Tales of Oescienne - A Short Story Collection - Volume One Read online

  Tales of Oescienne

  Volume One

  ______________

  Conquer the Castle

  The Spirit Stone Ring

  Fire and Ice

  By Jenna Elizabeth Johnson

  Copyrighted Material

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons and places is entirely coincidental.

  TALES OF OESCIENNE

  VOLUME ONE

  _______

  CONQUER THE CASTLE

  THE SPIRIT STONE RING

  FIRE AND ICE

  Copyright © 2012 by Jenna Elizabeth Johnson

  All rights reserved.

  Cover art by Randy Vargas Gómez (www.vargasni.com)

  No part of this book or its cover may be reproduced in any manner without written permission from its creator.

  For more information and to contact the author visit: www.jennaelizabethjohnson.com

  CONTENTS

  CONQUER THE CASTLE

  THE SPIRIT STONE RING

  FIRE AND ICE

  Pronunciation Guide

  About the Author

  Other books by this Author

  Connect with me Online

  Sneak Peek of The Legend of Oescienne-The Finding

  Conquer the Castle

  “Master Hroombra!” Jahrra yelled over her shoulder from inside the Castle Guard Ruin as she dug around in an old trunk. “Are these the only old clothes you have lying around?”

  It was a stupid question, Jahrra knew that, but she cringed as she held up the old, age-yellowed shirt and leggings. Where on Ethoes did he get these? she wondered. They looked like something a noble would have worn a hundred years ago.

  As Jahrra contemplated the antique clothing, her guardian walked through the dragon’s entrance of their home, blocking out the light for a moment as he came to stand over her.

  “Your teacher’s note said old, white clothing,” he said blandly when he saw what she was doing.

  Jahrra dropped the clothes back into the trunk and scowled at the Korli dragon. “Yes, old,” she emphasized, “not ancient!”

  “Well, that is all I have.”

  Jahrra sighed heavily and started digging through the trunk again. She could use some of her own clothes, but she didn’t want them to get stained in the game of Conquer the Castle she and her classmates would be participating in the next day. She would have to make do with what she found in the trunk. It held not just the two pieces she had found earlier, but an entire wardrobe of garments, nearly all of them well-tailored and of a high quality. They ranged greatly in size, but none of them were so big that she couldn’t fit into them. She also realized that they were boy’s clothes since there wasn’t a single dress among the lot. Thank goodness, she thought.

  She leaned back on her knees and studied the pile from a short distance. Yes, where had her mentor acquired these clothes? At first glance she had assumed they were costumes. Of course, why the dragon Hroombramantu would have costumes was just as puzzling as why he might have a wardrobe more fitting for a Nesnan or Resai elf.

  “Ah,” Hroombra said over Jahrra’s shoulder, startling her out of her contemplation, “a fine choice.”

  He nodded towards the long white shirt and leggings Jahrra had set aside before he’d come into the room.

  “Master Hroombra,” she started, ignoring his observation, “why do you have all these clothes anyway?”

  The great dragon was standing behind her, but for a moment, only a moment, she thought she felt him tense up. She turned her head and furrowed her brow at him. He was very still and a dark look seemed to have occupied his face, but in the next breath he brightened up a bit and said, “They belonged to a past student of mine.”

  Jahrra’s eyebrows arched at that.

  Hroombra merely nodded. “Though the general presence of dragons is frowned upon in this day and age, there was a time when our wisdom was sought out by those wishing to educate their children. I like to currently think of myself as retired.” He gave her an amused look. “But I once had several pupils.”

  Jahrra held up a rather gaudy short coat, sewn from dark green velvet and embellished with golden thread and beads.

  “And were some of your past pupils royalty?” she teased, flapping the coat about in a haughty way.

  The slight twitch of Hroombra’s mouth could have been rather telling, but before Jahrra could decipher whether it was an acknowledgement of her statement or a mere reaction to something he found humorous, a familiar voice called from outside.

