The Finding (16 page)

Hroombra released his breath, suddenly realizing that he’d been holding it, as Jahrra nodded her head in agreement. He knew that this statement may be true now but it was only so long until the king would want to find Jahrra, to destroy her.
I’m sorry young one, I lied
, the old dragon thought in private agony.
The king can hurt you and I fear someday he will. But not now, I won’t let him harm you now.
Hroombra shook these awful thoughts from his head and looked back down at Jahrra.

She was now peering more closely at the people running in terror, those casting the shadows of dragons. Hroombra imagined she was trying to impress the pictures into her mind so that they matched up with the story he had told her. Jahrra trailed her fingers over the images slowly, but halted her hand when she spotted something else. It was a strange writing that followed the tale along the bottom of the mural. She had ignored it before, figuring she didn’t need to read it. Now she was dying to know what it said.

“What is this writing?” she asked shortly.

“That, young one, is Kruelt, the language of the dragons.”

Jahrra looked up with innocent eyes. “What does it say?”

“Oh, more or less what I just told you, but those words tell much more of the story . . .” Hroombra said in amusement.

“How much more!?” Jahrra exclaimed, nearly falling over as her hand glanced off the wall. “Master Hroombra! You’ve got to read it to me!” she insisted.

“That, I won’t do.”

Jahrra looked simply crestfallen.

“Don’t fret, you’ll know it in time.” He laughed, sounding cheerful for the first time this day. “In fact, it’s about time you began to learn Kruelt. I have always meant for you to learn it since you live with a dragon, and now is a good time for you to start. Once you’ve mastered the ancient language you can come back here and read the entire story for yourself.”

Hroombra smiled and Jahrra made a sour face.

“Learn a new language?” she said. “Just so I can read this story? Wouldn’t it be easier for you to read it to me?”

The young girl gazed up at Hroombra with a look of slight annoyance on her face.

“No, you shall learn Kruelt,” Hroombra pressed adamantly. “Someday you may be grateful you learned it. And when you do, you can come back here and see what these words say.”

“I don’t see how I could someday be grateful for extra lessons,” Jahrra grumbled, pushing her hair behind her ears and crossing her arms.

Hroombra grinned and said, “You’ll understand, Jahrra . . .”

“I know, I know,” she cut in impatiently, rolling her eyes, “all in good time.”

Hroombra chuckled, his eyes crinkling in good humor, “Very good, young one. Now, is there any other part of the Castle Ruin you would like to see? It is growing late, and the sun will be setting soon so we must be moving along soon.”

“No, I think I’ve seen it all,” Jahrra said, forgetting her annoyance.

“Very well. Meet me out front. I’ll catch up to you.”

Jahrra disappeared through the broken archway and ran off to get lost once again in the stony labyrinth. Hroombra exhaled with another one of his great sighs, allowing his suspended thoughts to return to the front of his mind.

“How could I have forgotten?” he whispered to the walls. “How could I have forgotten reciting that terrible story as it was being painted on these walls?”

Hroombra shook himself like a great, wet dog and stared at the doorway through which Jahrra had disappeared. He was enormously grateful that she hadn’t asked the question he knew he couldn’t answer. He’d feared she would ask him if he’d been there, if he’d played a part in that painful chapter in history.
You may be ready to know some of this, but you are not ready for the truth to that question yet
, he thought astringently,
and I’m not ready to tell you.

He looked back at the mural and let himself remember, just as he’d done in the entrance hall. He let his eyes wander upon the faded yet beautiful portraits and landscapes. His eyes darted from figure to figure, until they fell upon one figure in particular. It was the man Jahrra had seen riding the horse, proud and unafraid, but the old dragon saw more than what Jahrra had.

He focused hard on the portrait and once again closed his eyes. He could see the man more clearly now, a young man, charging upon a foe with full passion and purpose. The man’s eyes had been eroded away from the wall, but now Hroombra saw eyes blinded by suffering and hatred. The memory of what had become of him cut Hroombra like a knife. This young man was happy once, before the great tragedy had befallen him. Once upon a time his life meant more than just a vessel for revenge.

