The Finding (14 page)

The soft, mournful hooting of an owl reminded Jahrra that the day was over. She put her hands to her cheeks to wipe away her tears only to be surprised to find them warm and dry. She took a deep breath, shaking the remaining images of her dreams from her mind. It had done her some good to think about them, even if they had been terrifying at first. Her dreams had shown her the truth of her pain, of her sorrow, and that it was time for her to move on. Jahrra walked back to the Castle Guard Ruin in the twilight hoping that this coming year would pass with less pain and sadness. Somehow, she knew that it would.

***

Spring was a whirlwind of activity with Jahrra much improved from last year, despite her winter-time gloominess. It was almost as if she had been a dormant tree, bursting into life once the weather warmed. She was much more animated, actually smiling and laughing at least once a day. She even lashed out at the twins’ rude comments every now and again, something she hadn’t done since numbly joining the class once again in the fall.

Summer took an eternity to arrive, as always, and all because Kaihmen and Nuhra promised to help Jahrra saddle-train Phrym at school’s end. Her best friends were already riding their own horses, Bhun, a chocolate gelding for Scede and Aimhe, a palomino mare for Gieaun. Jahrra was in a constant pout about this until Kaihmen informed her that Phrym had finally grown big enough to start riding.

“You have to go easy on him. He’s still very much a foal,” Kaihmen told Jahrra the first time she got in the saddle with Phrym.

At first, he reacted as any horse would; uncomfortable and edgy with an extra weight on his back. Once he realized it was Jahrra, however, he calmed down and became quite agreeable. Kaihmen had been nervous about Jahrra being the first to ride Phrym; he was so strong and so tall. And if she fell off . . . But he really didn’t need to worry at all.

“Well, would you look at that! It must be a new record,” Nuhra said, as Jahrra went tearing across the fields atop Phrym after only a few minutes of sitting on his back.

The Resai woman had been thrown so many times by new horses that she was almost jealous of Jahrra’s success, but in truth, she was beyond pleased for the young girl.

Now that Phrym was suitable for riding, Jahrra, Gieaun and Scede spent the better part of the summer fixing up the old stable on the grounds of the Castle Guard Ruin. Phrym wouldn’t be visiting here, like she had once thought when she first got him, he would be living here. Jahrra quickly dashed the memory away, fearing it would bring on tears, tears that wouldn’t bring back her past life. Instead, she distracted herself with work.

“Just think!” she said as she dragged the old rotting wood out of the stable bed with Gieaun and Scede, “We’ll all be able to ride to school in the fall!”

On the summer weekends, Kaihmen and Nuhra took the children to the lakes to go fishing. They would swim on the warm afternoons and catch frogs and insects, build forts on the shores and just catch up on the things that had happened that week. Many of the local youngsters came to the lake as well, but they were all either much younger or much older than Jahrra, Gieaun and Scede, and more often than not, they were here to work, not play.

Jahrra watched in slight pity as the youngest would help their mothers gather reeds or freshwater shellfish along the muddy banks. The older boys helped their fathers and uncles haul bulging nets of slippery fish out of the water and the older girls would clean the catch the men brought in.

Once their work was through, the young children were permitted to play, kicking around a ball constructed of tightly wound strips of hide. Jahrra always smiled her best when she saw the looks of joy on the children’s faces as they went careening down the boardwalk after the lopsided ball, laughing and shrieking in fun.

Sometimes she would join them with Gieaun and Scede, but today they were busy floating on rafts across the cool lake surface. Jahrra took a long, deep breath and let it out slowly. The raft she was floating on had drifted towards the middle of the lake, but she hadn’t noticed.

“Jahrra!” Gieaun’s voice invaded her calm mind. “The lake monster will get you!”

Jahrra closed her eyes and smiled, having half a mind to pretend to get pulled under by the mysterious beast. She rolled over onto her stomach and began paddling back towards the boardwalk where Gieaun and Scede were lying upon their own homemade rafts.

“Gieaun! Will you ever give it up? There is no lake monster!” Jahrra proclaimed once she’d reached them.

“Sure there isn’t,” Scede teased, his impish grin matching her own.