  “Jahrra! You up?”

  Jahrra dropped the coat onto the unkempt pile and raced for the door.

  “Yes!” she answered as she met her best friend, Scede, at the door. Gieaun, his sister and her other best friend, was just behind him.

  “Did you find anything to wear for tomorrow?” he asked, crossing his arms and trying to peer over her shoulder.

  “Ugh,” Jahrra moaned as she rolled her eyes and grabbed his sleeve, pulling him outside to join Gieaun.

  “For some strange reason, Master Hroombra has a trunk full of boy’s clothes that belonged to an old student of his. I found something in there.”

  Gieaun beamed. “Good! Now we can start looking for the stuff to make our face paint.”

  Jahrra returned their grins. “Perfect! Let me go fetch Phrym.”

  * * *

  As the three friends rode their horses in the direction of the Wreing Florenn, the forest that loomed just beyond the old ruin where Jahrra and Hroombra lived, they animatedly discussed the plan for the following day. Professor Tarnik, their stodgy, overbearing boor of a teacher, had decided to test their survival skills this year by pitting them against one another. Conquer the Castle, a competition where the goal was to steal the banner from another team’s camp while trying to protect your own, was his idea of examining how they would fare should they find themselves lost in the wilderness. Jahrra didn’t think it was the best way to test their survival skills, but the anticipation of a good competition kept her silent on the matter.

  “Why do we have to wear all white?” Gieaun complained as their horses kicked up dust from the road. “I don’t look that great in white.”

  “Obviously so the dye will show up, Gieaun!” Scede said, giving his sister a perturbed look.

  They hadn’t been given too many details about the rules of the game yet, but they had been told it would involve crossbows, soft-tipped arrows, dye pouches and white clothing. The class had already been divided into five teams of six, and they knew that they had the entire city of Aldehren as their battle ground, so long as they avoided the townspeople during their game.

  “Like Eydeth and Ellysian would even notice a local shop owner if they tripped over him,” Gieaun sniffed.

  “They would if it made them easy targets,” Scede countered with a mischievous grin.

  That made Jahrra snicker, for there was nothing better, in her opinion, than having a good laugh at the twins’ expense. Eydeth and Ellysian had been tormenting her since she was small and it had become second nature for her and her friends to blanch whenever their names were brought up.

  Soon the three companions spotted a tangled bramble growing on the edge of the forest and all talk of the evil Resai twins and their unpleasantness was over. Jahrra climbed down from Phrym as soon as they reached the bramble patch and sighed with glee. The bushes were heavy with a dark purple berry. Archedenaeh, the enigmatic Mystic who lived in the center of the forest, had once shown these berries to Jahrra
and her friends.

  “They taste terrible,” she had told them, “but they make an excellent dye for face paint if you mix them with white mud.”

  Jahrra, Gieaun and Scede had gathered some of the white mud near the creek the day before. Now all they had to do was mix in the right amount of berry juice to make the pasty paint the same violet shade as the banner they were charged to protect in tomorrow’s grand battle.

  “What should we paint on our faces?” Gieaun asked, wrinkling her nose at the dollop of purple mud on her fingers.

  Jahrra grinned, and then proclaimed, “Dragons!”

  * * *

  By sunup the next morning, Jahrra, her friends, and all their classmates were crowded around the schoolhouse in Aldehren, patiently waiting for their teacher to show up and get the game started.

  Kihna, Rhudedth and Pahrdh, the other three members of Jahrra’s team, moved over to the edge of the crowd to join them.

  “So, what did we decided to do for the war paint?” Pahrdh asked over his sister’s head.

  Rhudedth rolled her eyes at her brother and mouthed the word boys which resulted in a giggle from Gieaun and a snort from Jahrra. They quickly moved a few more feet away when someone from the green team glared at them.