Hroombra exhaled a low, tired breath, like ancient air pouring from a cave. He knew that this place in time was long past, yet he couldn’t help but wish there was something more he could’ve done for this unfortunate person.

The Korli dragon breathed deeply once more and reminded himself that the past was the past, and try as he might, he couldn’t change it. He thought of Jahrra and suddenly realized how much like this young man she was turning out to be. She was proud and strong, and she’d lost her family too soon as well.
May I be able to save her when the time comes
,
Hroombra thought,
may she not share his fate.

The great dragon let his mind drift away from the hurt and sorrow, the heartache and abhorrence. He let it float back to the present, and before he left the great room he whispered to no one in particular, “Do not give up, there is still hope.”

Jahrra was waiting for him in the front of the castle, climbing over fallen stones and examining their color and texture.

“Are you ready?” he asked when she glanced up. “The sun will be down in a little under an hour and it would be foolish of us to stay here after dark. I fear this small wood is no longer as small as it once was; it is more than likely that it has encroached too far upon the Wreing Florenn. We wouldn’t want to be in the woods after dark. Come, you can ride on my back.”

Jahrra leaped from the giant square boulder she was standing on and landed on the dragon’s back. As they left the Castle Ruin behind, Jahrra peered back once more. It looked more daunting in the fading light, but it still intrigued her. She’d discovered a deep secret when she found the mural on the wall, she could tell. True, Hroombra had told her a story and had even let her ask him questions, but she knew there was much more to it than what he’d told her.

There had been something short of fear in Hroombra’s voice. She’d heard it when he recited the story behind the mural, and she heard it now, when he told her they must leave.
What could possibly frighten Master Hroombra?
she thought to herself.
Maybe the stories of the creature in the forest are true after all.
Jahrra inhaled and exhaled nervously, clutching even tighter to Hroombra’s neck as he ambled along.

“Do you really think there are terrifying monsters in the Wreing Florenn?” she asked, making her thoughts known as she worked hard to keep her balance atop the rocking gait of her carrier.

Her guardian took his time answering. “I’ve never seen one personally. Yet again, I’ve never wandered into the forest at night.”

Hroombra didn’t actually think that fearsome beasts lived in the deep forest, but he did know that many strangers and travelers used it to avoid the superstitious local folk. He also knew that these people could often be more dangerous than wild beasts and he would rather have Jahrra frightened of being eaten than to take the chance of her being taken or seen by the wrong person in the deep of the woods.

By the time Hroombra and Jahrra exited the small grove surrounding the castle, the sun had already set. Luckily, the Castle Guard Ruin was under a mile away from the edge of the trees, and Hroombra and Jahrra no longer had to fear the beasts and strange things of the woods. They were almost safely home.

What the dragon and the girl didn’t know was that they hadn’t altogether left the forest unseen. As twilight fell upon the wide field that spread between the woods and their home, a pair of eyes watched diligently from behind a clump of trees. The eyes were odd indeed, full of curiosity and wit and some other undetectable emotion, but for now they stayed completely focused on the dragon and the girl.

For quite some time now, perhaps even for years, the creature belonging to those eyes had felt a presence in Oescienne, a presence it couldn’t explain. It had always known about the dragon, that fact was understandable. It was the dragon the creature had followed to this corner of Ethoes to begin with, but the glimmer of an emotion within the great reptile had sparked the creature’s recognition of this young girl now traveling with him.

The old Korli dragon had hope in his heart, something the spying creature had felt for a very long time, but not so strongly until now. For some time, the hope in the old dragon had been growing, and with it, the suspicions of the creature that now spied on them. Now, after what had been witnessed tonight, it knew
exactly
what it was that nurtured the old reptile’s hope.

He has found the one, the one
He
searches for!
The spy thought with glee and bewilderment, chills shivering over its clothed skin.
The time has finally come.

Suddenly, the dragon, which was many yards away in the distance, stopped and began sniffing the air. The pair of watching eyes shrank back behind the closest tree, and as the great reptile turned his head to look back, the eyes closed slowly, hiding their presence. Hroombra stared at the spot where the being had watched him for a long while, but after some time he gave up and turned back to the decrepit building he called home.

