The Finding Read online

  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 wo
rld, 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.

  When the entire party finally crested the steep rise, Jaax paused and gazed in wonder at the great tree spreading its thick canopy from one side of the expansive hilltop to the other. It was an ancient oak, magnificent and gnarled, its several knobby limbs twisting and grasping for the sky. The giant tree was hollow as a shell but strongly attached to the ground due to several knotty roots plunging deep into the heart of the earth. The heartwood of the oak had been burned out in a firestorm ages ago and now all that was left was an empty area large enough to accommodate him and the drove of elves.

  “Do you know this tree, Raejaax?” asked Aydehn quietly. His tone was more serious now, his face turning grave as he clasped his hands together in anticipation.

  “Yes, yes I do,” Jaax answered in similar tones as he focused his silver-green eyes on the full beauty of the tree. “It’s Ethoes’ first oak, the Sacred Oak. I knew it was located in this part of Oescienne, but I wasn’t aware it was so near Crie.”

  “Aye,” answered the Resai man in an anxious whisper, his eyes wide with feeling, “this is why our ancestors came to rest here when they fled the east. They knew this was Ethoes’ Oak, and the oak of all trees! The most sacred! They found themselves quite blessed when they happened upon it, and they knew then that the Goddess would keep them safe here. It has become a sacred place to us, and it is here that we give thanks to the Goddess.”

  Jaax looked around inside of the hollow tree, ignoring the silent and inquisitive stares pouring over him. There was a charred pit in the center for a fire, perhaps to be lit on the Solstice and the Equinox. He sniffed at the air again, this time trying hard to detect any aroma that might reveal the secret to this place. It smelled of old smoke, dust and ancient forest, but nothing unusual or even unique drifted on the air, not even the smallest trace of magic.

  “There was no mother?” Jaax asked suddenly, turning his keen eyes on the group that had accompanied him.

  Aydehn nodded somberly, his voice sounding dry, “We found her here, completely naked and only a few hours old, according to our midwives.” When Jaax adopted a pensive look, the Resai man added, “That must be significant, inside the Sacred Oak?”

  “We didn’t see anything out of the ordinary, no markings, nothing on the ground around her,” continued one of the village elders, a wizened old woman leaning on a crooked cane with a voice like an irritated frog. “She was just here. In fact, it’s a miracle that someone happened by. Luckily the Solsticetide had just passed, or else we would generally not come out this way, for weeks sometimes.”

  Jaax puzzled this over. A female child seemingly born from the earth itself; yes, this did sound similar to what the Oracles had promised. And there was the Sacred Oak, a connection to Ethoes herself. There was only one more thing to prove, and the Tanaan dragon didn’t see that as likely, despite what the message he received had claimed. It was all probably coincidence anyhow, coincidences happened all the time and he’d definitely been alive long enough to know that. Nevertheless, he couldn’t help but wonder: could this girl really be human?

  Jaax sighed as he thought about the strange circumstances. Over the years he’d gone on mission after mission, receiving word of a human child having been found. He’d been to what seemed like every province of Ethoes, as far north as the Baer Mountains in Rhohwynd and as far south as the Soahna Flatlands and all the other places in between. He’d seen hundreds of infants, all being proclaimed as the one the Oracles had promised, but none of them had been human. Some of these children had even been boys, in which case Jaax became angry. It was clearly foretold that the human child would be a girl. Half the time he thought these people only wanted to see a dragon, a rare sight in Ethoes these days.

  “Where’s the child now?” queried Jaax, leaving his thoughts for later.

  “She’s with my wife, Thenya,” Aydehn answered. “Shall we go and get her?”

  “Yes.” Jaax dropped his distracted gaze and looked at the elderly Resai man standing below him. “I’ll see her now and decide if she’s better off with Hroombra or better off left here with you.”

  Jaax followed the elves back to the village, reflecting in silence the entire journey back. He was thinking about what had been prophesied, although his better judgment told him not to. He’d waited so many years, long years, longer than his patience should have had to endure. Could the Oracles have spoken truth and could the search finally be over? Now’s not the time to ask yourself these questions, he thought in self-chastisement, they’re all counting on your final say. Let’s hope that this time the child really is the one.