The three friends enjoyed the rest of the afternoon along the banks of the lake searching for frogs and turtles before finally making the journey home. The summer had flown by as usual, but Jahrra had enjoyed it more than any summer she could remember. School would be starting again soon and she cringed at the thought.
Oh well
, she sighed inwardly,
I’ll just have to make the best of it.

The twins weren’t at school on the first day back, and Jahrra almost burst with happiness at the idea that they might not be coming back at all. The very next day, however, they showed up in one of their fancy carriages, going on and on about how they got delayed on a vacation to some castle in the north.

Jahrra was bitterly disappointed, but she wasn’t going to let it get her down, not this year. The summer had revived her in a way and her renewed spirit inspired her to create a garden outside her bedroom window in that tiny enclosed space that was once another room. She’d spent so many lonely afternoons staring out her window that she felt she needed to do something to the sad, empty space.

“This is for Nida and Pada,” she told Hroombra one early fall day when he finally abandoned his studies to see what the young girl was up to. “I want to grow things like they did.”

The old dragon watched thoughtfully as Jahrra toted an armful of various plants and bulbs towards the western edge of the Ruin. He smiled broadly; Jahrra was back, the spirited little girl who loved life so much had returned. He didn’t know what had brought her back, but he was grateful nonetheless.

Jahrra, Gieaun and Scede spent most of that fall gathering seeds to plant in the garden. Hroombra didn’t mind that the Castle Guard Ruin was becoming a pile of earth and plant debris, he was just happy that Jahrra had found something to occupy her mind.
She’s finally healing
, he reminded himself as he listened to the chatting children through the window of his study.

Of course, Jahrra had come to terms with her sorrow the winter before, through her dreams, despite the fact that they had begun as nightmares. The soothing passage of time had worked out the rest for her.

“It’s not that I’ve stopped missing them,” she said to Hroombra one fine winter day as she lay next to a blazing fire in the Castle Guard Ruin. “It’s just that I’ve grown used to them not being here.”

Hroombra looked up from his work and glanced at the girl who was drawing by the firelight. He smiled a sad smile, one that portrayed his understanding of the rushed wisdom of one so young.
That’s it then
, he told himself,
she’s no longer an innocent child. She’s begun the slow passage into adulthood, and although her child’s years will linger yet, she’ll never be quite the same again.

The winter season caught everyone unawares with an early, but mildly dangerous frost. During those early winter days the fields became dusted with a fine crystal-white powder that sparkled and held the land hostage in its icy breath.

Most mornings Jahrra would rise early to check on Phrym in his new stable. She would dress in many layers and cross the gently sloping field that stretched beyond the Castle Guard Ruin. The ground always crunched delightedly beneath her boots as she pulled her wool jacket tight around her, puffing clouds of steam as she made her way towards the stables. Phrym was always waiting for her, no matter how quietly she approached, and the two would go out riding, allowing the icy air to numb their senses.

As the second anniversary of her parents’ deaths approached, Jahrra, despite her resilience and recent happiness, found herself once again burdened by a heavy and dull sorrow. Hroombra kept an especially close eye on her and asked that Gieaun and Scede watch her at school. He knew that even the smallest remark from hostile spectators could lead to trouble, and he wanted to make sure that her road to recovery continued to be a smooth one.

The winter passed, agonizingly slow, but Jahrra got through it with much less trouble than Hroombra had anticipated. At school, the twins had been too preoccupied with Solsticetide and telling everyone about the extravagant presents they were hoping to get that they’d almost forgotten about their favorite victim. Only when Jahrra stood idly around the schoolyard did they bother to antagonize her, but that almost never happened.

Solsticetide and Jahrra’s tenth birthday passed, but the celebrations were empty and cold without her parents. As spring approached, however, Jahrra became distracted by her new garden. The seeds and bulbs were coming to life, and the lazy flowers were awakening to the warm spring days. The garden out-shown the surrounding wildflowers of the field, and soon the small pond she and her friends had dug was teaming with frogs and dragonflies, birds and butterflies. She had even transplanted a small sapling that was now showing brilliant pink blossoms. It was like her own personal oasis and she tended to it every day after school with Gieaun and Scede.

Hroombra often listened to the children chattering away amongst the flowers as he sat at his great desk in the Castle Guard Ruin. He found himself listening to the young laughter that drifted through the window behind him like one would listen to an orchestra. Against his better judgment, the great dragon allowed his mind to float away with the fragrant breezes and happy conversation, bringing him to a place long lost in time.

