The Ascending

by Jenna Elizabeth Johnson

  “Dervit! Hang on! I can’t stop!” Jahrra breathed.

  Sweat stung her eyes, and the muscles in her legs were burning. Phrym’s heavy breathing and frothing mouth told her he was wearing down, too.

  “No, Phrym, no!” she rasped, tears forming in her eyes. “You have to be strong! Remember the race against all those other semequins up Demon’s Slide? That was much harder than this!”

  He must have taken her words to heart, because he blew out a great breath and pushed himself a little harder.

  They reached the turn that would point them in the direction of the gate once again, and only when they got there and Jahrra bothered to look up did she notice Ellyesce had stopped his semequin.

  “What are you doing?!” she screeched. “You’ll be shot!”

  “Better me than you!” he snarled. “The elves are ready for us, I see them at the gate. Now go!”

  He gave Phrym’s rump a hearty slap as he swept by them, making the marble grey semequin jolt forward once again. In the same instant, Ellyesce let go of the lead rope he’d used to guide the pack horse. Rumble sensed his freedom, but instead of running off down the road in terror, he followed after Jahrra and Phrym.

  The gate was a few dozen feet away, and now Jahrra could see the elves. At least, she noticed some tall figures dressed in armor from head to toe. She sensed more than noticed the archers waiting between the crenellations, especially when a fresh wave of arrows launched from somewhere above her rained down upon a section of road they’d left far behind. Good. The citizens of Cahrdyarein were fighting back.

  She and Phrym would have slammed right into the solid wooden door, but someone or some mechanism from inside started to crank it open. Hot relief flooded over her, but before disappearing inside, she shot a final look over her shoulder.

  Ellyesce still sat atop Gliriant on the exposed hillside below, the vast expanse of all the mountain peaks they’d spent the past three weeks crossing visible between the gaps in the trees. But, it was a sight farther down the road that forced her heart up into her throat. The Crimson King’s men spilled around the last bend of the mountain, their red cloaks like blood oozing from a wound as they crawled up the same road she and her companions had been on just minutes before. She could tell by their swift movement that they pressed their quahna hard, hoping to catch up with their quarry before the great wall of Cahrdyarein blocked them off from danger. But, if the enemy had made it this far up the mountain, where was Jaax?

  White-hot fear threatened to petrify Jahrra on the spot. Where was her guardian? How had they pushed past him? Was he hurt? A sob of anguish fought to suffocate her, but she pushed back against it. No. She couldn’t think about that right now. She had to get off the road and beyond the gate.

  As Jahrra struggled against her emotions, another volley of arrows flew from the Tyrant’s archers. Ellyesce was still vulnerable. He would be hit, and she would lose him, too. And just when she was starting to trust him. She should cast those morose thoughts to the wind and get herself inside the city wall, but she could not look away from Ellyesce. He was so still and quiet, and then he shimmered ever so slightly. Jahrra narrowed her eyes. What on Ethoes …? Had the hard ride exhausted her so much she was seeing things? She shook her head and blinked several times, clearing her vision, then focused back on Ellyesce. A pale, semi-iridescent green film spread from the elf and formed a bubble around him and his semequin. So, she wasn’t seeing things after all.

  “My lady!” one of the elves called to her, his cool voice breaking into her thoughts. “You must get inside the city walls!”

  The latest volley of arrows from the soldiers below struck at that moment, shattering against the wall of the city, lodging themselves into the shields the elvin guardians lifted just in time, and hitting the ground at Phrym’s feet. Another handful slammed into that strange bubble surrounding Ellyesce, but to Jahrra’s shock and immense relief, bounced right off.

  “Now!” the Cahrdyarein elf demanded. He reached up and grabbed Phrym’s reins just below the bit.

  Jahrra swallowed and nodded, coming out of her slight daze. “It’s okay, Phrym. He’s a friend.”

  As the elf pulled them inside, Jahrra turned to check if Ellyesce was following them. What she saw, however, made her gasp in horror. Her companion was slumped over in the saddle, the bloody tip of an arrow protruding from his back.

  “Ellyesce!” she screamed, trying to jerk Phrym in his direction.

