The Ascending

by Jenna Elizabeth Johnson

  Safe, but for how long? she had wondered to herself, until she’d heard what the Tyrant’s men were talking about. Their whispers and chatter around their fires at night betrayed their plans. Someone behind Cahrdyarein’s impenetrable wall was playing traitor, and he or she was planning to let them in through a secret entrance after nightfall and lead them straight to the dragon and the human girl he guarded. Denaeh had wanted to slip away right then and there in order to warn Jaax and Jahrra, but she knew she walked a perilous line, keeping so close to the enemy. The Tyrant’s mages would surely detect her presence should she veer from her current path, and although she was confident she could destroy them with her magic, it would mean her end.

  “You cannot afford to die now,” she’d murmured to herself. “You still have a role to play in all of this.”

  Denaeh had foreseen enough of the future to know her involvement in Jahrra’s life was far from over.

  “You must think of another way,” she’d decided instead.

  Then the rough voice of one of the soldiers far below her had snagged her attention.

  “We cannot strike until reinforcements arrive!”

  The memory was beginning to wear thin, so the Mystic borrowed a little of her run-down magic to bring the image in her mind to the forefront. The man’s rich red robes and unruffled appearance had told her he was one of the mages. Yes, he would have insight into things unseen.

  “How much longer must we delay?” another had answered him, his impatience ringing clear in his tone.

  The mage stilled for a moment, but Denaeh doubted it had anything to do with seeking an answer. She knew how these dark magicians operated: most of their power was wasted on ostentation more than anything else. People feared them, and so they took advantage of that fear by using illusion to fan the flames.

  “The army marches now, even as we speak.”

  The skurmage had smiled then, a cruel twist of the lips mostly hidden by the shadow of the hood pulled far over his head.

  “They are fifty miles away, resting for the night. They will be here in two days’ time.”

  The other soldier must have been happy with this answer, because he’d nodded his head and said, “I shall go inform the high commander.”

  Denaeh had clenched her teeth and slipped away, climbing farther up the mountainside. Once she’d reached a large, flat area composed mostly of granite, she’d stopped.

  This should be far enough away …

  Milihn, who’d been acting as lookout below, grumbled from the top of a nearby pine, letting her know he had taken up his duty as lookout in this new location.

  Denaeh had thrown her hood back then, her vibrant, scarlet hair tumbling out. She shut her eyes and turned her face to the sky. Taking long, deep breaths, she’d initiated a chant, the words ancient and moving. As the spoken song grew deeper and fell into a rhythm, the Mystic thrust her conscious down into the earth. She needed to find water … Ah, there. She recalled the cool, clean, smooth feel of it swirling around her senses. Denaeh’s mind latched onto the damp that rested beneath the rock and then, like a bolt of lightning, zipped along, using the pliant liquid as a conduit for her magic. A cavern stream here, a trickle of snowmelt there … Eventually, she’d slowed her mind down, seeking out the presence of a large group of people.

  And then she’d found them, the blood pumping in their veins like the water her conscious had used to travel to their camp. Locating a nearby tree, she’d hitched onto the trickle of water climbing up the roots and followed it until she was high enough to sense what the enemy was up to. For ten minutes, she’d let her awareness flow through the small forest, counting the soldiers and gauging their intent. Once she was through, her heart had dropped into her stomach. There were over five thousand, well-armed, highly trained warriors, a third of which rode the dreaded quahna.

  The mage had been right. In a few scant days, they’d be upon Cahrdyarein, and Jahrra and her companions would be trapped. And they would be slaughtered. The city could not hold off such a great number of armed men, especially if they had someone to let them in without a struggle.

  Denaeh had gritted her teeth, the distance her mind had traveled already causing a headache. Desperate to do something to avert this impending disaster, she’d let her mind flow free again, trying to learn the landscape. Perhaps she could conjure a wind to blow them off the side of the mountain. Maybe there was a waterfall nearby and she could divert the water … No. Nothing. The Mystic cursed. There was nothing she could do.

