Ellyesce cast his emerald gaze in her direction and said, “Fresh snow all about, a foot or more deep, but the sky is bright and clear blue. The final leg of our journey should be rather pleasant tomorrow.”
He turned to Jahrra and pulled out a small knife, offering it to her, hilt first. “Would you like to help me skin the animals?”
“I would be happy to do anything useful,” she complied, accepting the knife. “Oh, and here is your pendant back.”
She found the chain and lifted it from her head, offering it to the elf. “What is this symbol, by the way?”
She still couldn’t see it. The torches had burned down, and the little bit of light spilling in through the ceiling of the cavern didn’t help much.
Ellyesce waited until the chain was around his neck, and the pendant secure beneath his many layers of clothing, before he answered her. “An ancient version of the bloodrose. King Dhuruhn’s sentries would have recognized it as a symbol of the old ways, before Cierryon warped it. They would have let you pass, unharmed, and taken you to speak to the king.”
Jahrra pressed her lips flat and nodded once before starting the messy, but welcome, chore of cleaning Ellyesce’s catch. While she and the elf worked, Whinsey, Erron and Dervit took some of the firewood he’d also brought in and constructed a fire. In no time, the carcasses were roasting over open flame, and Jahrra and Ellyesce were cleaning the mess from their hands.
“So, we’ll be in Nimbronia tomorrow?” Whinsey asked casually, pulling out some patches of fabric she’d been sewing together to pass the empty hours of their journey.
“Yes. I suspect if we leave before daybreak, we’ll reach the city gates by midday.”
She dipped her head solemnly, and Jahrra got the impression she, too, was thinking about Pendric.
Later that evening, Ellyesce pulled out his Astral cards and tempted Jahrra and Dervit into playing a few rounds. Jahrra was eager for the distraction, for the conversation with Erron earlier that day had been lingering in the back of her mind. The boy’s all too real worry over his father’s safety had reminded her that even dragons weren’t invincible.
After a while, Ellyesce left her and Dervit to get some rest so he might be alert during his watch later that evening. Dervit played with Jahrra an hour more, but soon the weariness of sleep called them to their bedrolls. Before drifting off to sleep that night, Jahrra sent one more prayer up to Ethoes, asking the goddess to give Jaax strength and speed so he and Pendric would be waiting for them tomorrow in Nimbronia.
* * *
Jahrra woke with a start, her heart hammering against her ribs. A jabbing pain pierced her head and her injured leg ached terribly. Groaning, she rubbed her hands over her face.
“Jahrra?”
Jahrra cracked open an eye and glanced up. Ellyesce leaned over her, his pale green eyes tight with worry.
“Are you well?” the elf asked.
Jahrra sighed and rested her forearm over her eyes. “As well as I can be, I suppose,” she answered without sarcasm.
“We will be moving out in half an hour. Does that give you enough time to get ready?”
Grumbling in discomfort, Jahrra managed to push herself up onto her elbows. She didn’t feel any worse than she had each morning during this trip, but perhaps the knowledge that they’d be leaving the safety of the caves had her nerves wound tighter than usual.
Pushing aside her pointless agitation, she began to rise out of her bedroll, all the while being careful of her leg.
“Yes, I can be ready,” she finally said, answering the elf’s question.
Ellyesce nodded firmly, then moved away to wake their companions.
Jahrra worked as quickly as she could, rolling up her bedroll and packing away her belongings. Phrym was eager to see her when she made her way over to him. The other horses looked sleepy, but curious to see if Jahrra had anything good to offer them. Since she was ready to go early and Whinsey was busy taking care of both herself and Erron, Jahrra took it upon herself to feed and saddle the horses, as tedious as the chore was with her awkward limp. Dervit joined her shortly after that and offered to finish the job for her. The animals were already saddled, so Jahrra handed over the bag of oats without complaint.
As soon as everyone was ready, they started out once again. For the early part of their journey, Jahrra rode beside Ellyesce on his semequin.
“Where exactly does this cave system end?” she asked, genuinely curious.
“I don’t really know,” the elf said with a light air to his tone.
Jahrra gave him a bewildered look, her expression exaggerated in the flickering torch light.