He found himself in another age, when this Castle Guard Ruin was not a ruin at all, but a proud building that kept a lookout for the great castle on the edge of the Sloping Hill. He heard the ghostly echo of innocent laughter of the children from the past. His heart froze and his blood became ice water when he saw the young prince and the beautiful queen. His heart seemed to melt and seep through his veins as liquid sadness, a sadness that flooded his cheerful reverie . . .

“Gieaun! Scede! Come and look at this butterfly!!! I think these are the caterpillars that belong to it!”

The sudden rise in voices broke up Hroombra’s dismal thoughts. He breathed a great sigh of relief, grateful to escape the world he had entered. It had been a place of darker times and he didn’t want to think about such things, at least, not right now.

“Whoa!!”

Scede’s reaction to Jahrra’s find caused Hroombra to chuckle to himself.
I think I’ll rest now while they’re busy being distracted outdoors . . .
the old dragon thought to himself. He curled his neck and tail around his enormous desk and rested his head upon the worn stone floor.
I think it’s time that Jahrra know a little more about the past, but it can wait until after my nap.
He soon dozed off, promising himself he’d save the painful memories for later.

-
Chapter Ten
-

The Castle Ruin

Hroombra had been awake from his nap for quite some time now, but his mind was still focused on the images of the past. He took a deep, weary breath and released it with a tinge of smoke. He needed to find Jahrra and the silence outside made him wonder if she had taken Phrym to Wood’s End Ranch, but he rose from the stone floor anyway. Perhaps the children had just walked up to the stables.
It is time
, he reminded himself with a slight shiver as he stepped out into bright daylight.
It’s time for her to begin to know . . .

He checked the garden first, and to his delight he found the young girl there. She was lying on the stone flagging of her tiny paradise, watching dragonflies skitter across the surface of the pond. He smiled warmly then brushed aside the last dregs of his reticence, “Jahrra, come over here please.”

Jahrra turned her head lazily and looked up at her guardian, his massive reptilian face gazing down at her over the garden wall. She smiled as she gazed up at him quizzically. Hroombra often left her alone when she was outside, so she wondered if anything was wrong. Her mentor’s tone of voice had been casual, but it had a lingering note to it which held a hundred possible emotions.

“What is it?” she asked without moving.

“You shall see, but if you’re thinking about staying right where you are, you’ll be severely disappointed.”

Now his voice held mischief, and Jahrra knew that he was up to something, something mysterious. She jumped up enthusiastically from where she lay and easily cleared the wall.

“Where have Gieaun and Scede gone so early?” Hroombra asked curiously, his great brow creased in scrutiny. “It’s only a few hours past midday.”

“They had to go home for riding lessons. I would’ve gone too, but I wanted to sit in my garden,” Jahrra answered matter-of-factly, picking at a daisy growing as high as her garden wall. “I told them I might come over later.”

“You little ones, I just can’t seem to keep up with you these days.” The great dragon shook his head in humor.

“So, where’re we going? Should I get Phrym?” Jahrra asked, becoming curious in this sudden venture.

“Oh no, it’s just a little over three miles. Let’s make it a good walk, shall we?”

“Alright, which way?”

Jahrra had been lying still for so long that she gratefully welcomed a long walk.

“Head north, along the path leading through the woods,” Hroombra said, and then called as she bolted off, “Not too fast! I don’t move as quickly as you do!”

Jahrra stopped running and instead began dashing back and forth from one side of the path to the other, searching for more plants she might like to add to her garden. She’d been in these woods before, but no deeper than a few hundred yards. The Wreing Florenn began somewhere behind them and she didn’t want to end up in there. After only a few minutes she became bored with her hunt and noticed that they were following what appeared to be a wide, overgrown path.

“Was this once a road Master Hroombra?” she asked between skips.

“Yes, once. A very long time ago this used to be an important road. It led to the great castle that used to stand where we are now going. Now all that is left are the ruined walls of what was once the pride of Oescienne.”

Jahrra stopped dead and looked up at Hroombra, her eyes round with excitement. “Do you mean we’re finally going to the Castle Ruin? The one that’s guarded by those two old towers?”

