The Finding

by Jenna Elizabeth Johnson

  “What is it now?” he asked in a tone that declared he was used to this silent protesting from his wife.

  “Are you sure it’s safe to send her there for the weekend? I know we’ve already discussed this a hundred times, but what if something happens, even with Nuhra and Kaihmen watching over her?”

  Abdhe took out his pipe and carefully lit it. After taking a few puffs he glanced back at his wife. “She can’t be kept safe forever, and it’s only for the weekend. Jahrra deserves to enjoy her childhood while it lasts.”

  “You’re probably right,” Lynhi sighed, getting back to her dusting. “But I can’t help but worry.”

  Abdhe smiled. “It’s a mother’s job to worry.”

  Jahrra scampered back down the stairs, complete with a small sack stuffed with what her parents could only imagine were her clothes.

  Her father smiled and kissed her on the cheek. “Be careful my dear, and have a good time.”

  Jahrra then turned to her mother, who gave her a hug. “Come home soon.”

  “I will,” said Jahrra, and then added cheerfully, “I’ll only be gone for a few days!”

  Jahrra fled out the door and flew down the path, eagerly joining her friends before Dharedth coaxed his horse into an easy gait. A wiggling, barking pack of dogs greeted the children when they finally reached the end of the long road trailing through Wood’s End Ranch. Jahrra smiled broadly as she gazed upon the ranch house she loved so much. It was built of clay brick and looked snug among the low rolling fields that made up most of the land surrounding it.

  After greeting Nuhra and Kaihmen, her friends’ parents, Jahrra, Gieaun and Scede strolled over to the stables where Phrym was kept. The semequin heard Jahrra before he saw her, poking his curious head over the top of the stable door. Jahrra grinned lovingly; he was growing so fast and becoming so tall.

  “Hi Phrym!” She ran the remaining distance to meet him. He was only five months old now, but Jahrra could hardly wait until he was old enough to ride.

  During dinner, the three friends chatted about the highlights of their school year.

  “I don’t know if I like school very much,” Jahrra answered when Nuhra asked her how her first year had gone. “The only good thing about it is Master Cohrbin and Gieaun and Scede.”

  After dinner, the three friends begged Kaihmen to tell them stories.

  “Please father, tell us about the monsters that live in the Wreing Florenn!” Scede pleaded.

  “Oh no, those tales are for tomorrow when we’re out in the wilderness,” Kaihmen answered with a grin.

  The children tried in vain to get him to budge, but he refused. Instead, he pulled out a flute and played a few songs for them until they became drowsy. Once they were all tucked into bed, however, they found it extremely hard to sleep. Jahrra couldn’t tell when she finally drifted off, but when she did, she had dreams of riding Phrym across her friends’ ranch in pursuit of the strange beasts of the Wreing Florenn.

  Morning came quickly, and before the sun showed his face, Kaihmen and Nuhra had all of the camping gear gathered and tied to the horses. They both had their own mounts, a pair of Palominos, the ranch’s trademark, while Gieaun, Jahrra and Scede shared a much older and gentler paint named Strohda. After a small breakfast of biscuits and bacon, the group set off heading west, following the road that ran through the town of Nuun Esse and past the Castle Guard Ruin.

  The trip to the lake took most of the morning, but it was one filled with color and light and sound. Once at the base of the Sloping Hill, the trio of horses made their way easily through Willowsflorn, full of yellow, brushy willow blooms in the early summer. They crossed over a wide stone bridge that lay across a chattering stream and waved energetically when they met other travelers. Birdsong and the soft whispering of branches being jostled by the breeze filled the air and the fresh, sweet smell of the wilderness tickled Jahrra’s nose. Finally, after what seemed like hours, they arrived at their destination.

  Lake Ossar wasn’t only the largest of the dune lakes, but it also had a boardwalk running straight across its width. Ossar was rimmed mainly by lazy, languid oaks with rows of willows, tangles of blackberry bushes, bunches of poison oak and forests of rushes and reeds fencing in its shore.

  “We’ll have to return later in the summer when the blackberries are ripe,” Nuhra remarked to the children riding just behind her.

