The Awakening (8 page)

Jahrra shot him a look. Oh yes, he was very intimidating in this mood but Jahrra had felt its effects before. She straightened up as best she could, despite the fact she was sitting upon the dirt and leaning against a tree root. It was as if Jaax would keep pressing the same question over and over again until she provided the answer he was looking for. What was it he thought she had seen?

“An interesting rock that was present there. Saerpint, Cahrume called it.”

Jahrra immediately bit her tongue. She hadn’t meant to mention the draffyd. The episode with the Oak had surely scrambled her brain. Cahrume had been akin to Denaeh in her heart; an acquaintance she’d meant to keep to herself, and now seeing the look on the Tanaan dragon’s face she knew she’d been correct.

“Cahrume?” his voice was deadly still once again, “Who is Cahrume?”

There was no getting out of this one so Jahrra took another breath, looked away and closed her eyes. “We found him in the canyon, or more accurately, he found us. He told us he was a draffyd and that he guarded the Apple Tree in the canyon.”

The silence that stretched was so long that Jahrra wondered if Jaax had somehow silently walked away to leave her cowering in the dirt beneath Ethoes’ Oak.

Finally, he spoke, his voice as low and dangerous as ever, “What else did he tell you, Jahrra?”

Jahrra opened her eyes but she didn’t dare look at her guardian. “He told us about the Tanaan king and his people, how they first came to Oescienne. He told us that the runes inside the tunnel through the boulder told their story and the story of the fall of the Tanaan hundreds of years later.”

Jahrra sighed and looked up at Jaax, his visage impossibly still and his eyes heavily guarded. She blinked in surprise and took a small breath. She felt as if she was looking at a stranger, or more likely, as if Jaax were looking at her as if
she
were a stranger, or an enemy. What could Cahrume have told them that was so offensive to this dragon?

“He told us,” she continued, “he told us that the name of the prince, his true name, is written inside that small cave and that it was written by the prince himself shortly after the curse of Ciarrohn.”

Jahrra heard the breath Jaax released but it was so very insignificant that, had they been among others, she wouldn’t have noticed.

“And did he translate those runes for you?” the dragon pressed.

Jahrra shook her head. “No, he told us he didn’t know that language. He said it was the language of the Tanaan, a language no longer spoken or understood.”

The tension controlling Jaax seemed to loosen its grip a little and Jahrra breathed a mental sigh of relief.

It was several minutes again before anyone said anything.

Eventually, Jaax said, “You should have told me of this before Jahrra so that I might know what to expect when you touched one of the Trees of Ethoes. Come, let’s head back into Crie before they start to worry about us.”

Jahrra gaped. That was it? All this effort aimed at getting information about her visit to Ehnnit Canyon and all he wanted to do in the end was scold her gently about not sharing her experience with the Apple Tree with him? Her instincts told her that wasn’t the case, that there was more, but unfortunately her brain felt too addled to puzzle it out. Besides, Jaax was the master at keeping information and secrets locked away where no one could reach them.

It was then that Jaax turned his full gaze on her, his green eyes penetrating. She forced herself not to turn away.

“How many more secrets, I wonder, do you keep from me, Jahrra?”

It was a question, she was sure of it, but it sounded more like a statement, especially in that quiet tone of voice he reserved for only the most serious of moments.

Jahrra raised her chin, perhaps no more than the width of a hair, never losing eye contact, as she answered, “Not nearly as many as you.”

Jaax’s eyes narrowed but he didn’t speak for quite a while.

“Oh, but the secrets I keep, Jahrra,” he breathed in that deadly calm voice again, “you don’t want to know.”

Ignoring the chill that coursed through her at those words, she nodded in defeat. She accepted Jaax’s help in standing, grasping the scaly forearm he offered and pulling herself up. Despite her still rattled nerves she also gave in to his insistence that she ride behind his neck.

“I’m fine,” she’d grumbled when he first offered.

“You’re not fine. You can hardly walk,” he’d answered roughly.