Hroombra smiled down at Jahrra. She’d asked him every time they passed the towers if they could visit the castle, and each time Hroombra had an excuse not to. “Yes Jahrra, we are finally going to the Castle Ruin, but don’t get too excited; little remains of the great fortress that once stood.”

“Oh, tell me what it used to look like so I can imagine it when we get there!” Jahrra begged, setting her gait to match Hroombra’s pace so as not to miss a single detail.

Hroombra glanced hesitantly down at Jahrra, knowing that recalling such memories would be a burden to him. But how could he deny such an eager request?

“I’ll tell you Jahrra, but don’t be too disappointed when you see what remains.”

“I won’t,” she assured him, holding her hand over her heart as if to make a pledge.

“Very well.”

Jahrra straightened up, becoming disinterested in the wayside flowers and the startled insects. The old dragon now had her full attention as they trekked along. He took a deep breath and reached into that part of his memory that held the tale he now told.

“The castle was once called Estraelh Castle, home to the king of Oescienne, the most beautiful palace in all the land,” he began. “It was built on the highest end of the Great Sloping Hill, for the very first king of this province wished to see all of his land from its walls. With each passing generation, the royal family would add something new to the castle, building it slowly into the palace it became. The first king’s son had the patio gardens constructed; one queen insisted a studio and art gallery be added to one of its many turrets. A later king designed a music room, while one royal family built an observatory in another tower.

“Finally, an extensive library was added to the southeastern wing. A sweeping driveway, several more gardens, and a small orchard of trees were included in their own time. Those trees became the wood that now surrounds the castle; the trees that encroach upon the Wreing Florenn. It was once a place of magic Jahrra, built with the palest green granite and marble containing small flecks of all the colors of the natural world.”

Hroombra paused and huffed a small sigh. When he went on, a hard note peppered his voice, “It’s hard to see all of that now, due to the years of decay. Now the mossy green stones have become dull and faded, looking more like mud-caked slate. The gardens have gone wild and the walls have crumbled.”

Jahrra slowed her already unhurried walk to gaze up at her guardian with a furrowed brow. He seemed to be distracted, but he blinked, took a breath and continued on as if not a second had passed.

“The inside of the castle was even more glorious than the exterior. As I mentioned, it had an observatory, a library, an art gallery and a music room, but it also had an enormous dining hall and ball room for great feasts, parties and dances. Throughout the halls and rooms there hung or stood many works of art and sculptures of man and beast alike. The bedrooms were extravagant with great carved canopy beds and enormous fireplaces just like the one at the Castle Guard Ruin. The kitchen could serve just about any dish imaginable and employed the most gifted chefs, but the most magnificent part of the castle was the entrance hall.”

Hroombra spoke more enthusiastically now and Jahrra gazed off dreamily into the trees, imagining all of the decorations and details of the castle, forgetting the miles as they walked.

“The hall was enormous, large enough to fit a large party of dragons,” Hroombra continued. “In those days dragons were not feared as they are now. The ceiling was high and domed, and painted on the floor was the great symbol of the dragons, the three point star, with the qualities that we strive for written around it in the dragons’ language. The kings and queens and all of the people of the land tried hard to meet the standard of the dragons, so they had our code etched upon their fortress. Ahhh,” said Hroombra breaking off his lesson, “here we are at last.”

Jahrra had been so wrapped up in her guardian’s story that she hadn’t noticed how far they’d walked. She gazed up the path in front of her and gasped; several yards before them stood the skeleton of a once great structure resting quietly behind a screen of trees. Jahrra blinked, fearing this wonderful new place might disappear, but it didn’t. She swallowed her wonder and focused all of her energy on the scene before her.

In the center of the thick wall rising before them was a crumbled arch that had once been a great doorway. Beyond that stood the remains of a staircase, looking very much like an old, arthritic man hunched over from age. Many more broken arches receding farther into the structure suggested the intricate ceiling system Hroombra had talked about. Jahrra decided that the arches and buttresses looked like the rib cage of some great beast that had perished long ago.

Ferns and mosses, lichens and liverworts grew between cracks in the granite. Patches of sod, covered in forest violets and tiny star lilies covered the multitude of broken staircases, making this place seem like a fairy realm directly out of Felldreim. As Jahrra stepped through a gaping hole in the outer wall, she noticed that the layers of this castle continued on forever.

