The Finding (2 page)

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Chapter One
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A Very Surprising Discovery

Jaax wrinkled his nose as the sound of a chattering bird pulled him from his slumber, but he kept his eyes shut and remained motionless nonetheless. Not that he could’ve moved much anyway, for the small, fern-laced hollow he’d tucked himself into the night before was just big enough to accommodate his large size, wings and all. He sighed softly, releasing a hot, smoke-tinged breath that forced the damp leaves plastered to the forest floor to peel and curl in protest.

After a few heartbeats he risked a peek, opening one silvery-green dragon’s eye to catch a glimpse of the damp, grey morning that congested the forest like a heavy cold. Most dragons had eyes of yellow, orange or red, dominated by a wild intelligence. It was only the Tanaan dragons whose eyes were shaded in the blues, greens and browns of their human ancestors. Jaax shivered at the recollection. A terrible curse had meant the end of the humans in Ethoes, the same curse that had brought about the existence of his particular race of dragons nearly five centuries ago.

Jaax blinked several times as if doing so would remove these dark thoughts from his mind the way tears dislodged grains of sand from one’s eyes. And his eyes were quite unique, even for a Tanaan dragon. They shone with a fierce obscurity, as if they’d been tame at one time but had since returned to being wild. Why they had become this way, however, was a mystery known entirely to the soul buried behind them. It was only during this first waking moment that Jaax revealed any clues as to what sorrows and secrets he kept locked away, but that small amount of time was never long enough for anyone to discern the dragon’s troubles.

Jaax sighed and continued to listen to the singing bird from earlier. It was a heartsong sparrow, a harbinger of luck, hope and love. The tiny creature trilled on before it was frightened away by something larger foraging for food.
Well
, the dragon thought with an amused smile,
at least it wasn’t me this time.

With his fine musician flown, the dragon lifted his triangular head and gazed more thoroughly at his surroundings. The feathery ferns that brushed against his face acted as a fragile screen between his tiny vale and the outside world and the great, gnarled oaks stretching overhead resembled giant, arthritic hands reaching up out of the earth to grasp at the insubstantial fog. Despite its early morning lethargy, the forest was alive with a variety of scents: cold fog, decaying leaves and the distant tang of a fresh fire being the most prominent. Jaax tilted his head to listen for possible intruders, but all he heard was the drip of condensation gathering and slapping against the leaf-litter below.

The Tanaan dragon smiled softly, his eyelids drooping lazily as the cool silence weighed heavily upon him. His initial instincts told him there was no threat here. The instincts that ran deeper, however, told him something else. As the heartsong sparrow had announced earlier, there was change in the air, and not just any change, but a good change, one that had led him to this secluded corner of Ethoes to begin with.

Yawning widely, Jaax stretched himself out of his forest bed, snapping twigs and cracking joints as he stood to his full height. The strong scent of earthworms and wild mushrooms filled the space around him as he pressed his weight into the dark, rich soil, and the taste of damp, mossy air filled his mouth and throat as he breathed. Jaax smiled despite himself. He loved the absolute quiet and heavy scents the fog evoked.

The foraging animal from earlier, a towhee, noticed him immediately and twittered energetically as it fled the scene. The dragon grinned again as the bird’s distress calls disappeared into the mist. He was used to being feared but he never took it personally. As he shook the cold and sleep from his body his irony scales, rough and glimmering like polished granite, gradually changed from the bland colors of his surroundings to shades of copper, rusty bronze, deep-green and turquoise.

Finally fully awake, Jaax at last allowed his mind to consider his long awaited duty, and the letter that had called him to it. He was here on the bank of the Saem River to retrieve a young child, a newborn baby to be exact, and, according to what the correspondence had claimed, the only one of her kind. It was a very odd task for such a large dragon, but there was a chance that this child held the fate of the world in her tiny hands.

