When there was no one nearby save for Dervit to hear him, Jaax answered Jahrra’s question. “We will discuss it when we get back to your cabin.”
He glanced over his shoulder and scanned her from head to toe. His voice softened when he asked carefully, “You are unhurt?”
Jahrra nodded. “Everything is sound, save for my pride. Apparently, I suffered from a combination of over exertion and altitude sickness.”
Jaax arched a scaly brow. “That would explain your unconscious state when I landed.”
The darkness deepened as they wound their way down the mountain, and by the time they reached the cluster of cabins reserved for visitors, full night had descended. Jahrra sighed with weariness and pushed open the door to her cottage.
“Leave the door open, Jahrra,” Jaax said from behind her. “I’ll have to speak to you from out here. But first, let me fetch Ellyesce.”
Jahrra nodded, wondering where their friend had been all this time and hoping his wound was healing well. She crossed the room and took off her boots while Dervit, who had not spoken since they left the regent’s home, added a few logs to the fire. Immediately, the dry wood caught as flames leapt and brightened the room. Jahrra took it upon herself to find a lantern, lighting it with some matches on the windowsill. When she turned back around, Ellyesce was standing in the doorway. He had shed his cloak and the shirt he’d been wearing earlier. Now, he donned a looser white tunic over a pair of deerskin pants, and he walked with a limp.
“Ellyesce!” Jahrra cried, genuinely glad to see him.
He gave her a soft smile, his handsome features showing through the pain etched in his face.
“Glad to see my sacrifice was worth it.”
Jahrra bit her lip and felt her heart drop. Dervit had said the wound wasn’t serious, but she still felt guilty he’d received it because of her.
“I’m sorry, Ellyesce. I shouldn’t have slowed on the road like that.”
The elf held up a hand. “It’s nothing to worry over. After all,” he added with a sharp grin, “it’s not the first time I’ve felt the sting of one of the Tyrant’s arrows.”
Jahrra’s own smile faltered. Just how many times had this elf been injured in his lifetime? Probably more times than you’d like to think about, she realized. Although Jahrra didn’t know how old Ellyesce was, she knew he had lived for a very long time.
Ellyesce glanced away then, but something dark and cold settled in his eyes, giving Jahrra pause.
“Are you alright?” she whispered, her brows etched with concern.
“Fine,” he said shortly, pushing farther into the room and seeking out the chair Dervit had been hiding behind earlier.
“Are you sure? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”
Ellyesce fell into the chair with little grace. “It’s nothing, Jahrra. Just a sudden twinge from my wound.”
He placed a hand against his side where the arrow had been, his expression warming a little.
“They bandaged me up nicely,” he added, altering the mood of the conversation.
“Let me see if I can find my tea tin,” Jahrra offered, heading over to her pack.
Dervit volunteered to fetch water from a rain barrel outside, and soon, Jahrra had a kettle hanging over the fire. Once everyone was sitting comfortably with a mug of hot tea in their hands, Jaax performed one more check for eavesdroppers before settling beside the small cabin, his tail and part of his body wrapping around the back.
“Before we discuss the events of earlier today, I want to stress something of grave importance to all of you,” the dragon stated. “You must watch everything you say and do around Morivan Fairlein. He may come off as a socially inept imbecile, but it is merely a front to trick people into revealing information to him.”
“Do his sympathies lie with the Crimson King?” Ellyesce asked, getting the most important question out of the way.
Jaax shook his head. “I do not believe so. Morivan is under the delusion that he is a true king, though his family has no royal blood to make him so. His great grandfather was the first regent of Cahrdyarein, back when the true elves ruled.”
“Wait,” Jahrra interjected, “they aren’t true elves?”
Again, Jaax shook his head, his mouth curling at the corners. “They are Resai, but carry only a drop of human blood in their veins. Somewhere far back in the Fairlein lineage, someone married a human, forever altering their bloodlines. And that is another subject not to discuss with the regent. He believes he is a true elf and is shamed by that one ancestor who, according to him, strayed.”
“And he thinks he’s a king,” Jahrra reiterated.
“Very much so. Dhuruhn, the mighty king of the Creecemind dragons, rules Felldreim, and only he decides who may reign over the smaller factions of this land. Morivan’s ancestors, and Morivan himself, have proclaimed themselves sovereigns of the lesser Hrunahn Mountains without the blessing of the Creecemind dragons in the north. King Dhuruhn is aware of their presence, but since the regent poses no threat, and does not venture beyond Cahrdyarein to claim more territory, the ice dragons tolerate him.”
Jaax paused in his speech, focusing his eyes on Dervit. The limbit had remained relatively quiet the entire time, sitting motionless on the couch against the far wall.
“I speak of these things in your presence, Dervit, because I do believe we can trust you. I had my doubts when you first joined us a few days ago, but you have proven, on more than one occasion, that you will not betray us.”
Jaax glanced quickly at Jahrra, then back at the limbit. She had a sneaking suspicion he was remembering how Dervit had risked his own safety for hers. A smile struggled to break free, but she fought it back.
“That being said, I must stress the importance of keeping all matters we discuss in private as strictly confidential. As you are well aware now, if you hadn’t guessed before, Jahrra is human, the one promised in the prophecy so long ago. My duty has always been to keep her safe from the enemy until it is time for her to face that adversary.”
Jaax’s voice took on a deeper, more morose tone, but he soon recovered from it. “I am charging you, Dervit, with the same responsibility, if you will accept it.”
Jahrra shot her guardian a hard look. “Jaax, you can’t ask Dervit to act as my body guard.”
For one thing, Jahrra was quite certain the limbit had never used a weapon in his life. On the other hand, she was not some helpless maiden in need of rescuing. Despite her moment of inaction at the crossroads and her illness upon reaching Cahrdyarein, Jahrra could fight. She’d had the training for it.
“Why not?” Dervit interjected, standing up on the couch. “Is it because I am small? Because I have no experience in battle? Or might it be because I am not strong?”
Ellyesce laughed, despite the tense atmosphere. “If you were trying to prove your merit, young limbit, I do believe you just failed miserably.”
“No,” Jahrra said, feeling somewhat sorry for her initial reaction. “It isn’t fair to task you with such a responsibility, that is all.”
“I don’t mind the responsibility,” Dervit insisted. “You have become my friends, all of you, even in such a short amount of time. I had nowhere to go and no one to turn to, and you took me in.”
Jaax’s lip curled in a half smile. “Do not forget I was against your joining our party.”
“I know,” Dervit said, “but you still gave me a chance. I want to prove to you that I can be a good friend and a loyal companion.”
“And that is exactly why I am asking this of you now,” the dragon reiterated softly. “You have already proven to me that you’re more than capable of looking out for Jahrra. She has a dragon to deal with the things that are too strong and big for her, and an elf trained in several martial styles, as well as magic. But now she needs you, someone who has a sixth sense about things and has put his small gifts to use. I want you to be one of Jahrra’s protectors because you have shown no fear when it comes to helping your friends, and you pay careful attention to what is going on around you.”