The Ascending

by Jenna Elizabeth Johnson

  She snorted, and two tendrils of smoke left her nostrils. Despite the dramatics, Jahrra could tell Sapheramin was only teasing.

  “Now, let’s see if I can remember the details . . . Hroombra told this story to me years ago, so hopefully, I won’t forget anything. Ah, yes, it was after he settled in Oescienne. He had known about the prophecy for years and realized that when you eventually came into the world, you would be discovered somewhere in the west. Besides, the province of Oescienne has its own history with regards to Cierryon and the lost human race, but that is an entirely different story.”

  She flapped her hand around as if to bat away her words, then continued on, “One day, Hroombra received word from the dwarves living in the mountains east of Doribas. They had found a nest of dragon eggs which had clearly been raided. The eggshells had all been crushed, the parents, Tanaan dragons from what they could tell, had been killed and left for the scavengers to pick clean.”

  Sapheramin paused, a subtle sadness invading her tone. Jahrra couldn’t blame her. She felt it, too. She also began to speculate where this story was heading, and her heart grew heavier for it. The Korli dragon took a deep breath and let it out through her nose, without the smoke this time.

  “The dwarves were getting ready to return home when something caught their attention. One of them spotted what he thought was a smooth stone buried in the debris of the nest, but upon closer inspection, he realized it was an egg. One of them had survived the attack, and the dragonling inside could still be alive. They brought the egg back to their home and built up a fire to keep it warm. Despite being abandoned to the elements for days, if not weeks, the dragonling fought his way back to life and hatched two days later. Knowing their underground settlement was no place for a dragon to grow up, they sent a missive to Nimbronia, and word eventually reached my uncle. He left immediately to receive the young orphan and brought him back to Oescienne to raise as a foster son.”

  Sapheramin reached for a large goblet placed in front of her and took a long drink from the cup. She set it back down before saying, “And that, my dear Jahrra, is how Jaax came to be my uncle’s ward.”

  The clinking of wine glasses and silverware, the comfortable hum of bright voices and the occasional bark of laughter swirled around Jahrra, but she barely heard any of it. She slumped back against her chair, astounded at what Sapheramin had just told her. She couldn’t believe it. She’d never really given Jaax’s upbringing that much thought. No, that wasn’t right. She had never given it any thought, really. To her young self, Jaax had been a hero of old, a brave and fierce character who had emerged from the pages of her favorite storybooks. Later, he had become a thorn in her side, and finally, a trusted friend and ally, even with their occasional disagreements. Jaax had never offered up any information with regards to his life before establishing himself as her guardian, and she had never bothered to ask him. But to hear that his childhood was so parallel to her own was a little hard to take at the moment.

  Slowly, Jahrra turned her head to look at her guardian once more. He was no longer absorbed in any of the conversations surrounding him, but rather, he was gazing down at his own goblet, his brow creased and his eyes intent. Jahrra knew that look. All throughout her childhood, she had despised the times his thoughts turned inward like that. It usually meant bad news for her. After learning of her true identity, Jahrra had come to realize Jaax’s serious, broody nature couldn’t be helped. He had the fate of the world on his mind, and to some extent, the fate of the world balanced on the decisions and actions he made. And, she played a large part in those decisions and actions.

  But now, after hearing this story from Sapheramin, a story she had never once thought to learn about, a story that had played some part in shaping Jaax into who he was today, she wondered how often his darker moments were spent ruminating on the parents and siblings he never had the opportunity to know. Like Jahrra, Jaax was found alone. Like her, he was an orphan. Like her, he had been taken in by Hroombra. If she had known this sooner, when she was a younger child, would it have made her dislike him less? Would she have been more understanding of his bitterness and his need to bury his emotions behind a shield of stubbornness and anger?

  Those very thoughts made her sick. They had spent so many years butting heads and clashing on so many fronts, her and Jaax. Was it all because she thought he didn’t understand what it must be like to be an orphan without a family?

  Stop it, Jahrra, she snapped at herself, her fingers tightening around the stem of her crystalline wineglass. The thin glass was cold to the touch, and had she not been distracted by her own internal turmoil, Jahrra would have realized the goblet was carved from solid ice. You and Jaax have just patched up your latest round of traded wounds. To dwell on regret and guilt is foolish, and it will not change anything.

