The trumpets sounded again, along with cymbals, and Ethoes brought forth another aspect of the world, this time green light and plants, all the while clasping hands with a faithful Haelionn. Mountains and hills followed the plants, then the animals arrived with a scene of plains and deserts and valleys.
Jahrra was overwhelmed by the beauty of it all. The music had grown faster, working its way up to a grand finale. Everyone was dancing in full light now, dancing around Haelionn and Ethoes, forming great circles of creatures and landforms clasping hands, one circle moving in the opposite direction of the one in front of it.
The entire cast was singing now, their voices strong and joyful and perfect. With a final clash of cymbals and blast of trumpets the voices ceased and everyone stilled. Jahrra realized with delighted awe that she had just witnessed the creation of the world, or as close to a reenactment as anyone could get.
The lights dimmed and the play went on. The minutes flew by, Jahrra barely taking heed of them or her surroundings. It was full night now and growing rather chilly but she hadn’t noticed. The stories unfolding below were too wonderful to be ruined by something as insignificant as a change in temperature.
All of the tales she had known growing up were coming to life down on that stage, coming to life in a way Jahrra had never imagined. The performers were now acting out the great epic of Traagien and Ciarrohn’s first defeat. Both the dragon and the evil god were immense; great puppets controlled by several of the performers backstage. Ciarrohn looked as terrifying as anyone could create him and Jahrra was vaguely reminded of the dark presence that had, at one time, haunted her dreams. When the great green and gold dragon that was Traagien cast his foe to the ground, she released a small triumphant cry of victory with everyone else.
The play continued on like this, a brilliant blend of all the ancient tales of Ethoes unfolding like a three dimensional story book. Jahrra was enraptured by it all; completely unable to keep her eyes off the stage for fear that she might miss something. When a young usher approached her, inquiring whether she would like to purchase some spiced nuts, it took him three attempts before he finally got her attention.
When the performers took on the guise of soldiers and began a march across the stage towards the dark figure of Ciarrohn once again, Jahrra turned to ask Jaax a question. She thought that they were now going to reenact the fall of the Tanaan, for the green-clad warriors were led by a fair-haired young man wearing the armor of a prince. Only, when Jahrra glanced up she realized that the great dragon was gone.
Blinking in surprise, she looked around but all she saw was the occasional usher helping a patron to their seat. Jahrra stood and gazed into the darkness behind her and there, just on the outer edges of the furthest reach of the torchlight, she saw the distinct shape of a dragon moving away from the theater.
Jahrra turned back to the stage, a fully fledged battle ensuing between the men of Oescienne and the Morli dragons of Ciarrohn. She wanted to see the rest of the play, for it had been the best performance she had ever seen in her life, but this scene in particular sat poorly in her stomach for some reason or another.
She sighed, definitely torn. She probably shouldn’t go chasing after Jaax; surely there was a reason why he’d crept away without her knowledge. Yet she had detected something in his stance, despite the night’s best efforts to hide him in its shadows. She reached down and clasped the scale hanging from the chain around her neck. Or maybe the spirit stone he wore had somehow told her of her guardian’s morose mood. The elves had used magic to create it, after all. Who was she to think she knew exactly how they worked?
Taking a breath and making up her mind, Jahrra turned her back to the stage, a scene of men now being transformed into Tanaan dragons with the help of some clever shadows cast against the back wall, and climbed the few steps to the very top of the theater.
The cold air stung her throat as she breathed and as she made her way to where she saw Jaax heading, she pulled her cloak fast around her. One of the young men holding a torch asked if Jahrra would like some company to provide light. She politely turned him down. The moon had been full just before Solsticetide and it still gave off quite a bit of brightness.
Despite the aid of the moon, if she hadn’t known in which direction Jaax had headed Jahrra never would have found him. She came over a small rise on the top of the hill and glanced around below her. Most of the hillside was composed of scattered pine but to her right there was a break in the trees and what looked like a large outcropping of stone. Jahrra knew better. She made her way down the gentle slope, careful not to snag her skirts or get her boots too dirty.
“So,” she breathed, her breath coming faster because of the cold and the effort to get there, “thought you could leave me stranded, did you?”
The pile of stones that was Jaax started and swiveled his head in Jahrra’s direction. His eyes, shining strangely in the moonlight, looked genuinely surprised. Jahrra grinned. That was a rare expression on this dragon’s face, a very rare expression indeed.
“Why aren’t you back watching the end of the play?” he asked.
Jahrra shrugged and sat down upon a protruding stone.
“I know that part of the story better than most and I wanted to stretch my legs.”
It was only partly a lie, Jahrra told herself. She didn’t want to admit that for some reason the defeat of the Tanaan affected her more than the other stories of Ciarrohn’s cruelty. After all, they had been human once; her people.
“Do you mind if I sit here?” she asked by way of filling the silence.
Jaax gave a quick shake of his head and Jahrra settled in more comfortably. For several minutes they just stared at the moon-bleached stars in silence, Jahrra wondering what Jaax was thinking and wondering why he’d come out here to sit by himself. But she knew better than to ask.
“You don’t have to sit so far away, Jahrra,” Jaax said, not taking his eyes off of the sky.
“Huh?” she said, pulling her cloak tight again.
“You’re shivering. I don’t want you to freeze to death.”
Jahrra rolled her eyes. It seemed her guardian was back to his usual patronizing self but at least she caught a little hint of amusement in his voice. Maybe he had forgiven her earlier rudeness and assumptions after all.
Grumbling about bossy dragons and the cold, she scooted closer to him, leaning her back against the side of his shoulder. His natural warmth immediately took effect and Jahrra started to relax. After several minutes more, she worked up the gumption to ask him the question that had been the reason for her coming out here to begin with.
“Jaax,” she said tentatively, her voice holding the weariness that was now causing her eyes to drift closed, “why did you leave the play?”
Jahrra tried to gauge his reaction to her question, but as always the dragon remained still.
Finally, he sighed and answered, “I do not like to be reminded of the fall of the Tanaan.”
She was surprised at his response. Coming fully awake, but continuing to lean against him, she considered this. She had suspected that was why he’d left, but she had never expected him to be completely honest about it. She imagined he would make some excuse, like he couldn’t sit that long without getting up to move around or that the music and lights of the performance had taken a toll and he needed to get away from it for a bit.