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

  Directly in front of her, Gliriant slowed to a stop as Ellyesce dropped his head ever so slightly. Whether he was using his ears or his magic to detect possible company, Jahrra couldn’t say. She didn’t dare look back at Dervit on Rumble, and wondered if Jaax, taking up the rear, knew what had Ellyesce and the horses suddenly ill at ease.

  Jahrra was so intent on straining her ears to listen for more misplaced sounds that she nearly fell from her saddle when a tall, dark-skinned elf stepped silently in front of Ellyesce. Swift as forest shadows, more elves fell into line behind him, as well as along the sides of the trail Jahrra and her companions now traveled. A quiet gasp from Dervit informed her he hadn’t seen them creep up on them, either.

  The elf who had first blocked their path cast his eyes past her shoulder and rose to a point far above her head. Assessing the most dangerous member of their group first, apparently. Jaax must not have offered a menacing visage, for the elf didn’t give an order for his company to take aim with their spears and bows. He simply let his eyes drift casually back to her before finally coming to rest upon Ellyesce. For several long moments, no one moved, no one spoke. No one breathed, it seemed. With nothing else to do while she waited for some sign from her friends, Jahrra studied these newcomers.

  The leader of the group was tall, taller than Ellyesce, and his skin was a deep, rich color, even darker than Torrell’s. It reminded her of freshly tilled earth, warm and soft beneath a midsummer sky. His hair, long and glossy black, was braided into hundreds of thin strands, each decorated with beautiful beads and feathers, the strands gathered together at the nape of his neck. He wore simple deerskin pants and a similar vest without a tunic beneath it. The taut string of a longbow crossed his broad, powerful chest, and a quiver of arrows hung over one shoulder. His feet were bare, and his dark skin was painted with marks of pale blue, green, white, and yellow, the intricate patterns running down both his arms and marking both his cheeks. Silver hoops decorated his ears, which Jahrra noticed, were much more pointed and longer than Ellyesce’s. The most impressive thing about him, however, was the spear he held in one hand. The shaft was a beautiful red-hued wood, polished and carved with the same designs painted on his body. The spear tip was like his hair, a gleaming, black color that reminded her of glass.

  “Ellyesce of Dhonoara!” the tall wood elf breathed, his pale blue-green eyes snapping with borderline aggression. “By the Sacred Redwood! It cannot be you!”

  Jahrra’s brows lifted, and her gaze bore into Ellyesce’s back. He must have sensed her regard because he turned his head just enough to give her a grim expression, his face paler than usual, his mouth cut in an unpleasant line.

  A few of the other wood elves pressed forward, murmurs of shock and surprise, spoken in a language Jahrra didn’t recognize, spilling from their lips. A tiny prickle of fear lifted goose pimples along her arms. They sounded more dismayed than delighted to see someone their leader clearly recognized.

  “Last we heard,” the tall elf with the wicked spear growled, those startling, beautiful eyes now narrowed, “you were presumed dead. And that was over two centuries ago.”

  Finally, Ellyesce drew in a breath and gave a sharp nod. “Your kin aided me when I last passed through this realm. I was being pursued by the Tyrant’s men.”

  “Not dead, then,” the elf drawled.

  “No, but I allowed people to believe I was,” Ellyesce admitted.

  The wood elf passed his spear over to a comrade, then crossed his arms, his biceps flexing with the action. He narrowed his eyes once more, head cocked slightly to the side. Studying Ellyesce the way a shrewd predator studied its prey before attacking.

  “Tell me then,” he continued, voice pitched lower than before, “what brings the Magehn of the last king of Oescienne back into Hrunahn territory after such a long absence?”

  The air burst from Jahrra’s lungs on a silent gasp, the shock of the elf’s words jerking her to attention like a fish on a line.

