The Legend of Oescienne--The Reckoning (Book Five)

by Jenna Elizabeth Johnson

  Drawing in a deep, shuddering breath, she closed her eyes and said softly, “I have never stopped loving you, Ellyesce. I was a blind, stupid, selfish fool, but my heart has always, and always will, belong to you.”

  Without waiting for a response, she set the ring and its leather string atop the wide balustrade, then turned and left.

  * * *

  The elvin palace of Dhonoara glittered like a lacey chandelier, the candle and firelight winking from its many wide-open windows and doors giving it the look of some magical castle out of a fairy tale. Jahrra gave an internal snort at the idea as she traveled down the gently curving corridors in search of the banquet hall. She was living in a fairy tale. Elves and dragons, magic and curses, prophecies and impending battles that would decide the victor between good and evil. It was as if she’d been plucked up by some great hand of magic and dropped between the pages of her favorite folktale book back home in Oescienne.

  Jahrra lifted her hands and rubbed her face before lowering them to her waist to smooth out the fabric of her dress. It wasn’t one of her own dresses, but a gown fashioned in the style she’d seen the elvin women wearing during their introduction to the king. The bodice was still fitted, but the skirts weren’t so full and the sleeves belled out from the shoulders, giving her arms plenty of room to move. She felt a little like a butterfly, for when she lifted her arms, the fabric draped almost to the floor. The dress’s color shifted between green, blue, and lavender, and the sleeves were sheer, as was the overskirt. Her underskirt, however, was a solid pale blue color. It was absolutely beautiful and fit comfortably. She’d just wondered how she would manage to eat dinner without dragging the sleeves across her plate and embarrassing herself in front of the entire court.

  Jahrra’s face reddened a little at the thought. It might be too late for that. After meeting with the king and his queen, they had been shown to their rooms to rest before Vandrian and his advisors reconvened for a second meeting. Jahrra had had every intention of being present at that assembly. She was the human meant to lead them all in the fight against Cierryon, after all. It made sense for her to be at every single conference from that moment forward. The only problem was halfway through tea, she had grown so very tired she could hardly lift her arms, let alone keep her eyes open.

  She had drifted off to sleep, only to wake up again as the first cool colors of twilight stained the sky. A guard stationed not far from her suite had informed her King Vandrian and his council were heading into the banquet hall for a light dinner when she poked her head out into the hallway. Feeling slightly groggy, and more than a bit irritated at being absent from what might have been an important discussion, Jahrra had dressed in the beautiful elvin gown, carefully lacing the ribbons up the front before stepping into a pair of matching silk slippers.

  Before exiting her room, she had glanced over towards the cushioned bench of the bay window overlooking the valley to find a snoring Dervit. She’d smiled a little, decided to let him sleep, then slipped quietly into the hall. Jahrra made a mental note to bring the limbit back a plate if he didn’t join them before the meal was over.

  Now, Jahrra felt more than a bit lost, as she tried to figure out which corridor to turn down to reach the banquet hall. Fortunately, one of the castle’s many attentive guards offered to lead her to the dining hall when she rounded the same corner a third time. Once she’d made it to her destination, she thanked the guard for his kindness, then turned to step into the brightly lit room. Hundreds of people were present, elves and dragons alike, and the crystal chandeliers and polished silverware gleamed and shone beneath a sea of candlelight.

  Cheerful, light conversation buzzed throughout the room, and Jahrra cast her eyes about, trying to find Jaax. She hadn’t seen him since earlier in the day and was eager to speak with him. Although her guardian was nowhere to be found, she did spot a familiar pair of Korli dragons. Sapheramin and Tollorias, standing to the side in a far corner, caught her attention and ducked their heads in a warm greeting. Jahrra beamed and waved at them. She had thought they were in Nimbronia still, but had to remind herself she and her own companions had been on the road for more than a fortnight, and their travel would have been slower than those able to take advantage of flight.

  When she turned to sweep the room once more, Jahrra’s eyes fell upon another face she had not expected. A young, dark-haired elf stood a dragon’s length away, sipping pale wine from a crystal goblet and talking with some of the king’s sons.

