Finally, she was able to pull upon a small tendril of her Mystic power. Please, she urged it, please. Just a small glimpse to know that I have not traveled this far in vain.
Against the dark canvas of her mind, a blurred image slowly shimmered into view. At first, she thought it had stalled out, but then, a figure bloomed out of the darkness. His or her back was turned toward Denaeh’s sight, but she continued to focus on the stranger. A pale shirt and a long golden braid. Relief flooded through the Mystic’s veins and made her knees weaken. Jahrra. She was alive. Other people came into view: a woman, probably five to ten years older than Jahrra, holding a little boy. A smaller creature, the fox limbit Denaeh had seen join up with Jahrra and Jaax along their journey. And one more person leading them all on horseback …
Denaeh’s heart flared, and adrenalin coursed through her blood. Was this the person the commander of the Red Flange and his skurmage had been speaking of? The one who had accompanied Jaax and Jahrra from Lidien and who had managed to evade her sight all this time? She could not believe he was finally registering as a substantial being in her vision, but he skirted around the edges of that sight, always slipping just out of view as she tried to seek him out. Who was he? Would he foil her plans? Was he working with Jaax and Jahrra, or secretly plotting against them? And most importantly, why could she not see him?
Gritting her teeth, the Mystic drew more greedily from her well of magic. It was a risk, she knew that. Taking too much of her gift so soon after encouraging it to bring half the mountain down upon the Red Flange could knock her out for several days. But, she had to know who this stranger was.
The man on the horse turned and lifted a torch. Denaeh stopped breathing. He was nothing but a dark blur at the moment, but maybe, if she could move closer … Summoning every ounce of strength she could muster, she gathered her gift of foresight and forced it forward, trying desperately to zoom in on the man’s face. She got close, ever so close, but the dark cloud surrounding him grew murkier and started to swirl, wiping away the rest of the vision with it.
“No!” she cried, as the scene grew smaller and smaller, as if being sucked down a drain. With a final, mental POP, the vision disappeared and blackness flooded her vision.
Denaeh gritted her teeth, fighting a scream as consciousness returned. She wavered, her mind dizzy and her breathing fast. If not for the obliging branch of a nearby tree, she would have had nothing to grab onto as she teetered forward.
Milihn, startled by the sudden movement of his master, grumbled and took to the air, circling around to come to rest in the tree Denaeh clung to.
She wanted to scream, to rage at the world for keeping information from her. Instead, she schooled herself into calmness, remembering that if she drew attention to herself then the game would end now. Jahrra was alive, somewhere. She and her travel companions, including the stranger who led them, had escaped the clutches of the Red Flange, for now.
“Let us go, Milihn. There is nothing here for us,” she said, her voice flat and cold.
Without a second glance back at the lost city of Cahrdyarein, Denaeh turned and headed back down the mountain, seeking out a path that would lead her to Nimbronia where she hoped she would find Jahrra safe and unharmed.
-Chapter Nineteen-
Through the Serpent’s Tomb
A light touch to her shoulder and the sound of her name brought Jahrra abruptly awake. She breathed in sharply and shot up into a sitting position.
“What is it?” she rasped, trying to shake the fogginess from her mind. Why did her eyes feel gummy, and why did she have a hard time recalling the day before?
“Calm yourself, Jahrra,” Ellyesce whispered. “It’s morning and time to get moving. We should be reaching the end of the cavern in another two or three days.”
Jahrra dug the heel of one hand into her eye and yawned, relaxing back into her bedroll. Although she, and everyone else save for Ellyesce, had lost track of the time they had spent in the Serpent’s Tomb, their leader had somehow kept them informed of the days they’d traveled. Jahrra attributed it to his strange and mysterious magic.
“Come on, Jahrra,” he said, a little more loudly, standing up. “I’m going to go wake everyone else, so you need to be ready in fifteen minutes.”
Jahrra groaned and nodded, rolling over and reluctantly pushing herself up from the ground as carefully as she could. Despite the rough journey, the swelling in her knee had lessened since their flight from Cahrdyarein, and the gash in her leg had started to itch. Both good signs, even if regaining full health was a long ways off.
