it because life isn’t worth living if I don’t.”

Jahrra smiled, tears streaming unashamedly down her cheeks, at the western edge of the Thorbet Mountains, white capped for the winter.  She laughed softly as she recalled her short life in this place so far.  It had meant so much to defeat Eydeth that day in the race.  Now it didn’t seem that important.  She gazed at the five lakes, where she could still recall some of her fondest and earliest memories of swimming and catching bullfrogs and fish.  She laughed as she recalled the time she terrified half of her class with the lake monster she’d created with Gieaun and Scede.

She loved this land more than any one person should be allowed, but she couldn’t help it.  It had shaped her, given her meaning; it had fed her imagination and given her comfort when she needed it most.  Its people and its beauty had raised her, just as much as her parents and Hroombra had.  It was always there, always changing with the seasons, but it was also constant.

Without her realizing it, Jaax had quietly joined her side, staring off into the distance as she did.  He waited awhile before speaking softly, “Jahrra, you must not lose heart.  Things will change, that’s for sure, but you must hold on.  Look at this tree here.”

Jahrra looked at her gnarled tree.  It wasn’t the prettiest tree in Oescienne, but she loved it anyway.  She gazed affectionately at its three trunks, one growing vertically, the other more at an angle and the third lying almost flat on the ground.  It was this third trunk that Jahrra had always loved to sit on.

Jaax continued in a solemn, respectful tone, “This tree was uprooted and thrown down.  It was burdened by the wind, but look at it now.  You would have never guessed it was in peril at some point.  It has survived and not only survived, it has thrived.  Who would have thought that such a strong tree was at one point fighting for its life?  So you see, we all get blown down now and again, but we have to decide whether we want to survive or just lie there and let the elements take us.”

Jahrra couldn’t help but grin despite her sadness. Jaax saw that his analogy had comforted her, and he too gave a genuine smile.

“That sounds like something Master Hroombra would say,” Jahrra commented quietly.

Jaax replied, smiling wryly, “He was my mentor too, you know.”

The unlikely pair let the silence engulf them for just a while longer.  The morning song of the winter birds making ready for the coming spring gradually broke the dawn silence and Jahrra knew that they had to get moving.  With one last shudder of emotion and with one last wearied, defeated sigh, Jahrra turned Phrym back towards the road.  She tried to look at the bright side; tried to look upon this quest as an adventure, but she couldn’t do so at that moment.  Jahrra once thought that she’d had a hard life when she was orphaned, when she was singled out at school, when she had no idea what her past was.  Now, she realized, she had been blessed, and now she was regretful that she never truly appreciated it before.  She was running headlong into the unknown with someone she barely knew.  True, Jaax had brought her here and checked on her every now and again, but he didn’t know her really, and she didn’t know him.  She tried to take comfort in the fact that Hroombra had known him, that Hroombra had trusted him.  Jahrra sat back in the saddle and set her mind on that fact.  Master Hroombra trusted Jaax, therefore so can I.

The girl led her semequin out onto the rain-washed road that trailed down the Sloping Hill.  Behind them, Jaax followed silently, battling a flurry of his own thoughts.  It won’t be easy, the dragon told himself, trying not to be troubled, but I’ll do my best Hroombra, I’ll do my best.

As Haelionn, the great sun god, showed his face on a new day, the dragon, girl and semequin sunk below the edge of the hill, leaving behind the Castle Guard Ruin standing reverently in the broken morning light.

- Epilogue -

The Musings of a Stranger

Much time had passed since the old dragon arrived in the western part of Ethoes, even if it didn’t seem so.  When a lifespan lasts for ages, one year can last only a moment.  One decade sometimes feels like a day and a century, well, that is merely a month.

This is how the strange creature hiding in the vast forest felt about the passage of those thousands of days.  One year, one hundred years, same difference.  Time was time and it really didn’t matter if nothing important happened between the memorable events of history.  That is how it was in the time between the arrival of the old Korli dragon in Oescienne and the winter’s morning when the child Jahrra arrived as an infant, carried from afar by a younger dragon; a descendant of the cursed race.

Time had been flying by and the instant the mysterious child entered this realm, time stopped abruptly and suddenly started ticking away at a much slower pace.  The creature, the tenant of the old forest, had recognized this and paid very close attention to every little detail since.

At the present moment this spy, well wrapped in a ragged cloak disguising both its face and its ancestry, sighed and shook its head as it recalled the past centuries.  The spy hadn’t always watched the old dragon in this forgotten province of Oescienne.  At one time the creature had been busy witnessing events in the east, terrifying events, dangerous events, long ago before the fall of the Tanaan.  It was only after the revelation of the prophecy that this forest dweller paid any attention to the Korli dragon at all.  It had always known that the old reptile would return to the castle of his king, but when that time would come, it couldn’t tell for sure.

