The Legend of Oescienne--The Reckoning (Book Five) Read online

  Denaeh passed her along the way, touching her shoulder as she did so. “I’ll make tea and prepare some more of that salve.”

  Her topaz eyes were dull, and dark circles cast shadows beneath them. Jahrra thought back to the night before, recalling the Mystic’s revelation. She wondered if her friend remembered what she had said to her, but decided not to push it. If Denaeh had been pouring out her heart in confidence, Jahrra would keep that confidence, just as she always had with the Mystic.

  Giving a weak smile, Jahrra returned the woman’s gesture, clapping her gently on the opposite shoulder.

  “Tea would be wonderful. Make it strong. I’m sure Jaax is about to chew me up and spit me out, and only good, bold tea can cure that sort of ailment.”

  Denaeh actually laughed, shaking her head a little as she disappeared back into the cave. Biting her lip, Jahrra turned to face the bright light shining in through the narrow entrance. At least, what sunshine managed to make it past the looming dragon.

  Jaax wore his usual expression of irritated concern as she stepped out onto the forested hill. Jahrra ignored him, filling her lungs with the cool, misty air encircling the woods. Somewhere below them, the sounds of people rising and preparing for the day filled an otherwise quiet morning with a chorus of coughs and metallic clatters.

  “You could have at least had the decency to tell me exactly where you were going last night,” Jaax ground out, clearly trying to control his temper.

  Jahrra crossed her arms and leaned against the wall of rock beside her, careful not to put pressure on her injured side. She hooked one ankle over the other, then tilted her head and arched a brow at her guardian. Jahrra almost winced. He looked awful, if a dragon could look so bad without actually sporting a variety of nasty wounds. His scales didn’t hold their usual luster, and his proud bearing had been replaced with an overall sense of weariness.

  Concern flashed through her, and she forgot about her annoyance. “Jaax, are you alright? Were you hurt yesterday? Why didn’t you tell me?!”

  His gaze sharpened, and his nostrils flared.

  “No, I was not hurt!” he snapped.

  Jahrra growled right back at him. “Well, you look terrible.”

  That earned her a huff of surprise. His silver green eyes perused her from head to toe, and his severe frown transformed into a smirk. “You don’t look so well yourself.”

  Donning a look of exasperation, Jahrra said blandly, “You really shouldn’t compliment me. It might go straight to my head.”

  The tension ratcheting between them eased a bit, and Jaax’s smirk softened further into a smile. And just like that, whatever heavy, invisible burden pressing down upon him disappeared. Relief coursed through Jahrra, giving her room to be irritated once again.

  “I didn’t tell you where I was going,” she gritted out, answering his earlier complaint, “because I didn’t want you following after me. We were both in a foul mood last night, and we would have said things to one another that would only make us angrier.”

  Jahrra paused for breath, recalling the impulsive words she’d spat out when she’d left their campsite. She shoved her hands into her pockets and let her head tilt back, her eyes drifting shut in weariness. “We can’t afford to be sniping at one another right now, Jaax. It’s too easy a habit between us. I don’t want to risk having the last words I say to you be ones filled with anger.”

  The shadows shifted above her, and the air grew a bit warmer. Jaax, the natural heat of dragon’s fire pouring off him, had moved closer. When he spoke, his voice was pitched low.

  “I’m sorry, Jahrra. You are right. I’ve had a lot on my mind of late, as I imagine you have as well. I don’t always deal with my worry so easily. Will you forgive me?”

  Jahrra blinked her eyes open to find his had gone more silver than green. Sincerity shone there, sincerity and something else she couldn’t name. But the edge was gone, his irritation and stubbornness subdued, for now. She gave a soft smile and ducked her head.

  “Yes, I forgive you. Now, let’s get ready to march out. Sounds like our allies are almost ready to go, and we have a Tyrant to overthrow.”

  Jaax grinned, a bit of that fierceness returning to his expression.

  “That, we do.”

  Together, they turned away from the cave and went to join their comrades.

