The Beginning

by Jenna Elizabeth Johnson

  The beast screamed once again, and Jahrra cowered as Phrym reared and kicked in fear.

  Without thinking, she called out, “Peace!” in the common language and then, for some reason she couldn’t explain, repeated the word in Kruelt, “Traana!”

  She held up her right hand, exposing her palm to her attacker. The creature stopped its intimidating stance, and slowly came down on all fours, leaving its wings fully spread.

  The animal tilted its head slightly and looked at Jahrra with an intelligent, yellow eye. As Jahrra sat frozen in fear, she could see that Scede had stopped trying to drag his sister onto Aimhe. Gieaun had managed to stand up and was now hanging onto her horse with Scede standing right next to her. Both were looking over at Jahrra, panic scrawled all over their white faces.

  Suddenly, the creature spoke, revealing two rows of small, pointed teeth and a forked tongue. It was a raspy, snake-like voice, but it was clear nonetheless: “Dodthe zellhe edth chormiehn epit edth Arksuhlen?” You understand the language of the Ancients?

  Jahrra, to her surprise, knew the Draggish words, and responded as best she could, despite her nerves, “Kei-Kei istaa durrst tellhenin. Yihroeh criteh edth krilei chormiehn?” I-I’m still learning. Do you speak the common language?

  “Yes, I do,” it, he, rasped, his rough voice formal and cool as he spoke the common tongue. “But it comforts me to know that the language of the Ancients has not died and is still being taught. Who are you, young creature, and what are you?”

  “I’m a N-Nesnan girl. My name is Jahrra. And those are my friends, Gieaun and Scede. They are R-Resai,” Jahrra answered with a shaking voice, pointing over to Gieaun and Scede. She took a calming breath, extremely relieved that she could communicate with this animal.

  “Why are you here?” asked the beast after looking over at Gieaun and Scede.

  “I’ve come to collect something for a friend of mine,” Jahrra swallowed. “Archedenaeh, the Mystic.”

  A spark crackled behind the creature’s eyes, but he continued his questioning undeterred, “What is it that you seek?”

  “Apples. Apples from the tree at the end of this canyon.”

  The creature furrowed what Jahrra could only assume was his brow.

  “Most do not enter this canyon. Most fear what lies at the end,” he hissed quietly, sending goose bumps creeping up Jahrra’s arms. “People believe the legends of the horrible monster lurking here, and they come in droves to slay it. I usually kill those men. They pose a threat to me and all that is kept here, both living and not. I know Archedenaeh well. She was here not a week ago, if she wanted apples, she would have collected them then. Why send a child?”

  The creature paused for a moment, and then continued on, “So I ask myself, what shall I do with you? You claim not to be hunters, but you wish to leave with a gift. Should I treat you as the others, or do you have a reason for me not to?”

  Jahrra quavered at the creature’s suggestion, and Phrym shivered in response to her mood. The blood had drained from her face when the dragon-beast mentioned Denaeh’s recent visit. Why did she lie to me? Jahrra wondered, genuinely questioning the Mystic’s motives for the first time since she’d met her. She shook her head and looked over at her friends who were now both standing rigid with fright.

  Finally, with as much bravado as she could muster, she answered the creature’s question, “Do what you will with me. It was my idea to come here, not theirs. They tried to talk me out of it, but I gave them no choice but to follow me. Let them go, please.”

  Jahrra tried to straighten up in the saddle in a brave sort of fashion, but she felt as though her very bones were melting.

  The dragon-beast smiled and then replied quite smoothly for a voice that sounded remarkably like grating sandpaper, “A very bold answer, and a very selfless offering.”

  The monster fluffed his feathers in a rather self-satisfied way. “Do not worry young creature,” he continued nonchalantly. “I wish not to kill you or your companions. I watched you when that sehnna had you cornered. You refused to shoot, even after it attacked your friends and even when it was about to turn on you. You saw that it was starving and you felt that it too was only trying to survive. That is why you delayed your deadly shot. I only interrupted when I knew you could hold off no longer. This way, no one dies.”