  Even though Jahrra was determined not to feel bitter for all the times she and Jaax had disagreed, she couldn’t help but notice a tiny part of her heart warming a little. She glanced his way again, glad to see him conversing once more with some dinner guests across the table. His look of intense, worried concentration was gone, and the corner of his mouth curved up in a draconian grin. No, she could not change the past, but knowing more about his somehow endeared him more to her. Jahrra smiled, grateful for the story Sapheramin had told her. She turned back toward her Korli dinner partner only to discover a glint of worry shining in her amber eyes.

  “Are you well, Jahrra? I haven’t upset you, have I?”

  “N-no,” Jahrra managed. And then seeing no reason to keep the truth from her, she went on, “I was just thinking I might not have been so hard on Jaax when I was younger, had I known. That is terrible, what happened to him.”

  Sapheramin nodded somberly. “It is. I understand you had a similar childhood.”

  Her voice was soft, soothing, so the mention of her own tragic past didn’t sting so much. Swallowing, Jahrra nodded. “My parents, well, my foster parents, died when I was young. That’s when Hroombra took me in. It was a long time ago.”

  “That doesn’t mean the pain hasn’t completely left your heart,” Sapheramin said firmly. “I know. My uncle has been gone just over a year, and I rarely got to visit him. Yet, I still feel his absence like an ache in my heart.”

  Jahrra looked up at Sapheramin, her emotions barely kept in check. “I can definitely agree with you on that.”

  The Korli dragon gave a light laugh and then, with a new bout of energy, said, “How about a change of subject? I do not wish to dwell too long on sorrowful things.”

  “Good idea,” Jahrra concurred, reaching for her wineglass once again and taking a drink. The liquid was crisp and slightly sweet, like mead flavored with a hint of apple. She liked it.

  “Why don’t you tell me all about your journey from Lidien?”

  And so, Jahrra told Sapheramin the tale of their adventures. Dervit, who had lost interest in the conversation across the table, flicked his ears in Jahrra’s direction when he heard the course of her conversation and eagerly joined in with the retelling of their harrowing tale. For Sapheramin’s sake, Jahrra recalled their meeting with the limbit, and his role in helping them escape the Red Flange in the mountains. She described their time in Cahrdyarein, speaking of Keiron and his treachery only fleetingly. Dervit obliged the dragon’s curiosity when she asked about how they discovered the enemy’s plot, and then Jahrra finished up by recalling their time in the Serpent’s Tomb and the final battle on the bridge.

  “Now that part of the story I do remember,” Sapheramin said with a grin. “I never get tired of roasting enemy brigades who think to spread their disease to the peaceful realms of the west.”

  Jahrra and Dervit laughed. The night had grown late by then, the main course having been cleared away several minutes ago and the dessert plates picked clean. Many of the guests had started to rise from their seats so they might retire for the night. Jahrra watched some of them as they approached the king’s dais, bowing and thanking him for a fine meal. B
y the time there were only a few dozen or so nobles left, Jaax stood from his place at the table and moved closer to Jahrra.

  “Now is the time to introduce yourself to his majesty and see if he is ready to finally give us an answer.”

  Jahrra, who had been so caught up in her conversation with Sapheramin and Dervit, was taken aback for a moment.

  “Wait, right now?” she breathed, feeling her face pale.

  “Yes,” Jaax said, his tone sharper than usual. “If we wait until tomorrow morning, he will be swamped with petitions from his subjects.”

  Steeling herself, Jahrra nodded and rose from her seat. She had known Jaax meant to speak with the king tonight, but imagining it and actually doing it were two separate matters. With her nerves threatening to trip her up, she maneuvered her way down the steps of the table using her crutches and came to stand beside Jaax. Dervit gave her a curious glance, but she shook her head, letting him know she and Jaax must do this alone. If he and Ellyesce were needed, they could easily be called forward.