  * * *

  For two days, the Ethoen army of five thousand slowly marched across the western flatlands of Ghorium. The chill wind, something Ellyesce informed Jahrra blew ten months out of the year, bit at them like mosquitoes, making their journey sluggish. The stone-riddled terrain and those injured in the battle at Kahrparyum only hindered their progress further.

  “At least the winds will be at our backs on our way home,” one of the injured soldiers had remarked, smiling a little despite the pain a broken arm must have been causing him.

  Jahrra tried to return his grin, but her face was too numb from the cold. She did, however, attempt to adopt his positive attitude, despite the almost barren landscape and miserable weather.

  Each day at dawn, noon, and dusk, Jaax and a handful of the other dragons traveling with them would fly ahead to discern whether or not Cierryon had received word of their movements. They would only journey ten miles out, and each time they returned, no sign of the Tyrant’s own force or his Morli dragons were ever spotted. A good sign, King Vandrian and his delegates agreed.

  By the third day, Jahrra had grown restless, so just before dawn, as the shadows of three Tanaan and two Korli dragons darkened the inky sky like great black shadows, she crept up to them and stated, “I’m going with you this time.”

  The party of dragons, who had been lost in their own whispered conversations, started at the sound of her voice.

  “No, you’re not,” Jaax growled.

  Early morning darkness shaded his expression, but she didn’t need to see his face to know he glared at her.

  “You let me go with you,” she threatened, “or I’ll go saddle Phrym and ride ahead on my own.”

  Jaax cursed, and the other dragons got busy studying the eastern horizon, marked only by a thread of dim light.

  “Fine,” Jaax snarled, “but you will wear your full armor, and if I tell you to press yourself flat against my neck, you do it.”

  Jahrra huffed a breath of relief, then nodded. “Deal. I won’t be long.”

  She raced back to her tent, waking Dervit as she passed by his own small makeshift shelter. “I need you to help me with my leather armor. And we have to move fast.”

  The limbit leapt to attention, his eyes so wide she could easily see the whites. “Are we under attack?!”

  “No! Nothing like that. I’m going with the dragons to scout ahead, and Jaax said I can only come if I put on my armor.”

  Breathing a sigh of relief, Dervit helped Jahrra as quickly as he could. Fifteen minutes later, she was jogging to the open circle located in the midst of their camp. All around, soldiers snored, though a few stirred to tend to dying fires and get breakfast started for each of their troops. Those who were awake gave Jahrra a wave as she passed by, not commenting on her rather overdone state of dress.

  By the time she made it to Jaax’s side, the world had grown pale gray, the morning bright enough now to discern the different colors of those joining them. Besides her green, turquoise, and bronze guardian, Jahrra recognized the slate gray and ash blue of Tollorias and Sapheramin.

  “Good morning, Jahrra,” the female Korli chirped, her pale gold eyes twinkling with welcome.

  Jahrra grinned through the open visor of her helmet. “Good morning to you as well, Sapheramin.” She turned her head towards the other Korli dragon. “Tollorias.”

  Sapheramin’s mate offered his usual phlegmatic expression, nodding his head once in Jahrra’s general direction.

  Besides Jaax, Sapheramin, and Tollorias, two other dragons, Tanaan dragons, had joined them. One sported scales ranging from pale orange to deep russet, with bronze and gold scattered th
roughout. A female Jaax introduced as Cressia. She smiled at Jahrra, her pale brown eyes kind. Jahrra liked her immediately and recalled seeing her breathe blue-green fire down upon the enemy as fiercely as Jaax and the others had. The male Tanaan standing beside her was similar in color, but darker, and introduced himself as Correth, Cressia’s brother.

  “We were among the humans originally cursed by the Tyrant’s wrath,” Correth told Jahrra as she climbed atop Jaax. While she’d been off donning her elvin armor, her guardian had someone equip him with a riding saddle for her. Upon hearing Correth’s words, Jahrra’s eyes widened.

  “Really?” she breathed, unable to hide her wonder. “How many of you are there? Those of you who were once human?”

  “Here, marching upon Vruuthun with the chosen? Maybe forty or fifty of us.”

  Jahrra did a quick calculation in her head. There were around seventy to seventy-five Tanaan, about half of the dragons present. The rest were Korli, rallied mostly by Sapheramin’s diplomatic skills over the past several months. Many of them had even joined them after leaving Dhonoara Valley, flying into camp throughout the day.