The spy only knew that one day the fire-breather would return, but not anytime soon.  It would be too hard for the dragon to come back to this place right away, right after the loss of his royal Tanaan pet, even if staying in the east meant risking the wrath of the Crimson King.  But the old Korli dragon, not so old then, still had a part to play in that horrible war, five centuries ago.  He was the one responsible for releasing the Tanaan from the grasp of the Tyrant.  Not his beloved Tanaan humans, but the new Tanaan dragons.

Oh no, thought the cloaked being with a twisted smile, the old reptile would’ve been unwise to return to Oescienne then, and he was not unwise.

So with careful craftiness, the creature followed the dragon Hroombramantu for years across the vast world, always remaining far enough behind so as not to be detected, always fleeing and hiding from friend and foe alike.  By the time the old fire-breather finally settled back in the western land near his beloved castle, over one hundred years had passed.  The Crimson King had complete power in the east and many of those loyal to Ethoes had disappeared, been captured, or fled to where they thought they would be safe.

The nameless spy sighed and grinned.  It had secrets too; deep, dark secrets that could aid or impede either side of this newly split world.  The creature also knew things about Cierryon, the Tyrant of the East, and it knew things about the youngest son of the Tanaan king as well.  Rumor had spread that the disgraced prince had escaped among the other newly transformed dragons, but so many were killed in their fumbled escape; who knew which of them escaped with their lives?  Nevertheless, the Tyrant King took no chances.  Ever since that very day so long ago, his men have searched for the dragon prince.  There was only one problem: no one knew how to recognize him, where he had gone, or if he was even still alive.

The wind picked up, a chilly, gentle breeze that often signaled the farewell of a storm.  The cloaked figure looked up to the sky, which was blocked out by the many tall trees of the Wreing Florenn.  Then it closed its eyes slowly, allowing only thought to take over.  The girl and the Tanaan dragon Raejaaxorix had left over two hours ago, just before sunrise.  The being searched for the answers it sought and soon it found them.  There had been a storm last night and a fight.  The being’s eyes remained closed, but that didn’t matter.  It wasn’t hard to see what had happened the day before, as if the spy had been there to watch the chaos unfold before its very eyes.

Men, the Tyrant’s men, had finally found the old dragon.  They had located Hroombramantu, the one that would lead them to the girl, the girl that was prophesied to save Ethoes and destroy their master, the Crimson King.  The being now wondered if these men had actually recognized the girl for who she truly was, but it was clear that the dragon Jaax wasn’t about to take any chances.

“Jaax, Raejaaxorix . . .” the stranger hissed, its inimitable eyes glowing with some ancient sorcery, “that ambitious Tanaan dragon would be involved and I know exactly where his loyalties lie.”

How he would be able to keep the girl safe without the old Korli’s help was another question altogether.  He’d had trouble with the girl from the beginning; the creature had seen it all.  Jahrra despised him and the young dragon expected more out of her.  It would be interesting to see how he would protect her from the soon-to-be enlightened Tyrant.

“If only I could have had more influence!” the forest dweller rasped, its eyes sparking with rueful frustration.

It had watched the girl arrive here with interest and had wondered why the great dragon had placed her with the Nesnan family.  The creature had just assumed then, not yet realizing who the young girl really was, that Hroombra was helping some friends that were dear to him.  They wanted a child and he knew of an orphaned one.  Plain and simple.  But in the end, it wasn’t so plain and simple after all.

What the being of the old wood couldn’t figure out (in the very beginning at least), was why had the Tanaan dragon been there?  The creature had known of this dragon, Jaax, before, in another lifetime it seemed, but why was he here now?  What could possibly make him return to this place?  These were the questions the spy had asked itself when it first recognized Hroombra’s reptilian visitor that early winter morning seventeen years ago.

Yet, it should have been fairly obvious, the creature thought with rueful humility, after all, the girl’s arrival was one of those stopping points in time.  But it was that same space of time that had made the being’s mind grow lazy; the same long passage of time that, although it moved quickly, had a devious way of making a keen memory forget.

Despite its suspicions and eager interest, it wasn’t until years later when the child had grown older, that the creature finally began to detect what the girl was.  One spring day, a peculiar wind had blown over the forest, forcing the spy to leave its hiding place deep within the Wreing Florenn.

“I don’t often like to leave this place,” the forest’s tenant now rasped, pulling its ragged cloak tighter as it conversed with its memories, “but a sensation as strong as that one is not to be ignored.”

The feeling eventually led the creature to the old Castle Ruin, a place not visited by the great dragon since he left to save his prince so many decades before.  Safely from behind a grove of trees, the spy had looked on as the dragon and the girl walked about the ruins of the ancient palace.  Then, in a wave of astonishment, the crafty spy finally realized who the girl was.  Of course!  It all makes sense now!  The chosen one is finally in Oescienne, right at my feet!  It had watched enticingly as the girl and her mentor returned to their home.  From that moment on, the creature swore an oath that it, too, would somehow play a part in the girl’s fate.

