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

  “Dervit, we are going to arrive in Dhonoara, and then shortly after that, we will start planning our strategy to march on Ghorium. I am going to have to face down the Crimson King, and I don’t,” she drew in a sudden, shuddering breath, unwilling to admit the dreaded truth she felt in her heart, the same truth she had been trying to avoid for weeks now. Steeling herself, she continued, her voice thicker, “I don’t see how I will survive it.”

  A chill having nothing to do with the cold skittered down her spine. Every time she thought about her role in all of this, it sent fear so strong through her very marrow, it quite often threatened to bring her to her knees.

  Shaking her head to dispel the awful thoughts, she said, “Now is the time to tell me everything they’ve been keeping from me all these years. There is no longer a need for secrets.”

  Dervit had grown very still and quiet next to her, but when he spoke, his voice was clear. Calm. “Have faith in your friends, Jahrra. I saw the way Ellyesce looked when you argued with him, felt the tension coiled around him. He does not keep his secrets lightly, and neither does Jaax. I honestly think that if they could tell you everything they know, they would.”

  Jahrra snorted and rolled her eyes. She didn’t want to hear this, Dervit making excuses for Ellyesce, for Jaax. But she was angry, and terrified of what lay ahead of her, and she currently had no patience to see things from an outside perspective. In the end, however, she only conceded a little bit of her pride.

  “I guess I’ll just have to keep going on blind faith, then,” she grumbled, then added as she glanced toward the main camp where the elves prepared their bonfire, “Let’s go see if dinner is ready.”

  She stood, retrieving her jacket from Phrym’s saddlebags, then started to walk toward the first flicker of flames in the distance. Before stepping between the stones, however, she glanced over her shoulder at Dervit and gave a small, weary smile. “I’m sorry if I seem on edge and short with everyone lately. I don’t mean to be so difficult. I’m just, I’m just worried. And scared. And sad.”

  Tears welled in her eyes, but she brushed them aside and shrugged.

  “Anyway, I don’t want you thinking I don’t appreciate you, Dervit. Nothing could be further from that truth.” She took a deep, quaking breath then said, “Thank you for being such a good friend.”

  She turned to face the other camp once again and strode away before catching Dervit’s reply.

  In a quiet voice thick with emotion, the limbit murmured, “And thank you for giving me a chance to be someone’s friend, Jahrra.”

  -Chapter Five-

  Rest, Revelry, and Rumination

  Farian welcomed Jahrra with open arms the moment she stepped within the circle of forest elves surrounding a rather large campfire. She was introduced to them all, but had trouble remembering their names as they each offered her a bow of respect followed by what sounded like three separate titles.

  “We each have a first name, our father’s name, and our mother’s name,” Farian explained as they sat upon the ground with a wooden bowl filled with freshly cooked venison and root vegetable stew.

  “I don’t think I can remember all those names,” she admitted after savoring her first bite of dinner.

  Farian shrugged, his smile reaching his pale eyes.

  “Do not fret, Jahrraneh Drisihn. You will not be asked to repeat them.”

  She laughed and got back to her meal, giving Dervit a nod when he stepped into the ring of firelight pooling around the gathering. Someone offered him his own bowl, and soon, he was also eating with relish. Jaax and Ellyesce joined the party ten minutes later, the pair of them sporting a bleak tightness to the edge of their eyes but offering gracious smiles, nonetheless. Jahrra frowned, but refused to meet either the elf’s or the dragon’s gaze. She thought it best to spend the evening avoiding another argument with her guardian and Ellyesce. Their last discussion had only left her feeling drained and troubled.

  As the night stretched on, and as the elves began weaving their tales, Jahrra found their camaraderie did nothing to take the edge off her own restlessness. After only two stories were shared, she stood up and moved to stand casually near the edge of the great circle of light cast by the bonfire. When the third storyteller reached the exciting part of his tale, she slipped deeper into the darkness and headed toward the river’s edge. A large rock ledge stretched out from the tall bank of the Hrwyndess to hang over the rushing water some thirty feet below. She stepped out onto the slab of stone and turned her face upward. Closing her eyes, Jahrra breathed in the rich, cool air and let the light of the silvery moon bathe her face. What she wouldn’t give to take all her racing thoughts and shove them into a box where they couldn’t escape, if only for a few minutes.