Ellyesce only smiled. “The Serpent’s Tomb has never been completely mapped, and it is said to wind and twist through several of the mountains here in the Hrunahn Range. Our exit point, however, ends where the string of small mountains meet up with the Great Hrunahn Range, about halfway up the mountain that cradles the legendary cloud city.”
Jahrra furrowed her brow. “The cloud city?”
The elf nodded. “Nimbronia. Its name means ‘of the clouds’.”
“I thought it was a city made of ice,” Jahrra pointed out, remembering what she had learned from Jaax and Hroombra.
“It is,” Ellyesce agreed, “but it’s located far above the clouds and was given that name by the Creecemind dragons.”
The Creecemind dragons. If Jahrra had anything to look forward to, it would be seeing the famed dragons for the first time. She was eager to learn if they were as massive as she had been led to believe. She brought this up to Ellyesce.
Her companion laughed. “The Creecemind make Korli and Tanaan dragons look like lap dogs.”
Jahrra tried to picture this in her mind, but she could never imagine Jaax as a lap dog. The sudden thought of her guardian brought a pang to her heart, and she quickly brushed it aside.
“Tell me more about Nimbronia,” she commanded, leading Phrym around a small crop of stalagmites.
“What would you like to know about the cloud city?” the elf asked.
Jahrra shrugged. “Whatever you’re willing to tell me.”
Ellyesce thought about that for a while, then drew in a breath and said, “As you know, Nimbronia is made entirely of ice, and its frozen spires rise for many hundreds of feet into the air. Like Cahrdyarein, the city encircles a mountain peak, and at the very top you can find Ethoes’s Sacred Pine.”
Jahrra came to attention at that, and if she didn’t know any better, she would have sworn one of the beads on her wooden bracelet warmed against her skin.
“Truly?” she wondered aloud.
Ellyesce nodded. “Truly. It clings to the merciless mountain and defies every form of weather Ethoes has thrown at it. It is not tall and straight like the pines of the forests, but crooked, gnarled and stunted. It has been warped by wind and weather, but it is bursting with life, if you are permitted the chance to draw close to it.”
“Will I get to see it, while we’re in Nimbronia?” Jahrra asked with a tight voice.
Her elvin companion smiled and cast her a warm look. “Visiting the temple is limited to a rare few, and the trail leading to the Tree is treacherous.”
The two of them fell silent after that, the sounds of dragging hooves, the gentle whiffle of the horses, the whispering flicker of the torchlight and the occasional cough coming from Erron the only intrusions upon the relative quiet of the cavern. Gradually, the great open space narrowed and grew just big enough for the riders to pass through without scraping their heads on the dripping stalactites hanging above.
The cave suddenly sloped upward, and Ellyesce pulled ahead of her, encouraging Gliriant into a quicker pace. At the top of the incline, Jahrra could make out his silhouette, outlined by the light cast from the torch he held above his head. His other hand was raised to signal the group to stop. Only when the loose gravel on the floor of the cave settled did Jahrra realize why the elf had wanted them to come to a halt.
“Can you hear tha
t?” he murmured, his voice ricocheting off of the curved walls.
Jahrra strained her ears. For a few seconds, all she could detect was the breathing of the horses and her own heartbeat. Then, slowly, like the way the rising sun gradually stains the dawn with its brilliant color, she heard it. Not just the dripping of the weeping points of stone above, but a cool, gentle trickle, and coming from somewhere even farther ahead, a smooth rush of sound.
“Water?” Jahrra asked quietly.
Ellyesce nodded, his green eyes seeming to glow in the darkness. “Not just water, running water. If my suspicions prove true, then we are very close to our destination. There is an underground river running through these mountains. Well, there are several, but the one I’m thinking of marks the exit we must take to finish our trek into Nimbronia.”
“So, how much farther must we go?” Whinsey asked from somewhere behind them.
Ellyesce turned in the saddle, and the leather squeaked with protest. He pointed his free hand to the ceiling just above them. “Have you noticed how it’s grown much damper over the past few miles?”
Whinsey nodded, her pale face like the moon hovering in the dark.