  Jahrra looked very relieved and allowed herself to exhale in what seemed like the first time in several minutes. She heard Gieaun and Scede let out their own sighs of relief, despite the distance between them.

  “Come now, I shall lead you to your Apple Tree.”

  The creature turned to let Jahrra return to her friends. The other two children silently climbed atop Bhun and Aimhe, allowing Jahrra to go first. They both shot her a nervous glance as she led Phrym past them, then took their place behind her as the dragon-beast led them further down the canyon.

  For some reason, Jahrra didn’t feel frightened any longer. Instead she felt perplexed, and even a little angry. Denaeh had lied to her; she had talked her into coming to Ehnnit Canyon when she could have collected the apples herself. But why? Why would Denaeh put her in such danger? Jahrra wasn’t sure, but she had a feeling that perhaps the Mystic was trying to tell, or show, her something, something the woman couldn’t tell her herself. Jahrra put aside her thoughts for later (they only made her head ache) and focused on the great beast that led them down the canyon.

  With his great membranous wings folded, the strange creature didn’t seem nearly as huge as he had first appeared, and although he walked rather awkwardly over the rock-littered canyon floor, he managed well enough.

  A few minutes further up the canyon, it dawned upon Jahrra that their leader must have a name.

  “I’m sorry,” she blurted, breaking the uneasy silence, “but what should we call you?”

  “I am called Cahrume,” he answered, “and I am what the common folk call a draffyd.”

  The draffyd continued his awkward gate, his head roving back and forth, scanning the landscape for more sehnnas. Jahrra relaxed a little and eased back in the saddle. Cahrume the draffyd. She vaguely remembered Hroombra teaching her about them once, years ago, and now that she scrutinized him in the golden afternoon light, she could see that he matched the old dragon’s description of the mythical animals. Jahrra smiled. I can’t wait to see what we find next!

  After awhile, she spoke up again, “Um, Cahrume? Where exactly is it that we are going?”

  The party had been walking now for nearly fifteen minutes and Jahrra was beginning to wonder if this strange journey would never end. Cahrume seemed to know the trails that ran just above the canyon floor and had so far maneuvered them quite well, considering how narrow they were. The group had been forced into a single file line, Cahrume followed by Jahrra atop Phrym, Gieaun on Aimhe, and finally Scede riding Bhun, bringing up the rear.

  The draffyd waited a long time before answering Jahrra’s question, and she feared that she had irritated him. When he finally did answer, he did so in a patient but gruff tone, “We are going to the very end of this canyon, where the Sacred Apple Tree grows.”

  He stopped and looked around at Jahrra with his eagle eyes. “The tree from which you are to retrieve Denaeh’s apples.”

  Then he revealed a very small smile. At least that is what Jahrra thought it looked like. She imagined such a creature either didn't, or couldn’t, smile that often.

  “Do not fear, it is not very much farther,” he continued. “We will be there before dark, and then you can make your camp for the night.”

  To avoid further interruptions, Cahrume added, “I am sure you all have many questions about what you have seen in this canyon today, from the bizarre stone entrance to the sehnna that surprised you. Have no fear; I’ll answer your questions later. Conversation is very sparse out here and it would be nice to hear news from the outside world as well.”

  Jahrra smiled at Cahrume’s comment, for she did have many questions to ask; she just hoped they would reach their
destination soon. She didn’t know how much longer they hiked, but eventually the sound of trickling water dominated the relative silence. The air surrounding them had slowly become cooler, and Jahrra shivered with delight. She knew that the temperature change had less to do with the setting sun and more to do with the sudden presence of water somewhere nearby. She leaned over the side of Phrym and looked down at the rocky channel only a few feet below the trail. A small trickle of a stream was flowing down the dry creek bed, leaving a dark trail of moisture in its wake.