  “So, most of the Tanaan who have joined us suffer from the curse, then,” Jahrra said with wonder.

  Correth and Cressia nodded. “We hope to someday return to Oescienne, the land of our ancestors, and live as humans once more. You give us that hope, Lady Jahrra.”

  As one, they offered her a regal bow, making her blush. She was only one young woman going up against an evil god and his powerful army. They may have put their faith in her, but she hoped she wouldn’t disappoint them.

  She said as much to Jaax as they finally took to the air. The wind whistling past and the steady rhythm of his wing beats made conversation difficult, but they somehow managed.

  “How am I ever going to do this thing, Jaax?” she shouted above the din. “Bring forth this great miracle everyone expects of me? I am only one human; how can I possibly be worthy of the praise they insist on offering me?”

  Jaax turned his head, his own dragon’s armor making him appear far more fierce than he already looked.

  “You may be human, Jahrra, but you have the heart of a dragon. Before the end, you will bring this world to its knees and beckon the stars to gaze down upon your face in awe. You will be the one to make us earn the right to be worthy of fighting alongside you.”

  It was hard to tell, what with the buffeting wind and her helmet’s padding pressed against her ears, but Jahrra could have sworn Jaax’s voice had gone gruff as he spoke those words. Words that made tears prick at the corner of her eyes.

  Sighing, Jahrra leaned forward, one arm stretched out in front of her as she pressed herself against the back of Jaax’s neck. Layers of quilted fabric and steel armor separated them, but she was certain she could feel his strong heartbeat reverberating against her temple. And, perhaps, it was the result of those honorable words, or the knowledge that their days could very well be numbered, that encouraged her to make her own declaration, even if her guardian never heard it.

  “You are already worthy, Jaax,” she whispered. “You always have been.”

  * * *

  The quintet of dragons and their one human passenger flew only eight miles out as the sun pulled free of the grasp of the Greater Frozen Mountains. They would have flown on a few miles more, but Tollorias spotted the Noryen River in the distance, a puce green ribbon cutting across the half-frozen plains like a venomous serpent, and beyond it dark specks winging against the slate sky. Morli dragons. The two Korli and three Tanaan had banked hard, their wings beating more fiercely than before to make a speedy retreat.

  On the flight back, Jaax assured Jahrra they hadn’t been spotted, but they didn’t want to take any unnecessary risks.

  “There is still a chance more allies will join us from the southeast, so the longer we can stall our attack on Cierryon and his accursed castle, the better.”

  They returned to the camp unscathed, landing in the same circular field to curious onlookers. Denaeh and Ellyesce were there to greet their friends, as well as the king of Dhonoara and their other allies.

  “From what I can tell,” Tollorias announced as he caught his breath, “the Tyrant is playing the same game as us. He’s sending his Morli monsters out to scan the far banks of the Noryen for our approach. For now, we are out of sight, and I believe we’ll remain safe from his attack even if we march right up to the western bank of that river.”

  “Why would he not attack us then?” someone asked the Korli dragon.

  Tollorias angled his head as a pair of Resai soldiers helped him out of his armor. When he lifted his eyes to the gathering of generals and lords once again, his mouth cut a harsh line across his face. His eyes assessed everyone, but eventually settled upon Jahrra.

  “He will wait until he knows exactly where Jahrra is. She is his greatest threat, and he will not risk blindly sending his forces, no matter how overwhelming, into full battle until he knows she will not make it out alive.”

  A great, heavy stone dropped to the pit of Jahrra’s stomach, and she grew unsteady on her feet. Fortunately, Denaeh was there to press a supporting hand to the small of her back.

  Somewhere over her shoulder, Jaax rumbled low in his throat, “There is no reason to be so blunt, Tollorias. Jahrra has enough on her mind not to be reminded every moment of the day what she may or may not face.”

  “No,” Jahrra breathed, holding up a hand. “He’s right. We have to consider all angles of this battle. This isn’t just one army pitted against another. There are separate factors involved which may or may not affect the way our enemy behaves.”