  Silence thicker than wool settled over the contingency of forest elves. Jahrra, forgoing all caution, whipped around in the saddle so fast Phrym whickered his discontent, taking a small step back. Fortunately for her, none of the elves interpreted her actions as a threat. Not that Jahrra bothered to notice. She stared wide-eyed at Jaax, her blue gray gaze hard beneath the initial layer of surprise. His expression was blank, and he stood as still as one of the large trees shading their path. When his eyes did meet hers, they blazed with an all too familiar stubbornness. Whatever he knew about Ellyesce he would keep to himself, or share with her later. But one thing was certain: He had known what the elf was, for there was no shock, no mild surprise emanating from him. Annoyance rose in Jahrra’s heart, but she swiftly quashed it. Railing against her guardian for keeping secrets had never done her any good in the past. Instead, she tried a different tactic. If Ellyesce and Jaax had kept this information from her, perhaps she could get more from the elves.

  Turning back around in the saddle, with much more smoothness than before, she leveled her gaze on the tall elf blocking their way.

  “I’m sorry,” she managed, her voice a little hoarse, “What do you mean, Magehn of the last king of Oescienne?”

  The forest elf narrowed those piercing eyes of his. “Who are you?”

  Jahrra sat straighter in the saddle and lifted her chin. “I will tell you my name if you tell me yours,” she countered.

  The elf grinned, straight, white teeth flashing against his deep mahogany skin. He sketched a quick bow, then announced, “I am Farian of Hrunah, Torcah, or high general, of my tribe. The Rael and Raella, king and queen in your language, entrust me with the protection of our realm. I have shared my name and title. Now, what of yours?”

  Jahrra relaxed a little. Stern and fierce this elf might appear, he clearly held pride and courage in his heart.

  “I am Jahrraneh Drisihn of Oescienne, the human promised by Ethoes long ago. But you may simply call me Jahrra if you wish.”

  The elf’s dark eyebrows shot up, and he traded looks with many of his companions. The rest of those encircling them began to murmur quietly, and Farian’s gaze slid back to Jaax.

  “So, that explains the Magehn’s presence. Found the young woman who will free your prince from his curse, have you?” Before Jahrra could let that register, the Hrunahn elf turned sharply to assess her guardian. “And this must be the dragon, Raejaaxorix.”

  He gave another bow, and Jahrra glanced behind her in time to see Jaax’s returning nod.

  “I have heard much about you, Leader of the Coalition, from my brothers and sisters in Elwhe, but I was always away on scouting missions the few times you visited my people.”

  “It is an honor, Farian of Hronah,” Jaax replied with a tilt of his angular head. “And allow me to introduce the fourth member of our party, the limbit, Dervit.”

  Dervit was just as surprised as Jahrra at Jaax’s introduction. The limbit had been nestled so quietly against the travel bags atop Rumble, it was a surprise anyone noticed him at all.

  Farian’s brow rose, and many of the other forest elves began to murmur.

  “A limbit away from its village? That’s unheard of!”

  Jahrra bristled. “Dervit has an adventurous heart, and he has saved our lives many times over, Farian of Hronah.”

  The elf blinked and held up his palms in surrender. “Peace, lady Jahrraneh, I mean no disrespect. This is the first time I have ever seen a limbit separated from its tribe.”

  “My tribe,” Dervit squeaked, sitting up and putting on a brave face, “was glad to see me go.”

  Farian could come up with no response to that, so his attention returned to Ellyesce, pale eyes assessing. For several seconds, the two of them regarded one another in silence, and Jahrra was left to interpret their expressions. She came up short. In all honesty, however, she was still reeling from the shock of Farian’s claim regarding Ellyesce. She hadn’t gotten an answer to her earlier question, she realized, and she had a feeling she w
ouldn’t be getting one anytime soon. Perhaps the wood elf was mistaken, but something in the pit of her stomach suggested otherwise. She peeked over her shoulder at Jaax again. He wasn’t looking at her. Instead, he studied the wood elves in their company, pretending to count them or check for signs of danger. But, she was no fool. His eyes may have been turned away from her, but his scrutiny curled around her like fire smoke.

  Jahrra’s regard, on the other hand, turned to Ellyesce, the Magehn of the last Tanaan king. So, that explained his unusual silence these past few days, his reluctance to take the main road. This was a secret, for some reason, he didn’t want her to know. Ethoes above! Not only had he turned out to be the elf purchasing the freedom of slaves in Oescienne, but he had been the Magehn to the king of Oescienne as well. A dozen questions swirled through Jahrra’s mind, but they would have to wait until later.