  Feeling angry, she pushed her wandering mind up through the trees until it burst free. It latched onto the fog shrouding the mountaintop, the closest water source it could find. From there, she’d gazed down onto the only winding road into Cahrdyarein from the south. The massive army was a black and red speckled disease clogging the narrow ribbon of road, stretching for a mile or two back. How on Ethoes would Jahrra and Jaax escape this horde? Even Jaax, with his skill in combat and ability to breathe fire, would stand little chance against such a number.

  Denaeh had been ready to call her mind back when something caught her attention. Just below her, some twenty feet or so away from the edge of the camp, a group of massive stones stuck out of the earth to form a small peak. Snow had gathered there, kept frozen up here where the temperatures remained frigid all the year round. Curious, she’d allowed her conscious to float to the snowpack with the drizzle from the fog, and there she found another water source to travel through: ice.

  Instantly, Denaeh knew what she must do. Feeding more magic into her detached mind, she had forced the ice to grow, clawing deeper into the rock, expanding, cutting, warping. In her memory, she watched as massive hunks of granite began to fall away from the mountainside, tumbling down upon the road below. Screams of terror and alarm rose up as the stones crashed down, crushing those soldiers at the army’s head. The stone and earth rained down as Denaeh, her forehead beading with sweat, continued to pour magic into her act of destruction. She pushed and pushed, her head swimming on the verge of unconsciousness. Before she blacked out, she tried to get a sense of the damage she’d done, but to no avail. She remembered hoping it would be enough to clog the road and impede the Red Flange’s march on Cahrdyarein.

  But that was all memory now. She had woken up, exhausted, only to crawl until she found her current refuge. Denaeh sighed, drawing her blood-red cloak tighter against the chill as her mind returned fully to the present. It would take her a few days to regain her strength, and even then she wouldn’t be able to use much magic. She had used it all to create the landslide, and she could only hope it had been enough.

  -Chapter Thirteen-

  A Secret Meeting and an Unwelcome Surprise

  The Spring Equinox ball lasted late into the night, with Jahrra spending most of that time dancing with Keiron. In between dances, they would take advantage of the refreshments offered by their hosts, and toward the end of the night, Jahrra was given the chance to rest when Keiron’s duties as the regent’s son required him to dance with the other young ladies present.

  “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he would say with a disappointed glint to his eyes.

  Jahrra was flattered by his attention, and she found herself longing for his return. As she watched him from the archway separating the hall from the cavern, she started to wonder if maybe Dervit had been right about the Resai elf’s intentions, after all. Jahrra sighed. It was too bad they would be leaving so soon. She would have liked to spend more time with Keiron.

  Jahrra’s thoughts must have somehow conjured up her limbit friend, because out of the corner of her eye, she spotted him not too far from where she stood. Smiling, she turned, gathered her blue skirts and headed in his direction.

  Dervit noticed her approach, his smile growing wider as he exclaimed, “Jahrra! Come meet my new friends. This is Ardion, Brell and Frain. They own shops along the main road through town.”

  Jahrra introduced herself, but before she could join in the conversation about t
ariffs, taxes and the price of goods, Keiron returned to scoop her up once again.

  “There you are! Come along. The band is going to play three more songs, and then, Father is going to bid us all goodnight.”

  Jahrra shot Dervit an apologetic glance, but he only held his drink up in a toast before getting back to the conversation with the merchants. Jahrra laughed. She was glad her friend was having a good time.

  For the final three songs, Keiron led Jahrra around the smooth floor of the cave, eventually moving them closer to one of the darkened alcoves and away from the other dancers. The musicians, in turn, slowed their music until only a light, sweet melody played. The end of the final song.

  “Jahrra,” Keiron whispered, bringing them to a stop but keeping his hand at her waist.

  Jahrra blinked up at him, suddenly aware of just how intimate their current situation was. She swallowed back an overwhelming wave of nerves.