Concern for her guardian, along with Pendric and Keiron, had also weighed heavily on her mind for the past handful of days. But, they would know nothing until they reached Nimbronia. With much careful determination, Jahrra packed up her bedroll and hobbled over to Phrym’s side, securing her loose items to his saddle. He nosed her curiously, wondering where his breakfast was, and with a reluctant smile, Jahrra fed him some oats.
“At least, I don’t have to worry about you,” she murmured as she ran a hand over his velvety nose.
A few minutes later, everyone was mounted up and moving once again. Ellyesce had readied a few torches and passed one back to Jahrra, asking if she’d be willing to carry it for a while. She agreed, happy to have something, even this mundane task, to keep her mind occupied for the time being.
As he had done for the past several days, Ellyesce led the way with Jahrra and Phrym taking up the rear. Whinsey and Erron were on the horse in front of her, and ahead of them Dervit snoozed between the packs secured to Rumble’s back. The limbit had been quiet for most of the trip, jumping slightly at every small sound and miniscule movement in the shadows of the narrow tunnel. Jahrra couldn’t tell whether he was afraid of the near-constant dark or the closeness of the cavern walls. She couldn’t blame him. She was feeling a little suffocated herself. When Dervit eventually woke from his nap, Jahrra encouraged Phrym to step forward to keep him company.
“I didn’t get a chance before to thank you,” she said, just loud enough for the limbit to hear her.
Dervit arched a brow and gave her a quizzical look.
“If not for you, we never would have escaped Cahrdyarein in time. All of us,” she indicated Ellyesce, Whinsey and Erron as well as herself, “would have most likely died or been captured. You have been such a gift to us, Dervit. Not only have you saved us from harm on many occasions, but you have proven to be one of the most loyal friends I’ve ever known. I know I can always trust in you, no matter what lies before us.”
Dervit bit his bottom lip and turned away. Jahrra thought her praise had embarrassed him, at least until he turned to look at her once more, his eyes full of guilt.
“Jahrra, I–” he began quietly, but Ellyesce cut him off.
“Jahrra, Dervit, why don’t you tell our new friends about our travels? It might help distract us all from the gloom.”
He turned to acknowledge Whinsey and her son. Pendric’s wife gave an appreciative grin and ran a hand over Erron’s head. Both mother and son had been very quiet the entire trip so far, and Jahrra had gotten the feeling the two of them felt awkward among their traveling companions. Maybe sharing a few tales between them might make mother and son feel more welcome.
“What do you think, Erron? Would you like to hear about Jahrra’s and Dervit’s adventures?”
The boy, who had been nestled in close to his mother, nodded vigorously. Jahrra had been too distracted by Dervit’s unease earlier that she hadn’t noticed Erron’s. He looked just as frightened and nervous about being stuck in a cavern as the limbit did, and probably missed his father more than anything. Ellyesce’s suggestion was a good one. It was just too bad he’d made it when he did. She was certain Dervit was about to tell her something. Oh well. Perhaps he’d remember to do so later.
Dervit gave Ellyesce a nervous smile, but said, “Alright.”
For the rest of that day, Jahrra and Dervit traveled side by side, trading recollec
tions of their journey so far and doing a splendid job of distracting Erron. He leaned forward in front of his mother, stretched out on their horse’s neck like a cat as they plodded along. Jahrra swiftly got lost in her own story and soon forgot about that gnawing fear regarding Jaax and the others. She told Erron and Whinsey stories about her childhood in Oescienne and about all her adventures with Gieaun and Scede. She painted them a vivid picture of Hroombra and everything he had taught her. She even regaled them with the escapade into the Wreing Florenn when she’d hunted down the dreaded witch, and the time she’d knocked a scale free of Jaax’s finger.
“Truly?” Erron asked with wide eyes. He had seen Jaax in Cahrdyarein, but he had been quite frightened of the large dragon.
“I did,” Jahrra said with a smile, “and he had it put on a pendant for me.”
