The Finding (11 page)

“Don’t wander too far you three. Your parents will kill me if anything happens to you Jahrra!”

But they were too thrilled and distracted to hear Kaihmen’s warning.

Once out on the boardwalk, Jahrra could finally see the full beauty of the lake before her. The boardwalk was wide, wide enough in some spots for people to sit on benches and fish. Two empty docks, bobbing and splashing in the weak current, protruded from either side of the wooden bridge like the fins of some great sea animal. Jahrra stepped up onto one of the benches on the turnout closest to her and rested her arms on the edge of the railing, staring out in wide-eyed wonder.

Ossar was more of a large pond than a lake, but it was breathtaking nonetheless. Scrubby woods dotted the landscape to the north and east and just a hint of creamy dunes peeked between the trees in the west. The sky was clear and the sun was shining brightly upon the small ripples of the water’s surface. The Oorn River flowed into this lake and then out into the smaller, marshier Nuun Dein until it finally spilled into the ocean.

Jahrra’s eyes trailed the current of the river, obviously cutting along the surface of the water. Waterfowl of many shapes, sizes and colors floated along in the river’s undertow, prattling on in their bird language. Every now and then one would dive beneath the surface after something moving below, resurfacing many yards away with a tiny silver fish in its beak.

Jahrra spotted a heron foraging among the many bunches of reeds growing in the center of the lake and a duck with her ducklings hiding on the shore. Enormous mats of submerged grasses and plants darkened the water like bruises and when Jahrra focused her eyes on one particular spot, she noticed small minnows darting about just below the surface. If she listened carefully she could detect the sound of the ocean, just a whispering murmur in the distance sending a cool breeze that brushed past her cheek, pulling a tendril of her hair with it. It smelled of salt and the uniqueness of sea and felt refreshing on this warm day. Jahrra took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She lost herself in those several minutes of observation, knowing that this place would always be special to her.

Nuhra found the children soon after their escape from camp chores and told them that lunch was ready. When they finished eating they found the boardwalk once again, desperate for a swim. Kaihmen and Nuhra sat on one of the many benches against the railing as the three friends lowered themselves timidly into the water.

“Be wary of the lake monster!” Kaihmen teased when they were finally fully submerged.

“What?” spluttered Jahrra, taking in a mouthful of water as she sank. She resurfaced to tread water next to her friends. She shot them a nervous glance and the two rolled their eyes.

“He says that every year, and he always thinks he’s going to trick us,” Gieaun said matter-of-factly, her hair spreading out like ink in the water around her. “Don’t worry, though. You’ve never been here before, so he figures he could try to scare you.”

Jahrra relaxed when she saw that her friends weren’t about to get out of the water anytime soon, but she still stayed rather close to the pilings of the low boardwalk. After several minutes of coaxing, Gieaun and Scede talked her into swimming out to a large matt of reeds towards the middle of the lake.

“Come on, Jahrra! Even if the lake monster does exist, it only comes out at night!” Scede yelled from the halfway point between the island and the boardwalk.

“Jahrra, you’re the one who wants to go hunting for the monster that lives in the Wreing Florenn, remember!” Gieaun shouted, already standing upon the dark mud of the islet, dripping dry from her swim. “Don’t be such a scaredy cat!”

Swallowing her fear and polishing her pride, Jahrra pushed away from the pier supports and swam vigorously towards her two friends, half frightened she would be eaten and half annoyed at herself for being such a coward. Once on the island the three of them laughed at their silliness and stretched out upon the damp soil, staring off into the deep blue sky. They watched clouds scudding by and listened for the soft crackling sound of dragonfly wings darting overhead, all the while becoming very sleepy.

Before they could drift off to sleep in the middle of the lake, however, Nuhra called to them from the dock, reminding them it would be dark in a few hours. Jahrra had completely forgotten about the lake monster, that is, until they got back into the water. Once again she swam as quickly as she could towards the shore.

The evening around the fire proved just as exciting as swimming in a potentially monster-infested lake. As the sky darkened and the firelight cast an orange glow upon everyone’s faces, Kaihmen began telling the ghost stories and local legends he’d promised. Jahrra listened in rapt horror as he told them of the terrible witch that lives in the Black Swamp, only a few miles from her house. It was a terrifying tale of a missing girl and her brave brother who went searching for her deep in the Wreing Florenn.

“It happened a long time ago,” Kaihmen began dramatically, the camp fire crackling with malice between them. “The young boy thought the Witch of the Wreing took his little sister, so he went into the forest to get her back. He wandered for many hours among the frightening trees, trying to ignore the sounds of the wildlings at night.”