The eyes opened once more and continued watching the dragon and the girl, the
human
girl.
Yes
, thought the creature as something crackled in its eyes,
she has to be the one.
The strange being smiled, a smile no one would ever see, a smile that some might call wicked.
Protect her now Old One, but you can only hide her from me for so long. I’ll have my say in this and somehow, some way, I’ll get to her.

With a cold, unnatural voice the creature whispered, “I will not make the same mistake twice.”

The eyes closed for a second time, but this time they closed and withdrew behind the tree for good. The creature slid back into the woods, back into the heart of the Wreing Florenn to wait.

-
Chapter Twelve
-

Blue Flames and Draggish Words

The weeks following the visit to the Castle Ruin were both fulfilling and frustrating in Jahrra’s opinion. First of all, it was thrilling to know the story of the Tanaan king and the missing prince, as tragic as it may be. It seemed like such a tantalizing tale, one that couldn’t possibly have happened but one that Hroombra insisted was in fact, true.

Jahrra would spend the evenings by the great hearth in the Ruin’s common room, gazing at the flames and running an endless stream of questions through her head. How did the evil king turn the Tanaan into dragons? Did he use magic? Could the curse be broken, and if so, would the Tanaan dragons turn back into humans? Were any of those who were once human still alive? Would the castle return to what it once was if the curse was broken? Jahrra was dying to ask Hroombra, but every time she attempted to bring it up, he simply shook his head and told her he didn’t know.

This was beyond frustrating, for she couldn’t tell if he was serious or just trying to dodge her questions. Over time, she found herself enduring her unbound curiosity in thoughtful silence, especially when the school year began winding down. Fortunately her preoccupation with the Tanaan legend kept her mind off of the daily torment she faced at school. Ignoring the twins was easier than ever when she had the mystery of the legend of Oescienne on her mind.

This helped during actual school lessons as well. Jahrra took her education seriously, but not her educator. Tarnik’s method of teaching math was convoluted and confusing, his grammar lessons could bore a statue to tears, and when it came to Ethoen history and mythology, Jahrra often found herself tempted to launch her pen at him. He never got anything right, often obscuring facts or making heroes out to be twisted or idiotic. Jahrra usually went into daydream mode during his lectures, but one day his lesson was so outrageous she couldn’t even lose herself in her own thoughts.

“I wish we didn’t have such an awful teacher,” Gieaun groaned as they streamed out of the stuffy classroom on their final day of school.

“I know! Claiming dragons are mere figments of our imaginations!” Jahrra was simply flabbergasted and she had

actually laughed out loud in class, earning her thirty minutes detention after school.

“Maybe you should invite him over after school someday. I’m sure he’d love to meet Master Hroombra and discuss his theory.”

Scede cast Jahrra an impish grin and she snorted. “Yeah, he’d think he was hallucinating!”

Jahrra pursed up her face and stood rigid, speaking in a harsh, pinched voice that sounded remarkably like Tarnik’s, “I tell you, dragons are creatures invented by story tellers to add drama to their tales. You see, you see! I’m imagining one right now, do you see it?!”

Jahrra jabbed her finger as if pointing to an imaginary Hroombra, towering over them at the Castle Guard Ruin.

By the time they arrived at the stables to fetch their horses, Jahrra, Gieaun and Scede could barely walk from laughing so hard.

“Ugh!” Jahrra cried, wiping away a few tears and taking on a more serious tone, “Sometimes I just wish he and the twins would disappear!”

“Is that so, Nesnan?” asked a smug, cold voice from behind. “If anyone should disappear, it should be you.”

The three of them turned quickly, fearing for a split second that Tarnik had actually been behind them.

“What do
you
want?” Jahrra said distastefully when she recognized who it was.

Eydeth just stood there and sneered silently. Three of his friends, all bigger, older boys, came walking over to stand just behind him, their arms crossed menacingly like a trio of body guards.

“If you dislike us so much, why do you go to such trouble to follow us around?” Gieaun asked coolly, crossing her arms to match the thugs.

“Nobody asked you!” Eydeth snapped ferociously, glaring both at Gieaun and Scede. “You should be ashamed of yourselves, both of you, for associating with this Nesnan!”