  Only, the guard’s hold remained firm. “We’ll see to him. You must get inside and out of range.”

  How could he be so calm? She wanted to snap at him and tell him to mind his own business, but just then a huge emerald shape came speeding around the bend in the mountain below. A jet of blue-green fire shot forth, engulfing the small army of red and black clad soldiers.

  “Jaax!” Jahrra screamed, her relief and delight making her sway in the saddle.

  Before she could see what happened next, a swarm of people, like a tenacious ocean wave, overwhelmed her and Phrym.

  “Lady Jahrra! Quickly, we must get you into the city!” an elvin woman in leather armor said.

  She took a hold of Jahrra’s arm and tried to help her down from Phrym’s back, but Jahrra protested.

  “No. Ellyesce,” she said, her voice scraping against her raw throat.

  “We’ve got him, milady,” another elf grumbled.

  Jahrra blinked down at him. It wasn’t the one with the calm voice, but a taller, broader elf. Other than that, she couldn’t make out any more details. The elves who had been outside the gate when she arrived were armored, complete with helmets that hid most of their faces.

  A small commotion closer to the gate snapped her attention back in that direction. She hadn’t realized they had moved so far behind the wall.

  The armored elves led a horse, no, a semequin, by the reins. A stream of bright red blood painted the side of his white neck like a scarlet banner. The figure in the saddle sagged forward, one arm draped limply down the semequin’s shoulder, more blood dripping from his fingertips.

  Jahrra cried out again. “Ellyesce! Please! Help him!”

  “We will do what we can.”

  Jahrra turned toward the soft voice. It was the woman soldier again. She was the only one of the warriors present who wasn’t wearing a helmet. Long, pale blond hair, so pale it was nearly white, fell in a neatly braided rope down her back. Her eyes, clear blue as ice, held sympathy and she possessed the harsh beauty of the elvin races.

  Before she could study the elf further, a sickening wave of dizziness overcame Jahrra and she listed in the saddle. Dervit, who she’d nearly forgotten about in the chaos at the gate, called out her name and leapt onto Phrym’s neck as she began to fall.

  “I’m okay,” she breathed, holding a hand to her forehead as spots swam before her eyes.

  “No, you’re not,” the elf said again, taking her by the shoulders. “You’ve just had a run for your life, and this thin air can get the better of you if you’re not used to it.”

  “Huh?” Jahrra murmured, a second wave of nausea and dizziness stealing her concentration.

  “Shock and altitude sickness,” the younger elf, the one with the voice she liked so much, answered.

  She tried to turn to look at him, to catch a glimpse of his face. He had finally taken off his helmet, and when she got a clear view, she caught her breath. Jahrra had seen good-looking young men before. As a matter of fact, all elves had that air of beauty around them, including Ellyesce and her friend Dathian back in Lidien. But something struck her about this elf in particular. He had the same pale blond hair as the woman, but his eyes were even clearer than hers. And they were so intense. Almost as intense as Jaax’s eyes when he was angry about something. Unlike Jaax, however, the elf held himself confidently without the extra arrogance her guardian often displayed.

  “I hope my visage doesn’t frighten you,” the object of her interest crooned in that calming voice of his.

  Jah
rra’s brain resurfaced from its sea of wooziness just long enough for her to register embarrassment. Her cheeks flared scarlet.

  “No,” she breathed. “I–”

  Jahrra paused and took a deep breath. What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she form words? Before another thought could surface to her mind, the vertigo, which had only been teasing her moments ago, flooded in like a deluge, filling her skull to the brim and plunging her into darkness.

  -Chapter Eight-

  Cahrdyarein

  Jahrra woke to the familiar sound of a crackling fire and an image of two, big brown eyes framed by a lightly freckled face gazing down at her.

  “Jahrra? Jahrra, are you alright?”

  She groaned and rubbed her hands over her face. Had she fallen off Phrym? Where was she? What had happened?

  “Jahrra?” the limbit repeated.

  Jahrra turned her head and caught a glimpse of her surroundings. She was in an unfamiliar bed, and Dervit was standing on the seat of a wooden chair, leaning over her.

  “You were mumbling in your sleep.”

  Jahrra moaned again and threw her forearm over her eyes.