Kaihmen paused for effect, and Jahrra, huddled safely under her blanket, coaxed up enough gumption to ask in a timid voice, “W-wildlings?”

“Yes, any unnatural creature living in the wilderness of the world, we call them wildlings,” Kaihmen explained.

Jahrra curled back up next to Gieaun and Scede, both equally as terrified as herself.

“Now, where was I?” Kaihmen said, rubbing his chin. “Ah! Yes!” he barked, causing all three children to yelp.

Nuhra rolled her eyes as she cleaned up the dinner dishes, thinking her husband was having far too much fun.

“The boy wandered far into the Black Swamp until he could go no farther. When dawn finally came, the boy’s friends told their parents and the village elders what had happened and a search party was organized. Only the boldest of the village men went into the swamp looking for the poor lad. After a day of tedious searching, all they found were his tattered boots and his torn red coat.

“From that day on, no child has ever gone into that forest and come back out again. Sometimes, even to this day, someone or something dressed in red is seen in the woods. Some believe it is the lost soul of that poor boy. Others think it is the witch, reminding people to stay out of her swamp.”

Kaihmen finished his story, giving the children a solemn look. Jahrra shivered from the thought of it and vowed she’d never again play in the orchard alone. She looked over at her two friends, eyes wide with terror, and said in a shaking voice, “I ch-changed my mind. I don’t want to go looking for a-anything in that forest!”

The next morning arrived in splendor, and to Jahrra’s great delight, they hadn’t been eaten in the night. After a quick breakfast and packing, the group ventured west to see the coast. Jahrra soaked in all the sights and sounds around her; the rumbling ocean and the pungent scent of sage, salt water and wild herbs. They stopped every now and again to locate a singing bird or to allow Jahrra to sketch a wildflower in her journal.

As soon as the high piled sand flattened out and met the churning shore, the group stopped for a break to admire the view. Jahrra gazed north up the beach that expanded as far as the eye could see, and south until the sandbank crawled into the Thorbet Foothills. The spray of the surf misted her skin, sending goose-bumps up and down her arms. She laughed when Gieaun pointed out the sand pipers scurrying away from the ever encroaching water, always managing to stay a few inches ahead. Scede encouraged the girls to help him build a sand castle, and so the day passed cheerfully as they built towers and moats and walls.

That night the family camped near another lake, Nuun Dein, and once again Kaihmen wove frightening tales of monsters and goblins. This time, he told them about the lake monster he tried to fool Jahrra with the day before.

“But it really does exist!” he exclaimed when Gieaun and Scede tried to assure Jahrra it was all made up. “It only feeds at night and only during a full moon when it can see its victims. During the day, the monster sleeps on the bottom of the lake, in the middle where the water is deepest.”

Jahrra quailed at the mere thought. Scede nudged her and whispered, “We’re sure he’s making it up, but if there really is a lake monster it doesn’t come out during the day, so I think we’re safe.”

Scede did his best to look unabashed but Jahrra noticed that both he and Gieaun weren’t ready to dismiss the legend completely.

The next day dawned as beautiful as ever, but Jahrra abhorred the fact that they’d be heading back home today. This trip had been so much fun and now it was all over. She sighed deeply as her friends stirred next to her.

“What’s the matter?” Gieaun asked.

“Oh,” Jahrra answered gloomily, “I just wish we could stay longer, that’s all.”

“Don’t worry,” Scede said, still lying down with the blanket pulled around him. “It’s only the very beginning of summer and we’ve got lots of time to come back.”

Later that day, after all had been packed and the climb up the Great Sloping Hill had passed, the horses and their riders reached the front of Jahrra’s drive. Jahrra jumped down and grabbed her bag and blanket, turning to thank Nuhra and Kaihmen for such a wonderful weekend.

“You’re welcome, Jahrra,” Nuhra answered with a smile. “Now, you’d better get inside, I’m sure your parents will be eager to hear all about it.”

Jahrra nodded sleepily and turned up the path, heading towards the tiny stone cabin she called home.

After that first weekend, the summer months passed by easily. Jahrra spent most of her days with her two friends and Phrym, but when she wasn’t out riding horses and catching lizards, she was at home helping her parents with the everyday chores of a country home.

Sometimes, when Jahrra was helping Abdhe, Lynhi would pause in the kitchen and gaze out the window only to catch sight of her husband galloping around in the tall grass like a horse with Jahrra perched upon his shoulders, laughing in delight. When this happened Lynhi would smile warmly, her arms often resting in a tub of hot, soapy dishwater. Abdhe looked so ridiculous with his glasses askew and his hair messier than ever, but the joy on his wearied face erased all thoughts of how absurd the scene appeared.