  “Dragons,” Jahrra whispered quietly, pulling out a piece of worn parchment on which she’d sketched a design. “We decided to make it look like we were wearing masks.”

  Kihna peered over everyone’s shoulder and arched a brow. Jahrra had drawn a crude face with two dragon wings covering the person’s eyes like a mask. The dragon’s neck curled onto the forehead and the tail trailed around one cheek and ended at the person’s chin. Face paint wasn’t necessary for the game of Conquer the Castle, but all six teammates had agreed it would be a nice touch.

  “How are we going to paint that image on our faces?” Kihna asked when she was done studying the picture.

  Jahrra grinned. “With this,” she said, pulling out a jar of the dyed mud.

  Fifteen minutes later, all six of them were sporting their dragon masks and Professor Tarnik was getting ready to read the rules. Several parent volunteers stood around him, holding canvass bags and small crossbows. As Tarnik cleared his throat, they started moving through the crowd of children, handing each one a crossbow and a bag full of arrows. Another adult had a sack full of paint packs for the soft-tipped missiles. When the team leader held up their banner, they were handed several of the paint packs in that flag’s color.

  “Hey Nesnan,” Ellysian hissed in Jahrra’s direction. “Nice outfit! Did the used clothing store give it to you for free because it was so out of date?”

  This drew a few snickers and giggles from those nearest Ellysian, but Jahrra just ignored them. She knew they would make fun of her team ‘uniform’, but she didn’t care. She was here to win the game, not compete for first prize in a fashion contest. Ellysian, of course, was wearing a brand new pair of fashionable white riding pants and a shirt and coat to match.

  Jahrra sighed and waited patiently for their turn. The parent volunteers who were handing out their crossbows and arrows would also be monitoring the game; making sure all the rules were followed. Jahrra was grateful, for she knew of a certain set of twins that was prone to cheating in order to get their way. She gripped the wooden pole of her team’s purple flag tightly. No one, especially not Eydeth and Ellysian, was going to capture her team’s banner.

  “You may place your flag anywhere within the boundaries of your marked territory,” Tarnik called out in his sneering voice, “but it must be clearly visible from at least one location. The volunteers will be checking to make sure you follow the rules, so don’t try anything sneaky.”

  Jahrra shot a glance at Eydeth and Ellysian and the smug looks on their faces waned just a little bit. Ellysian leaned in to whisper something in Eydeth’s ear and his look turned even sourer.

  Had her instincts been right? Had they been planning something? Will be a bit hard now, Jahrra thought with some satisfaction, what with referees walking about to make sure all the rules are followed.

  “The points will be added up as follows: for each flag captured, the conquering team will receive fifty points,” Tarnik continued. “For each spot of that team’s color deposited on others, they will receive one point. For each spot of color deposited on you from another team, you will be deducted three points. Nothing above the shoulders will count.”

  Jahrra filed the information away. Fifty points for each flag captured, one point for each time you hit someone, three points taken away for each time you are hit. Got it.

  Tarnik lowered the scroll he’d been reading from and scanned the crowd with his eyes. Jahrra could have sworn that he sneered when he spotted them, but soon he was done with his surveying.

  “You will have five hours to defend your flag, capture those belonging to other teams, and to shoot any enemies. Flags, once stolen, can be hidden in plain sight on your territory, but they can also be recaptured and your own flag must always be visible. Your banner must be hidden within the area marked as your territory.”

  Jahrra listened intently as he explained that each team had a territory already marked with smaller ribbons to match the color of their flags; territories that they must find themselves. This should be interesting, she mused with anticipation. She delighted at the thought of the free-for-all that would ensue once everyone scrambled to find their territories while avoiding being shot by the enemy.

  “Students, are you ready?” Tarnik shouted. “Remember, the winning team not only is assured full marks, but will also receive a full day off from school.”

  Everyone cheered, declaring that they were more than ready to begin. He reminded them once more to stay out of the way of the townspeople and to not wander any farther than a hundred feet away from the edge of town.