Several branches rattled overhead, the leaves prattling in protest as the storm gusts combed through the canopy.  The creature glanced upward, frowning in slight irritation.  As the wind died down, the forest dweller got back to its musings.

A few years passed and the secretive creature kept its silent vigil over the girl.  It spied on her from the woods when she went riding with her friends, hoping to approach her when the children dared each other to move closer to the forest, but it was too risky.  Later, the creature visited the girl’s young semequin, at the time a fine foal, and bribed him into easy friendship by feeding him some of the rare treats that grew in the deepest part of the Wreing Florenn.  But once again, approaching the young child herself was out of the question.  It was at that point that the stranger began to think; Perhaps I shouldn’t be seeking the child at all.  I must somehow bring her to me.  And so it developed a way to lure the girl into the forest.

At first it had been difficult.  The girl had been warned away from the Wreing Florenn by those she trusted most.  But after some time, the creature used its power to manipulate a herd of unicorns to use as bait on the girl.  The unicorns had arrived in the forest only a few years before the girl, but they had remained a secret to all in Oescienne.  That is, they were unknown to all except the strange occupant of the old wood.  Taking advantage of their presence and the girl’s affinity towards wild creatures, the spy used its powers to lead one of the magical animals to the edge of the forest, just as the girl was passing by.  Finally, Jahrra’s curiosity got the better of her and she entered the dreaded wood, breaking that first barrier of fear.

Only a year later the girl traveled into the heart of the Wreing Florenn on a dare, finding someone whom she believed she could trust, someone who knew how to influence her.

“The girl could have easily come to harm,” the creature murmured to a nearby tree, its eyes burning with an ancient magic many had forgotten as it thought of all the things that lived in the forest, “but she needed to see and hear certain things; she needed to know about who she was.”

Now Jahrra was on her own with Raejaaxorix and hopefully he had finally told her the truth.  The intense, topaz eyes of the stranger closed slowly against the filtered morning light.  Remembering the events of the past had been quite tiring.

The cloaked being let out a rueful sigh and with a crackling voice said to the damp, still day, “Hopefully Jaax has taken my advice.  Hopefully he’ll lead her to where she needs to go, and hopefully I’ll find them again, for I am not finished with either of them.”

The tenant of the old wood threw back its hood, revealing its face at last, the face of an old, haggard woman.  With a grunt of effort, she gathered her many skirts and layers of clothing about her, pulling her blood-red traveling cloak securely around it all.  She looked back at the dark oaks looming overhead and took a deep breath as she remembered how comfortable she had been in this swamp.

Another cool, late winter breeze rustled through the branches one last time.  As the sun fought its way through the unfurling clouds and treetops above, the Mystic Archedenaeh slowly left the Wreing Florenn and headed north toward the coast, the korehv Milihn flying silently after her.

Pronunciation Guide

Aimhe – AIM-ee

Aldehren – AL-der-en

Archedenaeh – ARK-uh-di-nay-uh

Bhun – BOON

Cahrume – CUH-roo-muh

Ciarrohn – CHI-ron

Cierryon – CHAIR-ee-on

Dhonoara – DEN-or-uh

Draffyd – DRAH-fid

Edyadth – ED-ee-adth

Ellysian – EL-lis-ee-en

Ethoes – ETH-oh-es

Eydeth – AY-deth

Felldreim – FELL-dreem

Gieaun – JOON

Hroombramantu – HROOM-bruh-mon-too

Jahrra – JARE-uh

Kiniahn Kroi – KIN-ee-an KROY

Kruelt – KROOLT

Lensterans – LENS-ter-ans

Magehn – MA-jen

Milihn – MEE-leen

Nesnan – NESH-nan

Nuun Esse – NOON ESS

Oescienne – AW-see-en

Oorn – OH-orn

Ossar – OH-sar

Phrym – FRIM

Raejaaxorix – RAY-jax-or-iks

Raenyan – REN-yun

Resai – RESH-eye

Samibi – SAM-ee-bee

Scede – SADE

Semequin – SEM-ek-win

Shiroxx – SHEE-rox

Sobledthe – SO-bledth

Srithe – SREE-the

Strohm – STROME

Tanaan – TAN-en

Viornen – VEE-or-nin

Wreing Florenn – WRAING flor-EN

Yaraa – YAR-uh

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Once again, a very grand ‘thank you’ to all of my family and friends who have had some part in the creation of this book, especially my cousin John who gave me the honest feedback I needed.

To my partners in crime, Laura and Niño: for never failing to offer up their support and kind words, and for being truly excited about this sometimes perilous journey.

To all my friends on Kindle Boards, especially Melanie Nowak, C.S. Marks, Lynn O’Dell, Maria Hooley, Nicolas Ambrose, Kevis Hendrickson and Disa, who have helped and encouraged me along the way, and who have never growing impatient with my incessant questions; may your goals and dreams reach the highest of heights.

To my friends, Sampa and Becki, for recognizing my potential and for giving my book a place to shine.