  Keiron stepped closer, both hands resting above her hips now, his head angled and tilting ever nearer. Jahrra’s heart kicked up its pace. He was going to kiss her. For a split second, sheer panic threatened to take over. Working on getting her erratic breathing under control, Jahrra angled her own head and closed her eyes, waiting for Keiron to close the small distance between them.

  “Jahrra?”

  Her eyes flew open at the sound of her name, and she gasped, pulling away from Keiron. The Resai elf rocked forward but disengaged the kiss at the last moment. His fingers tightened on her waist, and he jerked his head around to glare at whoever had spoken.

  Sharp embarrassment, and a small dose of irritation, swelled in Jahrra’s heart. She turned her head and glanced down. Dervit. He stood there, looking a bit awkward, and she wondered why he had come to interrupt them.

  The limbit tipped his hat and then fidgeted for a while. “Sorry to intrude, but the regent has bid us all farewell, and Jaax wanted me to find you and tell you it’s time to return to the cabin.”

  Jahrra glanced up at Keiron. His face was expressionless and impossible to read in the weak light, but going by the tightness of his jaw, he was not too pleased by the disruption either.

  “Alright,” she gritted out, slipping out of Keiron’s grasp.

  Before she could step toward her small friend, however, Keiron reached out a hand and gently took her upper arm, pulling her in to whisper something in her ear.

  “Meet me tomorrow, just after sunrise, at the Round. There is something I’d very much like to tell you.”

  He let her go and smoothly stepped away from the wall, heading in his father’s direction without a second glance. It took Jahrra awhile to regain her wits. That warm tingling feeling from his closeness had spread to the very tips of her fingers and toes.

  Shaking her head slightly and trying not to smile too broadly, Jahrra headed toward the exit, Dervit following behind her on somewhat unsteady feet. Beyond the cave and standing at the entrance to the main hall, she spotted Jaax and Ellyesce. The two of them were chatting casually with two of the regent’s advisors.

  As she approached, Jaax looked up at her, then turned to the men. “And here is Jahrra now. Goodnight gentlemen, it was a pleasure talking with you.”

  The robed men gave Jaax and Ellyesce a slight bow of the head, and then Jaax returned his gaze to Jahrra.

  “Ready to go?”

  No, she wanted to say. Instead, she sighed and replied, “I guess so.”

  Jaax quirked an eyebrow at her and looked at Dervit. He shrugged and smiled nervously, careful to avoid Jahrra’s eyes.

  “You seem more jovial than usual,” Ellyesce noticed with some amusement. “I take it you had a good time tonight?”

  Those must have been the right words to distract Dervit from his uncomfortable encounter with Jahrra and Keiron, because his face broke into a bright smile.

  “Good food, good drink, good conversation! The topics I discussed tonight would never have been brought up in my village even if a million years were to pass!”

  Jahrra forgot about her annoyance at her small friend and laughed. She couldn’t help but be happy for him, even if he’d come to fetch her at a very inopportune time. But maybe it had been for the best because now she could look forward to what Keiron was planning on telling her tomorrow.

  Don’t get too excited, she reminded herself as the butterflies in her stomach multiplied. It might not be what you think.

  She knew she should have listened to her own common sense, but she couldn’t help wondering if Keiron planned to finish in the morning what he had started tonight. After all, tomorrow there would be no pesky limbits to disturb them, or dragons looming over their shoulders, glaring down in disapproval. Besides, if it was to be her final day in Cahrdyarein, it might as well be a memorable one.

  As Dervit chattered on and on about all of his wondrous experiences throughout the evening, Jahrra snuck a glance at her guardian. Not to her great surprise, he was watching her. But there was something different about his gaze tonight. Not so much the annoyed, overbearing guardian who was bothered with reining in a wayward child, but more the look of a worried friend. True, he might not have been in the room when Keiron had made his request, but he’d had a clear view of the dance floor all night. Surely, he had drawn his own conclusions.

  Jahrra narrowed her gaze and averted her eyes. As they stepped out into the gently falling snow, she wondered if she should tell Jaax about her plans to meet Keiron in the morning. During their entire trek back to the cabin, she thought about it, eventually concluding that it was best not to say anything. They were leaving the next evening, and Jaax was already wound tight. She didn’t need to pester him with something as innocent as meeting up with a friend one last time before their departure.