  “Dathian!” Jahrra cried, picking up her skirts and pushing her way as politely as she could through the crowds.

  Dathian spotted her and gave her a brilliant smile. He set his wine aside and braced himself for the rib-cracking hug she offered.

  “It is so good to see you!”

  “Jahrra, let me breathe!” he exclaimed, extricating her from his person and holding her at arm’s length. His smile gentled as he studied her. “You look well. Sapheramin and Tollorias told me you encountered some hardship on the road to Nimbronia.”

  His eyes darkened to ocean green behind his glasses as her smile faded. Jahrra pressed her lips together and nodded.

  “Yes, well, nothing I wasn’t able to handle. But let’s not talk about that quite yet. Tell me, what are you doing here?”

  He shrugged. “My father called all his sons back to help with the conflict against Cierryon.”

  Jahrra’s heart sank.

  “Oh, no. He doesn’t expect you to fight! You are not a warrior.”

  Dathian lifted a dark brow and crossed his arms. “Scholar though I may be, I have trained like all my brothers to be a warrior as well.”

  Jahrra didn’t like the thought of Dathian marching into battle, but then again, she didn’t like the thought of anyone marching into battle. Besides, was she not willing to do the same? It would be terribly hypocritical of her to insist her friends not fight alongside her, as hard as it was to accept.

  Instead, Jahrra pulled him aside and asked, “Where were you earlier, when we arrived? I didn’t see you or Sapheramin or Tollorias in the throne room.”

  Dathian waved a hand. “We were all off in the city on various errands.”

  After trading stories for a few minutes, Dathian introduced Jahrra around to many of his friends from his childhood, including one she already knew.

  “Haedron! It is good to see you again.”

  The copper-haired elf adopted a look of mild surprise. “And you as well, Lady Jahrra.”

  Jahrra gave Dathian a wicked grin. “I wish I’d had the foresight to prod Haedron for embarrassing childhood stories about you on our journey to the city.”

  Upon speaking the words, a sudden realization struck Jahrra. “Wait, so if you are Vandrian’s son, then Ellyesce–”

  “Is my uncle, yes,” Dathian finished dryly. “But before you can berate me for keeping secrets, remember that we all thought Ellyesce dead until just recently. Now, enough with this chatter. Let’s go eat!”

  Seating was informal, so Jahrra, Dathian, and Haedron found a place along the lengthy table where they could sit. They chatted amiably for a bit, Jahrra mostly regaling tales from her time spent in Lidien with a slightly blushing Dathian insisting she exaggerated.

  At some point in time, Jaax slipped in through the tall doors and made his way over to the corner where Sapheramin and Tollorias stood. His eyes found hers, and he gave Jahrra a small nod. Her smile faded, and she lowered her glass of pale violet wine. Only a word or two and a few pointed looks had passed between them that morning before she was whisked away to her room. She had meant to speak with him before going to the meeting, and then the sudden bout of exhaustion had prevented that altogether. Now, she wanted to pester him for details about the assembly she had missed, but there was so much more to be discussed as well. The relief and joy she felt at seeing him safe in the throne room had reminded her just how much she hated his absence.

  Jahrra set her wineglass onto the table and glanced up at Jaax then. His conversatio
n still carried on with the two Korli dragons, but she could feel his attention settle on her. Jahrra knew, without a doubt, that if some renegade member of the Red Flange somehow made his way into this dining room, past all the king’s guards, and came at her with a sword, Jaax would be there, roasting him to a crisp before he could even draw breath to scream his battle cry in the name of the Crimson King.

  Before Jahrra could ponder the oddity of such thoughts further, a palace servant pushing a tray came to a stop behind them. The first course, a salad of crisp greens and exotic vegetables tossed in a delicate dressing, was served. Jahrra dug in with relish, ready to banish the unsettling feeling gathering around her heart and put her stomach’s complaints to rest. Soup and small sandwiches followed the salad, and Jahrra tried a little of everything, taking second helpings of the dishes she liked best. For dessert, the king had ordered a citrus custard topped with whipped cream. It was all very delicious and by the time the servants were clearing the grand table, Jahrra could hardly move.

