Normally, she could hear owls and other denizens of the night calling from the many branches, but tonight they were oddly silent. That prickling feeling of unease crept over her skin once again and just as Jahrra felt she should go inside and try to get back to sleep after all, something at the forest’s edge caught her eye. What appeared to be a cloaked figure rose up out of the trees, just to the left of the long drive that twined and disappeared down the hill.
Jahrra froze, her heart in her throat. She blinked hard, wondering if she was imagining things, but when she opened her eyes again the figure was still there, leaning against the nearest tree as if trying to gain support.
She straightened slowly, digging her fingers into the rough, hard granite of the terrace railing. She didn’t dare move. What if this person saw her? For a fleeting moment, Jahrra thought she might be dreaming. I never woke up at all, she told herself. I’ve been sleeping this whole time. But the prickling of her skin and the burning of her shallow breath was too real for it to be any dream.
Jahrra continued to stare at the dark figure, the lighting not clear enough to give her any idea of what color his cloak was. If it were only green, then I just might know you, she thought to herself. But that particular dream hadn’t visited her in months. Perhaps it was one of Shiroxx’s spies.
Finally the figure moved, gracefully yet almost pained, as if he or she were injured or overly fatigued. Feeling she couldn’t just stand in plain sight on the edge of the terrace any longer, Jahrra pulled back and plastered herself against the closest wall, the one just above the kitchen and the estate’s front door. She peeked around the corner and with a gasp of utter amazement and fear, she noticed the figure had stepped upon the circular drive and was now moving quickly towards the fountain. Knowing she should probably run back inside and wake Jaax and Neira, but too frightened to so much as blink, Jahrra bit her lip and flattened herself against the cold stone wall even more.
Upon reaching the fountain the figure slowed and hid among the shadows cast by the fountain’s tapered center and the well-pruned bushes that accompanied it. After some time, the stranger slipped back onto the drive, continuing towards the house, his feet barely making a sound against the crushed gravel.
Jahrra crouched down as far as she could go. She let out a silent curse, angry that she’d positioned herself between the balustrade and the edge of the kitchen chimney instead of heading closer to the window she had come through in the first place. If he tries to climb the wall to get to me . . . she thought with a shiver. But Jahrra shook her head. The stranger, whoever they might be, had been entirely fixated on the house itself; not once had he inclined his head to study the roof.
Jahrra thought she sat there for hours and when the sound of someone knocking for entrance chimed below, she nearly screamed. They pounded on the door again and again. There was a pause between each knock but the nighttime visitor never ceased repeating it. Finally, the unmistakable flicker of a candle appeared at the end of the hallway. Jahrra noted its progress as its yellow center moved down the hall, the glimmer scattered and fractured by the glass of the windows. Eventually, it disappeared down the stairs and Jahrra strained her ears for the sound of the small door window opening and for Neira’s voice to tell the stranger to kindly leave until a more decent hour of the day arrived.
The sound of sliding wood and Neira’s faint voice told Jahrra that it was safe for her to slip back into her room. The last thing she needed was for someone to find her out on the terrace at this hour and as soon as Neira told the stranger to be gone, she would be back up the stairs, grumbling about people calling early in the morning. More than likely, the housekeeper would look in on Jahrra to make sure she hadn’t been woken. If she didn’t want to be found missing, Jahrra had to move quickly.
Gathering herself up and getting ready to rush towards the window, Jahrra paused only long enough to hear Neira say, “I shall get him straight away.”
Relaxing, Jahrra stood back against the wall. The reasonable part of her conscience told her to get back inside and go to bed, but her inner voice insisted she stay and see what would come of this strange visit. Biting her lip as she warred with herself, Jahrra decided to wait a few moments more. Finally, the sound of the great door opening made her freeze. She scooted towards the edge of the terrace and put her hands against the railing. Carefully, she angled her head so that she might catch a glimpse of the scene below and perhaps hear what was happening as well.
The golden light from within the main room of the house poured out onto the gravel drive, flooding the stranger with yellow. He looked smaller somehow in the brilliant light, but he stood his ground as Jaax’s large and ominous form stood over him. Jahrra knew the dragon was glaring at the hooded stranger even though she couldn’t see her guardian’s face. It was apparent in the stance of the visitor.
“Who are you and what is it you want?” Jaax growled. “Why have you crept up my hillside and disturbed my household in the hours before dawn? Well, explain yourself!”
Jaax sounded grouchy and Jahrra didn’t blame him, but why even bother with the stranger? What had he said to Neira to make her fetch Jaax? Besides, her guardian had a point; why come at such an early hour when no one else would be around? Jahrra got the sudden, disturbing feeling that this visitor was either dangerous or carried dangerous information. With her heart in her throat, she leaned forward to listen even more closely.
“My old friend,” a calm voice responded, “surely I need not explain to you why I have arrived in stealth?”
The hooded figure reached up and pulled back his cowl. Jaax drew in a sharp breath, his reaction obviously one of great shock. Jahrra tried desperately to catch a glimpse of their visitor but all she could see was the top of a dark head.
Jaax made a choking sound, as if he had swallowed when he meant to breathe instead.
“Impossible!” he rasped, his voice a hoarse whisper that Jahrra only caught because of the peculiar silence of the night. “It cannot be, but–Ellyesce?!”
The dragon stepped forward, his head swinging back and forth as he scanned the drive for what Jahrra could only imagine were eavesdroppers. She bit her lip. She didn’t blame him; perhaps he sensed her spying on them.
As if to answer her question, her guardian slipped into Kruelt. At least, it sounded like Kruelt. Jahrra grinned smugly as she tried to follow what was said but after a few words she realized with severe disappointment that she recognized nothing Jaax was saying. What language was this? Frustrated, she stopped trying to follow the conversation and instead focused on the tone of voice used by both her guardian and his visitor.
The dragon’s words were harsh and held a tone of bewilderment, as if he were trying very hard to hold back some long forgotten emotion or memory. Or as if he was doing his best to converse with the ghost of a long lost friend. The stranger, on the other hand, sounded weary and penitent.
Neira returned a moment later, informing Jaax and his guest that there were refreshments in the main room. Jahrra took that announcement as a cue to return to her own bed. As much as she wished to stay and catch hold of what information she could she knew that eventually Neira would be checking in on her. Besides, if the two she was spying on were to take their mysterious encounter inside she had nothing to overhear anyway.
Padding quietly back the way she had come in the first place, she wormed her way to the window, swinging it soundlessly open as she stepped into the wide hall. The voices from outside had moved indoors and were now floating up the staircase to meet her ears. Still they spoke in that strange language that sounded so similar to the dragons’ tongue.