  With one last domineering look Tarnik shouted, “Let the games begin!”

  Everyone bolted at once, shouting and scrambling to get to their respective territories, wherever they might be.

  Jahrra and her team headed south, since it was the only direction no one else seemed to be heading.

  “Might as well check in this direction first and avoid getting shot,” Jahrra breathed as she and her friends jogged down the cobblestone road.

  The town was still relatively quiet at this hour, but as the six friends scanned the side streets and patches of trees and bare hillsides for purple markers, the people that were out and about paused to watch their progress. Some even wished them luck in their game. Jahrra grinned. She hoped that their classmates’ antics would prove entertaining for those who had to put up with their entire town being invaded.

  Eventually, Pahrdh shouted, “There! A marker!”

  Jahrra grinned as she spotted the violet ribbon dancing in the breeze. They had made the right decision in going south.

  Soon, the six of them had established the edge of their territory. It included part of a city block and a sizeable amount of a small, forested hill rising up behind a row of buildings.

  Jahrra held her hand to her eyes, squinting hard as she looked for a good location to place their flag.

  “Let’s see if we can find a place where we can blend in with the surroundings,” she said.

  “It’s going to be impossible to blend in wearing white Jahrra,” Gieaun pointed out.

  Jahrra sighed in frustration. Gieaun was right and any minute the other teams were going to find an appropriate place to hide their flags and be on the hunt. Although their territory was large and there were plenty of suitable places to put their flag, Jahrra and her team were having trouble picking a good location.

  “We need to hide it on high ground,” Pahrdh insisted as they spun in circles in the middle of the street. “It will be easier to guard.”

  Jahrra shaded her eyes again and glanced between the buildings in the center of their marked territory. Her gaze trailed down the alley between two buildings, then up the leaf-littered hillside behind them. The buildings were
the typical small business establishments found throughout Aldehren with the lower floor sporting a shop while the upper story acted as the living quarters. A railed deck wrapped around both buildings, and trailing from the edge of the deck into two redwood trees on the hill was . . .

  Jahrra grinned. “Perfect!” she cried.

  Pahrdh and Scede turned to give her scathing looks. “Are you going to help us find a place to make camp or not?”

  “Already found it. Look.” She pointed up to the hillside and then to the lines running from the trees to the decks, the ropes sagging with the weight of freshly hung sheets and random articles of clothing, many of which were white.

  “We can stake our flag between those two trees and two of us can sit in the branches closest to where the ropes are tethered.”

  Jahrra turned a mischievous grin onto her friends. “Everyone will just assume we are laundry.”

  “Excellent!” Pahrdh cried out with glee, already sprinting towards the alleyway, the violet banner flapping behind him.

  The six of them quickly clambered up the hill and drove the flag pole into the ground. Jahrra ran back down onto the street to make sure the flag was visible enough to be seen by her classmates, then rejoined her friends on the hillside. From the center of the hilltop, they could just see over the rooftops of the buildings in front of them.

  “Gieaun, you and Kihna stay here and guard our flag. Scede, you, Pahrdh, Rhudedth and I will split up and try and capture the others.”

  “Here,” Pahrdh offered, pulling some of his own arrows out of his bag. “We were given a hundred arrows each, right? I don’t think we’ll need all of ours since we’ll be trying to get in and out as fast as possible.”

  He pulled out a sizeable chunk, nearly two thirds of his supply. Scede, Rhudedth and Jahrra followed suit. Jahrra didn’t sacrifice as many as the boys had; she had a special purpose for some of her own arrows.

  Gieaun nodded grimly and accepted the arrows and extra dye pouches from the boys, dividing them between her bag and Rhudedth’s. Once they were well armed, Gieaun secured the bag of arrows and extra dye to her back, then turned and started climbing the tree, muttering protests as her hair got tangled in the redwood’s needles. Kihna was already jogging to the other tree with her bag of ammunition.