Once dressed in her warm clothes, Jahrra begrudgingly snatched up the crutches, placing the support bars under her arms. It took her a few moments to get the hang of them, and then, she was out of her room and crossing the wide hallway, easily finding Ellyesce’s door. She was greeted by the elf and an exuberant Dervit. They had been playing a game of Astral cards and invited her to join them.
“Actually,” Jahrra said, “I was hoping you two would take me to visit Phrym. I haven’t seen him since yesterday.”
Ellyesce looked up at her from his seat on a wide brocaded couch, forgetting his game for the moment. “Of course.”
He made to stand up, but Jahrra waved a hand at him as she set her crutches aside and took a seat in one of the spare chairs. “There’s no hurry. We can go once you finish this round.”
The game, it turned out, only lasted another five minutes. Once Ellyesce returned his cards to their box, Jahrra reclaimed her crutches and followed him awkwardly out the door, Dervit trailing happily along.
Ellyesce lifted a dark brow, studying Jahrra’s new method of getting around. “I see you have upgraded since leaving the caves behind. How is your knee faring?”
She gave a guilty wince, not enjoying all the attention her state of convalescence was attracting. “Still hurts a little, but I think the slow travel through the Serpent’s Tomb gave it time to heal up a little.”
The trio didn’t speak much as they left the passage of the upper rooms behind to traverse the grand palace halls of Nimbronia. Jahrra was far too busy studying all the intricacies and architecture that blended stone, ice and magic to hold up much of a conversation, anyway.
“I can’t get over how huge the halls and rooms of this place are!” she breathed, as they entered the massive central corridor.
Solid ice columns thicker than the oldest trees in the Wreing Florenn stood in rows, clearly constructed to keep the ceiling, and the mountaintop above, from caving in. People of all races, some Jahrra recognized, others she had only read about in Hroombra’s history books, strolled about the grand lobby either enjoying the company of their friends or dashing off to some meeting or appointment in a distant corner of the massive palace. Their voices, like their clothing, were vibrant, colorful and beautiful. Words spoken in several languages Jahrra had never heard before, not even in Lidien, echoed throughout the great chamber in an exotic chorus which encouraged her to stop and listen for a spell. Her companions only followed her example.
“Is it always this busy here?” she wondered aloud, leaning her weight forward on her crutches.
“Most days,” Ellyesce answered with an air of authority.
He stood beside her, his hands clasped loosely behind his back. Jahrra looked at him askance, wondering if the elf had spent much time in the royal halls of Nimbronia.
“Like Lidien, Nimbronia is a great center for commerce and diversity, despite its isolation from much of the rest of the world. People and beings from all over Ethoes come here to trade and share news of the outside world.”
Jahrra furrowed her brow. “If that’s the case, how can the king of the Creecemind ignore the fact that the Crimson King has become a threat to our world once more?”
They had started walking again and drew close to the outer edge of the enormous lobby. Before passing into one of the lesser halls, Ellyesce paused and faced Jahrra.
“It isn’t so much Dhuruhn is ignoring the Tyrant’s pressing influence, but rather, weighing his options and trying to come to a conclusion that is best for himself and his people.”
Jahrra rolled her eyes to the stalactite-covered ceiling so very far above and snorted. “If Ciarrohn gets his way and overpowers all the other provinces, then even the magic and power of the mighty Creecemind dragons won’t be able to stand against him.”
Ellyesce gave her a rueful smile and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Very true, indeed. But do save your arguments for when you meet with him tonight. Right now, let us enjoy this wondrous city and see how your semequin is doing.”
Jahrra let her ire fade away. Ellyesce was right. Getting all worked up now was pointless. She let out her frustration in a single breath, then allowed Dervit to walk ahead of her before following him and Ellyesce down another corridor that led outside into a courtyard, and then to a bridge spanning another chasm. Fortunately, this rift wasn’t nearly as deep as the one Jahrra had thrown herself into. From what she could tell, it was merely another obstacle an enemy would have to breach in order to reach the castle proper.
Once over the bridge and through another set of gates, the trio stepped out onto a busy snow-packed road. Tall buildings composed mainly of ice towered above them on either side. Many of them resembled the castle itself, only on a much smaller scale, and were probably the homes of the nobles and upper class. At least, those who were not of Creecemind descent. Sidewalks and storefronts, the diamond panes of their windows most likely polished sheets of ice, also lined the streets. As Jahrra breathed in the cold air, she thrilled at the scents of baking pastries, wood smoke and exotic spices tickling her nose. What shrubs and flowers she saw growing in planters and along building fronts were of an evergreen variety. Small trees and bushes sporting needles and waxy leaves added a hint of green, blue and grey. Flame-red, pink and orange poppies atop thin, spindly stalks defied the frigid temperatures to add some color to the otherwise dull scenery.
As they headed ever downhill, threading their way through the bustling crowds, Jahrra made an effort to strike up a conversation with Dervit, who seemed to be just as distracted by all the sights and sounds as she was. Swinging on her crutches, she managed to draw even with him.
“I never thanked you properly for what you did back in Cahrdyarein,” she said, as Ellyesce led them down a side street.
A bookshop, clothing store and cafe breezed past, barely noticed by Jahrra because her focus was entirely on hearing her friend’s response to her comment.
Dervit slowed, forcing Jahrra to do the same.
“No need to thank me, Jahrra,” he said quietly, his gaze on the trampled snow below their feet. “I was happy to help in any way I could.”
Leaning her weight onto one side, Jahrra reached down and placed a hand on the limbit’s shoulder. When he looked up, she smiled at him.
“What Keiron did hurt me, Dervit. I won’t lie. I had come to trust him, to care about him. I was foolishly misled by his attention, and that makes it all seem worse. But your actions on the day of the ambush at the Round, and then your instinct to follow him to the tavern and learn of the enemy’s plans,” Jahrra closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them again, she felt tears prickling at their corners. None of that now, Jahrra, she groused to herself. “You saved my life, Dervit. Twice. If you hadn’t been at the Round, distracting those mercenaries, and if you hadn’t warned us of the Red Flange’s impending attack, I, and maybe even Ellyesce and Jaax, would be dead. Again, Keiron’s betrayal has cut me deep, but your friendship is steadfast enough it outshines the pain. I will never be able to tell you how much I appreciate that, Dervit.”
She smiled then, a brilliant grin that held more joy than she’d felt in a long time.
Dervit sniffled, lowered his head, and then said rather abashedly, “It is my honor, Jahrra. You and Jaax and Ellyesce are the first true friends I’ve ever had, and even when the other two wished to send me away, you insisted on including me.” He glanced up once again, his eyes shining. “No one has ever wanted me around, and you welcomed me before you even knew if I would prove friend or foe. I won’t ever forget that.”