  “I suppose you can keep your secrets for now, Ellyesce of Dhonoara, for they will all come spilling out in the end,” Farian drawled, yanking Jahrra from her reverie.

  She blinked, only to find him regarding her with mild curiosity. Before she could make some response, he drew in a deep breath and threw his arms wide. “Having said that, we would be honored to host you, Jahrraneh Drisihn, and your companions, for the evening,” the high general intoned.

  Clearly, she had missed some portion of the conversation. The corner of Farian’s lip curled almost imperceptibly as he continued in a condescending voice, his piercing gaze fixed on Ellyesce, “but we will be keeping an eye you, Magehn of Oescienne.”

  -Chapter Four-

  The Last Magehn of the King

  The forest elves led Jahrra and her friends deeper into the woods until they came upon a small grove of trees so large, she had to crane her neck as far back as it would go to glance up their trunks. Even then, Jahrra couldn’t see the tops of them, only a crisscrossing of drooping branches dusted with soft green needles. She had never seen trees so tall, or so big around. Not even the Sacred Oak of Ethoes. Jahrra cast a sidelong glance at Jaax. He didn’t seem too impressed, but then again, he’d been to many corners of Ethoes and probably witnessed things even grander than the trees of Hrunah. Next, Jahrra peered down at Dervit and nearly laughed. She wondered if that was how she looked, wide-eyed, her mouth hanging open in utter astonishment.

  As distracting as the trees were, she found the forest elves even more intriguing. Although they all resembled their leader in that they also kept their hair braided and wore similar clothing, their eyes ranged in color from dark brown to the palest blues and greens. The tone of their skin varied as well, though no one was nearly as pale as her or Ellyesce, or even Dervit for that matter. The colorful whorls, lines, and symbols painted upon the dark palette of their skin reminded Jahrra of wind and rain, clouds and seas. She was tempted to reach out and trace the designs with her fingertips, but thought these highly trained warriors would not appreciate a stranger poking at them.

  Despite all these new sights and sounds to keep her mind occupied, Jahrra had not forgotten about Farian’s announcement regarding Ellyesce. In fact, the little bit of information buzzed in the corner of her mind like an angry wasp trapped in a jar. The Tanaan king’s Magehn … Jahrra’s mind shot back through time, back to a misty afternoon when she had sat with Denaeh after Jaax and Hroombra had discovered the hidden compass in her jacket. The two dragons had acted oddly, and Jahrra had fled to the refuge of the Black Swamp to ask her Mystic friend for answers. Denaeh had been sure the compass had belonged to the Magehn of the king. But the compass, and the small journal Jaax kept hidden somewhere, had been found with the skeletal remains of a dead man, or elf. If Ellyesce was the Magehn, then who was in that cave?

  The forest elves led them eastward, along a wide, winding trail that snaked through the thick forest. Eventually, the rushing sound of water filled the air, and their path dropped down to follow a wide, churning river cutting through a canyon some fifty feet deep.

  “The Hrwyndess,” one of the elves, a woman with rich ebony skin, told Jahrra when she asked.

  They followed the Hrwyndess River a mile or two more before the high general called a halt to his warriors. The entire party, Jahrra’s friends included, came to a stop. She blinked up from the spot between Phrym’s ears. Her questions concerning Ellyesce would have to wait until she and her friends were alone.

  “This is where we have been making camp each night. Rael Halchon and Raella Kessia have been sending out more scouts of late, and my company have been tasked with guarding the northern reaches of the forest.”

  Jahrra felt Jaax stiffen behind her. “Oh? And why is that?”

  Her guardian’s voice was casual enough, but she didn’t miss the undercurrent of tension suffusing his words.

  Farian gave the dragon a long assessing look before letting out a breath and saying, “The Tyrant’s troops have been filtering through our realm in greater numbers of late. So far, they’ve not stayed long enough to cause trouble, but our Rael and Raella thought it prudent to keep an extra eye on them.”

  Jaax hissed out a breath behind her, and Jahrra turned to give him a startled look. Was it a mistake to cut through the Hrunahn Wilders? Even this narrow finger of trees nestled between the Hrunahn Footmountains and the hills of Ghellna?

  “In which direction are these troops moving?” Ellyesce asked, speaking up for the first time since leaving the main road behind.

