The Beginning

by Jenna Elizabeth Johnson

  Yes, the dragon and the girl had spoken many times and the foreigner had heard them, but that old Korli lizard had never told the girl, or anyone else for that matter, that she was human. But he would keep the truth from her, for her own safety. Its lip twisted in thought. And why would an old dragon be so concerned about a Nesnan child in the first place?

  The creature spat, curling its lips in disgust. It hated Nesnans, hated all beings of Elvish descent for that matter. But here it was, thousands upon thousands of miles away from home, following a girl around like a starved flea, waiting for the right time to bite. No, a dragon shouldn’t be concerned with a Nesnan child. Unless . . . unless she was really a human.

  Yet, there was still so much doubt. Nesnans had enough human blood in them to deceive anyone who had never seen a true human before, and this particular foreigner had been born after the fall of the Tanaan. The only way to be sure was to wait for the dragon to say something or for the girl herself to claim she was human. Until that moment, the creature would continue to watch from a distance and continue to be silent, waiting until it could make its move. Slowly and quietly, the spy crept back into the silent woods, and as it did so, the horses stopped dead and looked straight into the trees, their chests rumbling with abject alarm.

  “What is it?” Scede asked rather frantically, tensing up to match Bhun’s attitude.

  “The horses must have smelled or heard something,” Jahrra whispered harshly, her eyes wide with fear. “Let’s just keep moving. The sooner we get away from here the better.”

  They urged their horses into a faster pace, and after several nervous minutes, they finally reached the trail that led through the hills and into the Longuinn Valley.

  “Oh, finally!” Gieaun breathed, looking truly relieved for the first time the entire day. “C’mon, let’s not stop–”

  But she was cut off when she noticed Jahrra staring wide-eyed into the forest. Both Gieaun and Scede followed her gaze and suddenly caught sight of what she had seen. Just beyond the edge of the Cohn Forest there stood a unicorn, a real live unicorn. This rare sight quickly brought Jahrra’s memory rushing back to the day she had found the unicorns in the Wreing Florenn, and she couldn’t help but stare, her body rigid with excitement. This one was just as beautiful as the others and it looked like a mare, coppery red in color. The lovely creature lifted her graceful head and noticed the three riders and their horses standing stark still, gazing at her in mesmerized wonder.

  “Wow!” Gieaun whispered breathlessly.

  Scede just gawked, not believing what he was seeing.

  Jahrra swallowed hard, her thoughts lost among her disbelief. She felt Phrym tense below her, knowing he would want to move towards this other animal, this creature whose blood called out to his. And Jahrra would have let him, despite the fact that approaching the magical animal would mean crossing the macabre barrier that surrounded the Cohn Forest.

  Phrym moved to step forward, but every one of his muscles tensed and a bone-chilling fear gripped Jahrra’s stomach as a baleful howling filled the air. The unicorn stiffened only for a moment, then took off deeper into the forest as several horrifying creatures broke through the undergrowth, their evil intent obvious.

  The monsters, visions from Jahrra’s worst nightmare, barreled down on the graceful animal and although the unicorn disappeared over a small rise in the land before she could witness its demise, Jahrra had no doubt that the demonic wolves had captured it. A strangled whinny, sounding like a glass chime breaking upon a stone floor, was quickly overshadowed by snarls and growls. Jahrra felt the blood drain from her face.

  A few of the beasts, those in the back of the pack, were forced away from the kill. Having nothing better to do, they lifted their heads, scenting the wind, and immediately snapped their attention on Jahrra and her friends. They had no eyes, that was the first thing Jahrra noticed, or at least it seemed so. They were almost as big as the unicorn they had just killed and along their back ran a ridge of protruding bones. Their faces were grotesque; a mixture of skull and rotting skin, and their teeth were like those of a bear.

  “Run!” Jahrra hissed, barely above a whisper.

  The corpse-like wolves hunkered down and started to lope swiftly in her direction, looking like the shadows of demons moving to emerge from the forest.