  “I thought that was supposed to be a light dinner!” she exclaimed to her two companions.

  Dathian snorted, and Haedron laughed out loud.

  “Not if you eat several helpings of each course!” Haedron pointed out.

  Jahrra was tempted to stick her tongue out at him, but decided against it. She was supposed to be an example of strength and courage to them all. Such a childish gesture might give their allies the wrong impression.

  More conversation and dancing followed, but Jahrra declined to take part in either. Instead, she stepped through one of many sets of glass doors leading out onto a wide terrace overlooking the city below. In the distance, the valley stretched for a handful of miles between the sheer cliff walls, now bathed in silver moonlight. Jahrra drew in a deep breath and released it, enjoying the cool caress of mountain air against her heated skin. The dinner had been lovely, and she cherished the time she’d spent with Dathian and Haedron. She wondered if they still lingered in the dining hall or if they’d gone off to find a hidden alcove among the many terraced gardens of Dhonoara.

  Jahrra bit back a grin at the thought and wondered if Dathian and her new friend were even aware of what had become more obvious to her. She could be wrong, but there was definitely a connection between the two elves. And it would explain Dathian’s overly reserved nature back in Lidien. His heart had clearly been left in Dhonoara. Part of her even wondered if she was inventing scenarios simply to give her mind something joyful to think about as the ever-present dread of facing the Crimson King pressed down upon her.

  Shivering a little at the reminder, Jahrra crossed the spacious terrace overlooking Upper Dhonoara Valley, the dress the elves had gifted to her flowing behind her like gossamer wings. The light, airy, fabric didn’t protect her much from the cooling temperature outside the hall, but she didn’t mind. The banquet hall had been too hot.

  Jahrra reached the end of the terrace and placed her elbows against the smooth balustrade, her long sleeves bunching slightly and spilling down the stone railing like a frozen waterfall. She tipped her head back, her eyelids drifting shut. She didn’t want to think about the days and weeks ahead. If they even had weeks. She had been in Dhonoara with her friends for less than a day and already they spoke of the urgency to march on Ghorium. Jahrra gritted her teeth at the memory of their arrival and how they were swiftly ushered into King Vandrian’s throne room. It felt like it had been a few days ago, not a few hours.

  Jaax had already been in the valley for a couple days, most likely locked up in the king’s throne room spending hours on end talking strategy and checking in with messengers to see if their allies were close. Word had been received by most of them: several armies of allied soldiers, those who would be fighting for the Coalition and for Ethoes, were anywhere between two weeks and a few days away. She had learned that much, at least, during her dinner conversations. In fact, only a day ago the first wave of infantry from outside of Ghorium and northern Terre Moeserre had arrived. Able-bodied men and women from the scattered corners of Ethoes who had banded together on the road before making their final trek to Dhonoara.

  Jahrra was so deep in thought, she didn’t at first notice the shadow falling over her. When she did pick up on the subtle change of light, however, she didn’t have to turn around to know who had joined her. There was just something about her guardian’s presence she had grown so used to over the years, like a comfortable cloak she could always rely on to keep her warm. She had not quite been herself as she’d traveled from Ghellna to Dhonoara with Ellyesce and Dervit, and then Denaeh as well. Even if the Mystic’s presence had shifted her focus. It had been the same when they had been forced to flee Cahrdyarein. She didn’t like being away from Jaax. Jahrra was not too proud to admit she had learned to appreciate him, despite his secrets and, at times, smug, overbearing demeanor. Only in the past few years had they learned to work together. And now, the thought of Jaax being absent from her life, even for a few days, unsettled her.

  Angling her body sideways, Jahrra glanced back at her guardian. She could make out his shape, a deep green shadow against the lights pouring from the castle. When he took a step forward, something flashed against his front foot. His spirit stone ring. She’d had it commissioned, when they still lived in Lidien. A Solsticetide gift she’d paid for with money earned from taking on sword fighting challengers in the park after her University classes. She’d been compelled to get him something nice, since he had always remembered to send her fine gifts over the years.

  “You’re wearing your spirit stone ring,” she murmured.

