Jahrra could almost hear the music and laughter as they played and frolicked. She was so wrapped up in the enchanted scene that she hadn’t noticed Jaax watching her from the far end of the room.
The great dragon dropped the satchel of dried herbs he was carrying in his mouth and said quietly, “There was a time once, long ago, when it was safe to celebrate like those creatures around the fireplace do.”
Jahrra started slightly at the sudden sound of his voice, but he didn’t notice and she didn’t respond.
“There would be many more celebrations, not just the small Fall Festival held on Sobledthe in Lensterans,” he continued. “All four of the solstice and equinox festivals would be celebrated every year, and especially the Harvest festival and the winter solstice. In fact, it often took a whole week or two to thoroughly enjoy the festivities the fall and winter ceremonies offered.”
Jahrra continued to gaze at the carvings as she listened to Jaax’s story, glad to be distracted by a tale.
“There was a tolerance in the land once, long ago; a freedom. In fact, it wasn’t uncommon in Oescienne to have many different races living together in peace. It is no longer like that now, but for one place. We will travel there soon and you will see how the world once was, how it will be again someday.”
The dragon moved forward and curled up as best he could in the small room with the tall ceiling and watched the fire with Jahrra.
“How do you know such things Jaax?” Jahrra asked, her voice sincere and free of sarcasm for once.
Jaax smiled in his usual proud way, but she didn’t see it and he didn’t look down.
“I used to live in Oescienne, you know. Long ago, when I was very young. I was born during that time of turmoil, when Oescienne had just been dealt a terrible blow. My ancestors, the Tanaan race of dragons, and before that, the Tanaan race of humans, once inhabited this land. Their king and his family reigned from the castle itself.
“I was told of the peace and prosperity that once flourished throughout the land. The king of the Tanaan, when they were still human, was very wise and very good, and his people thrived and loved him. Anyone of any race or species could live in his kingdom as long as they followed one rule, the sacred rule of Ethoes, to be tolerant of others.”
Jaax’s voice was rough with emotion, and if Jahrra had bothered to look up, she would have seen it clearly on his face as well. Before his moment of reverie lasted too long, however, Jaax took a calming breath and continued on.
“But the evil king in the eastern province of Ghorium, one who is no longer a man but not anything else either, formed an alliance with the cast-out son of Ethoes: Ciarrohn. The being created through this unnatural bond, the Crimson King, despised tolerance and justice and peace; he preferred war, hatred and self-righteousness. The king of the Tanaan saw this and saw how the Tyrant was poisoning the land and its people. The great king realized that his only choice for true freedom was to try and reason with or stop the Tyrant, but it all ended in tragedy.
“As a child, I witnessed the aftermath of the Tyrant King’s destruction, and I hoped that someday, someone would have the power to stop him.”
Jahrra had heard different versions of this story before, but she allowed Jaax to tell his without complaint. She felt he needed to tell her all of this, that he had wanted to tell her for a long time. If she had interrupted, it would have destroyed this fragile start to their future, a future that would mean their absolute trust in one another. Jahrra fought back a grimace, something that had become a habit in all thoughts pertaining to Jaax. But that would have to stop now, now that everything had changed and now that her life depended very much on him. Perhaps this is the beginning of our understanding of one another, Jahrra told herself as Jaax went on.
“The Crimson King still searches out those who have defied him, which is why dragons are not commonly seen. They were the ones that disobeyed the god Ciarrohn from the beginning, and they still resist this new oppressor today,” Jaax finished with a somber tone, his eyes still fixed austerely upon the dancing flames.
Jahrra no longer felt sleepy after listening to the dragon’s strangely soothing voice. She took a ragged breath and spoke, her eyes glittering from the flames.
“Master Hroombra,” she began, swallowing back a lump of sorrow, “Master Hroombra used to tell us tales of the past, tales of the human race that used to rule this land. He brought me to the Castle Ruin once and told me that when I could read Kruelt, then I could know the real stories. I’ve heard these tales before, but I’ve never truly believed them until now.”
Jahrra paused, still keeping her eyes on the dimming fire. Then after some quiet reflection she said rather knowingly, “The world is changing, isn’t it Jaax? It has been asleep for so many years, but something has awoken.”
Jaax looked down at Jahrra then. The firelight made his features appear gruesome and cruel, but his eyes held a solemn sadness, something she had never seen in him until this day.
“Yes, Drisihn, the world is changing,” he said softly. “And I believe Ethoes herself is getting ready to fight back.”
Jahrra brought her eyebrows in close together and looked up at the dragon. “Why did you call me ‘Drisihn’?”
“It’s the name the elves gave you when they found you. It means ‘Little Oak’. In the future, I may call you this to keep your true identity safe. We’ll also need to start speaking Draggish more often. It’s one of the forbidden languages, therefore only those whom we can trust know it. If we need to speak to one another and there is a possibility that the enemy is near, we won’t have to worry about being understood.”
“My Draggish isn’t the greatest,” Jahrra grumbled, burying her face in her pillow.
“Then what a perfect opportunity to improve it, no?”
Jahrra slumped back down on her mattress and sighed. That was all she needed, another challenge. But in a way, she yearned for this new distraction. Unfortunately, it might also remind her of Hroombra. Jahrra blinked away her tears and focused on the list of words she did know in the dragons’ language. It was still too soon for her to comprehend that her mentor, and in a way her foster parent, was gone forever.
“Priuht useih choemreh laeni?”
The question was spoken in Kruelt, the Kruelt only a dragon could pronounce properly: Shall we begin now?
“Tehna,” Jahrra answered grumpily. “Yes.”
The conversation continued in the dragons’ language with Jahrra struggling every now and again to answer Jaax’s questions or to comment on some obscure statement. After the lesson was over, Jahrra found that she could hardly keep her eyes open.
Jaax stood up and grasped a few more logs with his teeth, rolling them into the dying fire. He breathed gently on them until the green flames became orange, devouring the wood hungrily. Now, with the improved firelight, he could see the strained look on Jahrra’s face and knew it was because of her fears, the fear of who she was and what might come after her. Her most immediate dread, that of the men who’d attacked the Ruin earlier, could be taken care of.
“Those men were merely scouts, Jahrra. They won’t come back tonight, not for a third time,” he told her after she yelped for the fourth time because of a crash from a log in the fire. “But the sooner we leave Oescienne, the more of a head start we’ll get on them. They’ll need many more numbers if they are to take on a Tanaan dragon, and it’ll take time for them to gather enough troops.”