The Legend of Oescienne
-The Finding-
By Jenna Elizabeth Johnson
Copyrighted Material
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons and places is entirely coincidental.
THE LEGEND OF OESCIENNE
-THE FINDING-
Copyright © 2009 by Jenna Elizabeth Johnson
All rights reserved.
Cover art by Randy Vargas Gómez (www.vargasni.com)
No part of this book or its cover may be reproduced in any manner without written permission from its creator.
For more information and to contact the author visit www.jennaelizabethjohnson.com
For Dad, who instilled in me a deep respect and admiration for Nature and all her endless wonder.
For Mom, who taught me to see the good in humanity, and to cherish and strive for that goodness in myself.
And for Cate, my one and only sister, who makes me laugh more than anyone else I know.
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
Evasion
ONE
A Very Surprising Discovery
TWO
Hroombramantu
THREE
Dreams, Dragons and Making Friends
FOUR
Surviving the First Day of School
FIVE
Tricks and Traps and Fighting Back
SIX
Phrym
SEVEN
The Stranger and the Dragons’ Court
EIGHT
A Long, Cold Winter
NINE
Moving On
TEN
The Castle Ruin
ELEVEN
The Legend of Oescienne
TWELVE
Blue Flames and Draggish Words
THIRTEEN
An Unwanted Invitation
FOURTEEN
A Party, a Prank and a Near
Death Experience
FIFTEEN
Friends in Unexpected Places
SIXTEEN
Chasing Unicorns
SEVENTEEN
Dueling with Dragons
EIGHTEEN
The Elves of Dhonoara
NINETEEN
Invasion of the Twins
TWENTY
The Dare
TWENTY-ONE
The Witch of the Wreing
TWENTY-TWO
What Goes Around Comes Around
EPILOGUE
Letters from Afar
Pronunciation Guide
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Other Books by this Author
Connect with me Online
Excerpt from The Legend of Oescienne - The Beginning
The Legend of Oescienne
-The Finding-
-Prologue-
Evasion
Morning’s first light poured into a cramped, dank cave casting strange shadows against its distorted walls. It was a very ordinary cave as caves go, and up until a few days ago it seemed things would remain that way. The cave had sat empty in a cliff above the western sea, left alone to inhale the ocean’s salty air and capture the sound of the waves crashing below. Hidden and unseen in a cove only a few knew about, the cave had remained empty for so many years. But that was all about to change.
A piercing beam of light fought its way through a narrow hole in the ceiling of the cavern, breaking into the empty chamber and making the sunlight flooding through its mouth seem dimmer. The ray came to rest upon the pale face of a figure bunched upon the cold, dirty floor like a pile of discarded rags. His eyes were closed in sleep, but the silent expression on his face was far from restful. His dark hair was unkempt and his face appeared almost bloodless. He was as still as death, but his tense features and the grim cut of his mouth confirmed the struggle that only the living possessed.
The man stirred awake and rolled onto his side, sending a scraping and soft groaning sound playing against the curved walls. Wincing and gasping in pain, he clutched his shoulder and dragged himself up into a sitting position. The bright beam of light was now slanted across his profile, illuminating the distinct characteristics of his race. His fine features and narrow, sharply tapered ears proved that he was of elfin descent, but it was his dark hair, pale skin and uncommonly tall stature that revealed him as one of the Aellheian elves of the east.
He blinked his eyes as the waves of pain ebbed and passed, looking blankly around the natural room that he’d been sleeping in. The cave was littered with jagged stalactites and stalagmites, making it resemble the mouth of a yawning dragon. Several conical tunnels were scattered throughout, giving the impression that a giant had pressed its fingers into the small space while it was still a soft cavity of clay, leaving their indentations behind.
The injured elf breathed deeply as he recalled climbing up here only a few days before. He was grateful despite the exhausting effort; at least now he could rest easy. This place was a great secret not known to his pursuers. He closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind. A sharp, metallic taste in his mouth forced him to recall the skirmish he’d had not long ago, the one that had landed him in his current situation. He sighed and rested his head against the wall, listening to the low rumble of the waves outside as he tried to distract himself from the endless sound of dripping water echoing throughout the cave. The smell of saltwater and pine resin, dust and distant fog hung in the air like a delicate feather, reminding him of the thick forest perched on the edge of the cliffs just above his head.
Despite his hot skin and the relatively relaxing rhythm of the crashing waves, the elf felt a cold chill clenching his heart. He ran his fingers through his tangled hair as if this action might comb away the grogginess and pounding headache that seemed to swallow him. He’d been in this place for three days now, or so he thought, and he feared the wound in his shoulder might be infected. He’d cleaned it and treated it with an herbal balm, but it was swollen and throbbing.
For several months he’d managed to evade the Tyrant’s men but now it seemed they’d finally caught their prey. He’d gone so far as to enter the land west of the feared Thorbet and Elornn mountains, a place the Crimson King would never go, but it was clear the Tyrant’s soldiers thought differently. They’d finally moved in close enough to place an arrow deep in his shoulder just to the left of his heart. Desperate, injured and out of options, he headed farther west towards a land he’d once considered home only to find a familiar place of sanctuary. This particular cave would hide him well, but he also knew that if he died here so would the secrets he carried.