  A soft rustle broke into Jahrra’s moment of solitude, but she did not jump. Instinct, or maybe just years of experience, told her who approached.

  “You are missing some very good stories,” Jaax drawled from behind her.

  Jahrra turned and gave him a half smile, not putting much effort into it. So much for avoiding her friends for the rest of the night. The fire, some fifty yards away, had grown larger, she noticed, taller than the dragon cast in shadow standing so close by. Ale and more food was being passed around as well, and where she had left Dervit, some of the younger Hrunahn warriors had moved in. From what she could tell, it was the limbit who wove the tales at this point, not the elves. The upward curve to the corner of her mouth was more genuine this time, though her moment of joy did not last.

  Jahrra turned back to face the rushing river below, not in the mood to take part in the merriment. “I’ve heard all of Dervit’s tall tales before,” she replied.

  Jaax arched a brow, attention narrowing in on his ward. “Even the one about the piglet stuck in the fence?”

  If the Tanaan dragon had hoped to cheer her up with his light tone, he was mistaken. Jahrra continued to stand there on the ledge of granite, arms crossed, the heel of one boot propped up against a small boulder. He knew when to leave her alone, and when she needed someone’s quiet presence. In this case, it was the latter, though Jaax wasn’t too keen on remaining silent, and Jahrra would never admit she needed him.

  “You seemed rather withdrawn during dinner. Care to talk about it?”

  Jahrra shook her head, the river below mimicking her current mood. Now, he wanted to talk? Despite her obvious desire to be left alone, Jaax wasn’t about to give up so easily.

  “Jahrra,” he pressed, tone harder than before, “talk to me. In a matter of weeks, we’ll be in Dhonoara preparing for war. If anything is bothering you, now is the time to broach the subject.”

  All he got in return was a derisive snort. As if she didn’t already know all of this. When he drew breath to speak again, Jahrra turned to look at him, the barest hint of desperation and fear dominating her expression. The dragon went utterly still, his eyes holding hers. He would not look away, not until she spoke her mind. She needed to say whatever it was that bothered her, the way a thorn must be drawn from the skin.

  “I can’t celebrate with you and Ellyesce and Dervit. I can’t sit by that fire and laugh and joke and tell stories with the elves of Hrunah. I don’t know how any of you can.”

  There, she’d said it. It hadn’t been about Ellyesce’s secrets earlier, and it hadn’t been about Jaax’s continued insistence on keeping her in the dark. Those had only been catalysts to her fear; excuses for her to purge her soul of the dark emotions lingering there. Only, her argument with Jaax and Ellyesce hadn’t assuaged her restlessness. Not at all.

  Jaax lifted his head, all humor gone from his face. When he spoke, his voice was pitched low, but a gentle patience suffused his words. “You cannot celebrate because you are having a hard time envisioning a future that will bring happiness.”

  Jahrra whipped her head back around, then bent to pick up a stone. She drew her arm back and launched it into the turbulent water below.

  “We are walking directly into war, Jaax.
Death is almost guaranteed, especially for us.” She indicated herself and her dragon guardian with a wave of her hand. “The Crimson King will know of me by now, and he’ll know you travel with me. I’m guessing he’ll know who Ellyesce is as well and Dervit ...” she trailed off, took a shuddering breath, then pressed on, “Dervit has been incredibly lucky so far. All of us have been. I don’t know how much longer our luck can hold out.”

  Jaax hummed low in his throat, but said nothing.

  “I don’t mean to sound cynical, and I hate that I’m fixated on what could go wrong, but the closer we get to whatever destiny Ethoes has planned for me, the more it grates at my nerves.”

  “Jahrra, you have every right to feel that way. And even though your destiny seems to have been preordained, you still have a say in which choices you will make each day.”

  Jahrra sighed, then fell into a crouch, arms wrapped around her knees. She wanted so badly to cry, to purge herself of the fear, pain, and anxiety, but she fought against that weakness. Her next words were so quiet, Jaax would have missed them over the rush of the river and the boisterous laughter of their elvin friends had he not possessed the sharper senses of a dragon.