Eydeth was obviously out of insults to throw, and Jahrra wasn’t in the mood to stand there and have him glare at them the rest of the afternoon. Summer vacation had started after all, and it wasn’t going to start out on a bad foot, not if she could help it. She took a deep breath and gave Eydeth her most menacing glare.

“Look,” she said rather boldly, “if you’re just going to stand there and look stupid, then waste your time somewhere else. We’ve got a long ride home and the last thing we want to do is stick around here and look at your ugly face.”

Gieaun and Scede had to turn away to hide their laughter, and even a few of the boys standing behind Eydeth found it hard to keep a straight face.

Eydeth, however, turned vermillion with anger. “What’d you say to me?!” he spat with rage.

“I said,” Jahrra answered slowly, as if speaking to a very small child, “I’ll be leaving now, so if you have anything else to say, then say it. But my guess is that your vocabulary isn’t large enough.”

Jahrra crossed her arms aggressively, flung her braided hair over her shoulder with a toss of her head, and stood up as tall as she could, a whole head taller than Eydeth.

The group of boys moved in closer, and Eydeth looked like a volcano about to erupt as he stood there contemplating what he should do next. Jahrra took advantage of the stalemate, turning and continuing the short walk up to the stables, a snickering Gieaun and Scede on her tail.

“Don’t you turn your back on me!” Eydeth screamed as he began walking briskly after them.

Jahrra heard his approach, but she ignored it and kept on moving, her heart beginning to race. Just as Eydeth was closing in, she reached Phrym’s stable door. With one swift motion of her arm, she lifted the rope loop that kept the door shut, and Phrym came bursting out, driving Eydeth back. The tall semequin began swinging his head and stomping his heavy hooves on the ground, knocking Eydeth completely off of his feet.

“AAAAGGGHHH!” he shouted as the young stallion pushed passed him, frightening off the other students.

Eydeth’s friends scurried away from the agitated animal while Jahrra walked over to grab his halter. As soon as he sensed that Jahrra was no longer upset, Phrym began to calm down. She patted his cheek and whispered calming words to him, but Phrym never took his eyes off the boy who had been trying to hurt his friend. He snorted and drew his ears back in irritation.

Once Eydeth saw that the semequin was no longer running amuck, he scrambled to his feet and began limping off. In a last ditch effort to insult Jahrra, he whipped his head around and shouted in a voice that broke more than once, “You’d better learn to control that stupid horse! It’s bound to get you into a lot of trouble some day!”

Jahrra simply smiled and retorted, “He’s not a horse. He’s a semequin, and he would never get me into trouble.”

Eydeth smiled smugly at this statement, barely masking his grimace of pain. “Ha! Where would a poor Nesnan like you get a semequin?!”

He seemed amused by this and even straightened up a bit from his slumping posture. But as Eydeth began looking Phrym up and down, his maniacal grin crept away as he saw the truth in what Jahrra had said.

Jahrra tossed her head and chirped, waggling the fingers of her free hand, “I got him from an
imaginary
dragon.”

Eydeth’s smile disappeared completely. Whatever he might have wanted to say next, however, stayed unsaid. He turned and limped back towards the schoolhouse to wait with his sister for their carriage.

“Jahrra! You shouldn’t have told him that!” Gieaun hissed.

“Oh, don’t worry. If Eydeth believes the rubbish that Tarnik has been teaching us, and I’m sure he does, then he won’t believe what I said,” Jahrra answered briskly as she assessed Phrym, checking to make sure he hadn’t hurt himself while breaking free of his stall.

“Jahrra, this is no joke! His father breeds semequins! He knows for sure that they’re hard to find and really expensive. He’ll make up some story of how you stole him!”

Gieaun seemed to be getting overly anxious, and Jahrra began to have second thoughts about antagonizing her enemy. Maybe she should’ve just let Eydeth have the last word and leave it at that.

“Hopefully he just thinks I’m crazy, like he always has. Come on, we need to get moving,” Jahrra answered.

When she saw the look on her friend’s face, however, she said, “Oh, Gieaun, don’t worry so much!”