The elf trembled again, blinking against the harsh light hitting his face. Whether the shivering was a result of an encroaching fever or from the thought of his world crashing down around him, he couldn’t tell. He drew a long, deep breath and carefully pulled a leather-bound journal, a pen and an inkwell out of the saddle bags he’d had the sense to grab before fleeing on foot. He propped himself up against the wall, quietly thanking Ethoes it was smooth, and leaned forward so that one of the empty pages of the journal lit up to a blinding white from the sunbeam pouring through the roof. He thought for a while as he continued to fight off the sickening heat emanating from his shoulder. After several moments of reverie, he dipped his quill into the inkwell and began to write:
It has been three centuries and more since the world changed, but not much has happened since. Whether that fact bodes good or ill towards the people loyal to the Goddess, I cannot tell. The pages before this tell the story of the world and how Ethoes created all t
he living and nonliving things that exist upon its surface, of the rise of the god Ciarrohn and Traagien’s defeat of him, of the folly of the elves and the creation of the humans and their eventual end. All of the pages before this one hold that story and the secrets of the royal family of Oescienne.
Therefore I, the last Magehn of the Tanaan king, will not waste time with the tales of old. What I can tell you, however, is that three hundred years ago the Crimson King cast a terrible curse upon the last race of humans, transforming them into dragons and severing their link to the province of Oescienne. From that point on, the tie between the western province and its rightful sovereigns, the race of humans, was destroyed, setting in motion the Tyrant’s first steps in clearing the way for the complete domination of all seven provinces of Ethoes.
A muffled shout followed by a torrent of angry words brought the Magehn’s pen to a stop. His heart quickened its pace and the throbbing in his head and shoulder fell into rhythm with it. The noise came from above, and through the tiny skylight in his cave the elfin man could barely make out the foreign tongue of several of the Tyrant’s men. He hoped they wouldn’t find his horse, but then he remembered he’d removed its bridle and saddle, encouraging the animal to flee just before he made his way down the narrow trail leading to his hiding place.
Although he couldn’t decipher what it was the men said, the Magehn knew that they’d tracked him this far. How they found the courage to cross the mountains is beyond me, he thought bitterly. Then he realized it hadn’t been courage but fear. Those loyal to the Crimson King may have feared the far western mountains, but they feared their king more.
The elf listened silently as the voices trailed off. When he was certain they had moved on to search for him in some other location, he got back to his work, focusing on finishing while he still could:
Though the humans are now dragons, and those dragons are now scattered, there is reason yet to hope. The Tyrant still suffers from the wounds inflicted upon him in that final battle with the last Tanaan prince and his people; he still struggles to regain his strength from the effort it took to transform them. Yet no one knows when the Crimson King will regain his former might and attack the remaining provinces. Most believe it is only a matter of time, and time is running short.
The last Tanaan prince is now lost. Many claim he is long dead, for wouldn’t he have returned to his people and rallied them by now, even in their reptilian forms? Yet I saw his transformation and witnessed his escape within the confusion of the aftermath of the great battle. I believe with all of my heart, though I may not live out my immortal existence as I had once hoped, that a day will come when the Tyrant’s curse is lifted and the Tanaan humans will return to rule in Oescienne once again.
The elf halted his hand, staring down at the stark black marks he’d sketched upon the paper. He was writing in his native language, the language of the Dhonoaran elves, descendents of the Aellheians. He should have felt pride for their development of such a beautiful language, but instead he felt a bitter taste of disgust rise in his throat. So much sorrow, so much pain, destruction and avaricious betrayal had come from his people that it brought him some shame, even though he knew it wasn’t his fault.
The Magehn drew a sharp breath as a sudden stab of pain ripped down his arm. He had been about to continue his notation but instead he paused, his jaw clenched, willing the ache to pass. As he waited in agony, he returned his thoughts to the ugly circumstances of his world. Instead of thinking of his ancient elfin ancestors, however, he recalled his own loved ones harmed or corrupted by the Tyrant King. He thought especially of the one whose trust he’d lost, someone who was still dear to him. Soon he felt another pain, a pain that would never heal. The ache in his shoulder and the ache in his heart mingled, combining to form one great pang of anguish.
The elf took a deep breath, suppressing the distracting memories that were now surfacing in his mind. I don’t have time to tell my own story. I have time only for this . . . He forced his screaming thoughts to the back of his mind and continued on with what he had started. Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead, but he wrote on:
I have spent long years mourning my king and my people, but I could not hide from the terrors of this world forever. I came out of my hiding no more than six months ago, and it took the blessed words of hope to make me finally face my fears. I knew the Tyrant searched for me, that he seeks vengeance, even now. He is aware that I hold the secrets of the Tanaan and believes that I know the location of their prince. But I braved his wrath and went forth into the world despite the great danger, for I had received word of something amazing, something extraordinary.
Before I was tracked down and wounded by the Tyrant’s minions, I had been riding throughout all of Ethoes, spreading this great news, news of an answer to our plight. The Oracles, those that still remain with us, spoke of a miracle promised by Ethoes herself, one that could mean the salvation of our world.
Pain beyond description flared through the elf’s fevered body. He cried out in anguish as his pen dragged across the bottom of the white paper leaving a long, jagged black line. This ache was worse than the ones before, and it struck fear into the Magehn’s heart. His eyes watered and his vision became fuzzy as he wondered about the origin of the arrow that had caused this wound. Perhaps it had been poisoned. He felt lightheaded and sensed his mind being pulled in and out of consciousness. Furiously, and with fresh determination, the last Magehn of the Tanaan king began writing as fast as he could, able to produce one more sentence before he knew no more:
I have done what I can to spread this new prophecy throughout the land, a prophecy about the return of a lasting peace, a prophecy about a lost prince, and a prophecy about a young, pure-blooded human girl born to save us all.
