The Finding (12 page)

Jahrra shivered, imagining monsters crawling out of the forest in order to terrorize the townspeople. She quickly turned her gaze back to the path ahead and wondered what could be up this hill among the stones that interested her mentor so much.

It didn’t take them long to reach the rocky outcropping, but once they did, Jahrra, Gieaun and Scede glanced around in wonder.

“What is this place?” Scede asked, his mouth hanging open as he clung to his sister in front of him.

Hroombra stepped past the first few stone columns encircling a large patch of bare earth. Jahrra couldn’t help but notice that most of these rocks stood taller than her mentor’s head. Beyond the outer rim of stone pillars, the hillside dropped away, becoming lost in a scattering of oak and chaparral shrub.

“This,” Hroombra said smiling, “is called the Dragons’ Court. Long, long ago when dragons lived in Oescienne, this is where they met to discuss important matters. Sometimes even the king of Oescienne would be invited.”

Jahrra blinked in wonderment, suddenly feeling the importance and significance of this sacred place. Her skin began to prickle and she thought she could hear whispering on the gentle wind sloughing past her cheek and fingering through her hair. She scrambled off of Hroombra’s back when she felt a cool absence behind her, but her unease forced her to stay close to the dragon’s side even as her friends began to explore.
Why does this place make me feel so anxious?
she wondered, raking her eyes over the brush beyond the edge of the wide stone ring as she pressed up against Hroombra’s foreleg.

Jahrra was shocked from her veiled restlessness when Hroombra yanked on the great blanket folded across his back, almost burying her beneath it. With a great jerk of his head he spread it out upon the flat ground for the children to rest on. He then instructed them to gather some fallen branches and pile them together for a fire.

Jahrra reluctantly joined her friends, fearing to move beyond the ring of stones. Nevertheless, the thought of exploring this new place seemed too tempting to pass up, despite her earlier disquiet. Once the three of them had a good pile of kindling Hroombra breathed a stream of ruby flame upon it, causing the wood to leap with fire. The children huddled together on the blanket and Hroombra lay down as well, folding legs and wings as he settled in for the night.

The sun winked before disappearing below the horizon just as the cheery blaze replaced its light. The sky slowly turned from crimson to deep indigo, and the sounds of the night began creeping up all around them. Over the chorus of crickets, the whirring of summer beetles and the solitary mourning of an owl, Hroombra began telling the children the myths of the past.

“Now I wish to tell you an old story, a story almost as old as Ethoes herself,” Hroombra said in a quiet, humming voice that blended with the hushed sounds of the night.

The children clustered together anxiously, preparing themselves for another good tale. The old dragon told them then the story of Traagien, the first warrior dragon that Ethoes ever created. He wove a legend of loyalty and bravery, of sacrifice and forgiveness, explaining to the children that it was because of Traagien that Ciarrohn first fell, and because of his compassion that the elves got a second chance at their immortality.

When Hroombra finished his story he sat in regal stillness, looking ancient painted in the orange firelight. Jahrra felt awed and slightly saddened by the tale. When she peered over at her friends, she saw that both were staring up at Hroombra with impressed expressions on their faces; she knew they felt the same way she did.

After a few moments of silence, the great dragon pointed his head towards the sky. The stars shone more brightly in this valley for some reason, and as Hroombra instructed the children to look up, he pointed Traagien out to them.

“There,” he said, “in the northeastern sky. He watches over us all the year round, circling the constellation Aelhean and the north star, Noiramaebolis.”

Jahrra looked up and traced the shape of a dragon over the eastern hills with her finger.

“What’s that bright star called? The red one?” she asked, pointing to the center of the dragon shaped in starlight.

“That is Atrova, the Dragon’s Heart,” Hroombra answered knowingly.

Jahrra smiled, settling back between Gieaun and Scede. She knew that from now on she would always have something to draw courage from if she ever felt alone or afraid. In life, Traagien had protected the weak and helpless, and perhaps he could watch over her now from the heavens.

Hroombra told them a little more about the summer constellations as the three friends lay on their backs gazing up in wonder and a meteor shower began shortly after he finished his lesson in astronomy.

“Ah, this reminds me of the story of the Oak and the Pine,” Hroombra said, smiling at the brilliant streaks of colorful light above. “When Ethoes created her very first trees, the Oak and the Pine, she drew them in the sky above and set the bright stars to outline them. The Pine kept its leaves all the year round, never shedding a single one while the Oak lost them completely in the winter.”

The dragon glanced down at the three pairs of eyes watching him, glittering from the firelight.

“After some time, the Oak began to wonder why she had to lose her leaves while the Pine kept his. So the Oak went to Ethoes with her plight, ‘Why must I lose my leaves for half of the year while the Pine is allowed to keep his always? Why can I not keep mine as well?’