  Jaax huffed softly. “I never take it off.”

  Jahrra remembered him making the same claim in Cahrdyarein. She had no ready reply for him, so she pivoted back around to face the moonlit valley.

  “Promise me that’s the last time you’ll leave.” Her words were spoken over the edge of the balcony, but they were aimed at her guardian.

  Jaax arched a scaly brow, and moved to stand beside his ward. He drew a breath, let it out with ease, and remarked, “A wise dragon would make no such promise, for I cannot tell the future.”

  “Maybe we should involve Denaeh in this bargain, then,” Jahrra suggested.

  Jaax’s smile wavered, his expression dimming. Jahrra knew why. Jaax had never liked, nor trusted, Denaeh.

  “Does it bother you, that she’s followed us this far?” she asked, turning to glance up at him. His features were cast in the shadow of twilight, but his eyes still glinted like backlit emeralds.

  Jaax sighed and moved closer to the balustrade beside her. The scent of gardenia perfumed the air. The potted shrubs scattered about the terrace, warmed by elvin magic, opened early, their white blossoms like bright moons against the glossy foliage. The enchanted flowers and general splendor of Dhonoara Valley created an environment meant for dreams and joy. What a shame they stood on the very threshold of war.

  “There’s not much I can do about it at this point,” Jaax conceded. “She is here, and she will not leave. Perhaps I should put aside my stubbornness and take advantage of what she has to offer instead.”

  Jahrra turned to look at him, both brows arched high. “You? Let go of your stubbornness? What is the world coming to?”

  The Tanaan dragon merely huffed out a breath of amusement before the pair of them settled once again into a comfortable silence. Evening birds chirped and insects whirred, taking advantage of the warm night. A gentle breeze wafted by, carrying with it the laughter and conversation of the elves and those guests who had lingered after the evening meal.

  Eventually, even the pleasant melody wasn’t enough to keep Jahrra’s nagging thoughts at bay. She leaned over the stone railing, elbows pressed into the cool stone, fingers casually laced. She did not glance up at Jaax as she began without preamble, “I learned a few things since leaving Ghellna.”

  The dragon shifted beside her, a smooth tucking of his wings. “Oh?”

  Jahrra nodded, a strand of her hair coming loose fro
m its braid to dance in the breeze with the lightning bugs.

  “Not only is Ellyesce the Magehn of the last Tanaan king, but he has a history with Denaeh. You know, the Mystic who also happens to be the mother of Cierryon, the Crimson King.”

  Jaax went very still beside her, and even the chirrup of nearby crickets ceased.

  Taking a careful breath, Jahrra pressed on. “What other secrets do you continue to keep from me, Raejaaxorix?”

  Jahrra had not meant for the conversation to head in this particular direction, but something had compelled her to press him once again. Maybe it was a result of having Denaeh back in her life, for the Mystic had always encouraged Jahrra to seek answers. Perhaps it was the two glasses of wine she’d accepted from the castle servants during the banquet, making her less cautious than usual. Or maybe it was this horrible, heart-rending feeling in the pit of her stomach which suggested each time Jaax left, he very well might not come back again. Whatever it was, Jahrra had returned to this long-standing battle between them once more.

  Jaax took a long time to answer her, and when he did, his tone broached no apology, “Only the ones you are not ready to know, Jahrra.”

  It was Jahrra’s turn to contemplate his words. She was so used to this game by now, this push and pull for information, for answers. Why she expected Jaax to be more agreeable this time around, to catch him off guard and force him to stumble into an answer, she couldn’t say. But she should have known better. Jaax didn’t stumble. Not ever.

  Finally, Jahrra took a deep breath and turned to face him. Another question had been flickering in the back of her mind for some time now, years perhaps. She had never spoken it aloud, and she never dared think about it for more than a fleeting moment or two. Fear and uncertainty had kept it at bay, but now, as they stood on the lovely terrace in Dhonoara, ready to march on the Tyrant in a mere handful of days, she felt it was time to voice her thoughts. If Jaax wouldn’t answer her questions, then perhaps she could get what she needed by sharing her suspicions.