  “What happened?” she rasped.

  “You don’t remember?” The limbit’s voice squeaked in disbelief. “The Crimson King’s men were after us, and we had to make a run for it. You got sick and lost consciousness. We’re in Cahrdyarein, and Ellyesce is with the healers. Jaax said–”

  But that was as far as he got. Jahrra shot bolt upright. “Jaax! Ellyesce, are they …?”

  She trailed off as bile rose up her throat. She had to press the back of her hand against her mouth and take deep breaths to will the sick feeling away. Her head spun, and there was a pounding ache in the center of her skull.

  “They’re fine,” Dervit assured her. “The arrow hit Ellyesce in the middle of his abdomen, on the far left, and went straight through.” The limbit demonstrated with his hands. “Didn’t even nick any organs. It just bled a lot.”

  “And Jaax?” Jahrra rasped, recovering a little.

  “The elves had to remove some arrows from his wings, but I think he’s angrier at being held up than getting shot.”

  Jahrra took a deep breath and leaned back against the mountain of pillows piled behind her. She glanced down quickly, just long enough to realize she was wearing the same clothes she’d had on during the attack. The elves must have carried her from where she collapsed. Ugh. How mortifying.

  “How did the Red Flange get past Jaax?” she asked.

  Dervit shrugged in response to her question. “You’ll have to ask him yourself. When you, um, passed out, he snapped at the elves to bring us here and for me to watch over you.”

  Jahrra smiled at him, despite the situation. He seemed very determined to prove a sound and reliable guardian. She pulled in a deep breath and let it out slowly, surveying her room in the process. It was in the shape of a near-perfect circle, a cabin of sorts made mostly from pine logs. Her bed was comfortable, and the sheets smelled clean. Several small windows built into the continuous wall let in the weak, early spring sunlight, and a wood plank door was located off to the right. The only other furniture in the room was the chair Dervit stood upon, a bedside table, a trunk at the foot of the bed and a rustic sitting couch, complete with large cushions. Directly opposite her was a stone fireplace with a cheerful blaze brightening and warming the room.

  Sinking further into the pillows, Jahrra tried to will the lingering dizziness away. As embarrassing as fainting in front of a crowd of strangers was, it could’ve been a lot worse. Ellyesce might be dead now instead of just wounded; she, or Dervit, or Phrym could’ve been shot; Jaax may have been captured and chained by the Red Flange …

  Feeling sick for an entirely different reason, Jahrra leaned forward.

  “Where is Jaax? And Phrym?” she asked Dervit.

  The limbit removed his hat and started worrying it between his hands. “Phrym is with the other horses, in the stable just down the road, resting. Jaax is in a meeting with the steward of Cahrdyarein.”

  The worry churning in Jahrra’s stomach turned bitter. Had her guardian even bothered to check on her? She opened her mouth to ask, but a sharp rap on the door interrupted her.

  “Lady Jahrra? May I come in?”

  Jahrra froze. The voice was familiar, but where had she heard it? The image of ice-blue eyes set in a handsome face framed by pale blond hair came to mind. The elf who’d spoken to her before she passed out. Jahrra placed her hands over her face and gave a groan. As much as she’d like to throw the sheets over her head and hide, it would only be worse if she didn’t answer. Besides, Dervit was there playing witness to everything.

  Taking a deep breath, Jahrra dropped her hands and said with what she hoped was an even tone, “Uh, yes. Come in.”

  The door cracked open, and she got a swift view of a wide dirt road dusted with snow, a clustering of more cabins like her own, and a sliver of blue sky before the elf stepped in. He was no longer dressed in armor, but wore instead a pair of black pants and a blue tunic. The clothing was simple, but elegant, and Jahrra found herself admiring the way the design complimented the elf’s regal features.

  “I see you’ve recovered well,” he commented, looking her up and down.

  “Yes,” she managed, scraping her hair out of her face. “I just woke up. Dervit here was telling me what I missed.”

  “Ah! The brave limbit. I must confess, the sight of that dragon bearing down on us in all his flaming fury had many scattering for cover. This lad here, however, put himself in harm’s way and even took the initiative to tell Raejaaxorix what was going on.”