Once again, to the students and families of St. Patrick’s School, who have heard Jahrra’s story, and all those who’ve read the first book and yearn for more; yours is the inspiration that keeps my pen moving.

Finally a very special thanks to Donnie, Matthew and Lizz, for keeping my summers full of adventures, both real and imaginary.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Jenna Elizabeth Johnson grew up and still resides on the Central Coast of California, the very place where the Legend of Oescienne first began to blossom into the epic it has become.  "The province of Oescienne is based primarily on the topography of this area, and some specific locations in the novel reflect actual sites.  These places are dear to me, and I wanted to share their natural magic with those who might read my books."

Miss Johnson has a BA in Art Practice with a minor in Celtic Studies from the University of California at Berkeley.  It was during her time in college that she decided to begin her first novel, "I had these stories stored away in my head and had even sketched out some ideas during my studio time.  One day it dawned upon me that if I didn't write these stories down, then I would be the only one ever to enjoy them.  Furthermore, reading such works as Beowulf, The Mabinogi and The Second Battle of Maige Tuired in my Scandinavian and Celtic Studies courses only added fuel to the fire."

Having a degree in art has also aided her in the creation of the world of Ethöes.  The cover images, the map of Oescienne and all of the artwork found on her website, www.oescienne.com, was done by the author. "Having a picture, especially a map, helps me to visualize the story more completely.  I hope that the images I have placed on my site will help my readers get a better idea of what my world looks like.  Of course, you are always welcome to disregard them if the images you have in your head are better than the ones I offer."

Besides writing and drawing, Miss Johnson enjoys reading, gardening, camping and hiking.  She also loves animals and bird watching and has many bird feeders set up in her garden at home.

Jenna Elizabeth Johnson can be contacted through her website: www.jennaelizabethjohnson.com

Other Books in the Legend of Oescienne series:

The Finding (Book One)

The Awakening (Book Three)

Connect with Me Online:

Twitter: https://twitter.com/#!/jejoescienne

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Jenna-Elizabeth-Johnson/202816013120106?sk=wall&filter=12

Amazon Author Page: amazon.com/author/jennaelizabethjohnson

My Blog: http://www.jennaelizabethjohnson.com/

Shelfari: http://www.shelfari.com/jennaelizabethjohnson

The adventure continues in The Legend of Oescienne - The Awakening:

- Prologue -

The Fall

I was born in a time when the world was still recovering from Ciarrohn’s first attack.  Though I had a fair mix of elvish and even dwarfish blood in my veins, I was mostly human.  There wasn’t a word for our kind yet, but years later we would be called Nesnan or Resai.  We were simply called people then, like all the other races.

I was raised in the place of my birth, in the hills near Dhonoara, and although I was considered a great beauty I sought no one out as a husband.  Early on I proved to be talented, set apart from the others, so I was sent away to hone my skills and work towards becoming something greater.  I never saw my family again, but my classmates and school teachers helped fill that void.  I spent many years training, studying and developing my skills and I grew very close to one of my tutors in particular.  I even imagined a future with him, a future that seemed as bright and wondrous as any I could imagine, but fate offered me another option.

Despite my years of study and knowledge, I was still very young among my peers and my mind was easily persuaded by anything bright and charming.  And I had another vice then: the desire for power.  The lingering evil of Ciarrohn had tainted many of us with its poison, but I was weak and I could not push it from my veins.  It would have remained nothing more than a yearning if not for one thing.

An uprising in the north of our province, the province of Ghorium, brought forth a challenger to the elvin king.  He was soon defeated by the human man, young and ambitious and from a far away province in the west.  The people of Ghorium were shocked at this, for Ethoes had granted the kingdom of Ghorium to the elves, but the idea of a fresh new ruler, one who had usurped the throne of the harsh monarch before him, made us all forget that the world had been shifted off balance.

Our new ruler was touring his new kingdom when he came to my secluded valley and immediately I was overcome by his presence.  He was charming, he was handsome, and he had just overthrown a cruel and mighty king.  To our people and many more he was a hero, for the previous sovereign of Ghorium had grown harsh and bitter, corrupted by the lingering infection of Ciarrohn.

This new monarch was also powerful and for some reason or another he was interested in me and, fool that I was, I fell for his beguiling charms.  I must admit, I was overtaken by the king’s fine looks and impeccable manners and he offered me a share in his power, that tantalizing position I had yearned for all my life.  So I turned my back on my tutor, the one who had trained me with patience and kindness, the one who had been by my side through laughter and sorrow.  I knew he loved me and I thought I had loved him, at least before my new suitor arrived.  But that desire for power had a cruel hold on me and I took the offer the human king of Ghorium extended to me.  We married and I traveled to the northern reaches of the province with him to begin what I thought was going to be the perfect life.  A queen, married to a man I thought to be in love with.  How could anything destroy that?

