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

by Jenna Elizabeth Johnson

  “Jahrra, hold up,” Jaax called out behind her, startling her from her dismal thoughts.

  She paused and turned. They were both still clad in their armor, but Jahrra had removed her helmet, the metal shell tucked under one arm. Arching a brow at her guardian, she asked, “Yes?”

  He waited until he was standing right in front of her before speaking, and even then, several heartbeats passed before he took a breath and said, “You should get some sleep, while you can.”

  Jahrra furrowed her brow. He was behaving oddly, had been for a while. Jaax had always been a paranoid dragon, overbearing and overprotective, but the way he’d been acting lately … As if he had already resigned himself to some awful fate.

  With great effort, Jahrra quashed down that idea before it had a chance to grow wings and take flight. It was only her own fear taking shape and doing its best to haunt and distract her. Nothing else. She squared her shoulders and stood at her full height.

  “Very well,” she vowed, “but only if you promise to do the same. You look worn to the bone.”

  That actually drew a small laugh from him. “Point taken, Jahrra. I had better get some rest before I become an invalid. Then, you’ll be the one looking after me.”

  She crossed her arms, a little difficult due to the stiff leather armor.

  “And what would be wrong with that?” she demanded. “I took care of Hroombra when I was old enough to do so.”

  Jaax’s smirk turned into something more tender, and Jahrra’s breath caught. Now that was not a familiar expression on her guardian’s face. She didn’t know quite how to take it. Again, that nagging feeling that he was preparing for the worst poked at the back of her mind. It was an effort, this time, to brush it aside.

  “You would do that, wouldn’t you? Take care of me if, for some reason, I became an ailing dragon unable to look after myself?”

  Tears sprang to her eyes, and a painful lump formed in her throat. She cleared the emotion away as best she could and said, all joking aside, “Of course I would, Jaax. How could you ever think I wouldn’t? Until my very last breath, remember?”

  He nodded, that strange smile still present on his face.

  “Yes, I do remember. And until mine.”

  He gave her a slight bow of his head, then drew in a deep breath through his nostrils, snapping them both out of the strange, sentimental mood threatening to overwhelm them.

  “I’m going to go find some idle soldiers to help me out of this armor, then I’m going to take your advice. I’ll see you after you wake.”

  And with that, he turned to walk away.

  “Until then,” Jahrra said to his retreating form before seeking out her own tent, her eyes heavy but her heart, surprisingly, calm and filled with a welcome warmth.

  -Chapter Nineteen-

  Waiting for War

  For nearly a week, the allied forces of Ethoes camped upon the frost-bitten plain of western Ghorium. Tents had been pitched to protect them against the elements, but the incessant wind and occasional sleet peeled back the tough canvas or seeped through patches that hadn’t been properly oiled against the rain. Regardless of the general misery, the troops found ways to keep warm, and with dragons in their company, they needn’t fear a lack of fire. As the days crawled by, random bands of men and women, Nesnan, Resai, and full-blooded elves joined them.

  When a company of nearly five hundred Hrunahn elves arrived with their king and queen at dusk on the third day, Farian, who had traveled with the group, insisted on a celebratory bonfire. Jahrra worried it might signal to the enemy that they were planning to attack, but when the fourth day dawned and stretched on into the pale gray hours towards late afternoon, she relaxed. The Tyrant and his army remained on the eastern side of the Noryen River without even sending a single Morli scout to spy on their activity.

  The dragons kept busy by flying to the Noryen and back throughout the day in shifts, but by the morning of the fifth day, Jaax had grown restless.

  “I don’t like that we haven’t seen a single scout on the opposite side of the river. I think we need to fly farther in,” he groused to his Tanaan and Korli brethren.

  “Perhaps, the Mystic was correct in her presumptions regarding Ciarrohn’s motives,” Tollorias responded.

