“Jahrra, Dervit!” Ellyesce called from the end of the street some fifty yards ahead. “What’s the hold up?”
Jahrra glanced up and waved at him.
“I guess we had better catch up,” she offered with a grin.
Dervit returned her smile and sketched a quick bow, doffing his cap and extending an arm in the elf’s direction.
“After you,” he piped.
Jahrra laughed, returning her second crutch to her empty arm, then swung her way toward Ellyesce. Dervit soon caught up, his step more buoyant as he hummed a cheerful tune. Yes, Jahrra could face any range of monsters with such friends by her side.
* * *
The stables were mostly empty when Jahrra and her companions reached them fifteen minutes later. Phrym, in his usual way, knew Jahrra was approaching before he could even see her. He let out a round of complaints that set the other horses off and made the stable boy on duty grumble. Jahrra was only able to appease her semequin with an apple pilfered from a basket near the front of the building.
“See? I’m okay, boy. I was just resting from yesterday’s adventure.”
She scratched his forehead and gazed into his smoky eyes. They seemed more concerned than usual, so she stood back and balanced on her good leg, then set the crutches aside and held her arms out at her sides.
“All in one piece. I didn’t fall to the bottom of the gorge. I knew Jaax would catch me.”
Still, Phrym tossed his head and dug at the ground with his hoof until Jahrra came to stand beside him. While she patted and reassured her equine friend, Ellyesce checked on his own semequin, and Dervit visited with Rumble and Whinsey’s mare.
An hour later, Ellyesce was encouraging them to return to the castle. Jahrra had brushed out Phrym’s mane and tail and had checked all the scrapes and bruises he’d gained from the fight on the bridge, but she was loathe to leave so soon.
“The banquet is scheduled to begin in a few hours, and we all need to get back in order to make ourselves presentable. We want to make a good impression on his highness and all his vassals, do we not?”
“You’re right,” Jahrra grumbled as she turned to give Phrym another hug. “I’ll come back tomorrow, if I get a free moment.”
She kissed his velvet nose and fed him one more apple before joining Ellyesce and Dervit at the door.
“So, why didn’t you go with Jaax this morning to meet with the dignitaries?” Jahrra queried, wondering why she hadn’t thought to ask before.
“Jaax requested that I stay nearby in case you wanted to explore. Since I am somewhat familiar with this city, and since my rank isn’t as important as your guardian’s, I agreed.”
Jahrra stopped her forward movement, causing Dervit to bump into her.
“What do you mean, rank?”
Ellyesce glanced over his shoulder, his brow furrowed.
“His position in the Coalition is greater than mine, considering I’m not an official member,” he said.
“Why not?” Jahrra pressed, making her way up the street to where he stood.
Something crossed his eyes then, but was there and gone in an instant.
“That is a long and complicated story, I’m afraid,” he answered quietly, almost absently.
Jahrra watched him carefully for a while, but whatever had taken over the elf’s thoughts did not resurface again. More secrets and intrigue for her to puzzle over in her free time.
Ellyesce shook his head and chuckled drily. “A tale for another time, perhaps. I share the Coalition’s goals, so it doesn’t really matter in the long run.”
And just like that, the subject was dropped. Jahrra’s senses, however, continued to prickle in the wake of the elf’s veiled remarks. As the three companions climbed their way back up to the castle, she reminded herself that although Ellyesce was an ally to them, this latest mystery, as minute as it may seem, proved that he was still as much a stranger as a friend. And she best not forget that fact, either.
* * *
“Drat!” Jahrra hissed as she stood back, staring at the two dresses lying out on the bed before her.
After she, Ellyesce and Dervit returned to their rooms, she had committed herself to getting ready for the evening’s dinner party. Besides the spacious common room of her suite, she’d also discovered a small bedchamber adjoining her room. It was entirely enclosed and the bed looked much more comfortable than the couch she’d slept on the night before. Before seeking the bathing room, she had pulled out the two dresses she’d brought with her from Lidien and laid them out on the bed.