A year into our marriage I learned that I was pregnant.  I had never hoped for such a blessing, for I was certain that the gift of motherhood was something Ethoes denied me; a choice I had made long before meeting my king.  But I must have been wrong, for I was to be a mother after all.  Oh, the joy I felt in those first few months!  My husband, of course, was elated and started making plans for his new son.

“But if it is a princess we are expecting . . . ?” I had said, laughing a little.

“No,” he had answered me tersely, “it will be a son and he will be the most powerful king that ever lived.”

My smile lingered but soon faded as I saw something pass over my husband’s eyes.  He didn’t look quite himself, as if someone else had spoken for him.  I shrugged it off, thinking it might just be his own enthusiasm getting the better of him.  But as the weeks passed he became more and more alien to me, as if he had been wearing a disguise all this time and it was just now falling apart all around him.

My king was no longer charming and kind but brusque and demanding.  He never spoke to me, only to the child growing inside of me, as if I meant nothing to him.  At first I hid my grief, thinking this was normal for a father who was expecting a son, but it finally wore me down.  I spent less time outdoors, locked away in the icy castle in the north of Ghorium, wondering why my husband’s regard was vanishing, wondering if my child would love me when he finally arrived.  Wondering, dreading, if my king would hate me if it was a daughter I gave him and not a son.

In time I learned to avoid my husband when he fell into one of his rages, something that occurred more often than not.  He hadn’t been this way when we first married and I feared this was some hidden part of him that he’d kept from me.  I dreaded even more that perhaps the land itself had ruined him just as it had destroyed our previous monarch, the elvin king everyone seemed to have forgotten.  For it was upon this very soil that Ciarrohn stirred his malice once before; before the dragon Traagien could put an end to his corruption.

If the taint of the evil god was once again taking hold in the hearts of the people of Ghorium, would I too become bitter and hateful?  Would my unborn child succumb as well?  I could only hope and plead with Ethoes that such was not so and use what power and talents I had to protect those I still loved.

During this time, when my husband cast me aside and my worries overwhelmed me, I thought of the man who had cared for me those many years ago.  Bitter tears would well up in my eyes when I thought of him, but I dashed them away.  I had forsaken that gift when I allowed my desire for power to control me.  I had given up love for the chance to be queen of a great province and now I walked alone, not even my ladies in waiting and the servants paying me much heed.

The birth of my son was a miracle in of itself, for when he finally came into this world he took all that he could from me.  It was a surprise that I survived it, for he was strong and I was weak.  He did not cry when he greeted this world and a sliver of fear cut through my heart, but I was told he was perfectly healthy.  I fell asleep, wondering if I had been lied to, not expecting to wake up again.

The days blurred together and I saw my new son seldom.  The king came to me once, holding up our child and grinning broadly, a hint of wickedness in his eyes.  I was worried at first but then he spoke, “Behold, my son, Cierryon.  For he will be as great as the god Ciarrohn and he will one day rule the world.”

I wondered then why Ethoes hadn’t been merciful and taken my life in childbirth.  I saw the truth now; my husband had been poisoned, corrupted by the goddess’s youngest son, the one who never ceased to cause pandemonium in our world.  I feared for myself then, but I feared for my son even more.  My husband called him Cierryon, in honor of the god who had ensorcelled him, but I had my own name for him, a name I would call him when we were together, if we were ever permitted to be together again: Kalehm.

Slowly I healed and eventually I was allowed to see my son.  He was a month old when I was finally well enough to leave my chambers and he stole my heart immediately.  His hair was fair like his father’s but his eyes were dark like my mother’s.  The sudden memory of my family brought tears to my eyes but I quickly hid them, for my king no longer abided tears.

The first few years of my son’s life was a hard time for me, for as my husband fell further into his obsession with the god Ciarrohn, I found myself keeping apart from him as often as possible.  His temper flared at the smallest inclination and he often took his rage out on me in order to spare our son.  The castle became a miserable prison, for myself and those who served us.  The king doted on his child, teaching him habits I would never have dreamed of, allowing him to be violent and giving him everything he desired.

Once I imagined myself taking my child and fleeing with him, running off to some far away province where the king of Ghorium could never find us.  It was a simple trip into the country that changed my mind on the matter.  I took my boy, Kalehm, the name I only used when his father was not around, without informing the king of our plans.  He hunted us down and I was punished for my indiscretion, all in sight of our son.  It wasn’t the pain my husband inflicted on me that wounded me so, but the look on Kalehm’s face.  Indifference.  Seeing his mother’s harsh punishment had no effect on him whatsoever.  That is when I realized that my husband never wished to spare our son when he abused me; he wished to train him to accept such violence and to be immune to its awfulness.

I could have left, yes.  I could have given it all up and gone on my own.  My husband would not have cared one way or the other.  But I could not leave my son to his imminent destruction, so I stayed, despite the cruelty, neglect and turmoil.  I tried to teach my son what I could, when his father was not around, to instill some good in him.  But it seemed impossible.