“Ethoes thought about this and told the Oak she had always imagined her this way, and so that is how she was created. The Oak was saddened and returned to her place in the sky, but the Pine had overheard what was said. ‘Dear Goddess,’ he said to Ethoes, ‘I too wonder why the Oak cannot keep her leaves all the year round. Is there not a way to make this so?’

“Ethoes knew she couldn’t grant the Oak her wish without disturbing the balance of nature, but eventually she thought of a way to please both the Oak and the Pine. She called the Oak back to her and spoke to both trees at once, ‘Dear Oak and Pine, I have made you the way you are and there is no way I can change that. Unless the Pine is willing to sacrifice his leaves as well, then the Oak must remain as she is. If you are both willing to have leaves on your boughs all the year round, then you must constantly pay me with those leaves and re-grow them to show me the promise you have made.’

“The Oak knew that this could never be, for how could the Pine make such a sacrifice? But he agreed to the solution, giving the Oak her one true wish. And so that is why we see the falling stars, for they aren’t stars at all, but the pine needles and oak leaves that the Pine and Oak are giving back to Ethoes for the bargain they made. That is why we call those constellations the Wise Oak and the Noble Pine, for the Oak was wise to see that she lost her leaves, while the Pine was noble for aiding her in her plight. And this is why the oaks and pines today lose their leaves and re-grow them all throughout the year, for the pact they made with Ethoes.”

Jahrra stared up in wonder, not wanting it to end. Blazing streaks of blue, green, red and white whizzed by as tiny highlights or brilliant fireballs. She imagined that the larger meteors were the Oak’s leaves and the smaller ones the Pine’s needles, falling to the earth from the heavens just as they fell from the branches of the trees in Oescienne. Jahrra tried hard to keep her eyes open for the entire show, but the long journey to the valley had proven exhausting, and she, Gieaun and Scede were soon fast asleep.

Hroombra looked down at the three young ones and smiled. He secretly hoped they would always remain as intuitive as they were now, and he hoped even more that Jahrra would always have her two friends with her. As he curled around the children like a wolf around its pups, he thought of Jaax and wondered where he was now. He often thought of the younger dragon, especially since Jahrra had arrived on this earth.
How wonderful it would be, thought Hroombra, to have Jaax here now. How happy he would be if he didn’t have the outside world to distract him, but then again, how wonderful it would be for all of them.

Hroombra kept his eyes pointed towards the stars as he tried to remember when the last time was he’d seen Jaax content. He shook his head in regret when he realized it had been far too long ago. He let out a slow sigh as he slowly drifted off to sleep. The gap between the conscious and unconscious world slowly closed, and the old dragon found himself wondering if Jaax would ever truly be happy again. He hoped that somehow, someday, Jahrra could make them all happy again.

-
Chapter Eight
-

A Long, Cold Winter

Abdhe realized the second he let the apple drop that Jahrra wasn’t staying on task.

“Jahrra, pay attention to what you’re doing!” he called down to his oblivious daughter.

She was daydreaming again and the loose apple narrowly missed her head. Instead, it hit the leaf littered ground with a loud, hollow
thlunk.

Summer had been over for weeks now and the autumn season was well under way. The first several weeks of school had been grueling, what with the twins’ taunts and jibes, but Jahrra had expected that. Her school lessons were proving to be harder than last year’s, but she really didn’t mind as much as she claimed to. She enjoyed learning; it was her classmates she couldn’t stand.

“Be sure to add that apple to the basket, Jahrra. It may be bruised, but it’s still good,” her father added as he reached carefully for another bright red fruit several feet in front of him.

“Why must we pick so many apples?” Jahrra asked wearily, struggling with the heavy whicker basket as she bent down to pick up the apple that had almost hit her.

“We don’t want to be unprepared for winter. After the frost arrives, there’s no going back.”

Jahrra plopped the apple into the basket churlishly and looked up. All she’d been doing after school lately was harvesting and preserving fruits and vegetables. She heaved a great sigh and got back to picking the apples still within her reach.

“I know a seven year old has more interesting things to do than pickle beets and dry potatoes, but you’ll be grateful when you have food for the winter,” Abdhe commented matter-of-factly as he climbed down the creaking ladder.

“Seven-and-three-quarters,” Jahrra corrected, taking a bite out of one of the crisp fruits.

“That’s right,” her father laughed, hopping onto the ground and ruffling her hair. “I’m always forgetting.”

Jahrra made a face. How could her own father forget how old she was?

“Well, that’s the last of the apples.” Abdhe dusted off his hands and straightened his coat. “I’ll go check on the smokehouse and see how the meat is coming along. Go in and see if your mother needs any help.”