-Chapter One-
A Very Surprising Discovery
Jaax wrinkled his nose as the sound of a chattering bird pulled him from his slumber, but he kept his eyes shut and remained motionless nonetheless. Not that he could’ve moved much anyway, for the small, fern-laced hollow he’d tucked himself into the night before was just big enough to accommodate his large size, wings and all. He sighed softly, releasing a hot, smoke-tinged breath that forced the damp leaves plastered to the forest floor to peel and curl in protest.
After a few heartbeats he risked a peek, opening one silvery-green dragon’s eye to catch a glimpse of the damp, grey morning that congested the forest like a heavy cold. Most dragons had eyes of yellow, orange or red, dominated by a wild intelligence. It was only the Tanaan dragons whose eyes were shaded in the blues, greens and browns of their human ancestors. Jaax shivered at the recollection. A terrible curse had meant the end of the humans in Ethoes, the same curse that had brought about the existence of his particular race of dragons nearly five centuries ago.
Jaax blinked several times as if doing so would remove these dark thoughts from his mind the way tears dislodged grains of sand from one’s eyes. And his eyes were quite unique, even for a Tanaan dragon. They shone with a fierce obscurity, as if they’d been tame at one time but had since returned to being wild. Why they had become this way, however, was a mystery known entirely to the soul buried behind them. It was only during this first waking moment that Jaax revealed any clues as to what sorrows and secrets he kept locked away, but that small amount of time was never long enough for anyone to discern the dragon’s troubles.
Jaax sighed and continued to listen to the singing bird from earlier. It was a heartsong sparrow, a harbinger of luck, hope and love. The tiny creature trilled on before it was frightened away by something larger foraging for food. Well, the dragon thought with an amused smile, at least it wasn’t me this time.
With his fine musician flown, the dragon lifted his triangular head and gazed more thoroughly at his surroundings. The feathery ferns that brushed against his face acted as a fragile screen between his tiny vale and the outside world and the great, gnarled oaks stretching over
head resembled giant, arthritic hands reaching up out of the earth to grasp at the insubstantial fog. Despite its early morning lethargy, the forest was alive with a variety of scents: cold fog, decaying leaves and the distant tang of a fresh fire being the most prominent. Jaax tilted his head to listen for possible intruders, but all he heard was the drip of condensation gathering and slapping against the leaf-litter below.
The Tanaan dragon smiled softly, his eyelids drooping lazily as the cool silence weighed heavily upon him. His initial instincts told him there was no threat here. The instincts that ran deeper, however, told him something else. As the heartsong sparrow had announced earlier, there was change in the air, and not just any change, but a good change, one that had led him to this secluded corner of Ethoes to begin with.
Yawning widely, Jaax stretched himself out of his forest bed, snapping twigs and cracking joints as he stood to his full height. The strong scent of earthworms and wild mushrooms filled the space around him as he pressed his weight into the dark, rich soil, and the taste of damp, mossy air filled his mouth and throat as he breathed. Jaax smiled despite himself. He loved the absolute quiet and heavy scents the fog evoked.
The foraging animal from earlier, a towhee, noticed him immediately and twittered energetically as it fled the scene. The dragon grinned again as the bird’s distress calls disappeared into the mist. He was used to being feared but he never took it personally. As he shook the cold and sleep from his body his irony scales, rough and glimmering like polished granite, gradually changed from the bland colors of his surroundings to shades of copper, rusty bronze, deep-green and turquoise.
Finally fully awake, Jaax at last allowed his mind to consider his long awaited duty, and the letter that had called him to it. He was here on the bank of the Saem River to retrieve a young child, a newborn baby to be exact, and, according to what the correspondence had claimed, the only one of her kind. It was a very odd task for such a large dragon, but there was a chance that this child held the fate of the world in her tiny hands.
Jaax felt a rippling shiver pass under his tough skin as he considered what all of this meant. A baby girl, he thought in wonderment mixed with skepticism, found inside a hollow, yet very much alive shell of an ancient oak tree in northern Oescienne. The familiarity of it all made his great heart quicken with anticipation and even fear. The words of the Oracles . . . Jaax tried to bite back that enticing thought, but it was no use. This had been his purpose all along, to find her and protect her the day she was born. He realized that if this child truly was what the message claimed her to be, then there was good reason for the sudden flare of his once dormant emotions. Yet he still doubted, for he had been disappointed too many times before.
After one last lingering glance at his campsite, Jaax set his jaw in determination and spread his enormous wings. He beat them once and leaped into the gray sky, forcing the thick mist to dance in small eddies and the tree branches to whip around in protest. Once he’d climbed high enough, he noted the fog sagging like a heavy blanket between the two ranges forming the Saem Valley. He glided soundlessly over the gray-white ocean of clouds below him, counting the miles as they passed and narrowing his pale eyes against the brilliant sun.
The dragon’s final destination was a place called Crie, a place as unassuming as a newborn infant. It was a small, secluded village on the river bank just a few miles east of where he’d slept. The location was ideal, set against the southern Saem Hills on the flat land that rested just above the calm tributary. He knew this village well and the elves who lived there: they were descendants of the Woedehn elves, a race that still resided in the great forests of Hrunah to the east. Some of them had traveled to this part of the world after the rise of the Crimson King, hoping to relocate beyond his grasp. A great number of them, Jaax recalled, were actually Nesnan or Resai, the mixed-blood descendents of elf and human unions from long before the Tyrant transformed them. Though not immortal, they had inherited from their elfin ancestors at least some of their longevity. Many of these people were hundreds of years old but appeared rather youthful.