  “I don’t want to die,” she murmured.

  Fear and fury and wrath wrapped their steely bands around Jaax’s heart at the tone in her voice.

  “Don’t worry, Jahrra,” he vowed, moving closer to her. “I won’t let you die.”

  When he was near enough for Jahrra to reach out and touch his shoulder, Jaax settled down upon the ground, his clawed fingers curling around the edge of the steep riverbank. The moonlight shone down through the gap in the trees, staining the world in shades of cool white and shadow.

  “Can you make that same promise about yourself?” she finally asked. “About Dervit and Ellyesce, too?”

  Jaax shook his head ruefully. “No, I cannot. But, I will promise to do everything in my power to defend you and our friends. You have my word on that.”

  She turned her head, blond hair slipping from her shoulder, the pale moonlight above turning her eyes to silver.

  “And you have my word that I will do the same.”

  As the revelry carried on behind them, Jaax and Jahrra sat in companionable silence. Each became lost in their own thoughts as the peace of the night wrapped around them, sealing their words together like an ancient vow neither time nor distance could ever break.

  * * *

  Jahrra woke before dawn to a forest shrouded in gray mist. For several heartbeats, she wondered what had dragged her from sleep, until the soft voices of the forest elves floating over to her side of the camp reminded her of the day before. Encountering Farian and his fellow scouts, receiving news that the Crimson King was making the final preparations for war, learning of Ellyesce’s identity as the Magehn of the Tanaan king, her raw and honest discussion with Jaax about her fears ... Jahrra groaned and turned to her side, only to find Dervit staring at her.

  “You’re awake! Good. Jaax was saying if you slept any longer, we’d have to drag you behind the horses on your bedroll.”

  The limbit’s brown eyes brightened, and Jahrra grumbled, sitting up and rubbing her eyes as she muttered something about pesky dragons and their ill attempts at humor. As she packed up her supplies, Jahrra revisited the information she’d learned the night before once again, setting her focus on Ellyesce. He had been the Magehn to the Tanaan king. So long ago, before the royal family was murdered and before the youngest prince marched on Ghorium. Before the last humans in the world had been transformed into dragons.

  As the four of them sat down to breakfast, Jahrra was tempted to ask Ellyesce more about his past, but the paleness to his skin and the grim cut to his mouth encouraged her to wait. She could ask him anytime on the road to Dhonoara. Perhaps his night had been just as haunted by darkness as hers had been. Jahrra took a sip of watered-down tea and flicked her eyes up to Jaax. He remained silent and brooding, a crease ever-present over his emerald eyes. The ever thinking, calculating Raejaaxorix. And an assessment of Dervit came up with the same results as well. What a cheerful party they were, all sitting and festering in their own worries. Jahrra considered her own mood during the night before, then made a decision. Refusing to allow the dark shroud of impending war ruin what time she had left, she stood and got busy packing.

  When Jahrra turned to find her friends giving her a quizzical look, she shrugged and said, “What? Don’t we want to get to Ghellna today?”

  Without a word, Dervit and Ellyesce got busy with their own chores. Within the hour, they had their bags secured to the horses, and Ellyesce had doused the fire. Farian strode over shortly afterward looking a little ragged from over-imbibing the night before. Despite his obvious discomfort, however, he gave them all a wan smile, grimacing a little as he bowed.

  “We can take you to the crossroads where this path meets up with the main thoroughfare leading into Ghellna, but no farther. The Tyrant’s soldiers may just be passing through, but that does not mean his spies do not linger. My scouts and I must do our part to ensure the safety of my people.”

  Jaax ducked his head. “I appreciate your concern, Farian. We will be able to find our way from the crossroads.”

  The forest elf offered a gesture of agreement, then stepped aside, indicating with his spear that the party of travelers follow them. As they stepped back onto the wide path they’d traversed the day before, Jahrra couldn’t help but twist and turn in Phrym’s saddle. That dark worry still lingered, despite her earlier attempt at looking on the bright side. But as the morning dragged on, Jahrra began to feel more and more at ease. She traded conversation with some of the elves, and at one point, Dervit climbed atop Phrym so he could be part of the discussion as well. Before midday, the quartet of friends and their escort came upon a wide wooden bridge spanning the Hrwyndess. Another road, running east to west, cut down from the mountains and continued into the trees growing on the opposite bank of the river.

