The Finding (38 page)

She shot her head around and gasped when she saw a golden unicorn standing only twenty feet away from her. He was beautiful, more beautiful than the one she had seen in the meadow of the Wreing Florenn. He pricked his ears forward when he saw Jahrra looking at him and released a cry, a chiming, melodic whinny. Jahrra immediately forgot about the green cloaked stranger and cautiously approached the unicorn, fascinated by his metallic coat.

The unicorn let her pet him for a while but then turned and trotted out of the orchard. Jahrra quickly followed, entranced by this amazing animal. She walked easily through the forest surrounding the copse of fruit trees, moving downhill, always downhill. She struggled a little with the underbrush and had to push aside low hanging branches, but the unicorn always stayed in sight, not yet disappearing into the thick mist.

Finally, after several heart-racing minutes, the unicorn stopped dead in his tracks and stared down over a drop in the land. Jahrra slid next to him and focused her eyes on what he was seeing. She gasped. Below them was the Belloughs, Denaeh’s garden and the cave she called home in plain view. A tendril of smoke curled from a small chimney in the hillside, but Jahrra sensed no movement from the cave or the surrounding trees.

Jahrra glanced at the unicorn, his pale eyes locking with hers. Suddenly, she felt happy and carefree, like she weighed no more than a feather. The unicorn slowly edged forward, and she gladly followed, not wanting to be torn from the blissful feeling the magical creature was emanating.

Jahrra was sure she would’ve followed this animal into a forest fire if he wished to lead her there, but suddenly something seemed to pull at her mind. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it threatened to release her from the unicorn’s trance.
No
, she thought,
he wants me to go down there, I must go.
But the force that pulled on her mind wouldn’t relent. It gently surrounded her thoughts and lightly pushed the giddy feeling away. Jahrra gasped as the last thread of joyous peace was ripped from her mind. She clutched her head and took deep breaths as common sense returned to her.

What had she been doing, straying away from her safe orchard? Wasn’t it dangerous to go wandering around in dreams, even ones this familiar? Jahrra shook her head, wondering if she was even still asleep. When she looked up from her crouched position, she knew that she was. She was still deep in the woods, far away from her orchard, but there, just in front of her was the tall, enigmatic figure she had grown to rely on. He gazed down at her, as always, from the shadow of his hood. She couldn’t see his eyes, but she could feel them locked with her own. His arms were crossed and his back rigid, but she didn’t feel threatened by him at all.

He stood aside and held out an arm as if inviting her to walk ahead of him. Jahrra nodded and slowly got back on her feet, rocking slightly from the dizzy after effects of the unicorn’s influence on her. She stumbled forward, taking longer than she thought to get back to the orchard. Her hooded friend stayed right behind her, always keeping the same distance, and when they got back to the place where she had woken up in this dream, he nodded his head and she obediently lay back down upon the mattress of soft weeds.

Before she drifted off to join the world of the conscious, Jahrra asked him a question, her voice sounding strange in this otherworld, “You didn’t want me to go with the unicorn, did you?”

He nodded, keeping his arms crossed and not saying a word. Jahrra swallowed.

“Why?”

But all he did was drop his arm in a welcoming gesture, signaling to her that now was the time to wake up.

Jahrra nodded and hunkered down into the thick grass. She didn’t want to wake up yet; she had too much to think about and this was just the place to do some deep thinking. She thought about her new friend, Denaeh, and wondered if the strange path of this dream had anything to do with her. The Mystic was eccentric, Jahrra had to admit, but she liked the woman and felt that she could be a source of comfort and advice.

Jahrra thought about Hroombra and Jaax, wondering if two dragons could really know what was best for her. They were a mystery to her; Hroombra and his secrets, and Jaax and his mysterious life outside of Oescienne. Jahrra frowned mentally when she thought of the enigma that was the Tanaan dragon Raejaaxorix. She wondered about his mood swings and the way he looked at her, like he was always trying to figure out what she was, and she wondered about his mysterious friends, Viornen and Yaraa.

Jahrra loved her new trainers, but who were they really? Why did she have to keep their lessons a secret? And why did she have to keep the dragons’ language a secret as well? Hroombra and Jaax had told her it could be dangerous if she told others about Kruelt, but if it were truly dangerous, why teach her at all? She knew there had to be more to it than what they claimed, but when would she be old enough to know the truth?

Jahrra sighed and buried her face in the fragrant meadow grasses, wondering if the hooded figure was still standing guard over her. She struggled to settle her mind and was surprised to finally feel her rackety thoughts calming and subsiding. Slowly, every muscle in her body relaxed and before she knew it she was listening to Scede’s soft snoring, Gieaun’s sleepy murmuring, and the gentle lap of water. Jahrra grinned, eyes still closed. There were several voices ringing over Lake Ossar that afternoon, but not one of them belonged to Eydeth or Ellysian.