I should have left that first year, but some inborn maternal instinct wouldn’t let me go.  It wasn’t until my boy’s tenth year that I realized the child I had clung to and tried to save was no longer there.  He had been completely transformed, turned into something spiteful and evil, and when I looked carefully I could see glimpses of Ciarrohn in his eyes.  My Kalehm was no longer in control; he no longer thought or felt, his mind and soul had been completely dominated by whatever sliver remained of the evil god in this world.  Traagien had done his best, but that great dragon had not destroyed Ciarrohn completely those many years ago and now the evil god had found a young, strong host, one I was certain he would never relent.

My heart broke the day I realized my son was lost and I wandered the castle halls, sobbing silently and wishing for an end to my torment.  But such a blessing would not come to me because of a vow I made years before.  I would suffer for my misdeeds, for choosing the desire for power over love.  This was to be my fate and punishment.

I stayed in the castle for a month after my discovery but it was time for me to leave, to strike out into the world and try to forget my mistakes and my failures.  I was correct in thinking my husband would not care about my whereabouts, as long as he had our son at his side.  I left with only the clothes on my back.  Briefly, I thought of returning to my homeland, of seeking out the man I had once admired and rejected but I knew he could no longer love me, if love me he did before I married the king.  As comforting as it seemed to go back to that life, I knew I could not.  I had forsaken it long ago.

The wilderness became my home and I thanked the goddess for giving me a curiosity about the earth and its growing things when I was a child, for I was able to care for myself well enough by taking advantage of its bounty.  I stayed close for several years, within the province of Ghorium, all to hear news of my dear Kalehm, my son.  I knew he was lost to me, but a mother never forgets her children and as the years flew by, word of the young prince became more and more common.  I heard tales of his cruelty and ambition, of his poor treatment of those who were less fortunate than himself.  His father had already begun a new reign of terror and it only seemed to be worsening as he taught his own twisted values to his heir.  I should not have sought out news of the king and the prince, for it shattered my heart anew each time.  But something drove me to seek it and I paid dearly for my curiosity.

When my son reached his twentieth year a distant king, the brother to my husband, traveled from the far province of Oescienne in the west.  With him he brought his sons and allies; a massive army to defeat my husband and put an end to his reign of terror.  We rallied behind him, myself and the common folk of Ghorium.  Only, our king and his son had been planning, building up their own armies and breeding dragons capable of destroying whole villages.

Though the king of Oescienne had dragons to fight by his side as well, they were defeated and slaughtered.  It was amid all this horror that I realized my Kalehm had wielded a power no man, elf or dwarf could ever control.  Ciarrohn had grown strong within him and had helped him obliterate his enemies.

My husband, the king, died in the great battle as well, but all evidence proved that he had been murdered by his own son, the new king of Ghorium.  I did not think my punishment could get any worse.  I did not grieve my husband, for he had been a stranger to me for so long.  What I mourned was that final thread of hope to save my son snapping when he killed his father and all those who opposed him.

The days and months flew by after the defeat of the king of Oescienne and my child grew in power, his soul no longer present.  He became known as the Crimson King, or the Great Tyrant, because that is what he had become.  He took the symbol of the blood rose, our benevolent goddess’s emblem, and adopted it, claiming it to be his own.  When the blood of his enemies had spilled upon the great plain below our province, where he had fought his uncle from the west, the roses had grown and he had taken this as a sign.  But we, the people of Ethoes, would always know.  We would always keep the blood rose sacred, for it was first and foremost the gift from our goddess and not the symbol of violence and death that the Tyrant King had claimed it to be.

After that first war I decided to go into hiding again, living off of the forest in the east and wondering if my son even remembered me.  I visited villages seldom, only to prove that there were still people in the world and to pick up a few supplies I could not gather from the forest.  My son continued to grow in power, threatening to make war upon the neighboring provinces.

There was a rumor circulating as well, one that turned my blood colder than the day I learned who had overtaken my child.  A rumor so horrifying that my dreams became saturated with it.  It was whispered among the people of Ghorium that their tyrant king had plans to destroy what remained of the human race, the Tanaan from the west, those who had so readily allowed their sovereign and his seven sons to leave their kingdom and come to die in Ghorium.  Ciarrohn was ready to take the next step in eradicating the bond Ethoes had struck between the peoples of her world and their land.  He would put an end to the human race once and for all, and leave Oescienne free for his taking.  Never mind that it was on the other side of the world, for the humans were weak and they would be easiest to defeat.

I waited in agony as the weeks passed and the rumors became more frequent.  The very air was vibrating with the essence of doom and many reports from the castle to the far north only confirmed my fears.  My son was creating more of his battle dragons.  He was planning a campaign to the west.

We would never see the Crimson King march with his great armies however, for one month before he was to leave on his great conquering mission, a small band of warriors arrived in Ghorium, led by a young, vibrant man full of passion and vengeance.  I later learned that this young man was the eighth son of the king of Oescienne and he had spent the past several years planning a mission of revenge.  The poor young fool.  But I understood his pain; his need for vengeance.  I could only imagine that the love between a son and his father was just as strong, if not stronger, than the love between a mother and a son.  Though I yearned for him to return to his homeland where he might be safe for a little bit longer, I could not blame him for what he had chosen to do.