Now, she stood wrapped in a large drying cloth, glaring at the two garments which both looked horribly wrinkled. The blue one would have been her first choice, but she had worn it to the Spring Equinox ball in Cahrdyarein, and it could use a good cleaning. Besides, it dredged up memories of that night and who she’d spent it with. The last thing she needed was to be reminded of Keiron while trying to make a good impression with the court of Nimbronia. Curling her lip and fighting back a wave of regret, she eyed the other dress. It was a gown she had never even worn, one of the dresses Jaax had insisted on commissioning for her in Lidien. As an important member of the Coalition, and being the human meant to bring about the fall of the Crimson King, Jahrra had been expected to be presentable during the Coalition meetings in Lidien.
The dress was absolutely beautiful, even to Jahrra’s prejudiced eye. Made from rich, deep green quilted velvet with what looked like emeralds sewn into the corners where the gold threading met, the gown was a work of art. Golden laces to match the thread crossed up the front of the bodice, and the heavy overskirt split to reveal folds of cream-colored silk beneath. A stitched brocaded pattern of interweaving thorn bushes and red flowers covered the pale underskirt, and upon closer inspection Jahrra realized the brambles were actually branches of bloodrose and the red flowers the roses themselves. Tiny beads of cut ruby, jet, peridot and topaz accentuated the colors in the bloodrose vines, and long streams of similar silk spilled from velvet sleeves, which ended at Jahrra’s elbows.
The dress was fit for a queen, and during any other circumstance, Jahrra wouldn’t dream of wearing it. But now, as she stood admiring the expensive garment, she considered Jaax’s words about winning over King Dhuruhn’s good opinion. Would dressing in her most formal clothing make a positive first impression? Or would he, like some of those in Lidien, see her as a fraud?
A knock on the door tore Jahrra’s attention away from her perusal of the magnificent dress. She clutched the drying cloth more tightly around herself and scuttled over to the bedroom door.
“Who is it?” she called out across the room.
“Saria, Miss. I’ve come to see if you need any assistance in getting ready for the dinner later. May I come in?”
Jahrra glanced over her shoulder at her wrinkled clothes, then whipped her head back around.
“Yes!”
The young woman entered the receiving chamber and, upon seeing Jahrra wrapped up in the towel, her hair still wet, frowned.
“You are not yet dressed,” she remarked.
Jahrra shook her head. “I was trying to decide on which dress to wear. The blue one needs a wash, but the other one is terribly wrinkled.”
Saria lifted both eyebrows, then grinned. “No worries, Miss Jahrra! Just tell me which dress you’d like to wear, and I’ll take it down to the launderers. They can work miracles with creased fabric.”
Jahrra stepped back into the small bedroom and indicated the more ornate garment. Saria’s mouth gaped open. “My word! That is a gown fit for an empress!”
Jahrra felt her face redden slightly. She had been thinking the very same thing and now wondered how on Ethoes Jaax had paid for such a dress. Did he have a wealth of treasure horded away in some dank cave somewhere? She smiled at the images crossing her mind and turned back to the maid.
Shrugging, Jahrra responded, “Jaax said I needed clothing appropriate for state dinners and Coalition events, so he ordered some formal cl
othes sewn while we lived in Lidien.”
Saria’s look of surprise increased, and she turned her gaze onto Jahrra’s face. She reached out and traced the stitching with a finger, stopping when she encountered one of the sparkling emeralds.
“That dragon must think the world of you, Miss,” she murmured.
That comment only made Jahrra arch an aporetic brow. True, Jaax had expressed his pride in her actions of late, but thinking the world of her? That was a rather presumptuous statement to make from someone who knew neither Jahrra nor her guardian. Saria was just impressed with the gown, Jahrra decided, and she had let her wonder get the better of her. Still, an uncomfortable warmth tinged Jahrra’s cheeks.
Wanting to redirect the subject, Jahrra cleared her throat and then asked, “You don’t think it’s too much, do you?”
Saria stepped back and grinned, an impish glint to her eye. “Not if you want to make a bold impression on our king.”
Feeling more confident with her decision, Jahrra smiled, and the maid swept up the beautiful gown, doing her best to contain the many yards of fabric, then headed for the door.