-
Epilogue
-

Letters from Afar

Hroombra gazed languidly through the small window perched above the ledge in his study. The golden stalks of dying flowers and grasses nodded their heads lazily as the sun touched down over the azure ocean. Summer was coming to a close, and soon the long warm days would grow short, heating up one last time in the middle of autumn before succumbing to winter’s chill.

The old dragon breathed in sharply through his nostrils and released a slow, heated breath. He could hardly believe all the time that had passed since Jaax had first brought Jahrra here those dozen odd years ago. A chuckle fought its way free of the dragon’s throat.
Of course I can believe the quick passage of time, what is twelve years to me? What is a hundred, or even a thousand?
He’d seen so much time pass it was almost unnecessary for him to keep the history books the elves had written up for him.

What was the point in looking through them if he already knew, from personal experience, what had happened? But they were for Jahrra to learn from, for there were things that had happened in the past, terrible things that the historians hadn’t known to write down. Things that he’d seen happen and had allowed to happen, things that Jahrra shouldn’t know about, at least not yet.

Hroombra drew another breath and then glanced back at his desk. As usual, it was cluttered with age stained scrolls and creased maps. Beside these familiar items lay several white pages, newer paper just arrived earlier that week.
Letters from the beautiful city of Lidien, and some from Nimbronia
, he mused. They’d been written with magic, the writer using the same technique he himself had used once to draw up the Kruelt alphabet for Jahrra.

Magic that would be much easier to obtain within the mystical province of Felldreim
, the old dragon reminded himself. These particular letters hid a variety of emotions, if one read between the lines, and an abundance of information, some good, some not so good. These letters concerned Jahrra, the chosen one, the savior of the world, and they had all been written by the dragon Raejaaxorix.

Hroombra cast one last lingering look over the hushing fields and silent forest before settling himself comfortably behind his desk. He found his dragons' spectacles and managed to situate them between his snout and eyes and began to study the letters again. It was safe for him to review this information now, not only was it written in Kruelt (a language Jahrra still had trouble with), but Jahrra herself was gone for the weekend on another camping trip with her two best friends. No need to worry about her stumbling upon any information that she was too young to bear. Hroombra cleared his mind and started reading.

The first letter had been dated more than a month ago, and began with a curt but respectful tone:

Hroombra,

Ever since leaving Oescienne the last time I visited, I’ve been tempted to take a trip east to gather what information I can. Not just to Rhiim or even the western expanses of Terre Moeserre, but all the way to Dhonoara Valley and perhaps beyond. I feel that this may be a risk worth taking because before long, Jahrra will be of age and what we have been waiting for and have prepared for will surely be upon us. I have not been beyond Terre Moeserre in over a hundred years, and much might have changed since then. Naturally, I wanted your opinion before undertaking such an odyssey.

For now I will resign myself to my usual task of scouting the more secluded areas of Torinn, Felldreim and Rhiim, searching for both enemies and allies alike. Much time has passed since I’ve recruited the help of others, and I’m hoping they’ll be more willing to help our cause this time around. Just two weeks ago I found a small community nestled in the Kouriohnt Mountains, a place I had passed over before maybe fifty years earlier. The locals were elfin, perhaps even Resai, but they did not fear me and they spoke displeasingly of the Crimson King. A good sign, even if they weren’t ready to jump up and storm the king’s city right then and there. I told them who I was and that I would keep in touch. They seemed pleased to know that someone was watching out for them. Of course, I told them nothing of Jahrra.

I found a few more small settlements, nothing larger than a few hundred residents, and a good number of them were fearful of dragons so I didn’t even land. Before coming to Lidien, where I am currently residing, I flew into Crie. Aydehn and his wife Thenya were pleased to see me. They seemed spirited enough, very glad to hear that Jahrra was doing well in Oescienne, disheartened to hear of the death of her parents but approving of your taking her in. Every time I stop by the tiny village they harass me about seeing her again. Someday I think I’ll have to bring her there, even if it is just to show her where she came from.

A month has passed since I came to Lidien and I will be leaving before the week is ended. I have looked at many of the schools they have here, and have narrowed my choices down to three. They are all excellent and will provide Jahrra with everything she needs when she is old enough to attend one of them.

I will end my letter on a positive note: everywhere I go I feel less and less of the oppression that seemed to grip the land not twenty five years ago. It is almost as if the land itself senses Jahrra’s presence and is passing it on to those souls living upon it. It is a good feeling and it gives me hope.

Sincerely,

Raejaaxorix

Hroombra let his eyes linger over the last few sentences for several minutes.
It gives me hope too
, the old dragon thought. He felt joyful, peaceful and happy. Not only was it a good sign that Jaax had found more possible allies in the inevitable war against Cierryon, but the younger dragon felt hopeful. This wasn’t just good, this was downright wonderful.