She pulled out the chain she kept tucked beneath her shirt and showed it to him. The granite-like scale caught the flickering torchlight and sparkled slightly, reflecting back green, gold, copper and blue.
“Wow,” Erron murmured, entirely taken by the scale.
“That is quite a prize, indeed. And, a rare gift,” Whinsey commented.
Jahrra glanced up to find the woman smiling at her. There was an odd look in her dark eyes, but Jahrra couldn’t place it.
“It’s a constant reminder that I once outmaneuvered a dragon,” she added, before tucking the scale safely back beneath her tunic.
And so, they traveled this way for the remainder of the day, with Dervit telling his stories next. Later that afternoon, Ellyesce called an early halt, claiming they were nearing the exit point closest to Nimbronia.
“I’d rather we approach the city in broad daylight and not under the shadows of night. The dragon king of the Creecemind has many spies and has most likely heard news of Cahrdyarein’s plight.” The elf’s eyes darkened. “The city’s sentries will not view travelers in the night as benevolent.”
Jahrra was just as grateful. The long days of travel had taken their toll, and whatever spell Ellyesce had cast to help her injured leg was starting to wear off, despite her relative pain-free start to the day. When she dismounted Phrym a few minutes later, she couldn’t help but suck in a sharp breath of pain. Immediately, Dervit was by her side.
“It’s your leg, isn’t it?” he asked, his tone heavy with remorse.
Jahrra clenched her teeth but shook her head. “Not your fault,” she reminded him. “And it only really started bothering me a few hours ago.”
“Here,” Ellyesce called from across the cavern, “you’ll have to use this for the rest of our journey.”
He pulled a length of secured cloth from his saddlebags and began to unfurl it, revealing a crooked stick. Ellyesce tossed it to Jahrra and, leaning most of her weight against Phrym to take it off her leg, she caught the makeshift crutch with both hands.
“There is a fissure in the cavern a quarter of a mile up. I’m going to see if I can get an idea of what is happening on the surface, and maybe even scrounge up some firewood and something to eat. Whinsey, you are in charge while I’m gone.”
Pendric’s wife nodded, the dark curls of her hair bouncing a little. Even after several days spent in this gloomy, dank tunnel, she had manage to stay mostly grime-free.
“Dervit, Erron, see if you can get a spot cleared out for us to sleep tonight. And build a fire pit as well. When you’re done with that, tend to the horses.”
Dervit and Erron both nodded, getting to work right away.
Ellyesce turned to leave but Jahrra called after him.
“And am I to sit here and do nothing?”
There was a bite to her tone, and Ellyesce couldn’t help but smile a little. He nodded his head, and when Jahrra took a breath to argue, he held up a hand.
“You have already put too much pressure on that leg. You must rest it. The physicians in Nimbronia are some of the best in Ethoes, but they aren’t miracle workers. If you damage it too much, you will end up crippled.”
The prospect of never walking, running, sword-fighting, or even riding again convinced Jahrra to shut her mouth and lower herself onto a nearby shelf of rock.
Ellyesce smiled. Well, that had been easy. He turned and pulled his cloak from one of the saddle bags, then retrieved his bow and quiver.
“I shouldn’t be more than two hours,” he promised. He took a step forward, then paused and turned back to face his traveling companions.
“Should I not return by tomorrow morning, keep following this cavern for another handful of hours. When it begins to curve sharply to the right, you need to continue on straight through the smaller tunnel. That cave leads to the exit. From there, you must take the trail up the mountain. This will bring you to the southern gates of Nimbronia. Tell them who you are and show them this.”
Ellyesce reached into the front of his shirt and drew out something on a long, thin silver chain. He lifted it over his head and threw it to Jahrra. She caught it and glanced down at the metal pendant dangling on the end. It was difficult to see in the dim light provided by the torch Whinsey held, but she thought she caught the familiar outline of a flower.
“Put that somewhere safe,” Ellyesce insisted.
Jahrra nodded and looped it over her head, tucking the pendant away with her dragon scale.
“I’ll just keep an eye on it for you,” she said, not letting herself think anything could happen to Ellyesce.