  The young dragon sighed, scorching the icy air as he exhaled. The Oracles’ claim had been faulty and vague, that was undeniable. When has an Oracle ever been absolutely clear about the future anyway? But right now he needed to focus on what was best for this child if she wasn’t the one he sought.

  Thenya stepped out of her small hut as the party approached Crie. Jaax looked up at her as she drew near and saw a tangled look of reluctance, joy and sorrow on her wrinkled face. Like her husband, Thenya was short and sturdy. She wore her salted chestnut hair in a tight bun, but several wisps had come loose and now framed her head like a halo. Her eyes were a light hazel color, and her slightly pointed ears appeared to be tucked back into her hair. She wore a dark blue dress dusted with flour and a stained white apron. In her arms she carried a bundle of multi-colored cloth that could’ve been a load of dirty laundry headed for the washboards. Jaax froze when he saw the bundle squirm.

  Thenya slowly approached the towering dragon and pulled back a violet-blue cloth revealing a tiny face, two bright blue eyes and quite a lot of golden-blond hair. Jaax’s heart caught in his throat: blue eyes.

  “When was this child found exactly?” he asked, perhaps a little too harshly.

  “A few days after the Solsticetide, about a week ago.” Aydehn’s response from beside him was both startled and automatic.

  “And you’re positive she was newborn the day you found her?” Jaax was finding it hard to wait for his friend’s answers. His mind was beginning to hum, mingling with the buzzing of the curious voices of the onlookers.

  “Oh yes, absolutely sure, only a few hours or so.”

  Jaax’s head was no longer humming but spinning. Blue eyes!

  “Your children Aydehn, they’re born with eyes white except the pupils, is this not true?” he continued in that rough voice.

  “Why of course, any race containing elf blood or dwarf blood is born with white eyes and then the color comes in later. In fact, the only known race to be born with blue eyes is . . .”

  “Human,” Jaax cut him off. “And not just part human, full-blooded human. A pure-blooded human, unbelievable! Impossible!”

  His voice was now a hiss, almost inaudible over the growing clamor of the shifting and murmuring throng. Jaax was astounded. He knew he’d hoped for this, for centuri
es he had, but he’d never expected this day to come after so many long years of disappointment. How could a human, a race that’s been extinct for five hundred years, end up inside an oak tree in a tiny village in northern Oescienne? Could the Oracles, then, be telling the truth? Had Ethoes not forsaken them after all? Jaax took in a deep breath and released it on a long, heated sigh.

  “Well, Aydehn, I’ll definitely be taking this child off your hands.” His words carried over the crowd, suddenly hushed by the return of the dragon’s strong voice. “Don’t worry, she’ll be well protected,” he added after seeing Thenya’s tearful eyes. “I’ll take her to the Korli dragon Hroombramantu in Oescienne. She’ll be well secluded and protected there, so Ethoes willing, the Crimson King will never find her.”

  Reluctantly, Thenya handed over the infant with shaking hands. She had known this day would come, but her composure proved that she hadn’t expected it so soon.

  “What do you call her?” Jaax’s voice was suddenly soft, full of understanding for what Thenya was giving up.

  “We haven’t thought of any proper human names since we know none,” Thenya answered in a trembling voice, her eyes fixed upon the infant’s small, round face. “But we call her Drisihn, Little Oak.”

  “Then that shall be her elfin name.” Jaax nodded courteously.

  “What shall we call her as a human, if she ever comes back this way?” Thenya asked, looking up at the great dragon with clear and hopeful eyes.

  Jaax paused, turning back to face the inquiring village, all of whom had now gathered around the strange scene. The bonfire behind them still breathed out its tainted smoke, now more of an orange hue than the red he had seen earlier that morning. The hungry bleats of goats and clucks of chickens sounded in the near distance, but every last townsperson was silent, their eyes trained upon the dragon gazing so intently upon the tiny infant.

  Jaax’s mind was still reeling from what he’d learned this day, but he forced the shock and excitement away as he tried to answer Thenya’s plea. He had once known a human name, a girl’s name, and he allowed his memory to wander back to the time when human names were still known.