“Where are your worthless friends?” Eydeth asked. “I heard you calling out for them, but you got no answer. That was pretty stupid. Now do I not only know the location of your base camp, but I know that you have no backup either.”
Despite his assurance that she was alone, Eydeth stepped carefully up the hillside, his head swiveling in every direction as he checked for an ambush.
Jahrra held her breath when he tried to peer into the redwood trees’ branches, but when his gaze returned to her, she let it out slowly. He hadn’t seen them.
“They didn’t leave me here!” she answered haughtily, hoping that her irritation would lead his thoughts in another direction.
“Oh really? Then why were you so angry just a second ago when no one answered? Ha!”
Eydeth relaxed a fraction and Jahrra took advantage of his claim.
“No! They’re hiding just a few feet away, waiting to attack you!”
Sometimes it was good to go with the truth, and this time it paid off. Eydeth threw his head back and laughed, lowering his weapon. “How could they be hiding? You can’t blend in with a wooded hillside when you’re wearing white with bright colors splattered all over it! We would have seen them by now!”
He turned his head and whistled. “You guys can come out, she’s here by herself.”
He turned back to face her, his eyes gleaming with malice as his sister and four of their friends stepped out from behind the buildings and climbed down from farther up the hill.
“You’re dead, Nesnan,” Eydeth breathed as he lifted his crossbow and took aim once again. His teammates followed suit.
“Oh, I don’t think so . . .” Jahrra muttered under her breath. “NOW!” she shouted as she quickly threaded her crossbow through her arm and threw herself into a back handspring.
All of a sudden, the hillside was alive with arrows, their purple and yellow dyed tips marking the ground, the trees and anything else that got in the way. Jahrra managed to get to an oak tree just up the slope with only a few shots to the leg, but Eydeth and his team were faring far worse.
“Where are the arrows coming from?!” he screeched as he searched the trees once again, backing up to take refuge behind the buildings.
Jahrra managed to make it ten feet up into the tree before she stopped and pulled her crossbow off of her arm. She quickly readied an arrow and scanned the forest floor for possible targets, her grin growing wide when she noticed Ellysian retreating back up the hill. She was moving slowly, her eyes searching the redwood trees, so she didn’t see Jahrra following her progress with her own weapon.
Ellysian’s back was to Jahrra, so she took a breath, aimed for a spot between her shoulder blades and . . . lowered her aim to the middle of her back, her lower back . . . When the arrow was lined up with a spot just below Ellysian’s tailbone, Jahrra released the arrow and relished the screech that ensued as the Resai girl went scrambling up the hillside, her backside splattered with dark purple paint. Two more purple smudges decorated her back before she found cover.
Remembering that they had a flag to defend, Jahrra whipped her head around and breathed a sigh of relief when she spotted the purple banner, standing proudly between the two redwoods. She had guessed correctly; their territory was too well defended for anyone to just run in and grab the flag. It wasn’t worth the risk when six people were shooting at them from the trees.
“Retreat!” Eydeth screamed as he scrambled down the hill.
Jahrra caught one last glimpse of him before he rushed out onto the cobblestones below with his teammates. She laughed out loud when she counted the paint marks on his back. Plenty to put his team out of the running.
When they were certain that the enemy had fled their camp, the six friends climbed down from their respective hideouts: Gieaun, Kihna and Rhudedth from the redwoods and Pahrdh and Scede from the second story porches of the closest buildings.
“That was fabulous!” Pahrdh proclaimed, throwing his arms in the air and giving Gieaun and his sister a hug.
Scede looked as if he wished to extend the same gesture towards Kihna, but before he could decide, she made the decision for him.
“You did so great!” she said as she stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “You shot everyone at least twice!”
Jahrra hid a grin as she watched her friend turn bright red.
Before any more celebrations could take place, the distant school bell began ringing.
Jahrra brightened immediately and glanced at all her grinning friends. “The game’s over! Let’s go see if we’ve won!”