A strange feeling of magic and mystery tickled Jahrra’s skin, a feeling similar to the one she’d experienced at the Dragon’s Court above Edyadth a few years ago. The sudden memory caused her to trip over a solitary stone, tossing up a large chunk of black earth and debris in the process. She looked back, slightly heated from her clumsiness, and saw evidence of a stone floor hidden beneath. Jahrra scrunched her eyes in scrutiny.

Hroombra spoke, however, before she could query, “I’m afraid the floor beneath our feet has been completely covered.”

“How exactly did it come to be like this, the castle I mean?” Jahrra asked forlornly, running her fingers over a moss covered stone.

“That, my child, is a very long story.” replied Hroombra, not making any attempt to elaborate.

Jahrra nodded solemnly, deciding not to complain in this quiet, empty atmosphere.

“May I look around?” she asked Hroombra suddenly, hoping that by moving or talking she could shake free of the strange feeling that surrounded her.

Jahrra looked up at the dragon when he didn’t answer and froze when she saw his eyes. He was gazing into the heart of the old castle with an emotion Jahrra had never seen before playing across his face, turning his golden eyes to amber stone. It frightened her a little, so she kept quiet, not repeating the question. After some time, however, Hroombra looked down at her, suddenly realizing that she’d asked him something.

“You may look around,” he said automatically, his voice seeming to be stuck in some other time.

Jahrra took off running towards the building before Hroombra could say anything more. He chuckled to himself, crossing the shadow of what was once a great courtyard, slowly following the girl. When Hroombra reached the great arch that had been the entryway for the dragons, he found Jahrra there, standing with her face turned towards the dappled canopy above.

“What on Ethoes are you doing now, Jahrra?” he asked with a wrinkled brow.

“Oh!” The girl jumped with a start. “I was just thinking about the great ceiling and I was trying to imagine it here.”

She smiled at Hroombra, and he couldn’t help but smile back. “Do you know,” he began, “that this used to be the great entry hall for the dragons?”

Jahrra shook her head, but kept her gaze on Hroombra.

“Oh yes, as I was telling you before, the races of dragons were welcome here. In fact, many of the king’s relatives had been tutored in the way of the dragons, by dragons themselves.”

Hroombra stepped forward and took a deep breath, expelling a great blast of air across the floor, causing black soil, moldy leaves and grime to go shooting in great chunks through the air. Jahrra closed her eyes and waited for the debris to settle. When she opened them again there was no longer the rotting carpet of the forest floor, but rather, patches of ancient worn and faded tiles below her feet, stained from the decay of many centuries’ worth of leaves.

“Wow!” Jahrra exclaimed. “What’s that!?”

The colored tile below was not random, but revealed an intertwined triangular symbol set in a mosaic pattern. The symbol, which was only partially revealed, looked as if it covered the entire center of the enormous floor.

“That, Jahrra, is the Great Crest of the Dragons, something we call the Baherhb in our language. Each point stands for one quality, and each quality has two more aspects.”

Hroombra closed his eyes as if he were mentally flipping through an ancient book. He took a small breath and continued, “The three qualities are Knowledge, Strength and Loyalty. Knowledge isn’t the capacity of knowing or not knowing, it is so much more. In order for Knowledge to exist, one must have Truth and Understanding. Only true Knowledge can be gained when one knows the truth and when one understands it.

“Strength is not just the power that one can enforce. True Strength requires both Patience and Endurance. Without patience and endurance, one can never be strong of heart, mind, body and spirit; they can only be strong of body.

“Loyalty is the third quality of the Baherhb, and it is composed of Love and Honor. One cannot be loyal to another if they do not love and honor them. It is our way, and it binds us all: Korli, Creecemind, Gilli, Lendras, Tiynterra, Aquandaas, and now Tanaan as well; all the kruels of dragons created by Ethoes.”

Jahrra stood still as Hroombra recited the ancient code of his kind, soaking in every word. Although she didn’t quite understand what all of this meant, she could tell from his tone that this symbol, this code of words, was important to him.

Silence followed Hroombra’s lesson and soon the songs of the late afternoon birds drifted through the woods, echoing strangely against the eroded walls.

It was Hroombra who spoke first, several breaths later, “So young one, are you through with exploring? You can’t have gone much farther than this spot.”