It had taken her a long time to finally trust him, but now he was as dear to her as her old friends back in Oescienne and Lidien. She regretted momentarily losing confidence in him when she had dreamt of that memory, but like so many other things, it was in the past.
After Ellyesce left, Jahrra was forced to sit back and watch the others work while she rested. Although she understood she would help no one if she tried to aid them while injured, sitting still made her restless. Fortunately, Phrym kept her company by nipping at her jacket and nudging her with his nose, looking for treats.
“Enough, Phrym,” she said lightly, rubbing her hand down his forehead. “There can be no treats until we reach Nimbronia, and there might not be any there, either.”
In time, Whinsey, Erron and Dervit managed to clear out a nice camping spot for them, complete with a sizeable fire pit constructed of stones the limbit and small boy had scavenged from the cavern. Deciding she had been sitting for long enough, Jahrra took up her crutch and limped over to another rocky ledge closer to the campsite.
“These caverns go on forever,” Erron said in a rare spate of loquaciousness.
“Caverns can do that,” she said, smiling at the boy. “But, we don’t have to worry about getting lost in them. Ellyesce has kept us on the shallowest layer. You can tell by the occasional cracks in the outer walls.”
She indicated one small fissure some twenty feet above their heads where weak sunlight spilled in. The pockmarks and splits in the cavern walls had come and gone along their journey, but here, near the end, they were picking up in number, making Jahrra feel as if they walked amid a tube of lace contrived entirely of earth.
Erron came to sit down across from Jahrra, crossing his legs and gazing up at her with curious eyes. She didn’t know the boy too well, only that he was Pendric’s son and had tended to keep a low profile during training sessions in Cahrdyarein.
“Did you really fight with Lord Jaax?” he asked.
Jahrra grinned and gave him a sideways glance. “I did,” she admitted. “When I was a little older than you. Before Jaax became my guardian, I had another dragon warden, Hroombramantu. Jaax would come see us from time to time and on this particular visit, he insisted on taking me out into a great field to test my fighting skills. He got the better of me two times in a row, but on the third attack, I got ahead of his guard.”
Erron nodded, then gazed at the empty fire pit. Something was bothering him, Jahrra could tell, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.
“He’s a very large dragon,” the boy continued in a small voice. “He co
uld defeat anyone if he wanted to. He could frighten away the red soldiers.”
And then, it hit her. Erron was worried about his father. Her heart clenched, and she desperately wanted to sit beside him so she could comfort him, but her leg wouldn’t allow her to. Instead, she drew in a deep breath and said, “Erron, look at me.”
He obeyed her, his eyes large and full of emotion. He was pale as well, Jahrra noticed, and he was trying so hard to be brave. Hoping she wasn’t making a mistake, she took a breath and said in a strong voice, “Before we left Cahrdyarein, I made Jaax promise he’d bring your father with him when he made his escape. Jaax and I have not always gotten along, but he has always kept his promises, do you understand me?”
With a quivering lip, Erron bobbed his head. He wouldn’t look at Jahrra after that, but it wasn’t something she could help.
“It will be okay, Erron. I bet Jaax and your father are waiting for us in Nimbronia, and we’ll see them tomorrow.”
The boy nodded somberly, and Jahrra sent a silent prayer to Ethoes that she hadn’t just given him, or herself for that matter, false hope.
* * *
Ellyesce arrived back from his excursion an hour and a half after leaving his travel companions. His bow was unstrung and draped across his shoulders, a brace of what looked like squirrels hanging from each end.
“I didn’t sense any trouble for at least fifteen miles out,” the elf said, sounding cheerful.
He removed the bow from his back and sliced the ropes holding the animals so they fell in a heap in front of the empty fire pit.
“And, there were plenty of these little critters running around that it was easy enough to hunt them.”
“What is the weather like?” Whinsey asked, coming over with Erron to hear Ellyesce’s news.
She had taken herself and her son off to a secluded corner to try and clean up a little. Now that Ellyesce was back, Jahrra assumed she was eager to do her part to help the group once again.
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