  Jahrra tried to look past Cahrume, but the canyon took another sharp turn to the north and she couldn’t see where the sudden tributary was coming from. Not until the group was around the next bend did Jahrra spot its source. Up ahead, the ravine widened dramatically and came to an abrupt end. A very tall but narrow waterfall cascaded like liquid silver down a vertical cliff that protruded away from the canyon wall. The cliff was about twenty to thirty feet high and was decorated with ferns and mosses clinging to the water-soaked rock, creating a green band that bordered the fall. Jahrra pulled Phrym to a stop and admired the beautiful waterfall, shuddering from a sudden chill. She looked around and saw that the sun was now only touching the very top sliver of the fall, leaving the canyon painted in a cool, blue shadow.

  A few hundred feet ahead of the party there lay a bare patch of sand cutting well into both sides of the canyon floor. The waterfall splashed boldly onto the rocky bottom bellow, its water gathering into a large pool rimmed with small boulders. The precious liquid then slid past the rocks bedecking the creek bed and continued down the gully towards the Oorn Plain.

  Cahrume stepped onto the soft, damp sand of the beach. His reptilian feet sunk a few inches into the soil as he turned to face the riders filing in behind him.

  “This is Ttuhrmet Falls, and the end of Ehnnit Canyon. Or should I say, this is the beginning. You can camp here for the night. It is quite safe, as long as you keep a fire burning. I will be perched above you.” He nodded his harpy-like head toward the top of the canyon where a great throng of trees stood, flaring green-gold in the late afternoon light. “I will warn you if I sense any danger. But for now, we can enjoy the rest of the day in peace.”

  Cahrume whipped his great tail around and settled upon the soft sand like a great, lean lion and watched alertly as the three children began to make camp. Scede glanced at Jahrra with veiled eyes, conveying to her that he wasn’t all that happy with their current situation. Gieaun merely went about the business of unpacking Aimhe, moving mechanically as if in a trance. Neither of her friends had spoken since they’d encountered the draffyd. Jahrra hoped this was because they were too frightened they might annoy the great creature and not because they were angry with her again. They’ll have to say something eventually, she thought, both wishing for that moment and dreading it. She took a deep breath and searched for a way to break the uncomfortable silence.

  “Where does the water come from?” she asked aloud, looking up at the top of the fall as she stepped down from Phrym.

  Once again the draffyd waited a long time before answering, “The fall was once fed by a spring that flowed freely long, long ago. Now most of the water from that spring is dried up. The water you see today is the last remnants of the snow melt from the eastern mountains.”

  Cahrume looked down the twilight-painted canyon with mournful eyes. “It was very different then, in that time now past,” he almost whispered. “When we creatures of myth had nothing to fear.”

  Jahrra looked up at the great beast in sympathetic scrutiny. This was not the first time she’d seen someone gazing off into the distance with such a deep and woeful look, as if remembering some great sorrow that had never completely worn off. It made her think of all the ancient fairy tales she knew by heart, and she was starting to wonder if all of these ‘Stories of Old’ held more truth then she had previously thought. Were those stories more than just imaginary tales of brave kings and fierce dragons and the triumph of good over evil? Everyone she knew who seemed nearly as old as Ethoes herself (Hroombra, Yaraa, Viornen, Denaeh, and now this new acquaintance, Cahrume), all of them seemed to be distracted of late by something far away. It was something that happened before this time, at least, that much Jahrra could fathom. She was beginning to realize that perhaps, just perhaps, Hroombra’s and Denaeh’s tales had really taken place in the past, and that her elders may have even played some part in them.

  Jahrra watched Cahrume silently, his gaze remaining distant. He looked so sad, so old in the fading light, as if he might disappear before her very eyes like some phantasm left to haunt this place. She closed her own eyes and pictured those that she knew, those who often became disconnected with this world as the draffyd was becoming disconnected now.

  The scene she recalled was one of Hroombra sitting at his great desk. He was looking over some ancient scrolls, crisp, yellowing parchment stained black with lines and lines of Krueltish characters. Jahrra had been studying near the fire, too wrapped up in her own world to notice her worrisome mentor. When she’d finally bothered to look up, frustrated over a particularly hard problem, she had meant to pester him for help. Just before her question rolled off her tongue, however, she noticed that the great Korli dragon had wandered from his studies. His usual calm composure had been overtaken by a wearied, worn appearance. His eyes, like fathomless depths, rested themselves upon the western ocean. He looked like a weathered statue that might belong inside the Castle Ruin. Jahrra had quickly forgotten her irritation and moved on to a different question.