Jahrra’s expression would be just as heartwarming. She had come home so often during the school year with a cloud over her head that it brought her mother some peace of mind to see her now. Lynhi shook her head, clucking her tongue good-heartedly as she got back to scrubbing the greasy dishes. Those two will never get any work done, she mused.

When Jahrra wasn’t kept busy around her little cottage or at the Castle Guard Ruin learning reading and writing with Hroombra, she was at Wood’s End Ranch visiting Phrym and riding the other horses with Gieaun and Scede. Still relatively new at riding, the three friends chose calmer, older horses, and when they charged out across the fields Phrym would whinny impatiently after them.

“I’ll be back soon!” Jahrra called, waving as her small colt watched her disappear into the distance.

Phrym was disappointed that he had to stay behind, but so long as Jahrra came back, he was happy. Sometimes when she was gone for a long time he’d make his way across the vast fields to the fence that ran along the edge of the forest. Once there, a kind stranger would sometimes come and feed him some bizarre but very tasty fruit. Somehow the young colt knew that it wasn’t such a good idea to take food from someone he didn’t know, but this creature didn’t feel dangerous, and if a semequin could count on anything, it was his instincts.

The kind creature was there today, standing just on the edge of the woods. Phrym spotted it and picked up his pace, crying out happily as he trotted closer. This person reminded him of his best friend, Jahrra. It almost had the same shape, but it was hard to tell with all the cloth it wore.

Once he was pressed against the fence, blowing and sniffing for his treat, the creature reached out to stroke his neck or rub his forehead, but then thought better of it.
Not yet
, the stranger thought,
there’ll be plenty of time in the future for that.

Phrym munched contentedly on the snack offered to him, not noticing the glint of some strange emotion flickering in the being’s eyes.
Such a fine animal
. . . it thought.

Suddenly, the stranger sensed the children returning from their ride and hastily withdrew back into the forest leaving the curious Phrym to stare after it as it disappeared into the woods.

“Patience,” the stranger whispered to the shivering trees as it crept along, “patience . . .”

-
Chapter Seven
-

The Stranger and the Dragons’ Court

Jahrra yawned and stretched against the fragrant grasses growing beneath the shady fruit trees of her orchard. All of the wonderful memories of the past summer had made her sleepy and she had to fight to stay awake. She’d been thinking about the trips to Lake Ossar, her days spent playing with Phrym at Wood’s End Ranch and the half-finished tree house that sat perched like a decrepit shack in the old eucalyptus tree behind the barn. She and her friends, with the help of her father of course, had made good progress on the elevated hide-away, but it still needed much work.
Next summer
, she thought with rapture,
we’ll have our very own tree house next summer.

The lovely images left a warm glow behind, but her thoughts took a sharp turn as she realized that it was all over and the beginning of the school year was just around the corner.
One more week before I have to be around Eydeth and Ellysian again!
she thought ruefully. As awful as the prospect of facing the twins seemed, however, she couldn’t help but smile when she remembered that Hroombra had promised to take her and her friends to the marshlands in the Longuinn Valley for one last summer camping trip.

Jahrra sat bolt upright, startling a covey of quail relaxing in the shade several feet away. They were leaving early tomorrow morning and she still had to pack for the trip. Jahrra lifted herself up out of her grassy nest and ran down the shady lane between the trees and into her tiny cabin.

By mid-morning the next day the three friends were atop Hroombra, clinging to one another as they looked fearfully into the depths of the Wreing Florenn.

“Come now children, this is the main road into Edyadth. It’s perfectly safe,” he said to encourage them. “Besides,” he continued with a mischievous grin, “what monster or creature would be brave enough to attack a dragon?”

“You know about the monsters that live in the forest?!” Jahrra asked in a harsh whisper.

“I’ve heard stories, yes, but I’ve never seen them,” he answered, leaving the frightened children to draw their own conclusions.

It was a long walk, for the Longuinn Valley was on the opposite end of the Great Sloping Hill and the Wreing Florenn was a rather large forest. When Hroombra finally emerged from its dark depths and descended onto the main road into Edyadth, Jahrra, Gieaun and Scede gave a great sigh of relief. Soon all thoughts of monsters, ghosts and witches left their minds as they crossed the rolling farmlands and the valley came into view. The town of Edyadth itself lay between the edge of the Wreing Florenn and a crop of hills in the east in the middle of the Longuinn Valley.

As they drew closer to the valley town, Jahrra peeked around Hroombra’s great neck to get a better view. A sprawling group of tavern-like buildings were hunched together along the side of the road running through the center of the settlement. They looked like giant heads buried halfway in the ground, their windows like secretive eyes glancing warily at passersby, their roofs like giant mushroom-shaped hats concealing their devious intentions.