The six of them gathered their own flag and carefully removed the other three from their hiding places and ventured back towards the schoolhouse. They walked confidently through the center of town, though they kept a wary eye out for people seeking revenge. Luckily, there were enough adult volunteers around to catch anyone trying to cheat.
The look on Eydeth’s face when they finally all gathered in front of the schoolhouse was worth all the hard work Jahrra and her friends had exerted that day. When he saw them, he glared maliciously, but all Jahrra did was smile widely and flap out his banner as if she were taunting a bull. He crossed his arms and darted his eyes in another direction, his face turning dark red in anger.
It took Professor Tarnik and the adult volunteers a good twenty minutes to tally up all the points for each team. Jahrra patiently tolerated their examination, wondering if maybe she’d been hit more than she thought. The other teams, she had observed, looked just as messy as she and her friends did.
Finally, Tarnik had all the tallies and he was ready to proclaim a winner.
“In third place is the blue team. Although they lost their banner, they suffered the fewest wounds and were able to inflict enough on the other teams to earn a sizeable score.”
Everyone clapped politely.
“In second place, the red team. They were able to successfully capture the blue team’s banner and receive very few wounds as well.”
The applause continued.
“And in first place, the team with the most points and the winners of a day off from school . . . the purple team!”
The clapping and cheering was louder this time, even though Eydeth’s team didn’t participate.
When everyone quieted down, Tarnik continued blandly, “Although they garnered the most wounds from other teams, they also inflicted the most onto others. And,” he paused and gave Jahrra a suspicious glare, “they managed to keep their own flag and capture three others. Congratulations.”
Jahrra didn’t think his best wishes were sincere, but she smiled anyways as she and her friends started making plans for their day off.
* * *
Hroombra glanced up from the manuscript he was reading when Jahrra clambered through the door. He was reclining at his great desk and had been waiting eagerly to hear how she and her friends had fared in their game, though one would not know it from his relaxed posture and calm gaze. It wasn’t quite full dusk, but Jahrra started lighting candles anyways as she made her way across the room.
The dragon eyed her curiously as she approached. “I see you were hit,” he mused, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.
Jahrra sighed, but threw a smile over her shoulder as she stretched to light one of the higher candles. “Yes, but not nearly as much as Eydeth was. And besides, my team won.”
She beamed blissfully, recalling the events of the past several hours. Jahrra almost snorted at the sudden memory of hitting Ellysian right in the seat of her pants. Oh, what a glorious day it had been!
Jahrra finished with the candles and walked over to the great dragon, pulling up a chair and plopping down in it across the desk from him. She was exhausted, grimy and ready to fall asleep where she sat. She leaned back in her chair and held out her arm, examining the loose sleeve of her shirt. There were a few multi-colored stains there, but they had transferred themselves from her legs and torso. She knew she had at least three marks on her back, two on her stomach, one
on her shoulder and hip, and several more on her legs. Yes, it had been a rather exhausting day.
Grinning, Jahrra leaned forward and stared at her guardian. He politely ignored her, his great amber eyes moving back and forth behind his spectacles as he read away.
Eventually, he took a patient breath and without looking up, he said, “Yes Jahrra?”
“Aren’t you going to tell me about the student that owned these clothes?” she asked with a grin, gesturing to the stained garments she wore. “If I recall correctly, we were interrupted the other morning when Gieaun and Scede came by.”
Hroombra pressed his great hand against the scroll he was reading and looked up at her, brow arched. He took off his spectacles and placed them aside, giving her his full attention.
“What would you like to know?”
Jahrra’s eyes grew wide. Wait, he’s actually going to tell me? Really?
Jahrra choked on her words for a few moments as they tried to fight their way free. “Was he a noble?” she blurted.
Eyes glittering and his mouth quirked in a small smile, Hroombra nodded once.
“How old was he when he wore these?” she continued, pulling the dirty shirt away from her stomach.
“Oh, a little younger than you I believe, ten or eleven maybe.”