  Taking a nervous breath, Jahrra followed after Jaax as he headed toward the front of the room. She felt a little ridiculous swinging on the crutches, but there was nothing for it. At least the line had shortened. Of the few guests remaining, only six or so were queuing up to petition the king.

  “If we are lucky,” Jaax murmured, his claws clicking sharply against the polished ice and stone floor, “it will not take half the night to say our piece.”

  Jahrra swallowed back the lump in her throat and asked, “Do you really think meeting me in person will sway him? What if he is like Shiroxx and her followers back in Lidien? What if he believes I am a fraud?”

  Jaax angled his head to see Jahrra better, a flash of disapproval in his eyes. “We will cross that bridge when we reach it. For now, I simply want to introduce you to his royal highness and take it from there.”

  Jahrra nodded vigorously as they came to a stop behind the last person in line. Only four people waited ahead of them now. The others must have had minor complaints the king was able to address right away. As they waited, Jahrra leaned her weight on her crutches and studied the grand hall some more. Outside, the sky was dark and littered with stars. The chandeliers above seemed brighter now, their light illuminating the impressive tapestries adorning the wall behind the dining table. Scenes of aerial battles and the gradual construction of an ice metropolis, Nimbronia no doubt, seemed a common theme.

  Jaax took a step forward, and Jahrra glanced ahead once again. Three people in front of them now. She was both eager to meet the royal family and terrified. What if, after speaking with her, Dhuruhn still wasn’t convinced she was the one promised? Or worse, what if she wasn’t impressive enough to convince them to help with the Coalition’s cause? What would happen if these dragons refused to fight beside them when it finally came time for her to meet her fate?

  Shuddering, Jahrra rocked forward on her crutches. Only two people in front of them now. An elderly woman and her granddaughter, perhaps, both dressed in the finery of the upper class. Jahrra couldn’t help but overhear their conversation. Something about changing the old woman’s will to include another child. The discussion was quick, the king agreeing to look into the legalities of it all, and then, she and Jaax were standing before the ice dais, the eyes of all the Creecemind dragons upon them.

  “Ah, Raejaaxorix,” the king rumbled in his deep voice. “Well-rested from your little ordeal the other day, I see.”

  Jahrra couldn’t help but take note of the tone of disdain in the king’s voice. She returned her attention to Jaax, but his gaze was fixed on the Creecemind dragon before him, his emerald eyes as hard as stone and his jaw clenched.

  “And dressed in your finest,” Dhuruhn continued, first eyeing his pendant and circlet, then taking a moment to study Jahrra in her elaborate gown.

  “I save it only for the most important occasions,” Jaax retorted, baring a smile that was more menace than courtesy.

  “I imagine you wish to discuss something with myself and my queen. A subject that has been brought to my attention on numerous occasions previous to this one.”

  His lip curled into a ghost of a snarl, and he tilted his head ever so slightly to study Jahrra once more. In response, Jahrra froze, worried that even the tiniest of fidgets on her part might put the king in an even fouler mood.

  “Indeed,” Jaax drawled. “Your royal highnesses, I present to you Jahrraneh Drisihn, the human child found by the Resai elves of Crie in the province of Oescienne.”

  All Creecemind eyes were on her now, and Jahrra had to fight even harder to remain calm and confident. Her knee ached, and her heart fluttered in her throat. She lifted her chin and took a breath, letting it out slowly as she looked each dragon in the eye. You have the right, a little voice reminded her. You are meant to be their salvation, after all.

  “Jahrraneh Drisihn,” the queen murmured, her voice as impressive as her husband’s, but not as deep. “All’s Hope. An ambitious name for one so small. And one who has yet to prove herself.”

  The queen’s tone didn’t hold the haughtiness of Dhuruhn’s, but it felt condescending nonetheless. Jahrra’s racing heart faltered slightly in her determination to remain unabashed. Fortunately, Jaax came to her defense.

  “She has proven herself to me on many occasions, and she will do so when her fate calls her to act.”

  “And you believe that time is now, do you not, Raejaaxorix?”