Most of the structures were made of wood, but here and there a stone house would stand out like a cheerful friend among glowering strangers. There were no trees nearby, apart from a few scattered oaks and those in the Wreing Florenn that loomed behind them like a dark cloud. The land surrounding Edyadth was strangely barren and it had the look of the dead of winter hanging about it, even on this warm summer day.

Jahrra glanced down at the street as Hroombra traipsed along past the silent and brooding buildings. They’d left the sandy road behind and were now sloshing through a shallow river of mud.

“Master Hroombra,” Jahrra whispered above the sucking and smacking sound of the dragon’s footsteps, “why are the streets so wet?”

“Do you see that creek to the east?” Hroombra answered, pointing his head towards the hills. “It flows out of the hills, and a natural spring keeps it fed all year long. Therefore, the streets are always soggy.”

“Is that why there are so many sidewalks?” Gieaun asked.

“Yes, Gieaun. Everybody likes to avoid mud, well,” he paused and smiled down at his own feet, “maybe not everybody.”

Jahrra gazed at the scenery unfolding around her, watching the locals strolling on the sidewalks or riding their horses through the damp streets. There was something strange about them, something different. They walked around vigilantly, hunched over as if trying to sneak away from a crime they’d just committed. When Jahrra made eye contact with one or two of them, they quickly glanced away, covering their faces with their hats or jacket collars.

“Master Hroombra,” Jahrra prodded silently, still watching the last man that had hidden his face from her, “why are these people acting so strangely?”

“They fear dragons, Jahrra, like those in Aldehren. It’s one of the reasons I seldom leave the Ruin.” He sighed wearily. “They’ll act strangely with me walking around.”

Jahrra nodded in compliance, not needing any further explanation. That first day of school had been so long ago that she’d almost forgotten the effect her reptilian mentor had had on its inhabitants. Hroombra hadn’t gone into town with her since, well, not until today.

As the group approached the southern end of town a rather large field filled with a crowd of people fell into view. Hroombra slowed his pace to pass by the raucous mass, many of its members spilling from the swampy field onto the street. Jahrra leaned forward to get a better look. A few people glanced back grumpily to learn who had nudged them, only to move forward nervously when they noticed Hroombra walking past. A few began to whisper warnings to their comrades, and the outer circle of the crowd began pressing inward as more and more people turned to see the approaching Korli dragon.

“Who are all those people there in the middle of the crowd?” Scede asked aloud.

Jahrra glanced up then and immediately saw what her friend was talking about. In the center of the muddy field stood a line of ten or so people all with their heads bowed. They were dirty and thin, their hands and feet bound in chains and ropes and dressed in nothing more than rags. Jahrra gasped when Hroombra drew breath to answer Scede’s question.

“Those people are slaves Scede, taken forcefully from their homeland and brought here to be sold,” he said solemnly, ignoring the stares and jeers being thrown his way. “Usually slaves aren’t brought as far west as Oescienne, but every so often a slave trader makes a point to try his luck here. It’s a most horrendous and despicable thing to buy and sell another being. Unfortunately, not everyone feels this way.”

Jahrra turned her head to look at the poor creatures once more. She frowned as the first person in line, a young man with dark, tangled hair, was pushed upon a pedestal to be bartered off like an animal.

“Master Hroombra, how can some people sell other people?” she asked, a spark of anger coloring her voice.

“Because no one is willing to put an end to it,” he answered simply, masking his own fury and frustration. “At least, no one is brave enough to defy the Crimson King and his minions. It’s up to those of us who know better to find a way to do away with it.”

“How can we do that?” Gieaun asked.

“By growing up and teaching others that such things are wrong, young Gieaun. When enough people in the world know that owning another person is wrong then perhaps there will be enough people to change it.”

Hroombra continued on past the mustering crowd as quickly as he could. As they walked on, Jahrra turned to look upon the dismal scene behind them. The shouts of the bidders broke free from the general murmur and soon the first man was replaced by another slave on the pedestal.

Jahrra furrowed her brow and glared at the stuffy men and women, imagining that the twins’ parents were probably here somewhere. Those people bidding on the slaves wore robes of silk and fur and were attended by servants, or more likely, other slaves Jahrra realized. They resembled brightly plumed birds, fluffed up and shifting discontentedly in the filthy street.

