As the villagers shuffled away and started their trek back down the hill, Jaax turned his head and blasted the full force of his gaze upon Jahrra. This time she did flinch.
“What else did you find in Ehnnit Canyon?” he asked, his voice dangerously low.
Jahrra swallowed, suddenly afraid of what the consequence of her words might bring her.
“R-runes,” she stammered, “inside the tunnel leading into the canyon.”
“And?” Jaax demanded.
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.