  Gieaun, Scede and Jahrra all exchanged smiles of delight. Jahrra loved blackberries, especially those that were still warm from soaking in the sun. Nuhra and Kaihmen led the horses to a clearing surrounded by a few willow trees just out of reach of the boardwalk. As the adults set up camp, the three children climbed down from their horse and went running onto the wide bridge.

  “Don’t wander too far you three. Your parents will kill me if anything happens to you Jahrra!”

  But they were too thrilled and distracted to hear Kaihmen’s warning.

  Once out on the boardwalk, Jahrra could finally see the full beauty of the lake before her. The boardwalk was wide, wide enough in some spots for people to sit on benches and fish. Two empty docks, bobbing and splashing in the weak current, protruded from either side of the wooden bridge like the fins of some great sea animal. Jahrra stepped up onto one of the benches on the turnout closest to her and rested her arms on the edge of the railing, staring out in wide-eyed wonder.

  Ossar was more of a large pond than a lake, but it was breathtaking nonetheless. Scrubby woods dotted the landscape to the north and east and just a hint of creamy dunes peeked between the trees in the west. The sky was clear and the sun was shining brightly upon the small ripples of the water’s surface. The Oorn River flowed into this lake and then out into the smaller, marshier Nuun Dein until it finally spilled into the ocean.

  Jahrra’s eyes trailed the current of the river, obviously cutting along the surface of the water. Waterfowl of many shapes, sizes and colors floated along in the river’s undertow, prattling on in their bird language. Every now and then one would dive beneath the surface after something moving below, resurfacing many yards away with a tiny silver fish in its beak.

  Jahrra spotted a heron foraging among the many bunches of reeds growing in the center of the lake and a duck with her ducklings hiding on the shore. Enormous mats of submerged grasses and plants darkened the water like bruises and when Jahrra focused her eyes on one particular spot, she noticed small minnows darting about just below the surface. If she listened carefully she could detect the sound of the ocean, just a whispering murmur in the distance sending a cool breeze that brushed past her cheek, pulling a tendril of her hair with it. It smelled of salt and the uniqueness of sea and felt refreshing on this warm day. Jahrra took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She lost herself in those several minutes of observation, knowing that this place would always be special to her.

  Nuhra found the children soon after their escape from camp chores and told them that lunch was ready. When they finished eating they found the boardwalk once again, desperate for a swim. Kaihmen and Nuhra sat on one of the many benches against the railing as the three friends lowered themselves timidly into the water.

  “Be wary of the lake monster!” Kaihmen teased when they were finally fully submerged.

  “What?” spluttered Jahrra, taking in a mouthful of water as she sank. She resurfaced to tread water next to her friends. She shot them a nervous glance and the two rolled their eyes.

  “He says that every year, and he always thinks he’s going to trick us,” Gieaun said matter-of-factly, her hair spreading out like ink in the water around her. “Don’t worry, though. You’ve never been here before, so he figures he could try to scare you.”

  Jahrra relaxed when she saw that her friends weren’t about to get out of the water anytime soon, but she still stayed rather close to the pilings of the low boardwalk. After several minutes of coaxing, Gieaun and Scede talked her into swimming out to a large matt of reeds towards the middle of the lake.

  “Come on, Jahrra! E
ven if the lake monster does exist, it only comes out at night!” Scede yelled from the halfway point between the island and the boardwalk.

  “Jahrra, you’re the one who wants to go hunting for the monster that lives in the Wreing Florenn, remember!” Gieaun shouted, already standing upon the dark mud of the islet, dripping dry from her swim. “Don’t be such a scaredy cat!”

  Swallowing her fear and polishing her pride, Jahrra pushed away from the pier supports and swam vigorously towards her two friends, half frightened she would be eaten and half annoyed at herself for being such a coward. Once on the island the three of them laughed at their silliness and stretched out upon the damp soil, staring off into the deep blue sky. They watched clouds scudding by and listened for the soft crackling sound of dragonfly wings darting overhead, all the while becoming very sleepy.

  Before they could drift off to sleep in the middle of the lake, however, Nuhra called to them from the dock, reminding them it would be dark in a few hours. Jahrra had completely forgotten about the lake monster, that is, until they got back into the water. Once again she swam as quickly as she could towards the shore.