  Hroombra wasn’t the only one she had seen in this state, however. During many of her visits to the Belloughs, Jahrra often noticed Denaeh falling victim to some indiscernible gloom, staring off into the deep of the swamp as if anticipating the arrival of a great horror she’d been expecting for years. When the Mystic did this she didn’t necessarily look fearful, but mournful and sorry about something.

  Even Jaax seemed concerned at times. That is, when he was around long enough for her to take notice. Jahrra’s temper flared at the sudden thought of the arrogant young Tanaan dragon. It had been a long time since he’d graced Oescienne with his presence, but she didn’t regret it for one moment. Life was so much more relaxing without him standing over her shoulder and breathing down her neck about one thing or another. But she couldn’t help recalling the many times he disconnected himself with either her or Hroombra, only to gaze off into the distance thinking about Ethoes knows what.

  Jahrra sighed, brushing away a hungry mosquito as she returned her thoughts to the present. She couldn’t tell if her elders’ strange behavior had been going on for years, or if she had just begun to perceive it now that she was getting older. She sometimes felt the way they behaved: that a sense of helpless dread was slowly taking over her. She would shake it off and attribute it to the fact that she was simply picking up on the dragons’ and Mystic’s behavior. Yet, she couldn’t deny that something wasn’t quite right in her world of late, like the feeling one gets before the arrival of a storm or the slow, gradual restlessness one feels between seasons.

  “Do you see that Tree growing up there young Nesnan?”

  Jahrra’s thoughts slipped from her mind at the sound of that harsh voice. She turned her head back around to face Cahrume’s penetrating eyes. She blinked dazedly and looked up to where he was now gazing. Above the waterfall she could see the massive, black branches of a tree, twining and stretching over the cliff’s edge, reaching for the darkening sky. It was much bigger and looked ages older than the many oaks and laurels that stood next to it.

  “Yes, it looks enormous. What kind is it?”

  “That,” Cahrume said, again attempting his small smile, “is the Sacred Apple Tree of Ethoes, the first apple tree she ever created. It is the reason why I am in this canyon. I am here to watch over it, to make sure no harm comes to it.”

  Jahrra absent-mindedly reached for the armlet secured snuggly to her wrist. She had grown so used to it on her arm that she often forg
ot about it, but not today. Yaraa had told her that the beads were carved from the wood of Ethoes’ sacred trees. Could one of its beads have come from the tree up above? And how was it connected to the runes in the tunnel?

  Cahrume smiled proudly, this time his grin more apparent and surprisingly warm. “And,” he continued, “the tree that bears the fruit that Denaeh sent you for. But my guess is she sent you here for another reason, and I ask myself again, and you for that matter, why? Why would she send three young ones on such a dangerous venture to an unknown place, knowing who I am and what I might do to you three?”

  Cahrume now turned around and moved towards Jahrra. Once he was only a few feet from her, he looked her straight in the eye and asked much more seriously, “Why did she want you to come to this canyon?”

  The nearby campfire popped and several golden sparks escaped and fizzled in the cool sand. The red-orange flames danced beside each other in the draffyd’s eyes and Jahrra took a tiny step back. She felt very intimidated by Cahrume’s presence, but she wasn’t afraid. She knew he would do her no harm.

  “I have been asking myself the same thing, ever since I realized how dangerous the canyon is, and especially since I learned that she could’ve picked the apples herself. Perhaps,” Jahrra added cautiously, swallowing back an uncomfortable knot in her throat, “perhaps it has something to do with the writing and the symbols that are etched in the archway at the foot of the canyon?” She paused and took a steadying breath. “My guardian, the Korli dragon Hroombramantu, has shown me some symbols in books and manuscripts. But I’ve never seen anything like the runes on the archway before.”