  Farian gave him a pointed look, then flicked his eyes back to Jaax. “The enemy comes from the west and heads due east. All our reports tell us they are simply passing through.”

  “Heading back to Ghorium at their master’s request,” Jaax snarled softly.

  All Jahrra’s nagging curiosity about Ellyesce and these intriguing elves vanished like a wisp of cloud on the wind. Fear, sharp and pungent, slammed into the back of her throat, and Phrym grew restless beneath her.

  Farian’s eyes shuttered, and he ducked his head solemnly. “Yes, our spies believe so as well.”

  Jaax bit out a curse and stepped from side to side, his eyes surveying the forest as if he expected an ambush at any second.

  The high general lifted his arms in a calming gesture, even as his companions backed away from the restless dragon. “Peace, Raejaaxorix! We have not seen any troops this far north! They take a more southerly route back to their accursed land.”

  Ellyesce turned Gliriant around and bit out, “We need to get word to Vandrian. We need to make our allies traveling up from Terre Moeserre aware of the Red Flange’s movements.”

  Jaax jerked his head in assent. “It would be better for them to let the enemy pass through instead of engaging them. This war cannot start until–” his teeth snapped shut, cutting off his words as his eyes flicked to Jahrra.

  What color remained in the young woman’s face drained entirely away. She cleared her throat and licked her lips before stating in a voice gone raspy, “Until I’m there to do what I must.”

  Jaax’s look was an apologetic one, but Jahrra only pressed her lips together and shook her head once. No, it’s okay. I never expected it to happen so fast, is all. I thought I’d be ready when my time came.

  “Perhaps we should travel along the northern side of the Kourhiont Mountains, then,” Ellyesce offered. “Enter Dhonoara Valley from the west instead of the east.”

  Farian had busied himself with barking out orders to his fellow elves, but turned to address Jahrra, Jaax, Ellyesce, and Dervit as soon as the others dispersed.

  “That might be the best option. But it is safe enough for you to stay the night here with us. The day grows late, and you will all need your rest. In the morning, we will show you the best place to cross the river. From there, you can pass south of the city of Cah-Rho and on through the hills and forests of Ghellna. Another five to seven days of travel will bring you to the northern edge of the Kourhiont Mountains. I presume you can find your way from there?”

  It was Ellyesce who nodded his assent. “Yes, I know that route well.”

/>   “I imagine so,” Farian muttered.

  Sarcasm tainted the elf’s words, but Ellyesce let them roll off of him.

  “Thank you for your hospitality,” Jaax stated, stepping in closer to Phrym and Gliriant, an obvious attempt to round up his companions. “We’ll set up camp amidst those stones.”

  He jerked his head to indicate a collection of granite boulders, some taller than his head, several feet away from the main heart of the elves’ campsite.

  “Of course,” Farian pronounced. “We are honored to be of service to the chosen of Ethoes.” He threw his arms back and ducked his head in Jahrra’s direction. “You will join us for our evening meal after you have settled. War may be upon us, but we are allies, and we will sit about a grand bonfire and trade tales while enjoying one another’s company.”

  Relaxing a bit and losing the shrewd sharpness to his expression, Jaax gave a single nod of his head. “Very well. We will join you in a few hours.”

  Farian grinned. “That will give us time to get the fire started and for our most skilled hunters to track down game. Then,” he continued, his eyes resting on Ellyesce, “we will hear of your exploits.”

  With a final half-bow, the high general of the Hrunahn elves turned on his heel and headed for the center of his people’s camp. Before Jahrra could so much as draw breath to ask her first question of her guardian and his friend, Ellyesce had pulled Gliriant’s head around and was leading him at a swift pace towards the boulders. Scowling, Jahrra watched Jaax trail after him. She spared a glance at Dervit, but the limbit only shrugged.

  “What’s a Magehn?” he asked as the two of them led Phrym and Rumble after their friends.

  “A Magehn,” Jahrra said quietly, recalling her conversation with Denaeh once more, “is someone who is unfalteringly loyal to his king. He is an expert in magic, espionage, and martial combat. The king relies upon him not only for protection and information, but also seeks his advice above all others in matters of state.”