He lifted the great, bulging basket of fruit Jahrra had collected and headed toward the small wooden hut leaking smoke like a sleeping dragon. Jahrra scampered into the family’s warm kitchen, eager to get out of the chill air while she anticipated the mashed potatoes and roast chicken her mother was preparing for dinner. Like her father said, winter was approaching and she had a feeling it would be a long one.

Autumn passed by rather slowly with everyone lying in anticipation of the harsh months ahead. Before long, Jahrra and her family were finished with all of the pre-winter chores. Now the only thing left for them to do was to sit and wait anxiously for the first frost. Sobledthe, the celebrated harvest day, came and went, and soon the winter Solsticetide was only a month and a half away.

The first frost came early, just as the farmers had predicted, and Jahrra’s parents insisted on dressing her more warmly against the chill. Jahrra hated it, but she could always take the miles of clothes off at school. This, of course, elicited rude remarks from the twins.

“I didn’t know your parents could afford so many clothes!” Eydeth exclaimed the first day they had been forced to dress against the icy weather. “They must be going around wearing nothing but rags!”

The laughter grated at Jahrra, but she was determined to ignore them this year. The three friends moved as far away from Eydeth as possible, and on their way to their secret corner of the schoolyard, they heard Ellysian preaching to a flock of girls scuttling after her, “You must always dress appropriately for each occasion, and you must always act like a lady so the boys will like you.”

“Yick, how boring!” Jahrra said, making a face through the scarf that covered most of it.

“I bet she doesn’t even know how to ride a horse!” Gieaun added in disgust.

Scede simply shook his head in distaste and the trio went about their own business, climbing their favorite oak and pretending to be the heroes in Hroombra’s stories.

The Solstice break seemed like it would never come, but like all things it eventually did. Jahrra’s eighth birthday arrived two days later and she received the archery set she’d wanted so badly. Her parents had scraped and saved for nearly a year to get her the best bow, quite large for such a young girl but guaranteeing she’d never outgrow it. Jahrra was moved to tears from the gift and she treasured it above everything else. Hroombra gave her a small book on the wildlife of Oescienne, written and illustrated by the elves of Felldreim (so he claimed), and Gieaun and Scede bought her a rather nice quiver for her arrows.

Jahrra rued the day that their vacation came to an end. She’d enjoyed her rest from the twins, her lessons with Hroombra and her free time with Gieaun and Scede and a constantly growing Phrym. The time off had renewed her outlook on everything around her, giving her a new appreciation of what she had.

It would be hard going back to the schoolhouse in Aldehren, but by the end of the Solstice break, even the knowledge of facing Eydeth and Ellysian didn’t get Jahrra down. Nothing, not even the twins, could take away the joy she felt for having such wonderful friends and family. Nothing, that is, except the one thing she couldn’t possibly prevent or prepare for.

***

The days passed and the winter proved to be much worse than predicted, and yet the land still had to endure a few more months of its deadly grasp. Every morning Jahrra woke to find the pastures and fields coated with ice. There’d even been snow on the lower hills, something that never happened in this part of Oescienne. Everyone was living on a short supply of food, for no one had prepared for a winter quite as long or harsh as this one. Sometimes people would even come by the cottage, begging for food. Luckily, Abdhe and Lynhi had stored up plenty.

“Now, aren’t you glad we did all of that extra work this fall?” Abdhe whispered to his daughter as she peeked past him at the thin woman standing at their door.

She looked weary and cold and her five children clung to her as if she were the source of a great heat. Jahrra felt a pang of compassion towards the family and dashed off to get one of her toys, a wooden horse, to give to them. Abdhe had carved it for her, but she knew her father wouldn’t mind. The woman thanked her and the children smiled weakly but appreciatively. Jahrra was grateful to have been able to do something, anything, for those suffering people, even if it was as insignificant as sharing a homemade trinket.

Although everyone was living off of a limited food supply, no one was expected to starve to death. Food was short, yes, the weather was cold and wet and windy, but there was wild game to hunt if provisions ran out. Unfortunately, the cold and hunger wasn’t what threatened the people of the region. Something far deadlier than ice was creeping throughout the land. No one had prepared for the lethal epidemic that crept quietly over the mountains to settle into the heart of Oescienne.

There’d been some word about a dangerous fever outside the province, but since no one ever dared cross the Thorbet or the Elornn Ranges, and since shipping had slowed for the winter, the people living in the south of Oescienne had little to fear, or so they thought. Despite all the obstacles, however, the sickness managed to find its way into the Oorn Plain and Raenyan and Aldehr Valleys. Signs of the fever were soon being reported all over the land.

Entire families would come down with the sickness and perish within the week. Anyone seen coughing or even looking pale would be avoided like a rabid dog. A medicine to fight the disease had been obtained and shipped in, but only the wealthiest could afford it, leaving the poor and underfed to the whims of nature. Many of the Nesnan commoners were left to fight off the illness on their own. Some scraped through, but others, especially the young and the old, didn’t survive.