While he soared over the treetops, Jaax passed the time by picturing the townspeople he knew from his past meetings with them. He saw in his mind’s eye a gentle folk, secretive and simple in their ways, yet lively and sociable when the mood called for celebration. Like their Woedehn kin, the elves of Crie were short in stature but not petite and delicate like so many of the other races of their kind. They never quailed from hard work and were always eager to take on a good challenge. Whether that task be something as risky as driving a rabid dremmen wolf from their village or something as simple as removing a stubborn turnip from their garden, it didn’t matter.
As he drew nearer to his destination, Jaax drifted below the fog line once more, flying low over the outskirts of the sleepy village. Many communities like this small colony were thought to be hiding in sheltered valleys and on mountaintops all throughout Ethoes, but Jaax was only aware of a handful of them. He scanned the settlement quickly, counting the stubby, stone-and-adobe houses as they darted by. They looked remarkably like rounded cones with a thatching of reeds or small twigs for roofing. Some of them were several rooms large and gave the impression of a group of gumdrops being pressed firmly together. A single road twined through the village and the randomly placed dwellings like a brown snake searching out mice in a harvested field. Most of the stone huts had small gardens and fenced-in yards to grow kitchen herbs and to hold small livestock.
Smoke from early morning fires curled sluggishly above the earthen houses, their roofs dusted white with the crystalline frost of this uncommonly temperate winter. From what Jaax could judge, the elves had only been up long enough to light the fires in their hearths. He cast his eyes towards the center of the sprawling town and from his lofty view he spied a low burning bonfire ringed in by great, round stones. The coal-choked blaze looked like it had been burning for quite some time. Red-tinged smoke still rose and blended with the white mist above, signaling that this fire stood for more than just the celebration of the Solstice that had passed just over a week ago.
The dragon grinned as the cool winter air whipped around him. He knew these elves would be preparing breakfast for the whole town in anticipation of their rare visitor. It’s been so long since they’ve seen dragons grace the skies . . . he thought with a heavy heart. He secretly blessed the low cloud cover, for it masked the tainted smoke of the bonfire which, on a clear day, would point out a forbidden celebration.
Jaax grimaced. He knew that this ancient tribe still remembered the time when the Crimson King first came into power, putting an end to their carefree way of life. No longer could they take part in the festivals they once cherished unless willing to risk enslavement or even death. Even now, nearly five centuries later, the people of Crie feared the Tyrant King. To them the threat of Cierryon was as real as it ever was and many of the villagers had to sacrifice much of their tradition to avoid discovery by the Tyrant’s minions. One of these sacrifices had been the large bonfires that were a central part of their ancient customs. On holidays and special occasions, the blazes were fed sacred plants and herbs, staining the smoke to a specific color. This was a sure sign of an outlawed festival, one not tolerated by the king.
This fear had kept them cautious for centuries, but today was different, today they had good reason to be joyous for the first time in ages. They had a real reason to celebrate and the thick, low clouds offered some protection from a curious gaze that might otherwise notice a large plume of ruddy smoke. Fear not this day, elves of Crie, Jaax thought with an optimistic grin as he glided in low to graze the conical tops of firs and spruce. If you have truly found what you claim, then today is the dawn of a new era, an era that will bring a lasting peace to Ethoes.
Jaax swooped in between two ancient sycamores, standing bare for the winter. He came to rest just beyond the border of the settlement, beating his great wings and balancing
his long tail to soften his heavy landing. He swiveled his thorny head, his keen eyes scanning the surroundings, his steamy breath puffing in the crisp air. The valley was a palette of cool colors this time of year with the frigid wilderness set against the wide and deep Saem River. Sycamores, oaks, aspen and a few conifers grew between the steep hills. Although the aspens and sycamores had lost their leaves, their white mottled trunks looked quite beautiful standing against the cool grey sky and sharp granite stones that protruded from the earth like giant, jagged teeth.
The great reptile looked out over the Saem River, moving slowly past the small islands like liquid ice. He wondered when a lasting snow would fall, but was grateful it wasn’t any colder. Once his survey was through, he turned and walked east along the river’s edge, following the scent of roasting meat and smoke. As he approached Crie, the villagers cautiously poked their heads out of their houses, their eyes growing wide with delight when they recognized their rare visitor.
One of these curious townsfolk spotted the dragon just on the edge of town and shouted jovially, “Raejaaxorix! You’ve come at last!”
The Resai man came rushing out of his squat home with a wide smile on his face. He was tanned and wrinkled with fading brown hair that stuck out at a hundred odd angles. He wore a simple white, long-sleeved tunic, worn russet pants and a pair of scuffed clogs. “For such a large creature you sure make a quiet entrance!” he continued in his cheerful, melodic voice, olive eyes twinkling brightly.
This time the dragon Raejaaxorix gave a full smile, revealing a line of white daggers. He loosened his stiff gait and answered, “I hear you’ve found an infant, Aydehn, probably Nesnan, maybe even Resai or full-blooded elf, but it can’t possibly be what you claim it to be.”
“Ah,” replied Aydehn with a grin and a shake of his finger, “you never change Jaax, always straight to business and never time for too much small talk.”
“I just can’t justify wasted time.” Jaax gave the old elfin man a tired smirk.
“Ha-ha! Right you are! Come, you must tell us news from the outside world, we’re dying to hear anything, and you must have something to eat, yes?”
Jaax allowed himself to be led away by the small crowd of interested people that had gathered. He didn’t mind their stares and whispers. In fact, he was glad for the company and couldn’t blame these people for enjoying a chance to be hospitable. The discovery of this child could mean good news for them too, and perhaps the years of living their lives in secret might finally come to an end.