“It means we are getting closer to the river, and I would say no more than an hour, probably less.”
He straightened, then in a more somber tone he added, “It has been a very long time since I’ve traveled this road. My calculations might be off a little.”
Jahrra furrowed her brow at that, but made no comment. Ellyesce nudged his semequin forward, and soon, the whole lot of them were traveling on level ground once more. Several minutes passed by, and the cavern opened up into another massive space, the ground this time covered in a thick layer of sand instead of mineral deposits. Jahrra couldn’t help but notice the darkness had begun to subside as well.
“Look! Up there!” Dervit rasped in wonder.
Instinctively, Jahrra glanced upward and felt her jaw fall open when she spotted what the limbit had been talking about. Gaping holes in the cavern ceiling yawned open above them, letting in plumes of light. The floor beneath the horses’ feet was smattered with brilliant spots of white, and long tendrils of roots hung from above like the rotting sails of a ghost ship. Somewhere, not too far ahead of them, the sound of rushing water grew stronger, more pronounced. Jahrra craned her neck, trying to peer past Ellyesce. He had snubbed the torch out earlier, using the damp walls to kill the flame. It was bright enough now because of the natural skylights and what Jahrra assumed was an opening to the outside world somewhere up ahead.
The flash of sunlight sparkling off the surface of running water was the first thing Jahrra noticed. She pulled Phrym up short, gaping at the sight. A fast river, pouring from another enormous tunnel heading back into the mountain, churned and sloshed its way to an even larger opening up ahead on their left. Two ancient stalagmites rose unevenly on either side of the river just before it plunged out into the open air beyond, with a smaller collection of stalactites above.
“The Dragon’s Maw,” Ellyesce said, his voice almost reverent.
“What?” Jahrra asked, blinking away the brightness of the daylight. It had been so long since any of them had seen the sun.
“That’s what this cave entrance is called. The Dragon’s Maw. The stalagmites,” he indicated the two spires of rock, “are like fangs, and the mist from the waterfall like a plume of smoke.”
Jahrra smiled. A fitting name indeed.
Whinsey, Erron and Dervit caught up to them, and for a few minutes, they all admired the view of the mountains beyond the open mouth of the cavern.
“Let’s take a short rest,” Ellyesce suggested.
He climbed down from his semequin, his boots sinking slightly in the loose sand. Everyone else followed suit, stretching and yawning and digging through their packs. Ellyesce untied his bow and proceeded to string it. Jahrra shot him a curious glance, and the elf gestured for her to move closer. She complied, making use of the crutch he had recently found for her.
“I want to hope that Jaax’s and Pendric’s efforts have not been in vain, and that they have stopped the Tyrant’s men in Cahrdyarein, but the truth is, I don’t know for certain.”
Jahrra paled at that, but then remembered their earlier journey. “Can’t you use your magic to find out?” she whispered urgently.
Ellyesce gave a tired shake of his head. “I tried. There is too much magic this close to Nimbronia, magic the Creecemind dragons employ to protect their city. It’s obscuring my own, so I cannot get a good read.”
Jahrra didn’t understand how the elf’s own magic worked, but she could imagine a surplus of it somewhere else might make it more difficult. Like trying to discern one’s own torchlight while standing beside a raging bonfire.
“What I’m trying to say,” Ellyesce continued quietly, “is that I don’t know what is waiting for us outside of these caverns. My instinct tells me we have the advantage and we should make it to Nimbronia unscathed. Experience, on the other hand, has taught me to expect the unexpected and to always be overly prepared.”
He smiled at her, and Jahrra grinned back, despite the slight prickle of dread shivering over her skin.
“So, I’m going to have my weapons ready, just in case we meet some overachieving troops, or perhaps cross paths with a protective mother boarlaque.”
Jahrra’s eyes widened, but she said nothing.
“I need you to do the same, if you wouldn’t mind,” the elf added.