Jahrra grinned. “Was he just as stubborn and determined as me?”
Hroombra gave a full smile, but Jahrra thought she saw a hint of sadness in his eyes.
“Oh, very much so, Jahrra. In fact, you remind me so very much of him that I sometimes think I can see his presence in you somehow. It is impossible, I know, but that is the only way I can explain it.”
Jahrra was about to ask what had happened to him, but thought better of it. Perhaps he had moved on when he was too old for a dragon mentor anymore. Or perhaps he had fled in fear when dragons were adopted as the enemy throughout their world. Maybe, judging by her guardian’s moment of sadness, something even more tragic had occurred.
Instead, Jahrra cleared her throat and went for a safer question, “Did he wear clothes like this every day?”
“Yes, actually. And sometimes every night.”
Jahrra opened her mouth to ask something else, but tripped on her tongue when what Hroombra had said registered.
She switched questions. “What?”
Hroombra gestured at her outfit and said nonchalantly, “The garment you chose to wear as a shirt was his night robe and those, um, ‘leggings’ would be worn under a pair of trousers.”
Jahrra merely stared at him and then her eyes grew wide and she felt the blood rushing to her face. She shot her hands to her mouth and said, “You mean I just spent the entire day traipsing through Aldehren in, in, some boy’s underwear!?”
Hroombra merely grinned and said, “Afraid so.”
Jahrra screeched and bolted from her chair, heading for her room. She didn’t even hear Hroombra’s chuckle trailing after her as he got back to his manuscript.
The Spirit Stone Ring
A rasping caw broke through the morning fog and the young woman sleeping in the small hollow jerked awake. It took her several minutes to remember where she was, for she had overused her special gift during the past several days and she wasn’t at her best. The gift that made her a Mystic; a witness to the future.
She sat up slowly, rubbing her temples as she registered the familiar cold of fog and the rumble of the ocean far below her. No, she wasn’t in her cave, tucked safely away in the Black Swamp in the middle of the Wreing Florenn, where no one would come and pester her. She had left that comfortable place just yesterday to follow her quarry, a Tanaan dragon and a human girl, as they fled north to the province of Felldreim.
Denaeh winced when her korehv, Milihn, let out another grumpy caw.
“Yes, yes, I know. You’re hungry. Well, you had best start foraging on your own,” she complained as she dug around in one of several pockets to be found on her blood-red cloak. “These bread crumbs won’t last forever.”
The large raven-like bird descended from his lookout in a flurry of deep blue, iridescent feathers to happily receive his breakfast.
As Mystic and bird shared their meager morning meal, Denaeh contemplated what her next move would be. Yes, she needed to head north to Lidien where she could keep an eye on Jahrra and her dragon protector, Raejaaxorix, but there was something she needed to do before she left Oescienne for good. Something she needed to know for certain before she got back to her scheming. She stood up, sending Milihn hopping off in agitation.
“Really, you ridiculous bird,” she clucked at him. “You are spoiled rotten to the point of rudeness.”
He merely hopped on top of a rock and fluffed his feathers at her.
“Now enough distractions,” Denaeh said, taking a deep breath and reluctantly turning her head towards the sea far below her, “there is a delicate task that I must undertake.”
The Mystic let out her breath and slowly made her way through the redwood grove until she came to a point where the land dropped off several feet below her. The cove was beautiful, even under the cover of fog, and the recent rains had fed the creek that now tumbled down to the beach in a magnificent ribbon of water. Denaeh glanced up to her left and followed the arm of land as it curved around the cove, its crest spiked with the same redwood trees she’d slept under the night before.
She didn’t want to go down there; she didn’t want to find what she already knew existed in a cave just to the south of this secluded cove.
“She could have been mistaken,” the Mystic whispered as another wave rushed to the rocky shore. “It could be somebody else.”
But Denaeh already knew, something that was intrinsic to being a Mystic, something that went deeper than instinct, yet she still doubted.