Following a meal of roasted deer and a detailed discussion of the state of Oescienne and its surrounding lands, the elves took Jaax to where they’d found the infant. The group climbed deep into the boulder-strewn hills, skirting around a jagged hillock and up a granite-laced canyon. The narrow gullies, crowded trees, and giant slabs of stone made movement through this forest cumbersome. If Jaax had been an old dragon, moving across this terrain would have proven difficult, but his lean frame and powerful build aided him much as he followed the people of Crie deeper into the hills. Instinctively, he peered around every corner, smelling the air carefully, a habit he’d developed as a result of his elusive lifestyle.
When the entire party finally crested the steep rise, Jaax paused and gazed in wonder at the great tree spreading its thick canopy from one side of the expansive hilltop to the other. It was an ancient oak, magnificent and gnarled, its several knobby limbs twisting and grasping for the sky. The giant tree was hollow as a shell but strongly attached to the ground due to several knotty roots plunging deep into the heart of the earth. The heartwood of the oak had been burned out in a firestorm ages ago and now all that was left was an empty area large enough to accommodate him and the drove of elves.
“Do you know this tree, Raejaax?” asked Aydehn quietly. His tone was more serious now, his face turning grave as he clasped his hands together in anticipation.
“Yes, yes I do,” Jaax answered in similar tones as he focused his silver-green eyes on the full beauty of the tree. “It’s Ethoes’ first oak, the Sacred Oak. I knew it was located in this part of Oescienne, but I wasn’t aware it was so near Crie.”
“Aye,” answered the Resai man in an anxious whisper, his eyes wide with feeling, “this is why our ancestors came to rest here when they fled the east. They knew this was Ethoes’ Oak, and the oak of all trees! The most sacred! They found themselves quite blessed when they happened upon it, and they knew then that the Goddess would keep them safe here. It has become a sacred place to us, and it is here that we give thanks to the Goddess.”
Jaax looked around inside of the hollow tree, ignoring the silent and inquisitive stares pouring over him. There was a charred pit in the center for a fire, perhaps to be lit on the Solstice and the Equinox. He sniffed at the air again, this time trying hard to detect any aroma that might reveal the secret to this place. It smelled of old smoke, dust and ancient forest, but nothing unusual or even unique drifted on the air, not even the smallest trace of magic.
“There was no mother?” Jaax asked suddenly, turning his keen eyes on the group that had accompanied him.
Aydehn nodded somberly, his voice sounding dry, “We found her here, completely naked and only a few hours old, according to our midwives.” When Jaax adopted a pensive look, the Resai man added, “That must be significant, inside the Sacred Oak?”
“We didn’t see anything out of the ordinary, no markings, nothing on the ground around her,” continued one of the village elders, a wizened old woman leaning on a crooked cane with a voice like an irritated frog. “She was just here. In fact, it’s a miracle that someone happened by. Luckily the Solsticetide had just passed, or else we would generally not come out this way, for weeks sometimes.”
Jaax puzzled this over. A female child seemingly born from the earth itself; yes, this did sound similar to what the Oracles had promised. And there was the Sacred Oak, a connection to Ethoes herself. There was only one more thing to prove, and the Tanaan dragon didn’t see that as likely, despite what the message he received had claimed. It was all probably coincidence anyhow, coincidences happened all the time and he’d definitely been alive long enough to know that. Nevertheless, he couldn’t help but wonder: could this girl really be human?
Jaax sighed as he thought about the strange circumstances. Over the years he’d gone on mission after mission, receiving word of a human child having been found. He’d been to what seemed like every province of Ethoes, as far north as the Baer Mountains in Rhohwynd and as far south as the Soahna Flatlands and all the other places in between. He’d seen hundreds of infants, all being proclaimed as the one the Oracles had promised, but none of them had been human. Some of these children had even been boys, in which case Jaax became angry. It was clearly foretold that the human child would be a girl. Half the time he thought these people only wanted to see a dragon, a rare sight in Ethoes these days.
“Where’s the child now?” queried Jaax, leaving his thoughts for later.
“She’s with my wife, Thenya,” Aydehn answered. “Shall we go and get her?”
“Yes.” Jaax dropped his distracted gaze and looked at the elderly Resai man standing below him. “I’ll see her now and decide if she’s better off with Hroombra or better off left here with you.”
Jaax followed the elves back to the village, reflecting in silence the entire journey back. He was thinking about what had been prophesied, although his better judgment told him not to. He’d waited so many years, long years, longer than his patience should have had to endure. Could the Oracles have spoken truth and could the search finally be over? Now’s not the time to ask yourself these questions, he thought in self-chastisement, they’re all counting on your final say. Let’s hope that this time the child really is the one.
The young dragon sighed, scorching the icy air as he exhaled. The Oracles’ claim had been faulty and vague, that was undeniable. When has an Oracle ever been absolutely clear about the
future anyway? But right now he needed to focus on what was best for this child if she wasn’t the one he sought.
Thenya stepped out of her small hut as the party approached Crie. Jaax looked up at her as she drew near and saw a tangled look of reluctance, joy and sorrow on her wrinkled face. Like her husband, Thenya was short and sturdy. She wore her salted chestnut hair in a tight bun, but several wisps had come loose and now framed her head like a halo. Her eyes were a light hazel color, and her slightly pointed ears appeared to be tucked back into her hair. She wore a dark blue dress dusted with flour and a stained white apron. In her arms she carried a bundle of multi-colored cloth that could’ve been a load of dirty laundry headed for the washboards. Jaax froze when he saw the bundle squirm.
Thenya slowly approached the towering dragon and pulled back a violet-blue cloth revealing a tiny face, two bright blue eyes and quite a lot of golden-blond hair. Jaax’s heart caught in his throat: blue eyes.