  Jahrra felt her eyebrows arch of their own accord, turning her stunned gaze onto Dervit. The limbit, who had stepped down from the chair and now stood beside it, turned beet red.

  “For a while, I was worried he might end up like those red and black clad soldiers,” their visitor continued.

  When Jahrra found her voice, she said, “Then, I guess I can’t say I’m sorry that I passed out. Jaax is nearly impossible to reason with when he’s in one of his dark moods.”

  The elf actually laughed, a sound that made Jahrra’s skin tingle.

  “Your friend here handled it quite well,” he added with a charming grin.

  Jahrra offered her own smile. “He’s been proving himself very helpful since we ran into him just before the crossroads.”

  The elf nodded and then remained quiet for a spell. He spent a few moments simply studying the room, just as she had.

  When the silence became too oppressive, Jahrra cleared her throat and said, “I, um, wanted to thank you for helping us. At the gate. I do believe our entrance was a little more dramatic than what we had planned for.”

  “Do not apologize,” the elf insisted, stepping farther into the room. He moved with an agile grace Jahrra recognized all too well. She imagined he was an accomplished swordsman and wondered if he would be open to pitting his skills against hers later. She’d not had the chance to practice these past few weeks, and she was eager to get back to her training.

  “In fact, I should be apologizing. I have not yet given you my name. I am Keiron, Keiron Fairlein.”

  He held out a hand, and Jahrra had no choice but to accept it. She expected him to shake it, but instead he gave a slight bow and pressed his lips to her fingers. A blush burned across her face. Which was ridiculous. He was just being polite, and even if he had any interest in her whatsoever, she’d garnered the attention of young men before. What was so different about this elf?

  Jahrra quickly brushed away those thoughts before they got her into trouble. “Pleased to meet you, Keiron,” she managed. “As you know, I am Jahrra, and this is Dervit.”

  She indicated the limbit, who was gazing at Keiron with a strange mix of astonishment and curiosity.

  “It is nice to meet you both, but I think I shall leave the two of you to rest now. I simply wanted to check in on you and introduce myself. I understand you’ll be staying
with us for a few weeks or more, so I hope you will take the opportunity to make yourselves known to the citizens of Cahrdyarein.”

  He bowed again, and turned to leave but paused when his eyes fell upon Jahrra’s belongings: her saddlebags, longbow, quiver and sheathed sword, piled against the far wall. Keiron glanced over his shoulder and gave her a wicked grin.

  “And, I hope you’ll do me the honor of joining me on the practice field when you are feeling up to it. I would like to see what you can do with that sword.”

  Jahrra’s heart kicked at her ribcage, and her mouth curved into a brilliant smile.

  “Oh, I will definitely take you up on that offer!” she exclaimed.

  “And I’ll hold you to that promise.” Keiron smiled again, gave her a quick wink, then headed out the door.

  As soon as the elf was gone, Dervit climbed back onto the chair, like a dog returning to his bed after someone he didn’t trust left his home.

  Jahrra crossed her arms casually and arched a brow at her limbit friend, considering Keiron’s words from earlier.

  “Did you really stand up to Jaax?” she queried.

  Dervit grumbled and looked anywhere but at Jahrra. “He was still spitting bits of fire when he landed, and then he headed straight for us. I didn’t want him to hurt you.”

  Jahrra felt a warm, comfortable sensation settle around her heart.

  “Thank you, Dervit,” she said sincerely, placing a hand on his shoulder. “But you needn’t worry. Jaax would never hurt me.”

  Dervit shook his head. “Not intentionally,” he agreed. “I was just worried that he was too upset to know he was still breathing fire.”

  Jahrra nodded. “That very well could be true. Either way, I appreciate your valor, but I wouldn’t want you to get hurt, either.”

  Another knock at the door, this one softer than Keiron’s, had Jahrra thinking she should probably get out of bed. Grunting a little at the new soreness in her muscles, she made her way to the door, determined to open it herself this time. On the other side stood a female elf dressed in a formal gown of silvery blue fabric. Clustered behind her was a small crowd of young elvin men and women, all of them similarly dressed in varying shades of blue, silver and white.