Against her will, Jahrra found herself sprawled across his back as opposed to sitting upright in a more dignified fashion. Perhaps he was correct in his assumption that she needed help. They made their way down the hill slowly, neither of them speaking to one another as they went. When they finally reached the base of the steep hill and found themselves among the elves of Crie once again, Jahrra secretly wished they had remained beneath the Oak.

“Jaax! What on Ethoes happened to her?!” Thenya fairly shrieked as she broke away from the murmuring crowd to come running towards the great dragon. “Aydehn told me she fell into a fit and you couldn’t get her to respond for a good five minutes!”

Five minutes!
Jahrra thought.
I was unconscious for that long?

Jahrra reluctantly accepted the help of the villagers as they gently lowered her from Jaax’s back and carried her into a nearby hut.

“Wh-where are you taking me?” she murmured, feeling suddenly light headed and weak once again.

“Hush now,” Thenya tutted. “After what happened up on the ridge, you can’t be sleeping out on the ground. You need a proper bed if you want to fully recover.”

They half carried, half led her to the nearest dwelling and proceeded to walk right through the front door. Jahrra didn’t know who lived in the small house but it boasted a freshly made bed, a cheery fire and a pot of stew simmering and releasing tantalizing aromas into the air. It was similar to Aydehn’s and Thenya’s abode but there were more windows in this one and the walls were of a different color.

“You’ll have Athon’s cabin for your final night in Crie,” Thenya whispered into Jahrra’s ear as she helped lay her upon the bed.

“No . . . would be an inconvenience . . . for Athon.”

Jahrra didn’t know why she felt so suddenly tired. She suspected that if she tried to stand up she just might collapse into an unconscious heap upon the floor.

“Nonsense! He and his wife insisted and luckily they are very tidy people.”

Jahrra wondered how they’d managed to make all these accommodations in such a short amount of time but when she thought about it, she and Jaax had remained near the Oak Tree a good thirty minutes before slowly following after the villagers. The part of her mind that still tried to stay focused told her everyone was making an unnecessary fuss on her account. She tried to tell them that but her voice seemed to have lost itself somewhere.

Someone laid her out on the bed, removed her boots, and draped a quilt over her. Once completely still and no longer on her feet, Jahrra didn’t remember hearing much save for the murmur of incoherent voices, punctuated every now and again by Jaax’s distinctive complaints and demands. After that, it was all darkness and peace.

***

When Jahrra woke, it was well after dark. A low fire burned in the hearth but the small cabin was otherwise dark. Sitting up, she clutched her head. It ached and pounded from the dream she’d had about the Tanaan prince and the fall of his people. It hadn’t been a very long dream but towards its end she recalled feeling the weight of a hand on her shoulder. She hadn’t realized she had been standing on a hilltop, watching the battle unfold before her until she felt that presence. Turning to see who had joined her, Jahrra nearly collapsed in relief when she realized it was her green cloaked friend, hood drawn and face hidden as usual. She remembered smiling in the dream, glad that he hadn’t been chased away for good. After that the terrible scene before her faded away and she woke up.

Now that she was awake and the dream was fading into memory, she pressed her fingers against her temples in an attempt to chase away the headache then looked around. Why was she in this small house? How had she arrived here? Where was Jaax and Phrym? Then it hit her. Swallowing a groan, Jahrra fell back against the mattress. Perhaps it hadn’t been a dream, but a reality. The villagers had taken her up to the Sacred Oak of Ethoes and something had happened.

The faint sound of the door opening made Jahrra bolt upright. She clutched her head again and gritted her teeth. Those had been some powerful images indeed.

When the spinning ceased, Jahrra tried focusing on her visitor. She was a woman, several years older than herself, but not quite as old as Thenya. She gave a pretty smile and pulled nervously at her soft brown hair. Jahrra felt the anxiety melt from her bones.

“Forgive me, young miss. I came to check on you,” she said in a kind voice. “I’m Athon’s wife, Nelliah, and was asked to come see if you’d like to join the rest of the village outside.”