“When was this child found exactly?” he asked, perhaps a little too harshly.
“A few days after the Solsticetide, about a week ago.” Aydehn’s response from beside him was both startled and automatic.
“And you’re positive she was newborn the day you found her?” Jaax was finding it hard to wait for his friend’s answers. His mind was beginning to hum, mingling with the buzzing of the curious voices of the onlookers.
“Oh yes, absolutely sure, only a few hours or so.”
Jaax’s head was no longer humming but spinning. Blue eyes!
“Your children Aydehn, they’re born with eyes white except the pupils, is this not true?” he continued in that rough voice.
“Why of course, any race containing elf blood or dwarf blood is born with white eyes and then the color comes in later. In fact, the only known race to be born with blue eyes is . . .”
“Human,” Jaax cut him off. “And not just part human, full-blooded human. A pure-blooded human, unbelievable! Impossible!”
His voice was now a hiss, almost inaudible over the growing clamor of the shifting and murmuring throng. Jaax was astounded. He knew he’d hoped for this, for centuries he had, but he’d never expected this day to come after so many long years of disappointment. How could a human, a race that’s been extinct for five hundred years, end up inside an oak tree in a tiny village in northern Oescienne? Could the Oracles, then, be telling the truth? Had Ethoes not forsaken them after all? Jaax took in a deep breath and released it on a long, heated sigh.
“Well, Aydehn, I’ll definitely be taking this child off your hands.” His words carried over the crowd, suddenly hushed by the return of the dragon’s strong voice. “Don’t worry, she’ll be well protected,” he added after seeing Thenya’s tearful eyes. “I’ll take her to the Korli dragon Hroombramantu in Oescienne. She’ll be well secluded and protected there, so Ethoes willing, the Crimson King will never find her.”
Reluctantly, Thenya handed over the infant with shaking hands. She had known this day would come, but her composure proved that she hadn’t expected it so soon.
“What do you call her?” Jaax’s voice was suddenly soft, full of understanding for what Thenya was giving up.
“We haven’t thought of any proper human names since we know none,” Thenya answered in a trembling voice, her eyes fixed upon the infant’s small, round face. “But we call her Drisihn, Little Oak.”
“Then that shall be her elfin name.” Jaax nodded courteously.
“What shall we call her as a human, if she ever comes back this way?” Thenya asked, looking up at the great dragon with clear and hopeful eyes.
Jaax paused, turning back to face the inquiring village, all of whom had now gathered around the strange scene. The bonfire behind them still breathed out its tainted smoke, now more of an orange hue than the red he had seen earlier that morning. The hungry bleats of goats and clucks of chickens sounded in the near distance, but every last townsperson was silent, their eyes trained upon the dragon gazing so intently upon the tiny infant.
Jaax’s mind was still reeling from what he’d learned this day, but he forced the shock and excitement away as he tried to answer Thenya’s plea. He had once known a human name, a girl’s name, and he allowed his memory to wander back to the time when human names were still known.
“Jahrraneh,” he replied quietly after a long pause, then out loud for all to hear, “‘All’s Hope’. But I think she’ll be called ‘Jahrra’.”
“Then Jahrra Drisihn we shall call her,” Aydehn replied quietly, smiling as he placed a gentle hand on his wife’s shoulder.
Jaax watched as the tiny child was strapped to him by some of the less timid villagers. He purposely kept his gaze away from Thenya, for she had drawn away when little Jahrra had been taken from her. The dragon sought the eyes of the baby, surprised to find her watching him as well. She gazed back up with what looked like wide, blue amazement and began to laugh.
“Now, would you look at that, she likes you Raejaax!” Thenya exclaimed, showing a bright smile in an attempt to hide her tears.
Well, thought the dragon, recalling the songbird that had sung for him that morning, what do you know? Two for two.
Thenya shooed the young villagers away and finished wrapping the baby securely to Jaax’s neck. When she was finished, he turned to leave, but stopped short.
“What is it?” asked Aydehn.
“I need something to give her when she asks from where she came,” he replied, brow furrowed.
“Here,” Thenya reached into a large pocket in her skirt and pulled out a closed fist, “take this.” She opened her hand to reveal a single acorn. “It’s from the Sacred Oak. In fact, we found it right next to little Drisihn, next to Jahrra.” The woman dropped her eyes and swallowed before going on, “It is winter; there should be no fruit on the trees, yet Ethoes must have wanted her to have it. Perhaps she can plant it one day.”
“Yes,” replied Jaax calmly, “that’ll do just fine.”
Thenya tucked the fat acorn into the bundle that was Jahrra and patted it affectionately.
“Take care of her Raejaaxorix. Don’t let any harm come to her,” Thenya whispered solemnly. “My sister Thedhia awaits your arrival this very evening in the hills above Arlei. You do remember how to get there?”
Jaax looked at the woman with his piercing eyes and nodded. “Of course, I remember it well.”
Thenya closed her own eyes and bowed her head as if finally letting go of her own heart.
With a last glance around and with a small grin that he hoped would bring peace of mind to the elves and their kin, Jaax lifted off the ground with one beat of his mighty wings and climbed into the living mist, the tiny, helpless Jahrra strapped securely to him.
-Chapter Two-
Hroombramantu
From his relatively low altitude Jaax could see the entire landscape spreading out before him like a patchwork quilt. His two day journey had been pleasant, especially since Jahrra had given him little trouble. They had soared easily over the Great Thronn Wilderness, camping on the hillside beside Thedhia’s tiny stone cabin the night before. The elfin woman had fussed and clucked over Jahrra, feeding her and cleaning her once she had peeled her away from Jaax’s scaly hide. But when she tried to take the baby in for the night, the young dragon interjected.