  The evening around the fire proved just as exciting as swimming in a potentially monster-infested lake. As the sky darkened and the firelight cast an orange glow upon everyone’s faces, Kaihmen began telling the ghost stories and local legends he’d promised. Jahrra listened in rapt horror as he told them of the terrible witch that lives in the Black Swamp, only a few miles from her house. It was a terrifying tale of a missing girl and her brave brother who went searching for her deep in the Wreing Florenn.

  “It happened a long time ago,” Kaihmen began dramatically, the camp fire crackling with malice between them. “The young boy thought the Witch of the Wreing took his little sister, so he went into the forest to get her back. He wandered for many hours among the frightening trees, trying to ignore the sounds of the wildlings at night.”

  Kaihmen paused for effect, and Jahrra, huddled safely under her blanket, coaxed up enough gumption to ask in a timid voice, “W-wildlings?”

  “Yes, any unnatural creature living in the wilderness of the world, we call them wildlings,” Kaihmen explained.

  Jahrra curled back up next to Gieaun and Scede, both equally as terrified as herself.

  “Now, where was I?” Kaihmen said, rubbing his chin. “Ah! Yes!” he barked, causing all three children to yelp.

  Nuhra rolled her eyes as she cleaned up the dinner dishes, thinking her husband was having far too much fun.

  “The boy wandered far into the Black Swamp until he could go no farther. When dawn finally came, the boy’s friends told their parents and the village elders what had happened and a search party was organized. Only the boldest of the village men went into the swamp looking for the poor lad. After a day of tedious searching, all they found were his tattered boots and his torn red coat.

  “From that day on, no child has ever gone into that forest and come back out again. Sometimes, even to this day, someone or something dressed in red is seen in the woods. Some believe it is the lost soul of that poor boy. Others think it is the witch, reminding people to stay out of her swamp.”

  Kaihmen finished his story, giving the children a solemn look. Jahrra shivered from the thought of it and vowed she’d never again play in the orchard alone. She looked over at her two friends, eyes wide with terror, and said in a shaking voice, “I ch-changed my mind. I don’t want to go looking for a-anything in that forest!”

  The next morning arrived in splendor, and to Jahrra’s great delight, they hadn’t been eaten in the night. After a quick breakfast and packing, the group ventured west to see the coast. Jahrra soaked in all the sights and sounds around her; the rumbling ocean and the pungent scent of sage, salt water and wild herbs. They stopped every now and again to locate a singing bird or to allow Jahrra to sketch a wildflower in her journal.

  As soon as the high piled sand flattened out and met the churning shore, the group stopped for a break to admire the view. Jahrra gazed north up the beach that expanded as far as the eye could see, and south until the sandbank crawled into the Thorbet Foothills. The spray of the surf misted her skin, sending goose-bumps up and down her arms. She laughed when Gieaun pointed out the sand pipers scurrying away from the ever encroaching water, always managing to stay a few inches ahead. Scede encouraged the girls to help him build a sand castle, and so the day passed cheerfully as they built towers and moats and walls.

  That night the family camped near another lake, Nuun Dein, and once again Kaihmen wove frightening tales of monsters and goblins. This time, he told them about the lake monster he tried to fool Jahrra with the day before.

  “But it really does exist!” he exclaimed when Gieaun and Scede tried to assure Jahrra it was all made up. “It only feeds at night and only during a full moon when it can see its victims. During the day, the monster sleeps on the bottom of the lake, in the middle where the water is deepest.”

  Jahrra quailed at the mere thought. Scede nudged her and whispered, “We’re sure he’s making it up, but if there really is a lake monster it doesn’t come out during the day, so I think we’re safe.”

  Scede did his best to look unabashed but Jahrra noticed that both he and Gieaun weren’t ready to dismiss the legend completely.

  The next day dawned as beautiful as ever, but Jahrra abhorred the fact that they’d be heading back home today. This trip had been so much fun and now it was all over. She sighed deeply as her friends stirred next to her.

  “What’s the matter?” Gieaun asked.