  Everyone went straight to bed that night, Jahrra and Dervit to their cabin and Ellyesce to his. As the elf bid them goodnight, Jaax grumbled something about checking the perimeter once again. Ellyesce waved him on, clearly thinking he was paranoid. Jahrra had to agree. Yawning hugely, she stumbled to her bed, only loosening the laces of her bodice before collapsing in a heap on the mattress. Despite the warm memories of dancing with Keiron all evening long to keep her mind occupied, she was fast asleep in no time.

  * * *

  Jahrra woke the next morning in a panic. Had she slept too long? Was it past dawn yet? Scrambling to her feet, she ran to the window and peeked outside. Her heart slowed its frantic rhythm. Still dark out, but surely sunrise was less than an hour away. She hastily removed her rumpled dress from the night before and pulled on her nicer tunic and pants, then grabbed her warm cloak and boots as she tiptoed to the door. Just before pulling it open and escaping into the crisp, frosty morning, she paused. Last night, her head had been fuzzy from the wine and mead, and the attention she’d received from the regent’s son, but this morning her thinking was a bit clearer. Jaax, and even Ellyesce, had suspected Keiron of being a spy. Could they be right about him?

  Jahrra squeezed her eyes shut and pictured the Resai elf’s handsome, pleasant face. He had never once done anything to suggest he might wish her, or her companions, harm. And between all of them, she’d spent the most time with him. Surely, she knew his intentions better than her guardian and his elvin friend? Besides, if he was a villain, he would have acted the part by now. Still, that nagging voice in her head wouldn’t let up. Sighing in irritation, Jahrra snuck back to her bed and reached underneath the frame. She felt around for a while until her fingers brushed the scabbard of her sword. There. She would arm herself, just to be on the safe side.

  Before making her escape, Jahrra glanced over her shoulder one last time. The cabin was nearly dark, all but for a pile of smoldering coals in the fireplace. Upon the couch across from her bed, Dervit slept, curled up like a cat on a pile of cushions. She felt her lips curl into a grin. When she got back from her rendezvous with Keiron, she would have to ask the limbit all about his evening. Carefully, she pulled the door open and stepped out into the cold morning. The city was covered in a fresh
blanket of snow, almost blue in color beneath the still-dark, overcast sky.

  Taking a breath, Jahrra pulled her jacket tight and trudged through the snow, making her way toward the stables. A young boy, in dirt-stained but well-made clothes, snoozed on a pile of hay just inside the doorway. Jahrra tried to move past him without disturbing him. Unfortunately, as soon as Phrym spotted her, he let out a long, boisterous greeting. The boy jolted upright, his head swinging in the direction of the horses. His eyes widened when he saw Jahrra.

  “Sorry,” she said sheepishly. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

  The boy stood up. “Is anything the matter?” he asked.

  Jahrra shook her head. “Just going for an early morning ride. Please, go back to sleep. I can saddle Phrym myself.”

  The boy looked like he would protest, but as Jahrra suspected, the warm pile of hay had a stronger pull. He plopped back down.

  “Come get me if you need anything,” he said through a yawn.

  Within fifteen minutes, Jahrra had Phrym saddled and was already walking him through the stable doors and past the sleeping stable hand. Outside, the sky had grown a bit lighter, but she suspected the sun was still behind the mountains. She couldn’t tell for sure since the clouds impeded her view.

  The frost crunched beneath Phrym’s hooves as Jahrra led him toward the trail to the Round. Her coat and gloves did little to fight back the cold, but her blood was pumping so fast these little discomforts could be easily ignored. Her thoughts kept returning to those few moments the night before, when Keiron had almost kissed her. She had been terrified at the time, because she’d never been kissed before. Her unusual life had not given her the opportunity, and she hadn’t ever been concerned about such things, either.

  Maybe because you’ve never really liked any of the boys you knew growing up the way you like Keiron.