“She stays with me,” he said in a voice stern enough to make a giant redwood tremble.
Thedhia objected weakly but backed down when the dragon gave her one of his deadly glares. She had stalked back to her cabin dejectedly only to return in the morning, her mood much improved, to bid them farewell. Now they were far south of Arlei, closing in on the secret part of Oescienne that was protected by two giant mountain chains. Jaax breathed in the
wild air and grinned, the pleasure of being in this place coursing through his blood like the wind flowing over his scales.
The Elornn Range and the Thorbet Mountains together looked like a huge, purple-spiked se
rpent wrapped in a wide arc, beginning and ending on the shore. To the west was an unobstructed coastline with a delicate ribbon of golden-cream sand stretching for several miles beside the deep expanse of sapphire -water.
A crop of rippling sand dunes, grooved farmlands, rich valleys, thick forests and rolling hills dotted the earth in a perfectly random pattern. The Raenyan and Oorn Rivers in the north and south were a brilliant contrast against the varied landscape; the sun’s reflection blazing upon their glassy surfaces like a flame burning angrily along a fuse.
Jaax grinned when he spotted his destination, a great hill that sloped upward from the east and ended as a dramatic drop at its western-most point. The flat hill itself was covered mostly by a dark forest the locals called the Wreing Florenn, but the rest of it was covered in open fields and small wood copses. This obvious landmark was simply called the Great Sloping Hill, and this was where the dragon Hroombramantu awaited the arrival of the infant Jahrra.
Jaax soared over the Elornn Foothills, descending a little to get a closer view of the land below. He frightened a flock of sheep and sent them bleating and scattering in terror as he swept over the rolling fields of the Raenyan Valley. They looked a lot like oversized cotton balls being blasted by a gust of wind, and he couldn’t help but chuckle lightly as he passed.
Jaax climbed once more to glide over a collection of tall hills but realized he was getting too carried away when he felt Jahrra stir against his neck and then begin to cry. He straightened himself out and fell into an easier drift and breathed deeply when he felt the baby settle comfortably against him again.
The edge of the Great Sloping Hill crept nearer, and after flying over the first few miles of its western edge, Jaax espied Hroombramantu waiting below, looking like a gray statue in the late afternoon light. The old dragon sat with a patience that only comes with age, barely moving his head to watch the descent of the much younger Jaax. He waited in front of a tiny little cottage which, when Jaax got a closer look, was actually situated on a small farm surrounded by orchard trees wedged between the house and the dark woods behind it.
Jaax missed, however, the soft smile on the other dragon’s face as he watched him land gingerly upon the narrow dirt path trailing away from the small house. Jaax beat his wings vigorously, sending up clouds of dust and stray leaves. Once confident he’d done a good job of the landing, he turned and looked at the Korli dragon sitting only a few dozen yards away, smiling wryly.
The old dragon slowly rose and clambered towards the younger one, betraying the evidence of arthritis in his ailing joints.
“Raejaaxorix, it’s been so long since I’ve seen you,” Hroombramantu remarked in a deep, worn voice.
Despite the obvious struggle in his steps, he didn’t appear feeble or delicate.
“Master Hroombra, it’s good to see you out of your crumbled castle,” Jaax commented, trying to mask the weariness in his own words with dry humor.
Hroombra chuckled and shook his great head. He looked different from the younger, stronger Jaax. He was a palette of blues and grays and had a great crest atop his head which was surrounded by sagging skin, both a sign of age and a trademark of the Korli race of dragons. His eyes looked like cool chunks of amber, full of wisdom and centuries of experience, and a few saber-like teeth protruded from his lower jaw to rest against his cheek.
As daunting as this dragon’s appearance may have seemed, his eyes betrayed his kind soul, one that was slow to anger. His wings, great flaps of gray skin, showed the signs of many a battle fought hard and looked like they no longer could lift his stocky frame off the ground.
“Yes, well, I do get out as much as I can these days, especially this day,” Hroombra said, answering Jaax’s earlier comment. Then he added more lightly, “So, where is this human child you are supposed to have found?”
“Right here.” Jaax shifted his wings with a quick smile, revealing the sleeping baby nestled just in front of his shoulder.
“Isn’t that a wonder,” replied Hroombra quietly, smiling widely and exposing many more jagged teeth.
“So this must be her new home now. . .” Jaax said, ignoring the shining admiration in the older dragon’s voice. He was looking past Hroombra towards the old cottage.
“Oh yes, it belongs to a kind old Nesnan couple. They just lost their only child, one born in their later years,” Hroombra explained, still gazing lovingly at Jahrra. “This young one will bring some comfort and love back into their lives and they’ll be sure to return the favor.”
“What sort of people are they?” Jaax inquired, shifting his wings casually against his back. “How do they make their living?”
“Their names are Abdhe and Lynhi,” Hroombra began. “They are poor farmers who moved here from the plains of Torinn long ago during a severe drought. They bought this small patch of earth and have managed to grow a good grove of fruit trees which they depend on for most of their income. They tend a small family garden and raise some livestock, selling their homemade crafts at the markets at the annual festivals.”
Hroombra finished his reply with the tone of someone who was speaking of something very honorable.
“That’s good to hear,” Jaax answered after some time. “I believe she’ll be absolutely safe here. These people, if they are truly as you describe them, will be able to teach her the foundations of life.”
Jaax seemed suddenly distracted and shot a quick glance towards the setting sun on the horizon. The old dragon picked up on the gesture like it was second nature to him. “Already anxious to be off are we?” he said dully with a sad smile.