  The words Jaax had spoken to her that morning still rang clear in her mind, and if she was being honest with herself, Jahrra would say they currently offered her more courage and strength than she would have been able to muster on her own.

  Tollorias nodded to both of them. Not an apology or necessarily an acceptance of what they thought best. It was more of a gesture to let them know he heard them and would think on their reasoning.

  “And, we cannot forget who controls Cierryon,” Denaeh added, her voice shaking a little.

  All those present turned to regard her, some with curiosity, some with derision, but no one spoke against her.

  Licking her lips, the Mystic took a deep breath and continued, “Ciarrohn inhabits the Crimson King like a parasite, but he is the one making the decisions in this war.” She lifted haunted topaz eyes to Vandrian, Jaax, and finally, Ellyesce. The elf flicked his own eyes away, and Jahrra watched Denaeh’s shoulders droop a little.

  “What is your point, Mystic?” Tollorias growled.

  Denaeh regarded him, then looked to the king of Dhonoara once more. “My point is, I wonder if Ciarrohn will even attack. He knows the prophecy as well as all the rest of us, and he knows we are desperate enough to risk much to make that prophecy come true.” This time, her gaze swept to Jaax. “What does the god of evil thrive on?”

  The question was addressed to no one in particular.

  “Death and pain,” Prince Storian offered.

  “Suffering and torment,” his brother added.

  Denaeh nodded solemnly. “My fear is that he will draw this war out for as long as possible. Not because he is afraid or intent on finding Jahrra, but because his nature leaves him no choice. Logically, it makes sense to wipe us from the face of Ethoes, but Ciarrohn feeds on suffering and torment, as you have mentioned. We had best keep that in mind in the coming days.”

  Silence permeated the men, women, and dragons gathered around.

  “If you were trying to reassure Jahrra,” Vandrian drawled, “that was not the way to go about it.”

  Denaeh turned to her young friend. Jahrra had gone pale at her words, but she was shaking her head.

  “No,” Jahrra rasped. “No, maybe we can use that to our advantage. Maybe the Tyrant’s reluctance to end the fight swiftly will give us time to destroy him.”

  “And how are we going to do that
?” one of the women warriors called out.

  Jahrra bit her lip, that fearful anxiety threatening to bubble up again.

  “I don’t know,” she rasped.

  A light murmuring spread from the center of the field and moved outward. Before anyone could start throwing accusations around, however, Jaax boomed, “The prophecy never stated how Jahrra was to defeat the Crimson King, but I have faith in her. You should all have faith in her, and remember, it is your support that will give her the strength and courage she needs to fulfill her destiny. But I think we’ve had enough of uncertain speculation,” he gave Denaeh a pointed glare, “I suggest we focus instead on the fight we know awaits us in Vruuthun.”

  “How much longer until we reach the banks of the Noryen?” Vandrian asked, following Jaax’s lead.

  Sapheramin answered him, “A half a day or so, to get the entire legion of our allied troops to the river’s edge. But, we recommend waiting here, just out of sight, until we receive word from those who travel behind us and those hoping to join us from the east.”

  “Have any messages come through?” Jaax asked Vandrian.

  The king gave a curt nod. “From what I can gather, another force of two thousand or so marches from Nidoss. They have just reached the southern edge of the Great Red Tundra, so they are four or five days behind us.”

  Jaax nodded, then glanced to Sapheramin and Tollorias. “Then let us make camp here for now, and plan on approaching the Noryen when we know more.”

  The small army of generals and soldiers present for the impromptu meeting dispersed, and Jahrra turned to head back to her tent. Midday was still several hours off, evening even farther away, but she was exhausted. She blamed her restless sleep the night before, her early rising only a few hours ago, and the heavy weight of what Denaeh had revealed to them only a few minutes ago. Her hands shook as she ran them over her face. If what the Mystic said was true, if Ciarrohn would prolong the war in order to relish the torment it would create, would it not be better for them to charge forth into battle so that it might end swiftly? But then, if the Tyrant vastly outnumbered them, would their cause be crushed before they even had a chance? Either way, Jahrra could see their hope fading fast.