As they rode home down the dusty road late that afternoon, they all tried their best to set their minds on something more positive.
“Summer is coming up, can you believe it?” Rhudedth said, trying to drive Eydeth and his nastiness from everyone’s minds. “Then we’ll only have one more year of school with Master Tarnik. I can’t wait!”
Soon everyone was talking about the upcoming summer and making jokes about their idiotic teacher. Jahrra laughed along with them. She smiled at the right moments, and commented when questioned, but the entire time she was focused on something else, something much more vital than idle talk about summer vacation or ridiculous schoolmasters. She was focused on something she never thought she’d want to consider again: racing in, and winning, the Great Race of Oescienne.
By the time Jahrra arrived at the Castle Guard Ruin, it was already past dusk. She quickly took Phrym to the stable and fed him. “We’re going to have to work extra hard this summer,” she whispered. “We’ll have to be in top shape if we’re to win this race in the fall.”
Phrym nickered tiredly and she patted him, grateful for his quiet support. Jahrra shuffled back to the Ruin through the darkening fields, the blooming sun daisies almost lighting the way with their bright yellow faces. Hroombra was up, reading through his manuscripts as usual. He had lit many candles, as it was a warm night and there was no need for a fire.
He looked up to greet Jahrra as she came in through the door. “How was your day?”
“Oh, wonderful,” she half-lied. “I met a few more friends in town, along with Gieaun and Scede, and we all went to the Eighth Cove. We had a good time, but I’m exhausted. I ate in town with my friends on the way home, so if you don’t mind, I’ll head off to bed.”
Jahrra really was tired, and she had to go back to school tomorrow, not to mention face the twins after the incident today.
“Very well, have a good night’s sleep and I’ll see you in the morning.” Hroombra smiled and tilted his head back down to read.
Jahrra walked off towards her room with a feeling of vengeance and anger. To try and get her mind off Eydeth’s words, she took out her compass and admired it once more before hiding it behind a loose stone in her wall. She pulled her journal out of her bag and tucked it away as well. The strange words and symbols would have to wait.
Jahrra drifted off to sleep and as she slept she dreamt she was flying through the sky on Phrym. He had grown wings and they were both soaring high above all the other horses, leagues above the Great Race of Oescienne. She could see the entire province, and in the distant ocean she spotted a proud and valiant pirate ship. Jahrra thought, suddenly, horribly, that the crew of the ship had come back for the compass she had taken.
All of a sudden, Phrym no longer had wings and they began spiraling back to earth, the rushing wind making it hard for Jahrra to breathe. She expected them to hit the ground any moment, but they didn’t. Instead, they landed softly upon the sandy beach. Jahrra glanced behind her, hoping to see the other horses far off in the distance, but they weren’t there. She turned and looked down the beach, and far ahead of them she saw the large pack of racers. She and Phrym had been passed up, beaten by all of the Resai men, led by one young man dressed in goldenrod astride a brilliant white semequin.
-Chapter Fourteen-
The Great Race of Oescienne
For the very first time in her life, Jahrra found the spring months much more miserable than they were enjoyable. As summer approached and the school year wound down, her mind became more and more overwrought with a multitude of troubles.
First of all, she had school work and the twins to deal with; especially Eydeth’s nasty glares and comments because of what had happened at the cove. Secondly, she had Kruelt and Ethoen history with Hroombra, not so enjoyable now that everything she was reading and everything that Hroombra was telling her was in Draggish. Thirdly, she still had her defense lessons with Viornen and Yaraa on the weekends, and as soon as summer began she would once again be training every day.
The one thing that bothered her the most however, was the thought of the Great Race of Oescienne. That day at the coves had caught Jahrra up in a determination she had never before experienced, a determination that was driving her on despite everything else that was wearing her down. She was going to run an arduous race in six months, and she was going to win it. Eydeth had finally pushed her over the edge, and this time she was going to hit him where it hurt most. She was going to play his game and beat him at it.
Jahrra decided early on that as soon as school was finished for the year, she would be spending her every waking hour training with Phrym for the long race. That is, every waking hour not devoted to lessons with Hroombra, Viornen and Yaraa. As the summer days approached and slowly passed by, Jahrra made up excuse after excuse why she couldn’t spend more time with Gieaun, Scede and her other friends.
“I have extra lessons with Master Hroombra,” she would grumble, or, “I have a new difficult maneuver I have to learn for defense lessons.”
Gieaun and Scede were disheartened, but they knew how hard Jahrra was expected to work. It just seemed strange to them that, all of a sudden, she had absolutely no free time at all.
“Maybe next week, then,” Scede would say begrudgingly.
So that was how Jahrra’s summer passed; training with the elves during the day, struggling over Kruelt in the evenings, and racing Phrym across the beaches and up the dunes on her few days off. Before she knew it, summer came to a close and autumn was just around the corner. Jahrra now had only three months left before the race, and she found it harder than ever to concentrate on her school work.
As the day of the race grew nearer, the boys in school became more and more enraptured in the discussion of it. This energetic talk made Jahrra realize that although she and Phrym would be more than ready for the challenging event, she really knew nothing at all about it. She immediately made up her mind to go about gathering information carefully.
“But we have to make sure Gieaun and Scede don’t know what we are up to,” she told Phrym. “You know what they’d say about all of this.”
Unfortunately, gathering information on the race itself was much more tedious than she had thought. She couldn’t just walk up to her classmates and casually start asking questions about an event she was previously not interested in. That would be far too suspicious. What Jahrra could do, however, was keep her ears open and listen carefully for any conversation that might have to do with the famous event. So, with the prestigious competition only a few months away, Jahrra took a mental deep breath and quietly delved into the secretive art of acquiring information, something she had plenty of experience in doing.
She lucked out one day when Ellysian was strutting about the schoolyard bragging about how her brother was going to beat out all of the other contenders in the Great Race.
“He’ll be the youngest one to enter, but our semequins are much finer than any of the other nags that will be running.”
Jahrra’s ears perked up immediately and she stopped dead to listen carefully to Ellysian’s words.
“What’s so great about this race anyway?” she asked a passing classmate in what she hoped was a slightly irritated tone.
The older boy looked offended that Jahrra should ask such a question and replied, “Only the best athletes and semequins in all of Oescienne are allowed to enter, and only Resai men of the noble class for that matter.”
He finished his statement rather pertly, looking Jahrra up and down with a scowl. He then turned and continued walking as if she hadn’t said a thing to him.