  “RUN!” Jahrra repeated to her fear-stricken friends as she simultaneously kicked Phrym into a break-neck pace while turning him around.

  The snarls and snaps of the pack followed Jahrra as Phrym flew down the dirt road, Gieaun and Scede barely a pace ahead of her.

  “There!” Jahrra shouted breathlessly. “The road leading to Longuinn!”

  Gieaun and Scede turned their terrified horses west up the winding road as Jahrra caught up to them. She didn’t dare look back, for she could hear the blood-curdling howls of the demonic beasts that had been left behind, now joining their brethren for this new hunt.

  Just as Jahrra thought they’d make the crest of the hill, one of the monsters leapt up and grabbed Scede’s leg, pulling him as easily from his horse as if he were a sack of flour. The force of the attack slammed Bhun into Phrym, both horses screaming in fear and slowing to a nervous walk. Jahrra grunted from the impact, wincing at the small pain that lanced through her leg.

  “Scede!” she screamed as she turned to find the pack descending on her friend.

  Without thinking, she slid from Phrym and slapped his rump so that he would run ahead with Gieaun and the other horses. She pulled her bow over her head and an arrow from her quiver. She smoothly nocked the arrow, took aim and shot.

  As the missile broke free of the bowstring, a brilliant stream of yellow-orange light flashed down its shaft, speeding its flight and directing it between the ribs of the monster that still had a hold of Scede, hitting exactly where the heart would be, if it had a heart. Jahrra didn’t think that it did. The horrible creature yelped in pain, dropping Scede’s leg and collapsing to lie motionless in the dirt.

  Jahrra swallowed hard and strung another arrow, not at all feeling guilty about taking the lives of these terrible beasts. She drew back her bowstring as Scede scrambled painfully towards her, the both of them backing up into the gnarled roots and arms of an oak tree growing along the side of the road. Its heavy trunk and branches grew close to the ground, and Jahrra cursed when she realized it also grew against a small embankment.

  “We’re trapped!” she hissed in irritation and fear.

  Scede merely gulped and nodded, his ashen face and fear-stricken eyes watching the approach of the evil creatures, some still stained with the unicorn’s blood.

  Jahrra took aim and shot, the same brilliant light flaring as the arrow found its mark. Another of the skeleton wolves fell down, but there were so many. One of them howled, making Jahrra’s skin crawl and bones shiver. She backed up slowly and felt for another arrow, but her quiver was empty. She reached down and removed her trusty dagger from her boot, brandishing it as if it were a sword. Her stomach fell even further. There was no way that such a small weapon would be able to defend them against this pack. Her one consolation, however, was the knowledge that none of these animals had followed Gieaun.

  Surrounded with nowhere else to go, Jahrra and Scede moved closer to the tree. Perhaps we could climb. Jahrra thought in desperation. But she knew the branches weren’t high enough to escape the reach of the pack. The rough, cool touch of bark shocked her when the fingers of her other hand finally found the tree they were being corralled into. It was over. They had nowhere else to go; they were going to die.

  Jahrra secretly prayed that Gieaun would keep moving; hoping that her loyal friend wouldn’t come back to help them. Then she would die too, Jahrra thought bitterly. As the wolves drew closer, the acrid stench of rotting flesh accompanying them, Jahrra flattened herself completely against the oak tree and felt Scede do the same. Her heart struggled to break free of her ribcage and sweat stung her eyes. She reached for her friend’s arm, grabbing it too tightly for c
omfort. But Scede didn’t mind and for that one instant she felt his muscles relax.

  This is it, she thought. She waited for the impact, for the air to be driven from her lungs, for the saber-like teeth to sink into her flesh. She waited to feel the pain race down her nerves until she would feel no more, but all she felt was a warm tingling sensation running up her left arm. The sensation heightened and spread, giving her goose bumps and causing her breath to catch. She opened her eyes and saw that the monsters had stopped their approach, their heads turning and their tails lashing in irritation. My bracelet.