I remember the day the Tanaan fell as if it happened only yesterday.  I had left my forest retreat behind and had joined the masses of people who had marched across the plains of Ghorium to witness what they hoped would be the end of my son’s reign.  I longed for an end to this tyranny; for an end to the slavery my child was enduring under the control of Ciarrohn, but at the same time I anguished at the thought of his demise.  I prayed for the release of his soul while at the same time I longed he would be forgiven.  Yet, deep down in the depths of my heart I feared, I knew, that this battle would end in tragedy for all.

I remember it well.  The trees were gilded in flame and gold and the autumn air held a chill that always seemed to linger in the province of Ghorium, no matter the time of year.  We huddled together, the peasants and common folk, alongside those who had once owned grand houses and titles.  We gathered along the edge of the plain like rats awaiting their turn at a carcass freshly caught by wolves.  Silence was our cloak, and fear was the shoes we wore.  The Tanaan prince led his soldiers and even from our great distance, I could tell that he was propelled by pure fury and purpose.  He resembled my husband in his looks and his father who had come and died before him.  But he also reminded me of my son, or of who my son could have been had he not been corrupted by the god.

He sat proudly upon his horse, commanding his great army of men and dragons.  From looks alone I would have said he had a great chance of defeating my Kalehm, but the Korli dragons did not stand a chance against the army of Morlis, their size and pure brutality no match for the more peaceful kruel of their brethren.  As the day turned from dawn, to noon, to dusk, we watched and listened in horror as the great battle dragons burned entire legions and tore to pieces the Korlis charged to aid the Tanaan race of humans.  Slowly, those around me crept back towards the forests, their numb terror nearly keeping them from their escape.

I could not leave.  I stood there, watching as my child destroyed an entire army of men, dragons and elves.  I witnessed the carnage, tasted the metallic tint of blood in the air and smelled the acrid scent of burning flesh on the wind.  I forced myself to observe the tragedy, for it was my sentence.  Someone had to witness what occurred here; someone had to write it down, to remember it.  I was the most appropriate candidate.  After all, it was I who had brought this about.  Had I not been selfish, had I not fallen for the king’s charms, had I been braver and taken my son and fled, then this would never have happened.

The air was rife with emotion; pain, anger, sheer terror.  By sundown I was sure everyone was dead, for the carrion crows were circling and the Morli were backing down, retreating to the north.  But I was wrong.  As the sun dipped behind the distant mountains, a piercing flash of light rent the air.  Blinded, I blinked and sucked in a deep breath.  When I regained my sight, I fell to my knees and felt the blood drain from my body.  My senses were so numb that, for several moments, I could only feel the pebbles beneath my knees and dirt gathering beneath my fingernails.  It felt as if I had fallen into the sea while in a deep sleep and I was struggling to reach the surface.

When my hearing returned to me I gazed off into the distance.  There were more dragons than I had seen before, perhaps hundreds or even thousands of them, but they were not Morli, nor were they Korli.  They resembled Traagien, that great savior from so long ago.  I felt my consciousness slipping away, but all I could hear was screaming, a screaming like no other sound I had ever heard before.  It was the sound of a soul being torn from a body, the sound of a mother holding the broken body of her child.  I could not bear it.  I curled into a ball and rocked myself back and forth, trying desperately to cleanse my ears of that horrible sound.  But it was no use, the wails and shrieks of pure hopelessness tore down my barriers, and I fell . . .

- Chapter One -

Getting Away

Jahrra woke to the sound of her own cries, tearing through the pre-dawn air like a wailing banshee flying down a steep canyon.  This time the nightmare was worse than before, holding her hostage even though she knew it wasn’t real; keeping her within its own evil world even as she tried in vain to escape.  Only after hearing the horrible sounds of the screaming dragons did the night terror release her and allow her to wake.  That was when the shouting stopped and the sobbing began.

Jahrra forgot all about her throbbing ankle and aching knee, as well as the deep, late winter chill that had managed to seep into her bones.  She had even forgotten about her semequin Phrym, now standing sheepishly aside where he was tethered, lightly whickering in concern as he eyed his suffering master.  He knew something was wrong but he could not discern what it was.

Jahrra’s cries were soon joined by the heavy wing beats of some large animal, a dark shadow against the still-black sky.

“Jahrra!” a strong voice hissed, “Jahrra, what’s wrong?”

A great Tanaan dragon landed beside her, pulling his wings in before they became entangled in the low oaks dotting the hillside where they had made their camp the night before.

