Gieaun and Scede released two small sighs of relief when Hroombra finally stepped back onto solid ground. Jahrra sighed too, but not out of concern. The cool morning air felt wonderfully refreshing as it coated her lungs, leaving the distinct taste of fire smoke behind. She smiled dreamily, leaning into Hroombra’s vast, soft neck and listened to his deep, strong heartbeat.
It wasn’t long, however, before Jahrra was pulled away from her relaxed pose. The view from the road was beginning to shift and she could now see the fields far below, their dark furrows of earth dressed in the rich colors of early autumn’s ripening crops. Jahrra and her new friends now passed the time searching for the slivers of white dunes and glinting sea peeking between the trunks of tall trees, pointing and gasping at the delightful sight.
Hroombra chuckled and picked up his lumbering pace forcing Jahrra, Gieaun and Scede to grasp for his spikes to keep from sliding off. He gently ruffled his leathery wings before folding them back up again as they resumed their light flapping sound as they brushed against his flanks.
About halfway down the winding road, Jahrra saw something that took complete control of her attention. “Oh, Master Hroombra! What’s this place again?” she squealed as she pointed at two degraded stone towers tucked into the woods to their right.
They resembled the tower at the Castle Guard Ruin but besides the dead ivy and forest debris piled against them, they looked relatively undamaged.
“Those two turrets once marked the entrance to the great castle of Oescienne. Very long ago there was a bridge spanning between the tops of them with a massive gate at their base. Anyone wishing to visit the king or queen would have to enter through that strong gate. This way the king’s soldiers could make sure no one wishing harm upon their majesties entered the castle grounds.”
Jahrra looked on in wonder, trying hard to picture every last detail her mentor described. Behind her she could sense Gieaun and Scede leaning forward to get a better look and she imagined they too were trying to picture it.
Hroombra continued on as the children listened, “The entire castle was once surrounded by a great wall. There was another much larger tower just on the other side of this road, on that small hill there.”
Hroombra nodded to a smaller path leading down to a hillock jutting off the western side of the road. Jahrra couldn’t see a tower; all she could see was a small grove of trees with a ring of weathered stone resembling a fire pit and the bare earth within it.
“What happened to the king and queen?” Gieaun queried in a meek voice.
Hroombra turned his great head, a troubled look etched on his creased face. “That, my child, is a story for another time, but not for today.”
Although Hroombra had used a gentle voice the hint of sorrow lingering within it caused Gieaun to hunch down like a scolded dog. Jahrra realized with mild irritation that they wouldn’t be visiting the castle ruin today. She slumped a little and like Gieaun, she wondered what had happened to the king of Oescienne. If there was a castle and people to guard it, how could there no longer be a king? Jahrra shook her head, trying her best to be content with the sights around her as they continued on down the hill and into the farmland. She would have to find out the answers to her questions another day.
The trip to Aldehren, which would have taken an hour in a cart, took twice as long with Hroombra’s slow pace. The children didn’t mind, however; they used this time to get to know their carrier and it wasn’t every day one got to take a ride on a dragon’s back. Gieaun got up the courage to ask Hroombra if he could breathe fire and he happily demonstrated this by breathing a stream of deep red flame that seemed to split the air. The children clapped in delight and even Scede smiled and joined in.
When they finally reached the bottom of the hill Hroombra promptly turned northwest taking the road with a sign that read Aldehren, Hassett Town and Toria Town. The fields that stood between the Great Sloping Hill and Aldehren were practically deserted but the few people that were out on this fine morning stopped to watch curiously, or cautiously, as the huge dragon carrying three young children passed by.
Jahrra thought they looked like rag dolls bent over their fields, nurturing the delicate plants that stood stark and helpless in the chill air. Some of the farmers leaned against shovels and rakes in order to give their aching backs a rest. Jahrra waved hesitantly but the people just continued to stare like living statues, probably too far away to have seen the gesture. Their tiny crude stone houses littered the flatlands like large boulders overgrown with sod. If it hadn’t been for the narrow tendrils of smoke curling from their green roofs, or the glint of the sun reflecting off their minute windows, Jahrra would’ve dismissed the huts as eroding piles of rocks.
Jahrra sighed and turned her attention back to Hroombra’s stories, failing to notice the other farmers coming out of their houses to see the rare sight of a dragon walking through their fields. These people had seen Hroombra before, of course, and they even remembered seeing a large dragon flying overhead some five or six years ago. It was an uncommon sight to see a dragon and was well worth a break in their important work to stop and take a look, even though they knew this particular dragon lived atop the flat hill looming above them.
The three children were so caught up in Hroombra’s stories that they hardly noticed the miles ticking by. The next time Jahrra bothered to take in her surroundings she realized just how far they’d traveled. The vast farmlands were tapering off and a few small hills, looking like nodules covered in tawny velvet, rose up around them. A few small clumps of scattered woodlands spread out like a great, patchy quilt of green, red and gold, and the flat farmland was beginning to dip and climb into rolling fields.
Hroombra rounded the last small grouping of hillocks and finally the town of Aldehren tumbled into view. Jahrra clutched tightly to the spike she’d been hanging onto as Gieaun and Scede craned forward to get a better look. The low, primitive cabins of the fields had been replaced by sturdy houses built of cultivated stone with smaller, fenced-in yards surrounding them. In the distance Jahrra heard the buzz of society and soon Hroombra’s large claws were clicking against smooth cobblestones instead of digging into soft earth.
The empty street quickly became dotted with people scurrying about on their morning business. As soon as they saw the giant reptile ambling down the center of the road, however, they froze on the spot and gaped with fear and awe. Jahrra found it funny how Hroombra left a wake of silence behind him as they made their way deeper and deeper into the heart of the city.
Several small children, too young yet to go to school, clung to their mothers’ skirts, eyeing the great dragon warily. Jahrra, Gieaun and Scede waved merrily, encouraging several of them to smile and trot cautiously after them only to be discouraged by their chastising parents.
“Master Hroombra,” Jahrra said quietly so that only the old dragon could hear, “why’s everyone staring and getting out of the way like that?”
Hroombra took a while to answer but finally he turned his head slightly and said, “Because they never see dragons, Jahrra. I come into town seldom and I’m the only dragon in Oescienne.”
“Why are there no other dragons in Oescienne?” Jahrra pressed, wondering to herself why she’d never asked him this before.
Again, Hroombra paused before answering, “The complete answer to that question is something not ready for such young ears to hear.”