Jaax felt a rippling shiver pass under his tough skin as he considered what all of this meant.
A baby girl
, he thought in wonderment mixed with skepticism,
found inside a hollow, yet very much alive shell of an ancient oak tree in northern Oescienne.
The familiarity of it all made his great heart quicken with anticipation and even fear. The words of the Oracles . . . Jaax tried to bite back that enticing thought, but it was no use. This had been his purpose all along, to find her and protect her the day she was born. He realized that if this child truly was what the message claimed her to be, then there was good reason for the sudden flare of his once dormant emotions. Yet he still doubted, for he had been disappointed too many times before.

After one last lingering glance at his campsite, Jaax set his jaw in determination and spread his enormous wings. He beat them once and leaped into the gray sky, forcing the thick mist to dance in small eddies and the tree branches to whip around in protest. Once he’d climbed high enough, he noted the fog sagging like a heavy blanket between the two ranges forming the Saem Valley. He glided soundlessly over the gray-white ocean of clouds below him, counting the miles as they passed and narrowing his pale eyes against the brilliant sun.

The dragon’s final destination was a place called Crie, a place as unassuming as a newborn infant. It was a small, secluded village on the river bank just a few miles east of where he’d slept. The location was ideal, set against the southern Saem Hills on the flat land that rested just above the calm tributary. He knew this village well and the elves who lived there: they were descendants of the Woedehn elves, a race that still resided in the great forests of Hrunah to the east. Some of them had traveled to this part of the world after the rise of the Crimson King, hoping to relocate beyond his grasp. A great number of them, Jaax recalled, were actually Nesnan or Resai, the mixed-blood descendents of elf and human unions from long before the Tyrant transformed them. Though not immortal, they had inherited from their elfin ancestors at least some of their longevity. Many of these people were hundreds of years old but appeared rather youthful.

While he soared over the treetops, Jaax passed the time by picturing the townspeople he knew from his past meetings with them. He saw in his mind’s eye a gentle folk, secretive and simple in their ways, yet lively and sociable when the mood called for celebration. Like their Woedehn kin, the elves of Crie were short in stature but not petite and delicate like so many of the other races of their kind. They never quailed from hard work and were always eager to take on a good challenge. Whether that task be something as risky as driving a rabid dremmen wolf from their village or something as simple as removing a stubborn turnip from their garden, it didn’t matter.

As he drew nearer to his destination, Jaax drifted below the fog line once more, flying low over the outskirts of the sleepy village. Many communities like this small colony were thought to be hiding in sheltered valleys and on mountaintops all throughout Ethoes, but Jaax was only aware of a handful of them. He scanned the settlement quickly, counting the stubby, stone-and-adobe houses as they darted by. They looked remarkably like rounded cones with a thatching of reeds or small twigs for roofing. Some of them were several rooms large and gave the impression of a group of gumdrops being pressed firmly together. A single road twined through the village and the randomly placed dwellings like a brown snake searching out mice in a harvested field. Most of the stone huts had small gardens and fenced-in yards to grow kitchen herbs and to hold small livestock.

Smoke from early morning fires curled sluggishly above the earthen houses, their roofs dusted white with the crystalline frost of this uncommonly temperate winter. From what Jaax could judge, the elves had only been up long enough to light the fires in their hearths. He cast his eyes towards the center of the sprawling town and from his lofty view he spied a low burning bonfire ringed in by great, round stones. The coal-choked blaze looked like it had been burning for quite some time. Red-tinged smoke still rose and blended with the white mist above, signaling that this fire stood for more than just the celebration of the Solstice that had passed just over a week ago.

The dragon grinned as the cool winter air whipped around him. He knew these elves would be preparing breakfast for the whole town in anticipation of their rare visitor.
It’s been so long since they’ve seen dragons grace the skies . . .
he thought with a heavy heart. He secretly blessed the low cloud cover, for it masked the tainted smoke of the bonfire which, on a clear day, would point out a forbidden celebration.