  Jahrra eased her stance and held her dagger out before her in a move she would never have attempted if she hadn’t been sure the wolves wouldn’t attack. She bent carefully and re-sheathed her dagger, never once letting any part of her break contact with the oak tree.

  “Jahrra,” Scede gulped, his voice heavy with fear and pain, “what are you doing?!”

  Jahrra ignored him and reached down, picking up a rock. The beasts snarled and snapped, causing Jahrra to jump slightly and Scede to cry out and slump to the ground. The stone, about the size of a pear, felt right in her hand, and without a further thought, Jahrra drew her arm back and threw. The rock jolted through the air, pressed on by a flash of pink light. It hit the closest wolf’s snout with a nasty crack. The beast yelped and howled, scratching at the hole the stone had left in its jaw.

  Keeping her back to the tree, Jahrra picked up several more stones, throwing them with all her might, hardly pausing to take a breath. Some of the magic-enhanced missiles met their targets, some of them did not, but they were enough to drive the wolves away. When the last two beasts limped off into the edge of the forest, Jahrra let out the breath she had been holding, sliding down beside Scede, every last muscle seeming to have disintegrated.

  Jahrra looked over at her friend. His face was ashen and his hair was damp with sweat, but it was his eyes that were the most telling.

  “I thought we were dead,” he whispered. “I was sure of it.”

  Jahrra had never seen her friend so shaken, and she couldn’t blame him. She was also pretty sure she looked about as bedraggled as he did. She picked up her left arm, feeling several pounds heavier than normal, and draped it over his shoulders. Scede let his head slump against Jahrra’s.

  “I thought so too,” she responded, her voice weak and raw.

  “How did you do it?” Scede asked after a moment of silence. “How did you call on the magic?”

  Jahrra took a deep breath. “I honestly don’t know,” she answered truthfully. She took back her arm and held out her wrist. “But I think it has something to do with my bracelet.”

  Scede lifted his head and eyed it with renewed interest. “Did you know it contained magic?”

  “No,” Jahrra said. “No, I didn’t.”

  Before they could consider it any further, the sound of horse hooves reached their ears, and a few moments later Gieaun came trotting down the road, Bhun and Phrym in tow. As soon as she spotted her brother and friend, Gieaun burst into tears, falling from Aimhe and collapsing on both of them, pressing them uncomfortably against the oak tree.

  No one spoke for a long time, all three of them glad the others were still alive.

  “Cahrume was right!” Gieaun sobbed. “We need to get away from that forest!”

  Jahrra couldn’t have said it better herself. The girls worked together to get Scede back onto Bhun, his leg miraculously unbroken but sore.

  “Thank Ethoes my boots are thick,” he said weakly.

  The creature that had grabbed him hadn’t ever had a good grip on his skin, but Jahrra was sure the bruises would be severe and he would have to rest his leg for a while before he could put his full weight on it again.

  Once everyone was mounted on their still twitchy horses, Jahrra turned one last time to eye the vile animals she had managed to kill.

  “Thank Ethoes you have good aim, Jahrra,” Gieaun whispered.

  The corpses looked like they were already beginning to decompose, appearing more haggard and rotten than when they were alive. Jahrra squinted at them more closely, her skin prickling in horror. They looked like the remains of things that had been long dead, unearthed and asked to walk among the living again.

  “What are they?” Scede wondered, daring to move his nervous horse a step closer.

  “I don’t know,” Jahrra answered. “But I don’t want to be anywhere near them. Let’s get out of here.”

  The three of them opted for riding their horses hard, their goal to reach the Wreing Florenn by nightfall so they wouldn’t have to camp out in the hills. By early twilight they were well into the great forest, seeking refuge from the swollen rainclouds that had slowly moved in from the coast. At any moment the sky could open up and leave them stranded in a downpour.

  “Can you believe this?” Jahrra noted as she squinted up at the heavy clouds. “First the attack on the edge of the Cohn Forest and now a storm. We’ve had the worst luck!”