  They had gathered together about half a mile away from the main encampment, well out of earshot of anyone who might overhear them. It wasn’t just Jaax who had grown suspicious. Vandrian and his advisors and many of the war generals had been meeting in the king’s tent on and off now for at least three days. Jaax had been there for many of those meetings, as well as Sapheramin, Tollorias, Ellyesce, Denaeh, and even Jahrra. Planning, strategizing, trying to think of every possible scenario as they waited for the final signal to cross the Noryen and engage their enemy. What signal that might be, nobody knew. Denaeh had been questioned more than once about the arrival of the Creecemind, and all she could tell them was she knew they would be there, not when. Frustrated and uneasy, Vandrian had proclaimed that as soon as the last few war bands arrived, they’d make their move against Ghorium.

  “We cannot wait here forever,” he’d announced, when several of those present at one of his assemblies made their complaints known. “Your fighters grow restless. If we linger too long, someone will do something foolish and put all our planning to waste. We cannot risk engaging the enemy as a broken unit, and we cannot risk losing those who already have doubts about fighting. We must engage the Tyrant at the opportune time, and that time has come. One more day we’ll allow our allies time to arrive. If not, they can join us once the battle has begun.”

  Jaax had watched Jahrra carefully as the king of Dhonoara made his final declaration. He’d watched as her face had paled at the prospect of true combat. But, she had not faltered as she’d left the king’s tent. She had kept a brave face as she returned to her own corner of the war camp. And, when she’d found Dervit, Dathian, and Haedron waiting for her with a set of Astral cards, he had watched as she joined them, a smile on her face. She had exuded joy for her friends and would not let the fear overtake her. And in that moment, he was so very tempted to pick her up and fly her far away from the frozen moors and flatlands of Ghorium. He would leave her somewhere safe, in Nimbronia, or Lidien, or even fly her all the way back to Oescienne. And, he would gladly return and face the fate Denaeh had foreseen for him, if it meant Jahrra would not have to face such horrors.

  Drawing in a shuddering breath, Jaax turned back to his companions.

  “So, who is willing to accompany me to Vruuthun?”

  Silence greeted him for several heartbeats, then Tollorias growled, “I’ll go with you, but if we spot approaching Morli, or see anything that can give us a clue as to what the Tyrant is up to, we turn around and head back.”

  Jaax’s mouth tightened. “Agreed.”

  “I’ll go as well,” Andorias, a bronze-scaled Tanaan dragon volunteered.

  Jaax ducked his head in thanks.

  “Us, too,” a nearly black Korli dragon intoned, indicating himself and a younger Korli standing beside him.

  Jaax stood from his sitting position and stretched out his wings. “Five is a good number,” he commented, then turned to address the dozen or so other dragons who had agreed to meet with him at such an early hour. “Thank you for hearing me out. I’ll need the rest of you to keep an eye on the camp, especially Jahrra. We should not be gone for more than three hours, five at the most. If we are not back by then, you may send out scouts in pairs every hour. If the first few pairs do not return, however, assume the worst and prepare to march, even if Vandrian’s final day of waiting is not up.”

  Tollorias turned to pay his mate farewell, and Jaax heard Sapheramin swear to make it her personal responsibility to watch Jahrra. Before taking to the air, Jaax added over his shoulder, “Sapheramin?”

  She leaned away from Tollorias, her features barely discernible in the early morning gloom.

  “Do not tell Jahrra where I’ve gone. She’ll only worry.
”

  A slight duck of the Korli’s head informed Jaax she would do his bidding. Before he could let his own concern weigh him down, he launched himself into the sky and led the three Korli and one Tanaan dragon in a northeasterly direction.

  For half an hour, the sky remained nearly black, but gradually the sun brought some light into the world. Below, the endless plain of Ghorium stretched for miles. As they crossed the Noryen, it’s surface a dark green line carving out the boundary between Tuhrbaa and Soehel, Jaax quickly scanned the world below for Cierryon’s soldiers. Not until they had turned due north, following the Noryen as it crept along the base of the western arm of the Lesser Frozen Mountains did he begin to notice evidence of a king preparing for war. Spreading from the foothills of the mountains to the east like some foul disease, the armies of Vruuthun stained the ground scarlet and black. Jaax’s heart dropped. If he had to estimate their number, he’d say it neared fifteen thousand, and most likely, surpassed that amount. The Coalition boasted a force of seven thousand at the most. And, when he factored in the Morli dragons and whatever other foul manner of beast and monster the Tyrant had conjured up over the past five centuries, the allies of Ethoes didn’t stand a chance.