Jaax pretended not to hear the slight note of disappointment in Hroombra’s tone, but failed to hide the sudden impatience in his own. “If she’s the final part of the prophecy then I have much work to do, you know that.”
“I only hoped you might stay a few days until the little one got settled,” Hroombra said firmly.
The younger dragon quickly jumped on the defensive. “Gets settled? She’s an infant! What could a dragon do to help her settle in?” Jaax released a short, frustrated breath, “Hroombra, I can’t waste anymore time, I must be off to Felldreim today if I’m to make any headway securing our allies.”
Jaax snapped his jaw shut and furrowed his brow. He hadn’t meant to sound so harsh, but he was tired from the journey and he was anxious to rally support against the Tyrant.
After a short while, he collected himself and began again, this time speaking slowly but obdurately, “The human child has finally been found Hroombra, this changes everything. I won’t let petty sentiments get in the way of a plan five hundred years in the making. I’ve brought her safely to you and her new family. I hardly think she’ll care what I do from now on. She doesn’t even know me, she’s only a baby!”
Jaax turned to go, but Hroombra attempted to reach the younger dragon one last time. “I can’t stop you from being who you are Jaax, but someday I hope you can pause and put your past grievances second and your life first. She’s the one Jaax, the one the whole world has been waiting for, and you’re just going to leave her here without a second glance? She could be the one to make everything the way it once was . . .”
The old dragon finished his speech quietly, allowing his mind to wander onto times long past.
After gazing at Jaax with trouble eyes, Hroombra continued in a much more solemn tone, “Go if you must, but all I ask is that you check in on the child’s progress as often as possible.”
“Don’t worry,” Jaax replied firmly, “I will. Her progress is imperative to everything.”
The younger dragon turned and began walking to the end of the drive, the dipping sun casting a long shadow in his wake.
“What’s her name?” Hroombra called, just before the Tanaan dragon spread his great wings before taking off.
“Jahrra Drisihn,” he answered, and was gone in one mighty thrust of his wings.
The air swirled about the Korli dragon and stirred a
few leaves around on the ground. Hroombra watched as Jaax’s dragon shape became nothing more than an emerald blur against the sun-gilded sky. He inhaled a great breath and blew out a stream of smoke, then considered the squirming bundle below him.
“Jahrra, huh?” Hroombra’s old reptilian face smiled down at the young human one. “A new hope you are, a new hope you are indeed.”
Hroombra turned his weary gaze to the eccentric stone cabin that slumped at the end of the dusty road. He saw that Abdhe and Lynhi had quietly crept out of their home and were now standing calmly on the doorstep, remaining perfectly still as if petrified to move lest they provoke him to attack. A great smile cut across Hroombra’s furrowed face and the two figures relaxed a little.
Abdhe stood to the left of his wife. He was a tallish, worn looking Nesnan man, but not as tall as the humans Hroombra could barely remember. He wore faded gray pants that stopped at mid-calf, a dirty white shirt and a deep red, patched vest. His hair was gray and wiry and he had a weathered look about him. Lynhi, the woman who stood to his left, was a few inches shorter than him and wore a faded yellow skirt and a brown shirt. Her hair was ginger streaked with white and pulled loosely back into a braid.
How wonderfully ordinary they looked, Hroombra thought. He could almost feel their joy and anticipation, their fear and apprehension, their hopes and dreams for this vulnerable girl. It hung in the air like the night chill clung to the early morning, reluctant to release its grip. He had spoken to them about this undertaking many years ago, for he had always counted on them to care for the child when she was found, if she was found in their lifetime. He’d explained everything to them then and he trusted them beyond anyone else he knew in Oescienne.
The young Jahrra cried as Hroombra gently lifted her sling in his teeth and carried her towards the cottage. “Don’t worry small one,” he said rather awkwardly, trying not to let the sling fall, “he’ll be back to visit you, he hasn’t left you for good.”
This didn’t seem to comfort the baby, and it didn’t comfort Hroombra either. He hoped Jaax would keep his word, but he had known the Tanaan dragon his entire life and knew how unpredictable he could be during difficult times. He can’t help it, Hroombra mused, his life has been harder than most. The weathered old reptile sighed, a sigh that revealed his inner thoughts. Now I have another young one to worry about.
Although this day was no different than any other winter day, it felt new, clean and strangely calm. Hroombra didn’t know what the future held, even though his life experiences had given him some insight. All he knew was that Jahrra was safe for now and that it was his responsibility to look after her until her fate called.
Hroombra left little Jahrra with Abdhe and Lynhi that evening, knowing she was in good hands. They promised to raise her as their own, a poor Nesnan girl growing up in a quiet, sleepy land where the Crimson King’s deadly force hadn’t yet reached. They promised to send her to school with the other children of Oescienne and they promised to give Hroombra free rein over extra lessons with her. They promised to love her and care for her, to teach her some good in this cruel world. And they promised, as hard as it was for them to do so, to part with her when the time came for her to face her destiny.
These promises, along with all that had already happened, truly gave Hroombra something to look forward to. She would be safe here, and growing up as one of the Nesnan elves would keep her away from the curiosity of prying eyes. They looked enough like humans with their rounded ears and taller frame; Hroombra only hoped that Jahrra would look enough like them as well.
Yes, he thought with a heavy yet hopeful heart, this is where she’ll be most safe.
What Hroombra didn’t know, however, was that the arrival of this tiny, rather inconspicuous infant had already drawn someone’s attention, and as he greeted the happy new parents of the baby Jahrra, two glowing eyes were watching from the edge of the dark forest.