“I must,” she murmured as she began to pick her way down the steep cliff side. “I must doubt, for I do not know how I’ll accept it if it proves to be true.”
Milihn left his rock and flew to the edge of the cliff, watching his master curiously as she made her way to the beach below.
The beach sand, more closely resembling tiny pebbles than miniscule grains, crunched under her feet and the icy salt spray of the sea tangled in her unusual, vibrant red hair. Denaeh merely pulled her cloak tighter.
“You really should take on your elderly guise old girl,” she grumbled to herself. But that disguise only made her feel her age and she wanted to feel young for now, especially for what she would soon face.
Gritting her teeth against the cold and the flood of old memories, the Mystic slowly approached the waterfall, then followed the curve of the land towards the water once again. The tide was low and she thanked Ethoes for that particular blessing. Up ahead she found a network of caverns that meandered through the arm of land and opened up onto the other side, onto a cove no one else knew about.
“Well, not quite no one else,” Denaeh mumbled as she picked the central cave and wound her way to the other side. “Jahrra and her friends managed to find it.”
The air seemed cleaner once she came out into the dull light of the foggy sky once again, and as she clambered atop a solid shelf of rock riddled with tide pools, Milihn’s harsh call from somewhere far above greeted her.
She smiled, knowing that he tracked her progress like a panther. “Silly creature indeed,” she told no one in particular, “you’d think he was a hatchling newly fallen from the nest.”
She also knew the bird could be quite a coward, especially when his master was in her current mood. He knew something was happening; that something significant had occurred in the past few days to make her withdraw into herself, he just didn’t know what.
“Best stay up there, Milihn!” she called as loudly as she dared.
The korehv returned a cry, this one signaling he would stay put and keep watch.
“Good,” Denaeh sighed, standing up to her full height and pressing her hands to the small of her back.
“I guess I’m going to feel my age no matter how yo
ung I appear,” she mused.
The Mystic simply stood there for several minutes, scanning the ocean, the beach and the cliff side with her strange topaz eyes. Eventually she found it, the cave that rested halfway up the cliff. Her stomach suddenly churned and her heartbeat sped up. She pulled her hands away from her back and held them out in front of her. They shook slightly.
Gritting her teeth and forcing her emotions to mind their own business, she climbed down from the rock shelf and alighted upon the pebbly beach. It took her five minutes to reach the base of the cliff and another five to climb to the cave’s opening. It would have taken her far less time if her legs hadn’t suddenly decided to turn weak on her or if her breathing hadn’t abruptly become more labored. She didn’t like these strange feelings; they were the same emotions she had learned to ignore long ago. Why did they have to come rushing back now? You know why, something deep in her mind told her. She brushed it aside and finished her climb.
As she stood on the small shelf in front of the cave entrance, Denaeh took a deep breath, and one last time, tried to bottle the years’ worth of emotions that were trying so desperately to break free.
* * *
The first thing that hit her when she entered the cave was the smell, or the lack of smell. If scent could be muffled, then this is what it would smell like, she mused. The familiar odors of ocean, dust, pine and dankness were present, however. They were just subdued. It took a few minutes for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, but the beam of weak light pouring down from the ceiling helped. Stalagmites and stalactites decorated the cave, making it resemble the gaping maw of some hungry beast. The incessant drip of water hounded her ears, but the Mystic paid it no heed.
She glanced up, seeing a rocky shelf towards the back of the cave. She swallowed hard. “Please don’t be who I think you are . . .” she murmured as she stepped forward, carefully avoiding a dark puddle.
Slowly, she made her way towards the rock shelf and once she reached it, she stood on tiptoes and peered over the edge. She pulled away quickly and blanched, her skin turning clammy and her head suddenly pounding. Yes, there was a body up there, but it was so far gone there was nothing to identify it; only the disintegrated remains of what had once been clothing and the skeleton that had once harbored a soul.
Tales of Oescienne - A Short Story Collection - Volume One Page 3