“I’ll be back in no time. While the castle staff are attending to your dress, we’ll work on your hair.”
Jahrra reached up a hand and gathered a strand of the wet, tangled mess hanging past her shoulders. The weeks of traveling had not been kind to it, but she thought a trim might help. True to her word, Saria was back within ten minutes and helped Jahrra cut, dry and style her hair into something fitting a guest of the royal court.
“There,” the young maid said with a grin. “Now, you wait here. I’ll go see if your dress is ready.”
While she waited, Jahrra walked out onto the patio adjoining her suite. As soon as she stepped into the open air, she noticed a significant difference in the temperature. She had donned her pajamas before Saria started with her hair, and the thin fabric did little to fend off the chill. Nevertheless, it didn’t bother her. In fact, it cleared her foggy mind, and she let her thoughts wander onto a subject she’d been trying to avoid. Although Jaax and Ellyesce hadn’t directly told her they would be making their way to Ghorium after getting their answer from the Creecemind king, Jahrra knew in her heart, and from their behavior, that their journey from Nimbronia would begin the final steps toward her destiny.
A shiver that had nothing to do with the rapidly dropping temperature of the mountains at nightfall coursed through Jahrra’s body. She was not ready for this, even after Jaax’s reassuring words earlier that day. She trusted her guardian and Ellyesce to watch after her, and do all they could to keep her safe, to keep all of them safe. And, she trusted in her own instincts and in the lessons Viornen and Yaraa had taught her so many years before. But that fear she’d revealed to Jaax scant hours ago, she just couldn’t shake. Even if Dhuruhn decided to help them and accompany them to the east, that was no guarantee that she, and all those she loved, would make it through the war alive. It didn’t even promise a victory over a tyrant who, if he gained the full power he sought, could never be defeated again. Any number of things could happen to them on the final part of their journey, and so much had happened to them already. A sprained knee and a broken, betrayed heart would be the least of her injuries.
The sound of the door opening and closing drew Jahrra’s attention back to the present.
“You see,” Saria breathed, holding up the now crease-free dress. “Good as new. Now, shall we finish getting you dressed? I saw many diplomats and nobles mingling in the hallway outside the dining room, waiting for the king to invite them in. The hour must be drawing near.”
Jahrra stepped down from the patio and back into the warmth of the great room, smiling at the maid’s cheerful demeanor and trying not to think about how closely her last words so similarly matched Jahrra’s own dismal thoughts.
* * *
“Relax, Raejaax. I’m sure she’s on her way.”
The soothing notes of Sapheramin’s reassuring voice did nothing to calm the Tanaan dragon. He paced, as well as a dragon could pace in a corridor crowded with patrons waiting patiently outside the king’s grand dining hall. His claws clicked against the polished marble and ice floors, the harsh notes barely discernible over the buzz of animated conversation. As he turned to stalk back toward his Korli friend, he nearly whipped an elf with his tail. The elvin noble glared at the Tanaan dragon, but didn’t dare make his complaints aloud.
Not that Jaax noticed. Jahrra’s tardiness, and the fact that he had been required to dress for the occasion, had darkened his mood. A stylized bloodrose, composed of cut rubies, garnets, topaz and emeralds, hung from a thick golden chain draped around his neck, and a golden circlet marking his elevated rank in the Coalition of Ethoes sat perched atop his head. Despite having left his position to Kehllor in Lidien, he was still viewed as one of the association’s top advisors. The ornaments denoting his status were similar to those he had once worn to important functions in Lidien, but much finer and on loan from King Dhuruhn’s treasury for the night. Thank Ethoes. Jaax hated the audacious dress of the royal court and all the fanfare that came with it. He was looking forward to returning the items as soon as the banquet was over.