The distraught young woman couldn’t answer him, or wouldn’t.  The unfamiliar memories from long ago too near and too real for her to do anything other than fight against the pain.  This particular dream had visited her too many times in the past week of travel and it had exhausted her both physically and mentally.  More often than not, the dream changed before she woke, scooping up her own memories and pasting them on to the end.  Instead of the battlefield rife with screaming dragons, it became Hroombra, crying out in agony before his death.  Jahrra shivered and squeezed her eyes shut.  How many times did she have to suffer the loss of the dragon she loved as a father?  But tonight the terrible screams had shaken her from sleep before she could revisit her own horrifying memories . . .

Jaax scanned the surrounding area, his dragon sight not missing a thing, and when he found no immediate threat he narrowed his eyes and glanced down at Jahrra.  He relaxed, then took a deep breath and whispered knowingly, “The nightmare.”

Jahrra simply nodded, clenching her teeth and curling into a ball despite her injured leg.  Her tears still came, but she was no longer sobbing so aggressively.

“What did you see this time?” the dragon asked gently, tucking his legs under his body and folding his wings as he lay down in the cramped space next to her.  He was careful not to touch her, for he knew she was still fighting the vivid reality of the dream.

Jahrra merely shook her head in answer to his question and closed her eyes.  But that action only brought the pictures streaming forward once again.  The stone hallways of a cold, desolate castle, a cruel king with empty eyes, an army of terrifying dragons, the smell of blood and the anguish of a mother’s loss.  These memories weren’t right; recollections from a past she had no part of, from a lifetime that wasn’t hers . . . Gasping, she opened her eyes again and tried to focus on something else.

“Please talk to me Jahrra,” Jaax pleaded quietly as he curled more securely around her.  “I need to know that you are still with me.”

Jahrra was so used to the totalitarian version of her companion that his unusual kindness drew her out.  She took a deep breath and regaled the tale to him, her voice trembling during the worst parts.  She didn’t bother telling him that the dream seemed to be taking place from her point of view, as if the memories were her own.  When it had started worming its way into her usual nightmare regarding Hroombra, it had scared her nearly to death.  Had some long dead spirit somehow possessed her, reliving its turbulent past through her dreams?

When she finished, Jaax released a smoke-tinged sigh and said, “I’ve had nightmares as well, different than yours but nightmares nonetheless.”

Jahrra uncurled a bit and looked up at him. “You have nightmares too?  Why have you not said?”

A knowing grin crept onto the dragon’s face.  “Oh, for the same reason you were reluctant to tell me of yours, I’m sure.”

Jahrra nodded.  No one liked to admit their vulnerabilities.  Of course, her habit of declaring her night terrors for all those to hear made it harder to keep them to herself.  She wondered that if she were to watch Jaax sleep, would she witness some evidence of his own bad dreams?  She thought about what else he’d said, about how his dreams were different than hers.  Did someone else’s memories infiltrate his nightmares as well?

Taking another deep breath and rubbing her swollen eyes, Jahrra sat up and took in their surroundings.  They had been on the road for just over a week (Jahrra’s injury and foul weather creating quite a delay) and so far they hadn’t encountered any of the Crimson King’s soldiers.  Jahrra wondered if it was pure luck or if Jaax had been correct in assuming the Tyrant’s minions would have a harder time finding them should they head inland.  In either case, she was grateful not to have come across them.  Her nightmares and her memories of why they were leaving Oescienne in the first place were bad enough.

Jahrra yawned and moved to stand up, wincing and crashing back down to the ground when she put too much weight on her sprained ankle.  The injury she garnered while escaping her attackers outside the Castle Guard Ruin was healing but it still bothered her, especially on these cold nights when she had been sleeping on the hard ground.

Jaax lifted an inquiring eye, quietly asking if she needed assistance.

“I’m fine,” she grumbled as she managed to pull herself upright.  “Just a little stiff from the cold is all.”  And still a little shaken from her night terrors, but that would pass.

The dragon nodded then watched her disappear into the bushes to make herself ready for the day.

Table of Contents

Copyright

Dedicaton

Prologue -

Chapter One - Advice from a Mystic

Chapter Two - The Plan

Chapter Three - Tales of the Past

Chapter Four - Setting the Trap

Chapter Five - Full Moons and Fierce Monsters

Chapter Six - Denaeh’s Request

Chapter Seven - Ehnnit Canyon

Chapter Eight - The Apple Tree

Chapter Nine - Runes, Riddles and Days by the Shore

Chapter Ten - The Fall Festival

Chapter Eleven - Fright and Flight on a Sobledthe Night

Chapter Twelve - Lessons, Languages and Exams

Chapter Thirteen - The Ninth Cove

Chapter Fourteen - The Great Race of Oescienne

Chapter Fifteen - Dealing with Dragons

Chapter Sixteen - Eydeth’s Confession

Chapter Seventeen - The Magehn’s Journal

Chapter Eighteen - Painful Words and Stubborn Ways

Chapter Nineteen - Terror

Chapter Twenty - The Words on the Wall

Chapter Twenty-One - Farewell

Epilogue - The Musings of a Stranger

Pronunciation Guide

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Other Books

Excerpts from The Awakening: