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 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 grumble
d, 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.”
The Beginning Page 39