  Jaax’s head snapped back to regard the king. “I do,” he replied. “I will not waste time offering you generous words or groveling before you like a tamed beast. I can only tell you what I know, and what I believe. For several years, I have met with you, keeping you informed of what is happening in the world beyond your borders. When Jahrra was found and brought to Oescienne, you were kept up to date with her progress, and year after year, you held off on making a decision on whether or not to lend your aid when the time came to face the tyrant king. Now, I stand before you, Jahrra stands before you, and we ask for your help in the impending war against Ciarrohn.”

  The room grew so quiet, one might hear a pin drop. Somewhere behind her, Jahrra was aware of Tollorias, Sapheramin, Ellyesce and Dervit, standing in the shadows and waiting to hear what Dhuruhn had to say.

  “Is that what this little show is all about, then? Trying to sway my opinion so that I might call upon the Creecemind to wage war on a shadow of a threat in the east? Do you think I do not notice the way you press your cause against the edge of my patience?”

  Jaax met the king’s harsh gaze with his. “I do not know what you are talking about.”

  The Tanaan dragon’s voice was sharp and clipped, slicing through the building tension like a knife.

  “Do you not?” Dhuruhn responded. Even though his question was almost whispered, it sent the hair on the back of Jahrra’s neck on end.

  “Do you think I have not taken notice of the way you have dressed your young ward tonight? In the royal colors of Oescienne? In a gown befitting a queen and representative of Ethoes herself? Are you to tell me that was not done on purpose? Are you so confident in the idea that this slip of a girl will bring down a god-king, that you are already broadcasting to the world the royal bloodline of our neighboring province to the south will finally return to rule there after this war is over?”

  Jahrra didn’t dare look at Jaax, but she didn’t need to in order to gauge his reaction. Simmering anger rolled off him in great, hot waves, and she was tempted to step away from him. To do so, however, would send a message to the king that she either feared him or had no faith in her guardian.

  “Jahrra chose her own gown for the banquet,” Jaax all but snarled, “to honor you and your hospitality, not to sway your opinion.”

  Dhuruhn snorted. “I don’t believe you.”

  Jahrra stepped awkwardly forward then, trying not to get her skirts tangled up in her crutches. The king’s words were starting to grate on her as well, and she would not let him so blatantly accuse
Jaax of deception. She’d had enough of that in Lidien.

  “He tells you the truth, Your Majesty,” she managed. “I had not seen Jaax since this morning, and he did not see my dress until I met him outside the dining hall a few hours ago.”

  Dhuruhn turned his eyes upon Jahrra, and she nearly quailed beneath their intensity. At the last second, she firmed her jaw and tilted her chin upward, ignoring the slight rush of fear shivering down her spine.

  “And pray, do tell me girl, who provided you with the garment to begin with?”

  His voice was pitched low once again, and Jahrra faltered a little. She cast a quick glance at Jaax, but all he did was watch her with burning eyes. Was he angry? Did he want her to stop speaking? For a moment, Jahrra almost fell back, but that stubbornness she had never been able to shake clawed free and demanded she stand up for herself, and her guardian. She drew in a deep breath through her nose, then faced the intimidating Creecemind king once again.

  “Jaax had my dresses commissioned back in Lidien. Yes, he instructed the seamstresses on what to make, but he only ever saw them when I wore them to Coalition meetings. This is the first time I’ve ever worn this particular dress, because this is the most formal event I’ve ever had the privilege to attend. Jaax was correct in what he said earlier. I hoped to extend my respect and courtesy of your court by dressing properly. I know very little of the royal family of Oescienne, so there was no way for me to consider this dress a reflection of that legacy.”

  She took a deep breath, then continued on before anyone could interrupt her. “Our purpose tonight was not to insult you or try to manipulate your favor, but to speak to you on behalf of all those peaceful races living in Ethoes. I have seen how the Crimson King’s influence can affect those even far beyond his reach. His soldiers killed my guardian, the Korli dragon Hroombramantu, and they have destroyed the lives of so many people in villages and cities in these very mountains. You do not wish to enter this war, and I cannot blame you, but to claim the Tyrant in the east has not brought trouble upon your people would be an incorrect statement. Even as I speak, Cahrdyarein remains in the hands of the enemy, a city under your sovereignty.”