  “Oh,” Jahrra answered gloomily, “I just wish we could stay longer, that’s all.”

  “Don’t worry,” Scede said, still lying down with the blanket pulled around him. “It’s only the very beginning of summer and we’ve got lots of time to come back.”

  Later that day, after all had been packed and the climb up the Great Sloping Hill had passed, the horses and their riders reached the front of Jahrra’s drive. Jahrra jumped down and grabbed her bag and blanket, turning to thank Nuhra and Kaihmen for such a wonderful weekend.

  “You’re welcome, Jahrra,” Nuhra answered with a smile. “Now, you’d better get inside, I’m sure your parents will be eager to hear all about it.”

  Jahrra nodded sleepily and turned up the path, heading towards the tiny stone cabin she called home.

  After that first weekend, the summer months passed by easily. Jahrra spent most of her days with her two friends and Phrym, but when she wasn’t out riding horses and catching lizards, she was at home helping her parents with the everyday chores of a country home.

  Sometimes, when Jahrra was helping Abdhe, Lynhi would pause in the kitchen and gaze out the window only to catch sight of her husband galloping around in the tall grass like a horse with Jahrra perched upon his shoulders, laughing in delight. When this happened Lynhi would smile warmly, her arms often resting in a tub of hot, soapy dishwater. Abdhe looked so ridiculous with his glasses askew and his hair messier than ever, but the joy on his wearied face erased all thoughts of how absurd the scene appeared.

  Jahrra’s expression would be just as heartwarming. She had come home so often during the school year with a cloud over her head that it brought her mother some peace of mind to see her now. Lynhi shook her head, clucking her tongue good-heartedly as she got back to scrubbing the greasy dishes. Those two will never get any work done, she mused.

  When Jahrra wasn’t kept busy around her little cottage or at the Castle Guard Ruin learning reading and writing with Hroombra, she was at Wood’s End Ranch visiting Phrym and riding the other horses with Gieaun and Scede. Still relatively new at riding, the three friends chose calmer, older horses, and when they charged out across the fields Phrym would whinny impatiently after them.

  “I’ll be back soon!” Jahrra called, waving as her small colt watched her disappear into the distance.

  Phrym was disappointed that he had to stay behind, but so long as Jahrra came back, he was happy. Sometimes w
hen she was gone for a long time he’d make his way across the vast fields to the fence that ran along the edge of the forest. Once there, a kind stranger would sometimes come and feed him some bizarre but very tasty fruit. Somehow the young colt knew that it wasn’t such a good idea to take food from someone he didn’t know, but this creature didn’t feel dangerous, and if a semequin could count on anything, it was his instincts.

  The kind creature was there today, standing just on the edge of the woods. Phrym spotted it and picked up his pace, crying out happily as he trotted closer. This person reminded him of his best friend, Jahrra. It almost had the same shape, but it was hard to tell with all the cloth it wore.

  Once he was pressed against the fence, blowing and sniffing for his treat, the creature reached out to stroke his neck or rub his forehead, but then thought better of it. Not yet, the stranger thought, there’ll be plenty of time in the future for that.

  Phrym munched contentedly on the snack offered to him, not noticing the glint of some strange emotion flickering in the being’s eyes. Such a fine animal . . . it thought.

  Suddenly, the stranger sensed the children returning from their ride and hastily withdrew back into the forest leaving the curious Phrym to stare after it as it disappeared into the woods.

  “Patience,” the stranger whispered to the shivering trees as it crept along, “patience . . .”

  -

  Chapter Seven -

  The Stranger and the Dragons’ Court

  Jahrra yawned and stretched against the fragrant grasses growing beneath the shady fruit trees of her orchard. All of the wonderful memories of the past summer had made her sleepy and she had to fight to stay awake. She’d been thinking about the trips to Lake Ossar, her days spent playing with Phrym at Wood’s End Ranch and the half-finished tree house that sat perched like a decrepit shack in the old eucalyptus tree behind the barn. She and her friends, with the help of her father of course, had made good progress on the elevated hide-away, but it still needed much work. Next summer, she thought with rapture, we’ll have our very own tree house next summer.