As they rode through the schoolyard, Scede nodded at the pair of twins glaring menacingly at them. “No doubt he’s told his sister what happened,” he commented.

“Yeah, and exaggerated it ten times worse than what actually
did
happen,” Jahrra sniffed, sitting taller in the saddle.

By the time the three companions made it to the Castle Guard Ruin, the yellow glow of the daylight hours had faded into hues of washed-out indigo. Jahrra turned Phrym down the narrow path that led to the withered building and stopped, turning to her friends.

“I’ll see you later, maybe tomorrow?” she asked.

“Mother and father might need us to help out in the fields with the horses, but I’m sure they wouldn’t mind if you joined us,” Scede offered.

“I’ll see what Master Hroombra has planned. Goodbye!”

They said their farewells and Jahrra jogged Phrym across the field to his stable. As she took off his saddle and rubbed him down, she talked with him as if he were Gieaun or Scede. “One more school year gone. I can’t believe it.”

Phrym just whickered contentedly, nibbling at the oats in his trough. Jahrra looked off into the west and sighed. She wondered if next year would be any different.
If the twins are still in school, then probably not
, she thought ruefully.

Jahrra finished up with Phrym and took her time walking back to the Ruin, the chirping of crickets and alarm calls of frightened birds accompanying her the entire way. She stepped through the small door of her home to find Hroombra crouched in front of the massive fireplace in the equally massive common room. She looked past him, a little surprised not to find him at his desk, and saw a large pile of logs stacked in the center of the stone fireplace. Jahrra looked up at her mentor, her brow furrowed.

“Are you building a fire?” she asked, thinking of how ridiculous the idea was on this warm evening.

“Yes, I am,” was Hroombra’s simple reply.

Jahrra sighed, knowing out of experience that he wasn’t about to explain. “And
why
are you building a fire? It’s the beginning of summer.”

Just as Jahrra was beginning to think that her guardian had lost it, he smiled brightly, eyes glittering. “This will be no ordinary fire,” he said.

Jahrra was growing frustrated with Hroombra’s lack of information, so she threw her hands up and exclaimed, “Alright, what do you have planned now?”

His grin deepened as he chanted, “This fire will be neither hot nor cool, and it will neither burn nor freeze.”

Jahrra was flabbergasted.
What kind of a fire could freeze?
she thought with a befuddled look on her face.

Hroombra stood and walked over to the fireplace. He took a short breath and quickly exhaled, blowing a vibrant ball of red flame onto the pile of wood. The dry timber caught fire immediately, crackling and sparking aggressively, but the red flames soon turned to a blue-violet color, and they began rippling like water.

Jahrra was no longer confused, but intrigued. She slowly walked over to look at the strange flames, reaching out a hand to see if it felt hot, but there was no sensation of heat whatsoever.

“Go ahead and brush your fingers through it, it won’t burn you.”

Jahrra looked up at Hroombra and saw the truth of that statement in his honest eyes. He nodded his great head, so she quickly trailed her hand through one of the ripples. The effect was nothing more than that of a tiny puff of wind passing through smoke. Jahrra pulled her hand back and looked at it. No mark had been made, and she didn’t feel a thing. It felt just as it would if she were waving goodbye to her friends.

“What
is
this?” she asked in wonder, still staring at her hand.

“It’s ancient magic, long banished by the Tyrant King. The wood is ordinary, but the herb used to light the fire and the words I spoke over it earlier are magical. I have much of the plant stored away, but I only use it on special occasions since it is near impossible to come by these days.”

Jahrra thought of the locked room in the back of the building and suddenly wondered what else might be hidden in there.

Hroombra reached his great foreleg out and passed his own hand over the flame, leaving it there for several seconds. His claws began to glow the same color as the fire, and Jahrra became worried. “Master Hroombra,” she began anxiously.

“Don’t fret, you’ll see.” he answered before she could continue.

He left his massive hand there for awhile longer, and then pulled it out slowly, his glowing claws leaving a trail of hazy blue smoke as they cut across the space between the fire and the floor. He then pulled his toes in and began to draw something on the ancient stone floor with the claw of his forefinger.