A black hand of death squeezed the land in its grasp, seeming to drain every last drop of hope from its people. The loss and sorrow lingered like a cloud of evil in the icy air and more than ever, the people of Oescienne yearned for an end to the unrelenting winter.

***

Jahrra returned home from a particularly odious day of school to find her little cabin to be quieter than usual. The air around the place seemed darker, even though the sun shone brightly through the frigid air. The chimney registered no smoke, despite the fact that it was quite cool and would be getting colder, and the curtains in the front window were drawn shut. Jahrra knew that her family hadn’t run out of firewood because her father had just chopped a large amount four days before and her mother never closed the front drapes before dark.

Jahrra exhaled into the frosty air as she approached the front door cautiously, her boots crunching quietly upon the chilled earth. She feared something might be wrong, but she couldn’t imagine what. She pushed open the front door, its hinges complaining grumpily, and was met with darkness and a strange, still staleness in the air.

“Nida, Pada?” she called timidly.

She walked into the small living room just opposite the kitchen and the stairs leading to the second story. The room was dark because the windows were covered, but not so dark that she couldn’t see. She found her father asleep in his rocking chair, yet even in sleep he looked worried. She walked up to him.

“Pada? Are you alright, where’s Nida?” she asked in a small, frightened voice, her mitten-clad hands hanging on the arm of the chair.

Abdhe fluttered awake at the sound of his daughter’s voice, but his weariness showed more than ever. For the first time in her life, Jahrra saw his true age. The lines in his face seemed deeper, his hair greyer, but it was his eyes, glazed over with years of hardship, that gave away the truth he wished to hide.

“Oh, there’s my girl, how was school?” he queried with a weak smile that failed to mask his sorrow.

“What’s the matter Pada?” Jahrra asked more seriously now. She barely recognized the man before her; he was completely different from the happy, carefree man chopping wood only a few days ago.

“Nothing dear, your mother and I have a little winter cold. We just need our rest.”

“Where’s Nida?” Jahrra asked worriedly.

“Upstairs, the doctor is just attending to her.”

He gave that anxious smile again, and at the very same moment the doctor came down from upstairs, looking just as grim as Jahrra’s father. He looked to be about to deliver some bad news, but saw Jahrra and quickly changed his somber expression to a less bleak one.

“Ah, young Jahrra,” he said with a weary breath. “My, how you’ve grown.”

The doctor was round and balding and was wearing a clean white shirt that hung far over thick brown pants. He held his medical bag tightly and closely in his right hand, as if it held a dark secret within. In his other hand he clutched a battered felt hat that looked a lot like a scrap of tanned hide. A tired smile graced his face when he saw Jahrra, giving him the semblance of a withered plant.

“Jahrra dear, could you please go feed the chickens while I talk to the doctor?” Abdhe’s voice broke the odd silence and his eyes drooped sleepily.

Jahrra stood up right away, not wanting to argue in front of another adult. She walked through the kitchen and out into the back yard, leaving the gloomy cabin behind her. The yard was the same small patch of earth it had been since Jahrra could remember, but it seemed strangely small and unfamiliar now. The rectangular section of the land that had been fenced off using odd shaped tree branches lay fallow in the cold winter world, and instead of a garland of wild roses growing along the fence there stood a tangled mass of thorny branches, looking dead and threatening against the bleak winter backdrop.

Jahrra sighed and stepped through the opening in the fence, walking towards the faint call of hungry chickens. To get her mind off of what might be happening inside, she begrudgingly recalled what had occurred in class earlier that day. Master Cohrbin had asked her a question and as she was about to answer it, Ellysian had butted in. Stealing questions from her in class had become the twins’ newest form of attack.

“You wouldn’t have known the answer anyway,” Ellysian told her after class when Cohrbin wasn’t listening.

Jahrra knew she should just shrug and walk away, but she was getting tired of it, and she was tired of everyone telling her to forget about their cruel treatment of her.

“Just ignore them!” Gieaun had said, coming off more exasperated than helpful. “They want you to get mad, that’s why they do it!”

“It’s easy for you to tell me to forget about them, they aren’t bothering you nearly as much as they’re bothering me!” Jahrra had snapped.

Gieaun was taken aback, shocked at Jahrra’s outburst at her. “Well, most of the time you act like you want them to pick on you!” she retorted, more out of anger than truthfulness.

Jahrra had been hurt by her friend’s words and she hadn’t spoken to either Scede or his sister on the ride back home that day. She sighed again in the cool, crisp air, breathing out a cloud of steam like a dragon. She’d had her first fight with her best friend, and now there was something wrong with her Pada. Jahrra felt like crying, but she didn’t want her father to see that she’d been upset when she came back inside.