Hroombra smiled a true, heartfelt smile. For so long Jaax fought the possibility of the prophecy coming true. And why wouldn’t he? Holding out hope for hundreds of years? Almost anyone would grow jaded and weary of clinging on to hope for so long, it was exhausting. Hroombra was only able to manage it because he was already old when the prophecy was born and he’d grown accustomed to the necessity of patience. He could wait a hundred thousand years for diamonds to form if he wished and not feel burdened at all.

Jaax however, like most Tanaan dragons, had inherited that human trait along with so many others: impatience, determination and stubbornness. No wonder Jaax and Jahrra ground so harshly against one another. Hroombra lost his smile at that sudden thought. He knew there would be more trouble between the two in the future. Jahrra wasn’t getting any less headstrong and Jaax wasn’t one to lose a fight.
But that’s a long way away
, Hroombra reminded himself, narrowing his gaze to dive into the next letter.

Hroombra,

I am in Nimbronia now. It took me several months to get here since I stopped off in Cahrdyarein along the way. I never meant to spend any time in that strange elfin city, but a late blizzard trapped me in the Hrunahn Footmountains and I had no choice but to wait it out. What I found, however, astounded me. The elves of these footmountains know much about the Crimson King and his past grievances. I was surprised, for you know as well as I do that very few people of this land know the truth behind the Tyrant’s ascension to the throne.

Once I informed them of who I was and what my mission entailed, they showed me their city. They tell me the stone they use for their buildings is unique to the region, formed deep in the earth and later tempered on the frozen peaks. I was impressed by their society and their concern for this world, and I am more than happy to inform you that they have agreed whole-heartedly to join our cause.

I must confess, I nearly informed them of Jahrra’s existence, but I avoided that temptation. After all, their adopted leader is younger than I am, and I know little of their history. I did tell them that the future looked hopeful, from what I have gathered from the surrounding provinces, and that I was finding more and more support for our purpose.

After leaving Cahrdyarein I headed straight for Nimbronia. In fact, I arrived only a half hour ago and haven’t even had time to see the king. I plan on speaking with him soon but thought you would like to hear my news about Cahrdyarein first. I’ll follow this letter with another as soon as I find the time.

Sincerely,

Raejaaxorix

Hroombra grinned, his smile reaching his eyes. He imagined Jaax standing next to the king of the Creecemind, and the picture was something comparable to that of a small housecat standing beside a wolf. Despite the dragon king’s immense size, Hroombra doubted Jaax would let this intimidate him. He could see the smaller dragon now, standing in the enormous frozen halls of Nimbronia, looking the king directly in the eye with the same cool indifference that he gave everyone else.

Hroombra sighed and moved to look at the next letter, dreading both its brevity and its informal heading. There was usually only one reason not to address a letter personally, that reason being there was a chance it might get intercepted by the wrong person. The first two letters had been quite positive so Hroombra feared that this final correspondence might contain bad news.

Dear Reader,

I have spoken with his majesty and unfortunately have met with some bad news. He has informed me that his spies have noticed suspicious groups of people moving along the southern border. I immediately left the region to witness this for myself, and I fear that what he told me was true. I have seen with my own eyes the threat lingering on the southern border, your northern border, and so I felt it necessary to check elsewhere.

The news from the eastern rim is the same. Large troops of men seem to be congregating outside of the province, looking for weak links in the chain, places that can easily be entered. Furthermore, small camps and even military bases have sprung up in a few places, all positioned in such a way as to make them hard to spot from the air, and I cannot help but suspect an eventual invasion. As far as I know, the border has not been breached, but I fear it won’t be long.

His majesty has promised to deploy patrols to the northern border, something I am eternally grateful for, but I must find a way to secure the south and the east. I will write again as soon as I can, until then, keep your senses broad and your heart close.

This letter wasn’t signed, but Hroombra knew who had sent it.  A shiver ran down his long spine and he felt a sudden fear grip his old bones. He read the last line again, lingering on the words
keep your senses broad and your heart close
. Jahrra was his heart; that was the code word for her in letters such as these.

But Jahrra wasn’t close. She was somewhere camping with her friends. Hroombra’s eyes darted to the date of the letter, only a few weeks ago. Could whoever was trying to sneak into Oescienne have done so by now?
No, Jaax would have returned if they were even close to invading. We still have time . . .

Hroombra shivered against the evening air trickling in through the window.
Jahrra is fine
, he assured himself,
she’ll be back tomorrow
.

The old dragon finally convinced himself not to worry about Jahrra anymore, but he couldn’t rid his mind of what Jaax’s last letter claimed. The Crimson King was no longer dormant. The search for Jahrra had begun, whether the Tyrant had gotten word of her birth or not, he was no longer sitting in his wretched fortress waiting for her to come to him.

“So now the world changes,” Hroombra whispered into the encroaching twilight. “So now it begins.”