The fancy women and spotless men were all quite impressive, but as Jahrra scanned the far edge of the crowd one man in particular caught her attention. This person’s impeccable clothing and tall, finely dressed horse were quite a contrast to the muddy streets and plain clothes of many of the common town folk. Even the other well-dressed men and women looked grungy standing next to him. He was slightly taller than most of those around him, and although he didn’t look at Jahrra, his gaze on the enslaved people was a hard, focused one. He wore what looked like green velvet, so dark it was almost black, but Jahrra suspected it was something more intriguing than just that; some rare fabric that had been woven with magic by elves. The reins he held belonged to his snow-white horse, or more likely, a semequin.

Suddenly, the man turned and looked directly at her, his bright, piercing green eyes locking with her own. Jahrra had never seen eyes like this, eyes that seemed to pierce her soul. Beneath a closely trimmed beard and mustache his features were fine and strong. He didn’t look old, but he didn’t look young either, and his face was grim and stony, as if he were trying to make a thousand difficult decisions at once.

The man eventually turned his attention back to look at the row of chained people with glum faces, releasing Jahrra from his overpowering gaze. As his head turned, Jahrra caught a glimpse of a sharply pointed ear resting against his dark hair. Her eyes grew wide as she let out a small gasp, quiet enough for no one else to hear. He had to be an elf; his ears were even more pointed than the twins’, and those two were always claiming to be almost pure elf.

Jahrra was enthralled by the strange elfin man, but her stomach turned as soon as she realized that he was here to buy slaves like everyone else. She didn’t know why, but she felt terribly disappointed in him for doing such an atrocious thing. Yes, she expected the evil twins and their family to do something as appalling as trade people like merchandise, but why was she so shocked to see this stranger doing it? Jahrra quickly turned her head and tucked her chin against her chest, trying to squeeze those bright green eyes out of her memory. They had been so cold, but so sad. It was almost as if the soul inside of the body had burned out long ago and there was just an emptiness left behind.

“Master Hroombra, how much farther are the marshlands from here?” Jahrra asked once Edyadth was behind them.

“Not long. I know it’s been a dull journey, but believe me, what is at the end of it is worth the wait.”

“Are the marshlands better than Lake Ossar?” Scede asked.

“I wouldn’t say they are better, but I think you’ll enjoy them just the same,” Hroombra said with a smile.

The lazy minutes ticked away as the dragon and his riders moved farther southward. The wide dirt road they traveled passed through golden green fields sprinkled with fading wildflowers and fell and climbed with the rolling landscape. Much of this land was grazing land, so the three friends took turns pointing out cows, horses, sheep and goats wandering freely through the open fields. The Longuinn Creek twisted and turned below the road, complimenting them with its cheery babble as they traveled along.

It was late afternoon by the time the group reached the wetlands. At first glance the marsh was a refreshing splash of brilliant green nestled between the dull olive and ocher hills, but as they moved closer Jahrra took note of the differences from Lake Ossar. Instead of sand dunes and the salty scent of sea water, the marshland was guarded by the rising land and the sweet aroma of a thousand wildflowers.

White water lily blossoms shone like a thousand moons upon the water’s dark surface, and rows of brilliant blue bog irises waved in the breeze like the standards of an army. Dragonflies and other insects darted and floated over the glimmering water paradise, their wings and legs clicking faintly in a summertime chorus. Birds and butterflies of all shapes and sizes painted bright spots against the blue sky as they visited flower after flower or searched for shallow places to bathe.

Jahrra closed her eyes and breathed deeply. She felt the sun’s warm caress on her skin, a sensation akin to a great, golden blanket enveloping her in safety. She smiled inwardly, happy that this beautiful scene was slowly taking the place of the oppressive images she’d witnessed in town.

“Now, children,” Hroombra said softly, breaking into Jahrra’s dream world, “we need to make camp, and we still have a little farther to go before we can do so.”

“But we’re at the wetlands,” Jahrra blurted, tightening her grip on one of Hroombra’s spikes. “Isn’t this where we’re supposed to be?”

Hroombra smiled. “Yes dear Jahrra, but I wish to camp in the hills, there, where those towering rocks are.”

He nodded to a group of large stones sitting atop a natural shelf on the hillside above the great marsh.

Jahrra, Gieaun and Scede tilted back their heads and gaped up at the cairn. Jahrra thought it resembled a crown of stone atop the head of a giant trapped in the earth.

Hroombra began his trek up the narrow path twining along the hillside, the children stretching their necks to capture the changing view from his back. The sun was low on the horizon now, but there was still plenty of daylight left before dusk. The marsh below was a glimmering mirror rimmed in emerald, reflecting the slanted light of sunset. In the distance, the town of Edyadth looked like a collection of ant hills cowering beneath the shadow of the Wreing Florenn.