Jahrra blushed slightly. She was still fully dressed, except her boots were missing, and someone had draped a quilt over her. From the looks of the sheets on the bed it was quite obvious she had had a restless sleep. She wished she could at least remake the bed before joining the others.

“Oh,” she finally managed, “I’d love to. Just let me find my boots and tidy up here.”

“No, don’t you dare worry yourself,” Nelliah waved her arms in dismissal and stepped forward, fetching Jahrra’s boots from the hearth.

Jahrra flushed again. She hated all this special treatment and despite Nelliah’s protests, she made the bed to the best of her ability before following her out into the night.

The air was cold and clear and Jahrra felt grateful, for it took a bit of the pain from her head away. Nelliah led her past several neighboring huts that boasted the familiar wood pole pens full of sleeping animals. It was dark but she recognized the great bonfire burning in the center of the village several feet away. As they walked, Jahrra listened to the hearty murmur of voices far ahead. The sounds were cheerful and she even detected the melody of a flute. Above her, the black sky housed a thousand or more glittering stars which blinked in and out of sight as they passed under the branches of trees. Wood smoke, roasting meat and the distinct tang of livestock filled the air and Jahrra grinned. It was nice to have control of one’s senses once again.

She saw Jaax first, not surprisingly, sitting at ease with a great bowl in front of him as the fire accentuated all his fierce angles. He was having what appeared to be a cheerful conversation with Aydehn and a few of the other village men.

Once Jahrra stepped into the firelight everyone stopped what they had been saying to their neighbors and looked at her. Jahrra gritted her teeth. She really wished they wouldn’t do that. It had taken them all week to grow used to her presence without looking upon her in awe as they had when she first arrived. Now, thanks to her little spectacle earlier that day, she was once again a novelty. Jaax glanced over immediately, the almost calm, relaxed look on his face long gone. Instead he donned the same look he always seemed to give her when he knew she was watching him: caution, concern, authority and curiosity. This time there was a hint of relief.

Jahrra sighed and walked over to where her guardian reclined, not feeling comfortable near anyone else right at that moment. Nelliah joined a good-looking man on the other side of the bonfire, Athon, Jahrra guessed.

“It’s good to see you well, Jahrra,” Jaax murmured.

Jahrra blinked up in surprise. He actually sounded sincere, something Jahrra knew he was capable of but only saved for very rare occasions.

“How do you feel?”

“Fine, except for my head,” she answered, pressing a palm against the spot that hurt the worst.

“Then some willow bark tea is in order,” Aydehn said, stretching out a hand that clasped an extra mug.

Soon Jahrra was sipping at the bitter concoction and the modest festivities continued. She had done this nearly every night; joined them by the fire with Jaax at her side. But tonight it seemed strange, awkward, new even, as if this was her first night sharing tea with them.

Time crept on and Jahrra listened as the villagers slowly became accustomed to her presence, rejoining their comrades in light, cheery conversation. Jahrra guessed the reason for their cautious behavior was that they’d been holding out for her to drop to the ground and fall into fits of hysteria again. She was pretty sure that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

Taking a deep breath to calm her mind, Jahrra found a soft spot on the ground beside Jaax, leaning up against his shoulder as she observed those around her. Despite today’s singular mishap, it had been a great visit. All in all, she decided this was a happy place, the village of Crie, and not for the first time she wondered what her life would have been like if these elvin people had kept her as one of their own.

Now that she had time to truly contemplate it, without Jaax’s commentary, she gave it some serious thought. She was sure she would’ve grown up playing along the riverbank, collecting wildflowers in the spring and tending the chickens and goats with a skip in her step. But she would have stood out like a sore thumb. Her blond hair, blue eyes and height would have been noticed and she never really would have fit in. True, she hadn’t fit in all that well in Oescienne but at least there were others who resembled her somewhat. In Crie she would have had different parents, different friends, and she wouldn’t have had Hroombra.