“Thank you for helping me with the mystery of the book Denaeh, but I had better be getting back. I’m sure Jaax and Master Hroombra will have plenty more questions to ask me.”
Jahrra made a face and got up, heading towards the cave entrance once more. This long talk with the Mystic, although not as revealing as she’d hoped, had calmed her temper and soothed her nerves, if only just a little. She no longer felt as irritated or uneasy as she had when she’d stepped through the door of the Castle Guard Ruin earlier that morning.
Denaeh watched Jahrra riding away from the cave’s mouth, pausing to wave from the top of the tiny hillock leading out of the Black Swamp. She clenched her arms together and heaved a deep sigh. A sad, sweeping knowledge wore at her mind, the way a chill mountain stream bites away at the land. Milihn woke from his nap and flew to his master’s shoulder, grumbling affectionately into her ear. Denaeh reached out and stroked his smooth feathers, grateful for his companionship at this moment.
She could feel what was coming; she could feel it in her heart, in her bones, in her soul. She shivered in the cold of the late afternoon as she moved back through the shrouded doorway of her cave, sobbing freely into her hands, anguished for what she had foreseen and for what she had learned.
-Chapter Eighteen-
Painful Words and Stubborn Ways
The brisk winter wind picked up as Jahrra emerged from the Wreing Florenn with Phrym. The sun was still hours away from setting, but the cold of the coming night was approaching fast.
“Let’s get moving Phrym. I think it might start raining again soon.” Jahrra eyed the dark clouds above and shivered.
Once clear of the woods, she brought Phrym into a steady gallop, hoping they would get home before the rain came. Jahrra dreaded going back home for fear that Jaax and Hroombra were waiting inside, ready to drill her with a hundred questions she didn’t want to, or couldn’t, answer. Even if the book she’d found was what Denaeh said it was, nothing but a pirate’s journal, Jahrra had a bad feeling it was much more complicated than that. Maybe it was the weather that made her feel so uneasy. Or maybe it was Denaeh’s confirmation and her own final acceptance that the man from the wood so long ago was a threat, and not just an imagined phantom. Something was brewing in the wind, Jahrra could feel it, and it wasn’t just the storm. It was something else, something older, something more sinister.
The Castle Guard Ruin came into view and Phrym picked up his pace, eager to get into his warm stable. But Jahrra didn’t feel relieved; she only felt her stomach sinking like a stone into a deep pool. Maybe I could just sneak into my room and go to bed, she thought hopefully as she trudged through the trembling weeds, leaving an anxious Phrym to gaze after her. She knew the unease she felt was written all over her face, and that the dragons would sense immediately that something was wrong. Jahrra hung her head against the occasional gust of wind, its cool breath pulling tendrils of her hair loose from their braid. Smoke was rising from the ancient chimney of the common room, but she could detect no movement coming from the cold building. Her heart began to beat rapidly with a sudden hopeful thought, Perhaps Jaax has finally left!
She stepped bravely through the door and noticed that Hroombra sat in his usual location, behind his enormous desk reading his scrolls. What about the book? Jahrra wondered in dreaded silence. The great dragon didn’t say anything right away. He waited for Jahrra to hang her jacket and scarf before addressing her.
“Jaax has gone out for a while,” he said quietly, not even glancing at her. “He’ll return later this evening. We will have something important to discuss with you in the morning.”
Jahrra looked up at Hroombra, her mouth going dry. She could’ve sworn she heard sorrow in his voice, but she couldn’t say for sure. He finally looked up at her, and she immediately knew something was wrong. She had seen this look in Denaeh’s eyes on many occasions (when the Mystic didn’t think she was looking), but she had never seen Hroombra appearing so troubled before. What could possibly be written in that journal?! Jahrra thought furiously, now realizing that Denaeh might have lied to her.
“Have something to eat, and then go to bed.” Hroombra’s voice brought Jahrra’s thoughts back to the present. “A good night’s rest will do you some good.”
“Why must we wait until morning to talk?” she braved, trying to keep her voice steady. She hated the tense emotion hanging in the air, and she would rather have it out of the way than to dwell on it the entire night.
Hroombra smiled a sad smile. “Because it is something important we must discuss, and it would be best if you were rested.”
Jahrra simply nodded, the knot of dread tightening in her stomach. She wanted to ask where Jaax had gone, but thought better of it. I’m in trouble, I know it. Because of that stupid book! Rhudedth was right. We should have left it all alone!
Jahrra tried to eat some dinner, but she could only swallow a few spoonfuls of stew before feeling sick. She left the fireside and headed for bed, dreading the several hours she would be tossing and turning in turbulent thought. When she finally did fall asleep, Jahrra dreamed of pirate ships and lost treasures.
The early sun shone through the small, west-facing window the next morning, but it was the veiled sunlight that pushes its way through clouds. Jahrra tried to roll over and go back to sleep, but the tirade of shouting coming from the main room of the Ruin prevented her from doing so. She bolted upright, eyes still closed, and listened to the familiar voices. It was Hroombra and Jaax, and they were fighting. Fighting about me, she thought, her head pounding as the memory of yesterday’s events came flooding back.
“It’s the only place for her now Hroombra! I’ve been scouting the area and it is no longer safe as you had once thought. She may finish her final year in school here, but come this summer, she’ll be going north, whether you like it or not!”
Jaax sounded rather angry, angrier than Jahrra had ever heard him. Hroombra, on the other hand, sounded weary as he tried to plead with the other dragon.
“Jaax, be reasonable. No one knows who she is. She’s safe here, as long as she is with me. We must allow her to make her own decisions, when she knows the truth.”
Suddenly there was silence. Jahrra crept to the door, trying hard to listen over the rapid beating of her own heart.
After awhile longer Jaax responded quietly, his voice calmer now but not devoid of a biting chill, “Hroombra, were you aware that she has been visiting someone deep within the Wreing Florenn, someone we would have never allowed her to make contact with? Someone I thought had been driven from this world long ago?”
Jahrra froze. Denaeh! In the many years she’d known and visited Denaeh, she had never told Hroombra about her, not once. She’d always been afraid that if Hroombra had known about the Mystic, he would have forbidden Jahrra from visiting her. Now it appeared that her suspicions had been correct all along.
“What are you talking about?” Hroombra sounded as if his own anger was starting to brew.
Jaax took a deep, wearied breath. “The Mystic Archedenaeh has been living in the Black Swamp for many years now. And would you know it, Jahrra just happened to stumble upon her?” The dragon’s sarcasm was almost painful to listen to. “I fear she’s been visiting the woman for quite some time now, for several years in fact.”