With his master’s gentle encouragement, Phrym continued down the mountain, leaving a fuming Eydeth and the other competitors behind. Just as she had predicted, Jahrra was met with glares of anger, disgust and disdain as they passed the many other riders who had stopped to stare in shock at their unlikely, and unexpected, champion. Jahrra couldn’t tell if these men simply hated her for beating them or hated her for being a Nesnan female who had ruined their prestigious race. She didn’t care. She stared them down and refused to look away from their spiteful gazes as she and Phrym passed one after the other.
Jahrra let Phrym take his time descending the steep hillside, moving at his own pace so that he wouldn’t injure himself. When they finally reached the base of Demon’s Slide, the now silent crowd parted to let them through, keeping their distance and shaking their heads in aggravated disbelief. Jahrra noted the race officials, scowling like the rest, and she even spotted her teacher, Professor Tarnik, looking as angry and disturbed as a wolf in a trap.
Jahrra turned her face from the gaze of her pompous teacher and caught site of something truly wonderful instead. There, pushed up against the edge of a sand dune, stood Gieaun, Scede, Pahrdh, Mahryn, Rhudedth and Kihna and her sisters, all donning looks of delighted shock as they locked their eyes on the winner. Jahrra couldn’t help but smile brightly in their direction, almost laughing out loud. Gieaun and Rhudedth looked absolutely terrified, but Scede was smiling proudly. Jahrra felt herself relax as she and Phrym began to part from the dismal throng.
All smiles and confidence vanished in a quickened heartbeat however, when Jahrra finally gazed beyond her small bubble of self-satisfaction and took in the entire crowd, not just those immediately in front of her. Far away, on the very edge of the horde of spectators, stood two familiar figures; two dragon-shaped figures. Jahrra flicked her eyes downward and hung her head for the first time since the race had ended. She’d been so focused on the people around her, too busy keeping stubborn eye contact with her enemies that she hadn’t bothered to look up and notice the two most obvious onlookers standing just beyond the throng of people. And apparently the crowd had been so enraptured by the scandal Jahrra had caused that they, too, hadn’t bothered to look anywhere other than Demon’s Slide.
What on Ethoes is he doing here?! Jahrra thought frantically once she’d gotten over the shock of seeing the young Tanaan dragon standing next to the old Korli one. She had a feeling that Hroombra might somehow have figured out where she had gone and come down to the beach himself, but she had never, ever, in her wildest dreams, expected Jaax to turn up. Hroombra hadn’t said anything to her about the younger dragon stopping in for a visit. What could possibly have brought him here now of all times?
Jahrra stopped Phrym in the middle of the silent crowd and looked to Hroombra, whose eyes were almost unreadable. He didn’t appear angry, that was a good sign, but he didn’t look pleased either. She felt ashamed now for what she’d done and felt her face flush red. The Resai judges and Eydeth could stand there and shoot accusing glares all they wanted, but they could never dent her. Hroombra only had to look at her, without any anger, without any emotion at all, and Jahrra was once again an insignificant, vulnerable child.
Jahrra swallowed, then braved a glance at Jaax. She tried hard to think of the last time she’d seen this dragon, and then remembered it was when she first started her lessons with Viornen and Yaraa, six years ago. Jaax’s silver-green eyes seemed to hold a flare of disappointed amusement, blended with a hint of pity and disgust. Jahrra set her jaw stubbornly and glared back at him, trying to interpret exactly what she saw there. He thought it was ridiculous that she had joined this race. She was obviously making a fool of herself and Hroombra. How dare she?
How dare I? Jahrra thought, jumping to her own conclusions. Well, if that’s what he thinks! She quickly changed her look of bashful inquiry to one of spiteful loathing in a flash. She glared at the younger dragon with such contempt that he bowed his head only slightly, just enough to show that he had understood.
Jahrra hadn’t even come close to giving this look to Eydeth and the other Resai men while coming down the hill. She had beaten them all today; she had proven something to them. But with Jaax she felt she would never be able to prove anything. He would always be the one to tell her: Not good enough. No, Jahrra’s most intense anger wasn’t for her enemies, but for this dragon that underestimated and belittled her, not just once, but every time he had encountered her.
As the crowd turned to watch Jahrra’s progress, they also started to take note of the dragons. Those people standing closest to them backed away, expressions of fear slowly replacing their expressions of distaste. The Resai of Oescienne may speak ill of dragons, but it was a completely different story when the actual thing was standing just in front of them.
Jahrra grimaced when she noticed Tarnik making his way toward her, walking at a pace that suggested aggressive determination. She was even more startled when her school teacher cut her off by placing himself firmly between the two dragons and Phrym.
“Young Jahrra,” his voice was tense and brimming with anger.
Jahrra glanced down at him and her eyes widened in surprise. He was wearing a sash of red emblazoned with a line of prancing semequins. Of course; he was one of the many volunteer judges of the race. Why was she not surprised? Jahrra forgot about the dragons and looked him straight in the eye, as if daring him to speak his mind. She didn’t fear him; she didn’t fear any of them, not after what she had just accomplished.
He continued, now speaking on behalf of the race officials and registered participants, “You have insulted the integrity of this race, and you have blatantly and intentionally taken no regard for the rules and regulations of this honorable event. Therefore, speaking as a senior volunteer official of the Great Race of Oescienne, you are hereby disqualified.”
The horrible man’s voice had risen from a harsh whisper to a mediocre shout, but now he struggled to gain control of his temper.
After a few moments he continued more calmly, “I don’t know how you managed to sneak into this race, but it only further proves your deceitful nature. Think twice next time before doing something so foolish again. And you will return that semequin to its proper owner!”
Tarnik finished with an odd noise that resembled the cry of a chicken getting its neck wrung.
Jahrra would have laughed in his face, for his words were so ridiculous, so absurd, but the looks on the hostile faces surrounding her only proved that the opinion her teacher was expressing wasn’t an uncommon one.
During his little speech, Jahrra had been biding her time, preparing a response for him. Now she turned to the shriveled, oily Resai man and, loud enough for all to hear, replied in a slightly shaking voice, “I insulted the integrity of this race? How, by participating in it? What is more horrifying to you Professor Tarnik, that I am female or that I am Nesnan?” Jahrra took a deep breath. “Yes, I did sneak into this race; at the starting line I rushed in behind everyone else when the signal was given. I would have liked to enter legally, but that opportunity was not extended to someone like me, so I did what I had to do to prove to you all that I was capable of winning. And I did win, I beat all of your best racers, disqualified or not.”