“Was this once a road Master Hroombra?” she asked between skips.
“Yes, once. A very long time ago this used to be an important road. It led to the great castle that used to stand where we are now going. Now all that is left are the ruined walls of what was once the pride of Oescienne.”
Jahrra stopped dead and looked up at Hroombra, her eyes round with excitement. “Do you mean we’re finally going to the Castle Ruin? The one that’s guarded by those two old towers?”
Hroombra smiled down at Jahrra. She’d asked him every time they passed the towers if they could visit the castle, and each time Hroombra had an excuse not to. “Yes Jahrra, we are finally going to the Castle Ruin, but don’t get too excited; little remains of the great fortress that once stood.”
“Oh, tell me what it used to look like so I can imagine it when we get there!” Jahrra begged, setting her gait to match Hroombra’s pace so as not to miss a single detail.
Hroombra glanced hesitantly down at Jahrra, knowing that recalling such memories would be a burden to him. But how could he deny such an eager request?
“I’ll tell you Jahrra, but don’t be too disappointed when you see what remains.”
“I won’t,” she assured him, holding her hand over her heart as if to make a pledge.
“Very well.”
Jahrra straightened up, becoming disinterested in the wayside flowers and the startled insects. The old dragon now had her full attention as they trekked along. He took a deep breath and reached into that part of his memory that held the tale he now told.
“The castle was once called Estraelh Castle, home to the king of Oescienne, the most beautiful palace in all the land,” he began. “It was built on the highest end of the Great Sloping Hill, for the very first king of this province wished to see all of his land from its walls. With each passing generation, the royal family would add something new to the castle, building it slowly into the palace it became. The first king’s son had the patio gardens constructed; one queen insisted a studio and art gallery be added to one of its many turrets. A later king designed a music room, while one royal family built an observatory in another tower.
“Finally, an extensive library was added to the southeastern wing. A sweeping driveway, several more gardens, and a small orchard of trees were included in their own time. Those trees became the wood that now surrounds the castle; the trees that encroach upon the Wreing Florenn. It was once a place of magic Jahrra, built with the palest green granite and marble containing small flecks of all the colors of the natural world.”
Hroombra paused and huffed a small sigh. When he went on, a hard note peppered his voice, “It’s hard to see all of that now, due to the years of decay. Now the mossy green stones have become dull and faded, looking more like mud-caked slate. The gardens have gone wild and the walls have crumbled.”
Jahrra slowed her already unhurried walk to gaze up at her guardian with a furrowed brow. He seemed to be distracted, but he blinked, took a breath and continued on as if not a second had passed.
“The inside of the castle was even more glorious than the exterior. As I mentioned, it had an observatory, a library, an art gallery and a music room, but it also had an enormous dining hall and ball room for great feasts, parties and dances. Throughout the halls and rooms there hung or stood many works of art and sculptures of man and beast alike. The bedrooms were extravagant with great carved canopy beds and enormous fireplaces just like the one at the Castle Guard Ruin. The kitchen could serve just about any dish imaginable and employed the most gifted chefs, but the most magnificent part of the castle was the entrance hall.”
Hroombra spoke more enthusiastically now and Jahrra gazed off dreamily into the trees, imagining all of the decorations and details of the castle, forgetting the miles as they walked.
“The hall was enormous, large enough to fit a large party of dragons,” Hroombra continued. “In those days dragons were not feared as they are now. The ceiling was high and domed, and painted on the floor was the great symbol of the dragons, the three point star, with the qualities that we strive for written around it in the dragons’ language. The kings and queens and all of the people of the land tried hard to meet the standard of the dragons, so they had our code etched upon their fortress. Ahhh,” said Hroombra breaking off his lesson, “here we are at last.”
Jahrra had been so wrapped up in her guardian’s story that she hadn’t noticed how far they’d walked. She gazed up the path in front of her and gasped; several yards before them stood the skeleton of a once great structure resting quietly behind a screen of trees. Jahrra blinked, fearing this wonderful new place might disappear, but it didn’t. She swallowed her wonder and focused all of her energy on the scene before her.
In the center of the thick wall rising before them was a crumbled arch that had once been a great doorway. Beyond that stood the remains of a staircase, looking very much like an old, arthritic man hunched over from age. Many more broken arches receding farther into the structure suggested the intricate ceiling system Hroombra had talked about. Jahrra decided that the arches and buttresses looked like the rib cage of some great beast that had perished long ago.
Ferns and mosses, lichens and liverworts grew between cracks in the granite. Patches of sod, covered in forest violets and tiny star lilies covered the multitude of broken staircases, making this place seem like a fairy realm directly out of Felldreim. As Jahrra stepped through a gaping hole in the outer wall, she noticed that the layers of this castle continued on forever.
A strange feeling of magic and mystery tickled Jahrra’s skin, a feeling similar to the one she’d experienced at the Dragon’s Court above Edyadth a few years ago. The sudden memory caused her to trip over a solitary stone, tossing up a large chunk of black earth and debris in the process. She looked back, slightly heated from her clumsiness, and saw evidence of a stone floor hidden beneath. Jahrra scrunched her eyes in scrutiny.
Hroombra spoke, however, before she could query, “I’m afraid the floor beneath our feet has been completely covered.”
“How exactly did it come to be like this, the castle I mean?” Jahrra asked forlornly, running her fingers over a moss covered stone.
“That, my child, is a very long story.” replied Hroombra, not making any attempt to elaborate.
Jahrra nodded solemnly, deciding not to complain in this quiet, empty atmosphere.
“May I look around?” she asked Hroombra suddenly, hoping that by moving or talking she could shake free of the strange feeling that surrounded her.
Jahrra looked up at the dragon when he didn’t answer and froze when she saw his eyes. He was gazing into the heart of the old castle with an emotion Jahrra had never seen before playing across his face, turning his golden eyes to amber stone. It frightened her a little, so she kept quiet, not repeating the question. After some time, however, Hroombra looked down at her, suddenly realizing that she’d asked him something.
“You may look around,” he said automatically, his voice seeming to be stuck in some other time.
Jahrra took off running towards the building before Hroombra could say anything more. He chuckled to himself, crossing the shadow of what was once a great courtyard, slowly following the girl. When Hroombra reached the great arch that had been the entryway for the dragons, he found Jahrra there, standing with her face turned towards the dappled canopy above.
“What on Ethoes are you doing now, Jahrra?” he asked with a wrinkled brow.
“Oh!” The girl jumped with a start. “I was just thinking about the great ceiling and I was trying to imagine it here.”
She smiled at Hroombra, and he couldn’t help but smile back. “Do you know,” he began, “that this used to be the great entry hall for the dragons?”