  Farian called for a halt, sending pairs of forest elves in opposite directions up and down the river bank, west up the mountainside, and some across the bridge itself. Within five minutes the scouts returned, giving their leader the all-clear. Jahrra, who hadn’t realized she’d been gripping Phrym’s reins so tightly her knuckles had turned white, eased her hold a little. In the past, she’d had bad experiences with crossroads. And bridges.

  The grand general of the realm of Hrunah turned with efficient ease and tilted his chin up as he assessed Jaax. Eventually, he said, his spear indicating the bridge and the road that led away from it, “This path will lead you a few miles farther east, then it will curve northward toward Cah-Rho. If you wish to avoid that town, you need to take the smaller, eastern road that splits away from this one. As far as we know, the realm of Ghellna has remained free of the Tyrant’s men, but that could have changed in the past few weeks. The less traveled road will take you southeast of the hills and wrap around the northern banks of Lake Hronah before dropping you at the foot of the Kourhiont Mountains. Between here and those mountains is a four or five day journey on foot.”

  Jaax ducked his head in thanks. “We are grateful for your help. Will we meet you again in Dhonoara?”

  It was a casual enough inquiry, but Farian did not miss its deeper meaning. He stiffened, frowning a little as his pale, blue-green eyes grew fierce. Slapping his right arm across his chest, he bowed deeply this time and intoned, “My Rael and Raella fully intend to march east to aid the Coalition in their fight. We only wait until those maggots of the Tyrant filter through our territory before striking out.” He lifted his head and gave a fierce grin. “We do not want them catching wind of our plans and reporting back to their cruel master.”

  Jaax’s matching smile sent a rapid shiver down Jahrra’s spine. That was the look of a warrior dragon ready to rend and burn and demolish. She flicked her eyes to Ellyesce, surprised to find a similar look on his face. Burdened by the pain this war would bring, these warriors among her were ready to rid
their world of the Tyrant who would destroy it the second his full power returned. She straightened her spine and willed some of her own stubborn pride to shove aside the restlessness. To her delight, it worked.

  “I look forward to witnessing your prowess on the battlefield, Farian of Hrunah,” Jaax said.

  “And I yours, Raejaaxorix of Oescienne.” He flicked a mischievous glance Ellyesce’s way. “And I hope to see the full display of power wielded by a Magehn, too.”

  Ellyesce only grunted, but some of that mistrust faded from his green eyes.

  They finished up with their farewells, Jahrra accepting a more familiar embrace from a handful of the friendlier elves among the bunch, then they were swiftly on their way. Jahrra tried not to think about surprise ambushes or plunging to her death as they clunked across the wooden bridge. A restless Dervit perched in front of her made her wonder if he was having the same thoughts as well. Either way, they made it across without incident, and soon, Ellyesce was leading them eastward and closer to the realm of Ghorium.

  -Chapter Six-

  Into the Wild

  Denaeh stood on the edge of the mountain, her scarlet cloak snapping in the wind like a bloodstained battle flag. By her calculations, and by what Milihn had reported back to her, she had almost caught up with Jahrra and her companions. Only a half a day or so stood between them now, which worked in the Mystic’s favor. She didn’t want them to get too far ahead that she could not keep her eye, and her other senses, trained on them, but not so close they’d detect her presence.

  The corner of Denaeh’s mouth turned down at that thought. But they already know you follow them, don’t they? At least, one of them does.

  And that was precisely what pricked at her nerves, setting her on edge. Who was this mage that he or she could sense her, despite the considerable amount of magic she used to make her existence invisible? Thinking about it only led to more frustration, so Denaeh turned her contemplation elsewhere, and stumbled upon something discomforting. The only other thoughts occupying her mind of late were those relating to her conference with the Creecemind king and what had been revealed beneath the roots of the Sacred Pine.