  Gritting his teeth, Jaax banked right to move in closer to the hilltops. His companions swiftly followed suit. If any Morli dragons were keeping watch, it would be harder to see the smaller dragons if they flew lower to the ground. They had been sticking close to the western side of the river when the castle of Vruuthun slid into view. Hidden between the jagged peaks of the black mountains it perched upon, the fortress had not been visible until the dragons had moved farther north. The very sight struck dread into Jaax’s heart. The complex itself was nothing compared to Dhuruhn’s castle in Nimbronia, but rather, Vruuthun was square and squat, five stories high at the most, with jagged crenellations running along the rooftop. Yet, there was something menacing about the structure. Perhaps, it was the solid black basalt stone used to construct it, or the fact that it fit so well with the mountains around it. Or, maybe it was the way the firelight flickering from the narrow windows, visible even from Jaax’s current distance, that reminded him of a wicked, beating heart. Either way, a cold dread tripped down his spine, and he shivered, almost losing his rhythm.

  Quickly straightening out, the Tanaan dragon cast his eyes carefully along the steep cliffs dropping away from the castle and over the dark city spreading out below. Nothing stirred in the city, not even fire smoke. Narrowing his gaze, he searched for any twitch of movement that might give away a Morli dragon tucked away between a crevasse, waiting to attack enemy spies. When his eyes watered from the effort, and he was certain the coast was clear, Jaax angled his wings and finally crossed the Noryen, heading for the silent city of Vruuthun.

  “Tollorias,” Jaax growled over the howling force of the wind whipping down the wide river valley, “Take Kessian and Lenoria and check those crags to the north of the castle. I’ll go with Andorias and see to those.”

  He jerked his head in the opposite direction, wings beating strongly to keep from being blown off course. His four companions exchanged nods of understanding, Tollorias, Lenoria, and Kessian banking left to scout the crags to the east while Jaax and Andorias adjusted their flight to reach the crevasses directly above the city but still well below the castle proper.

  When they were only half mile from their destination, Jaax finally saw what he’d been so certain did not exist. The Morli dragons perched above had camouflaged themselves well, their massive, dark wings curled around their heads and bodies. Jaax had not thought the mindless beasts of Cierryon could be clever enough to hide in plain sight, but perhaps, the Tyrant had been breeding them smarter this past century. Their coloring blended perfectly with the rocks, making it appear as if they had been an extension of the multitude of spires scattered around the castle. By the time they stirred and stretched their wings, it was too late for the two Tanaan dragons to change their path.

  The massive beasts, somewhat larger than Jaax and Andorias, dropped from between the steep, jagged rocks like enormous bats pouring from a cavern. Their number was staggering. Not a dozen. Not two dozen. At least fifty of the monstrosities bore down upon him and Andorias, spouting scarlet flame and emitting roars that rattled Jaax’s bones. In minutes, they were surrounded. A great cyclone of wings and fire forcing them ever upward.

  Jaax snarled a command at Andorias, then shot up as fast as he could without waiting for a response. But, there were just too many of the enemy’s beasts. Soon, a sphere of shadow surrounded him, and a harsh roar swiftly followed by a dragon’s screech of pain had Jaax clenching his teeth so hard he thought they might crack. He glanced down in time to spot Andorias’ motionless form plummeting to the city below.

  So, Jaax thought bitterly as the Tyrant’s monsters closed in, their fire brushing against his armor and driving him farther up the mountain and closer to the black castle above, this is why the Morli haven’t been pestering us. They were laying a trap.

  Jaax drew in a deep breath through his nostrils and cast all fear and cowardice from his heart. As the net tightened about him, he prayed to Ethoes that Jahrra, unlike him, would see the ruse for what it was and that she would not come looking for him. Something, deep within his heart, however, told him his hopes were in vain.