  “We’ll have to find somewhere to camp,” Scede stated. He had ridden the whole day through without complaining. Jahrra worried he might be angry at her. This trip had been one disaster after another, the last one almost ending in their deaths. She furrowed her brow and glanced around, trying to think of a solution. In the fading light she spotted a familiar grove of black oak trees peeking their heads over a rise in the land.

  “Look,” Jahrra said, pointing northward, “there’s the Black Swamp. We can stay with Denaeh tonight, I’m sure she won’t mind. It would be better than sleeping out here in the rain at least.”

  Gieaun and Scede gave each other a hesitant look, but said nothing. Jahrra was sure of what they were thinking, and she had a sneaking suspicion it was the same thing that was on her mind: if those monsters had any desire to come after them, they would have a much better chance if they were sleeping inside of Denaeh’s cave that outside of it.

  “Besides,” Jahrra braved against the silence, giving a begrudging pat to Phrym’s stuffed saddle bags, “I have to give her these apples.”

  “Oh, yes, the apples. The reason we went on this cursed camping trip in the first place,” Scede grumbled quietly as he reached down to rub his swollen leg.

  Jahrra remained silent. “I’m sure she never meant for any of that to happen,” she said after some time.

  “Of course not,” Scede said spitefully. “She never means for anything dangerous to happen when she suggests it, it just does.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Jahrra asked, her face a mixture of slight anger and confusion.

  But before Scede could respond and before the situation could escalate, Gieaun stepped in.

  “Look, we like Denaeh, we really do, but there’s something strange about her, Jahrra. I think it was very wrong of her to ask you to go to Ehnnit Canyon.”

  She turned in Aimhe’s saddle to face her brother, and with a pleading look continued in a harsh whisper that a peeved Jahrra couldn’t really hear over the sound of the brewing rainstorm.

  “I don’t completely trust her either, Scede. But like Jahrra said, she wouldn’t mind us staying, and we do need a place to stay for the night. It would be safer than staying out in the forest at least.”

  Once again, Gieaun was able to make peace between her brother and her friend and soon they were heading towards the Black Swamp. Denaeh greeted them like she always did, dressed as an old woman in ragged clothing. As soon as she recognized them, however, she faded into her more youthful, charming self, despite the dismal weather.

  “Ahhh!” she cried cheerfully, topaz eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “What brings you all here on this lovely day?”

  She knew very well what had brought them, for she had sensed it with their approach, but she always liked to give them the benefit of the doubt.

  “I brought your apples,” Jahrra said plainly, jerking her head toward her saddle bags.

  Denaeh faked surprise. “On a day like this, and so late in the afternoon?”

&nbs
p; “We were actually on our way home from Ehnnit Canyon,” Scede answered curtly, his eyes avoiding the Mystic’s.

  Denaeh stood back with her arms crossed low, her hands gently grasping her elbows and her mouth screwed up in careful consideration. She knew very well that this Resai boy didn’t like nor trust her. Suspicious boy, she mused. He believes my motives might not have been in Jahrra’s best interests. I hope his loyalty doesn’t turn into an inconvenience.

  “We would have camped in the hills last night and made our way home tomorrow,” he continued, interrupting her thoughts, “but we were attacked.”

  As if to emphasize this, Scede slid from his horse and landed with a grunt, favoring his left leg.

  Denaeh’s eyes flashed.

  “Attacked?” she asked, moving towards the boy. “Attacked by what?”

  “We don’t know,” Gieaun said, looking to her friend.

  “Wolves, or something like them. They were horrible and huge and looked like nothing I’ve ever seen in Oescienne,” Jahrra said. “But only Scede was hurt.”

  “That is a lucky thing,” Denaeh said quietly. “But come, if you have wolves on your trail, we must get inside, for the Deepening Twilight is nearly upon us.”

  “The Deepening Twilight?” Gieaun asked cautiously as she climbed down from Aimhe.

  “Yes, my dear, the Deepening Twilight. It’s the time of day when the troubled souls of the departed roam the earth, trying to find their way home to the afterlife. I wouldn’t be surprised if these wolves of yours are of the same ilk.”