Sometimes, when Jahrra was helping Abdhe, Lynhi would pause in the kitchen and gaze out the window only to catch sight of her husband galloping around in the tall grass like a horse with Jahrra perched upon his shoulders, laughing in delight. When this happened Lynhi would smile warmly, her arms often resting in a tub of hot, soapy dishwater. Abdhe looked so ridiculous with his glasses askew and his hair messier than ever, but the joy on his wearied face erased all thoughts of how absurd the scene appeared.
Jahrra’s expression would be just as heartwarming. She had come home so often during the school year with a cloud over her head that it brought her mother some peace of mind to see her now. Lynhi shook her head, clucking her tongue good-heartedly as she got back to scrubbing the greasy dishes. Those two will never get any work done, she mused.
When Jahrra wasn’t kept busy around her little cottage or at the Castle Guard Ruin learning reading and writing with Hroombra, she was at Wood’s End Ranch visiting Phrym and riding the other horses with Gieaun and Scede. Still relatively new at riding, the three friends chose calmer, older horses, and when they charged out across the fields Phrym would whinny impatiently after them.
“I’ll be back soon!” Jahrra called, waving as her small colt watched her disappear into the distance.
Phrym was disappointed that he had to stay behind, but so long as Jahrra came back, he was happy. Sometimes when she was gone for a long time he’d make his way across the vast fields to the fence that ran along the edge of the forest. Once there, a kind stranger would sometimes come and feed him some bizarre but very tasty fruit. Somehow the young colt knew that it wasn’t such a good idea to take food from someone he didn’t know, but this creature didn’t feel dangerous, and if a semequin could count on anything, it was his instincts.
The kind creature was there today, standing just on the edge of the woods. Phrym spotted it and picked up his pace, crying out happily as he trotted closer. This person reminded him of his best friend, Jahrra. It almost had the same shape, but it was hard to tell with all the cloth it wore.
Once he was pressed against the fence, blowing and sniffing for his treat, the creature reached out to stroke his neck or rub his forehead, but then thought better of it. Not yet, the stranger thought, there’ll be plenty of time in the future for that.
Phrym munched contentedly on the snack offered to him, not noticing the glint of some strange emotion flickering in the being’s eyes. Such a fine animal . . . it thought.
Suddenly, the stranger sensed the children returning from their ride and hastily withdrew back into the forest leaving the curious Phrym to stare after it as it disappeared into the woods.
“Patience,” the stranger whispered to the shivering trees as it crept along, “patience . . .”
-Chapter Seven-
The Stranger and the Dragons’ Court
Jahrra yawned and stretched against the fragrant grasses growing beneath the shady fruit trees of her orchard. All of the wonderful memories of the past summer had made her sleepy and she had to fight to stay awake. She’d been thinking about the trips to Lake Ossar, her days spent playing with Phrym at Wood’s End Ranch and the half-finished tree house that sat perched like a decrepit shack in the old eucalyptus tree behind the barn. She and her friends, with the help of her father of course, had made good progress on the elevated hide-away, but it still needed much work. Next summer, she thought with rapture, we’ll have our very own tree house next summer.
The lovely images left a warm glow behind, but her thoughts took a sharp turn as she realized that it was all over and the beginning of the school year was just around the corner. One more week before I have to be around Eydeth and Ellysian again! she thought ruefully. As awful as the prospect of facing the twins seemed, however, she couldn’t help but smile when she remembered that Hroombra had promised to take her and her friends to the marshlands in the Longuinn Valley for one last summer camping trip.
Jahrra sat bolt upright, startling a covey of quail relaxing in the shade several feet away. They were leaving early tomorrow morning and she still had to pack for the trip. Jahrra lifted herself up out of her grassy nest and ran down the shady lane between the trees and into her tiny cabin.
By mid-morning the next day the three friends were atop Hroombra, clinging to one another as they looked fearfully into the depths of the Wreing Florenn.
“Come now children, this is the main road into Edyadth. It’s perfectly safe,” he said to encourage them. “Besides,” he continued with a mischievous grin, “what monster or creature would be brave enough to attack a dragon?”
“You know about the monsters that live in the forest?!” Jahrra asked in a harsh whisper.
“I’ve heard stories, yes, but I’ve never seen them,” he answered, leaving the frightened children to draw their own conclusions.
It was a long walk, for the Longuinn Valley was on the opposite end of the Great Sloping Hill and the Wreing Florenn was a rather large forest. When Hroombra finally emerged from its dark depths and descended onto the main road into Edyadth, Jahrra, Gieaun and Scede gave a great sigh of relief. Soon all thoughts of monsters, ghosts and witches left their minds as they crossed the rolling farmlands and the valley came into view. The town of Edyadth itself lay between the edge of the Wreing Florenn and a crop of hills in the east in the middle of the Longuinn Valley.
As they drew closer to the valley town, Jahrra peeked around Hroombra’s great neck to get a better view. A sprawling group of tavern-like buildings were hunched together along the side of the road running through the center of the settlement. They looked like giant heads buried halfway in the ground, their windows like secretive eyes glancing warily at passersby, their roofs like giant mushroom-shaped hats concealing their devious intentions.
Most of the structures were made of wood, but here and there a stone house would stand out like a cheerful friend among glowering strangers. There were no trees nearby, apart from a few scattered oaks and those in the Wreing Florenn that loomed behind them like a dark cloud. The land surrounding Edyadth was strangely barren and it had the look of the dead of winter hanging about it, even on this warm summer day.
Jahrra glanced down at the street as Hroombra traipsed along past the silent and brooding buildings. They’d left the sandy road behind and were now sloshing through a shallow river of mud.
“Master Hroombra,” Jahrra whispered above the sucking and smacking sound of the dragon’s footsteps, “why are the streets so wet?”
“Do you see that creek to the east?” Hroombra answered, pointing his head towards the hills. “It flows out of the hills, and a natural spring keeps it fed all year long. Therefore, the streets are always soggy.”
“Is that why there are so many sidewalks?” Gieaun asked.
“Yes, Gieaun. Everybody likes to avoid mud, well,” he paused and smiled down at his own feet, “maybe not everybody.”
Jahrra gazed at the scenery unfolding around her, watching the locals strolling on the sidewalks or riding their horses through the damp streets. There was something strange about them, something different. They walked around vigilantly, hunched over as if trying to sneak away from a crime they’d just committed. When Jahrra made eye contact with one or two of them, they quickly glanced away, covering their faces with their hats or jacket collars.
“Master Hroombra,” Jahrra prodded silently, still watching the last man that had hidden his face from her, “why are these people acting so strangely?”