Jaax grimaced. He knew that this ancient tribe still remembered the time when the Crimson King first came into power, putting an end to their carefree way of life. No longer could they take part in the festivals they once cherished unless willing to risk enslavement or even death. Even now, nearly five centuries later, the people of Crie feared the Tyrant King. To them the threat of Cierryon was as real as it ever was and many of the villagers had to sacrifice much of their tradition to avoid discovery by the Tyrant’s minions. One of these sacrifices had been the large bonfires that were a central part of their ancient customs. On holidays and special occasions, the blazes were fed sacred plants and herbs, staining the smoke to a specific color. This was a sure sign of an outlawed festival, one not tolerated by the king.

This fear had kept them cautious for centuries, but today was different, today they had good reason to be joyous for the first time in ages. They had a real reason to celebrate and the thick, low clouds offered some protection from a curious gaze that might otherwise notice a large plume of ruddy smoke.
Fear not this day, elves of Crie
, Jaax thought with an optimistic grin as he glided in low to graze the conical tops of firs and spruce.
If you have truly found what you claim, then today is the dawn of a new era, an era that will bring a lasting peace to Ethoes
.

Jaax swooped in between two ancient sycamores, standing bare for the winter. He came to rest just beyond the border of the settlement, beating his great wings and balancing his long tail to soften his heavy landing. He swiveled his thorny head, his keen eyes scanning the surroundings, his steamy breath puffing in the crisp air. The valley was a palette of cool colors this time of year with the frigid wilderness set against the wide and deep Saem River. Sycamores, oaks, aspen and a few conifers grew between the steep hills. Although the aspens and sycamores had lost their leaves, their white mottled trunks looked quite beautiful standing against the cool grey sky and sharp granite stones that protruded from the earth like giant, jagged teeth.

The great reptile looked out over the Saem River, moving slowly past the small islands like liquid ice. He wondered when a lasting snow would fall, but was grateful it wasn’t any colder. Once his survey was through, he turned and walked east along the river’s edge, following the scent of roasting meat and smoke. As he approached Crie, the villagers cautiously poked their heads out of their houses, their eyes growing wide with delight when they recognized their rare visitor.

One of these curious townsfolk spotted the dragon just on the edge of town and shouted jovially, “Raejaaxorix! You’ve come at last!”

The Resai man came rushing out of his squat home with a wide smile on his face. He was tanned and wrinkled with fading brown hair that stuck out at a hundred odd angles. He wore a simple white, long-sleeved tunic, worn russet pants and a pair of scuffed clogs. “For such a large creature you sure make a quiet entrance!” he continued in his cheerful, melodic voice, olive eyes twinkling brightly.

This time the dragon Raejaaxorix gave a full smile, revealing a line of white daggers. He loosened his stiff gait and answered, “I hear you’ve found an infant, Aydehn, probably Nesnan, maybe even Resai or full-blooded elf, but it can’t possibly be what you claim it to be.”

“Ah,” replied Aydehn with a grin and a shake of his finger, “you never change Jaax, always straight to business and never time for too much small talk.”

“I just can’t justify wasted time.” Jaax gave the old elfin man a tired smirk.

“Ha-ha! Right you are! Come, you must tell us news from the outside world, we’re dying to hear anything, and you must have something to eat, yes?”

Jaax allowed himself to be led away by the small crowd of interested people that had gathered. He didn’t mind their stares and whispers. In fact, he was glad for the company and couldn’t blame these people for enjoying a chance to be hospitable. The discovery of this child could mean good news for them too, and perhaps the years of living their lives in secret might finally come to an end.

Following a meal of roasted deer and a detailed discussion of the state of Oescienne and its surrounding lands, the elves took Jaax to where they’d found the infant. The group climbed deep into the boulder-strewn hills, skirting around a jagged hillock and up a granite-laced canyon. The narrow gullies, crowded trees, and giant slabs of stone made movement through this forest cumbersome. If Jaax had been an old dragon, moving across this terrain would have proven difficult, but his lean frame and powerful build aided him much as he followed the people of Crie deeper into the hills. Instinctively, he peered around every corner, smelling the air carefully, a habit he’d developed as a result of his elusive lifestyle.