  * * *

  Jahrra, Ellyesce, and Denaeh were in King Vandrian’s war tent puzzling over a map when a sentry came bursting in through the canvas door flaps. Several of those present jumped, not expecting this intrusion or the shower of melting sleet that splattered across their work station.

  “Forgive me, your highness,” the elvin soldier gasped, bending half-over, winded from running some distance, “but I just received word that two of our dragons have gone missing.”

  Icy fear skittered over Jahrra’s skin, then gathered in the pit of her stomach. She hadn’t been able to find Jaax when she had risen a few hours ago, but she’d assumed he’d only gone on one of his usual scouting missions to the river and back. She quickly shifted her attention to Ellyesce, then Denaeh. The Mystic stood stone still, the fingers she had splayed over the map curling into a fist.

  “Tollorias?” Sapheramin squeaked, fear tightening her throat.

  The sentry met her gaze. “Injured, but alive. He returned with the Korli dragons Kessian and Lenoria. All have burns and minor wounds, but they are otherwise unharmed.”

  Sapheramin let out a great breath, smoke seeping through her teeth to settle where the tent pole kept the canvass aloft.

  Jahrra pressed forward, pushing past several of Vandrian’s advisors and generals. “Where is Jaax?”

  The elf lifted his head, pale blond hair falling loose from the tie at the base of his neck. His brown eyes held hers for a spare moment, then darted away.

  “Where is Jaax?” Jahrra repeated, the command in her voice wavering ever so slightly as that uncontrollable terror rose in her throat.

  “Tollorias told us he was taken, by an overwhelming fleet of Morli dragons. Th-they killed Andorias in mid-flight, but surrounded Jaax and directed him up the mountain towards the castle.”

  A strangled sound left Jahrra’s throat, and spots swam before her eyes, but she shook them away and whirled to face her friends.

  Ellyesce’s grim expression and the porcelain tone to Denaeh’s skin did nothing to calm her state of near panic. Drawing in a sharp breath through her nose, Jahrra made for the exit of the tent. “We have to go get him.”

  She didn’t wait for their response, but stepped forward with purpose, pushing back the tent flap and emerging out into the freezing drizzle. The king’s tent was situated on high ground, at least the highest ground besides the mountains to the north. An entire city of tents and campfires spread out all around them like an intricate wheel. The clash of weapons rang out over the occasional gust of wind. Soldiers getting in a little practice while they could.

  For nearly a week, they had all lived in the icy mud, only a few layers of canva
s protecting them from the elements. Tomorrow, they would finally move out and either die beneath the enemy’s blade or fight on through pain, terror, and sorrow towards a victory or become slaves to an ancient god who thrived on torment and suffering. But, all Jahrra could think about as she sped towards her own tent was her guardian. Had they hurt him? Would they torture him? Was he still alive? That last thought clawed her courage to shreds, and she nearly crumpled to her knees in the middle of the war camp to wail her frustrations and anguish to the world.

  Footsteps sounded behind her, moving more urgently than the others going about their daily business all around her.

  “Jahrra, wait!” Denaeh called out.

  Jahrra shook off her fear and increased her stride. She couldn’t afford to wait. The longer the enemy had her guardian, the more likely–

  “Jahrra!”

  Fingers gripped her wrist, trying to pull her to a stop. Jahrra jerked her arm free, but the effort slowed her enough for Denaeh to step in front of her. Scowling, Jahrra made to go around her friend, but Ellyesce was suddenly there, swift and silent as a shadow, to block her.

  “Just listen,” Denaeh hissed, her hands lifted in front of her in a placating gesture. “You can’t go marching off to Vruuthun Castle on your own. Do you think Jaax would want that?”

  “I’m not going to leave him to be tortured and killed by Cierryon. Not without trying to do something about it. Now let me by. You cannot stop me. I’m going to the castle, with or without you.”

  She shouldered her way between the Mystic and elf, jogged down a small culvert, then up to the rocky outcropping that protected her tent from the rest of the camp. Jahrra tried not to focus on the large patch of flattened grass nearby, the place where Jaax slept at night to make sure her meager fire never went out, and pushed into her tent. Ignoring her cot and the general mess, she started digging through her clothing seeking her armor and her weapons.