For the remainder of their short respite, Jahrra took out what weapons she had: her bow and arrows, the sword Jaax had given her in Lidien and her small collection of daggers. When she’d untied her sword from Phrym’s side, she had paused a moment to consider it. She had used this very weapon to fend off her attackers at the Round back in Cahrdyarein. There were a few nicks along the blade’s edge where the mercenaries had struck it with their own weapons, but nothing more. She wondered who had had the sense to retrieve it for her after she’d dropped it in the snow. Ellyesce? Dervit? She would have to thank them later. Finding the sword’s scabbard, she attached it to Phrym’s saddle so that she might be able to draw it quickly if need be, then did the same with her other weapons.
With his bow strung across his back, Ellyesce remounted and led Gliriant to a less turbulent section of the river. “We must cross and find the trail on the other side,” he said, his voice raised so it would carry over the sound of the rushing water. “It will lead us out of the caves and back into the mountains. You cannot see it from here, but Nimbronia sits atop the next mountain peak north of this point. It won’t take us very long to reach the outer gates if we don’t dawdle.”
Without so much as an acknowledgment that they’d heard him, Jahrra and her other companions followed the elf, the horses and semequins carefully picking their way over the flat stones protruding above the river’s surface.
Once on the other side, the trail hugged the wall of the cavern with the river on their left. Icy mist rose up to coat their clothing and leave their hair damp, and Jahrra only hoped the weather proved pleasant outside.
Ahead, the trail curved to the right, wrapping around the outer mouth of the cave. Beyond their safe haven, the sky was an endless blue, and the mountains were a series of rough, jagged lines of white and violet. Ellyesce kept his semequin tight against the mountainside and disappeared out of sight. A few moments later, Jahrra understood why. The trail took them out of the cave and right onto the side of the mountain. Jahrra gasped the moment she and Phrym stepped out into the full light of day. The trail was only ten feet wide, if that, and blanketed with snow. To her right, the mountainside continued to rise and to her left, it fell away for thousands of feet to the lesser peaks below. Jagged rocks and scraggly pines, clinging to the frozen ground, adorned to the slopes in a random disarray of determined survival.
They traveled a good half an hour more, winding up the mountainside, before coming around a bend and finally getting a full, unobstructed view of the tallest peak in Etho
es. And crowning that summit was a sight that stole Jahrra’s breath away. Crystal blue and white spires, bright and sparkling in the strong sunlight, rose to pierce the sky. Waves of puffy clouds skimmed the peaks of the smaller mountains below, making the city resemble an inverted chandelier floating on a sea of snow.
“Nimbronia,” she murmured to herself, unable to believe it.
Ellyesce had told her about the magical city, but picturing it in her mind and seeing it were two very different things. Jahrra had always thought she had a good imagination, but clearly it had failed to conjure up an image to do the City of the Clouds any justice.
Behind her, someone gasped, and Jahrra realized it must be Erron waking up from his nap. She turned in the saddle to find the boy and his mother gazing in stunned wonder at the vista ahead of them. Dervit, who had been riding on Rumble in the back of the line, pricked his fox ears forward, his brown eyes larger than Jahrra had ever seen them before. She smiled, glad her friends had something beautiful to discover after their terrible ordeal in Cahrdyarein.
“Magnificent, isn’t it?”
Jahrra jumped in the saddle and whipped around. Ellyesce had brought his semequin back down the trail, to see what was taking them so long, most likely.
To answer his question, Jahrra simply nodded, not knowing what else to do. Before they got the horses moving again, something pale and slender rose from the ice city in the distance. A split second later, a similar shape joined it. Jahrra narrowed her eyes and then cried out in surprise.
“Are those dragons?” she wondered aloud.
Before Ellyesce could reply to her, she got her answer. The reptilian creatures rose into the sky, spreading wide wings as pale as their hides, then dove through the air like agile fish in a pond.
“Yes. The Creecemind dragons of Felldreim,” the elf said, his voice tinged with reverence.
The small party watched the dragons perform their aerial dance a few minutes longer, then Ellyesce cleared his throat and pronounced, “The day is slipping away, and we had better get moving if we want to reach the gates of Nimbronia before nightfall. We’ve had the advantage of the caves, and luck has been with us so far, but there is no guarantee the Crimson King’s soldiers remain in Cahrdyarein, especially if they have learned of our departure.”
The Ascending Page 33
