The Beginning

by Jenna Elizabeth Johnson

  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 ly
ing, 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, but 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’s 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.