The only piece of jewelry he didn’t mind wearing was the large spirit stone ring resting on one of his scaly fingers. Jaax glanced down at the ring and forgot his irritation for a moment. The stone shown brilliantly, its many colors standing out against the pallid white and blue tones of the ice palace, the dark heart speck near its center, a deep red drop of Jahrra’s own blood frozen within the gem like a near-black ruby. Jaax’s gaze shifted from the ring to his knuckle. A small scar, in the place where a scale had once resided, made the dragon smile. The mark represented Jahrra’s first victory against him. The ring and the scar, two reminders that symbolized his ward so well. One portraying her kindness and generosity, the other her fierce determination to tackle those challenges presented before her.
The creaking of the great dining hall doors sliding open snapped Jaax away from his reverie. Instantly, his black mood returned. He snarled under his breath as the courtiers, diplomats and visiting nobles pressed forward, a rush of glittering gems, rich fabrics and heady perfumes crashing into the room like a wave spilling upon the ocean shore.
“I sent Ellyesce to get her thirty minutes ago,” Jaax snarled, glaring down the long hallway once again. “What could possibly be taking them so long?”
Sapheramin rolled her eyes and let out a breath of smoke-tinged air. “Your Jahrra may be as capable as any man when it comes to fighting off a contingent of mercenaries, but she’s still a young woman, Jaax.”
Jaax stopped his pacing in the quickly emptying hallway and cast his Korli companion a querulous look. Sapheramin just shook her head. “Never mind. Perhaps, they are being held up by the other nobles and diplomats who are to attend tonight’s feast. I believe the king invited all of those who are in residence at the present.”
Jaax arched a cynical brow at that. Surely, the burgeoning mass now making their way to the assigned seats in the dining hall had been the entirety of those who would be attending the night’s feast. When he returned his attention to the corridor once again, however, he realized Sapheramin might be right. Several groups of formally dressed people and dragons were still making their way to the king’s dining hall.
Jaax clenched his jaw and tried to calm his irritation. He realized Sapheramin was just trying to ease his worry, but he was an impatient creature by nature. It was so important for Jahrra to make a good impression with Dhuruhn. The king of the Creecemind was not known for his magnanimity. True, he was a good king, but he was not easily persuaded to take up a cause he believed had no effect on him or his people, and despite how many times Jaax had tried to convince him over the years that eradicating the Crimson King was a goal every Ethoen should strive for, Dhuruhn had stubbornly stuck by his decision to attend to affairs only taking place within the borders of his realm. Jaax was counting on Jahrra to somehow change the royal
dragon’s mind.
“Ah!” Sapheramin cried out. “This must be them now! And look, it appears they found Tollorias along the way.”
With her usual grace, Sapheramin slinked past him and approached the darker Korli dragon. Jaax swiveled his head around, immediately catching sight of the other dragon. Tollorias strode forward with purpose, his characteristic scowl plastered on his face as he scanned the crowd for anything that looked out of place. Like his mate, he wore chains of silver set with blue stones and a small, woven circlet of silver leaves sat upon his head. Beside him, Jaax noted Ellyesce, looking fine and regal in clothing he must have borrowed or bought here in Nimbronia. Dervit strode beside the elf, his head swiveling from side to side as he took in the nobles and fine diplomats walking around them. He wore the fine vest and shirt he had worn to the Spring Solstice celebration in Cahrdyarein, and his eyes were wide with bemusement. When Jaax finally glanced at his ward, however, he felt himself go utterly still.
She was wearing one of the dresses he’d commissioned in Lidien. He had only ever seen her wear the gown he’d given to her for her birthday, and maybe a few of the others at various Coalition meetings. This one, he had never seen before, but he remembered asking the seamstresses in the City of Light to create not only the everyday semi-formal gowns, but to make one Jahrra could wear to a royal court. He remembered their stunned looks when he said as much, and he recalled smiling in his confident way and telling them that Jahrra would one day walk before kings. He had been thinking of this very night when he’d asked for the finer dress, and now that he was seeing it for the first time, he couldn’t quite look away.
Jahrra, his stubborn, adventurous ward, a young woman not afraid of getting dirty or using a blade to defend those she called her friends, looked like the embodiment of Ethoes herself, stepping from the Great Beyond to grace them all with her resplendent presence. Even her dependence on the crutches to get around could not detract from the image she made.
The Ascending Page 43
