Jahrra shook her head, but kept her gaze on Hroombra.
“Oh yes, as I was telling you before, the races of dragons were welcome here. In fact, many of the king’s relatives had been tutored in the way of the dragons, by dragons themselves.”
Hroombra stepped forward and took a deep breath, expelling a great blast of air across the floor, causing black soil, moldy leaves and grime to go shooting in great chunks through the air. Jahrra closed her eyes and waited for the debris to settle. When she opened them again there was no longer the rotting carpet of the forest floor, but rather, patches of ancient worn and faded tiles below her feet, stained from the decay of many centuries’ worth of leaves.
“Wow!” Jahrra exclaimed. “What’s that!?”
The colored tile below was not random, but revealed an intertwined triangular symbol set in a mosaic pattern. The symbol, which was only partially revealed, looked as if it covered the entire center of the enormous floor.
“That, Jahrra, is the Great Crest of the Dragons, something we call the Baherhb in our language. Each point stands for one quality, and each quality has two more aspects.”
Hroombra closed his eyes as if he were mentally flipping through an ancient book. He took a small breath and continued, “The three qualities are Knowledge, Strength and Loyalty. Knowledge isn’t the capacity of knowing or not knowing, it is so much more. In order for Knowledge to exist, one must have Truth and Understanding. Only true Knowledge can be gained when one knows the truth and when one understands it.
“Strength is not just the power that one can enforce. True Strength requires both Patience and Endurance. Without patience and endurance, one can never be strong of heart, mind, body and spirit; they can only be strong of body.
“Loyalty is the third quality of the Baherhb, and it is composed of Love and Honor. One cannot be loyal to another if they do not love and honor them. It is our way, and it binds us alclass="underline" Korli, Creecemind, Gilli, Lendras, Tiynterra, Aquandaas, and now Tanaan as well; all the kruels of dragons created by Ethoes.”
Jahrra stood still as Hroombra recited the ancient code of his kind, soaking in every word. Although she didn’t quite understand what all of this meant, she could tell from his tone that this symbol, this code of words, was important to him.
Silence followed Hroombra’s lesson and soon the songs of the late afternoon birds drifted through the woods, echoing strangely against the eroded walls.
It was Hroombra who spoke first, several breaths later, “So young one, are you through with exploring? You can’t have gone much farther than this spot.”
Jahrra was snapped back to the present at the sound of the dragon’s voice. “Oh no, I want to continue exploring, if that’s alright.”
Hroombra grinned and nodded as she padded off to another location on the vast grounds.
He waited a little while longer this time before following in her wake. This place had meant so much to him so long ago, and now that he had returned he realized it still did. The great, withered reptile closed his old, tired eyes and stood as Jahrra had, staring close-eyed at a ceiling that was no longer there. Yet the longer he stared, eyes tightly shut, the more he could see the great arching ceiling of times past.
He saw the beautiful paintings of the gods of Ethoes surrounding a great image of the Baherhb, complete with the three qualities written in his language. In his mind’s eye he witnessed the light streaming in through the tall windows that once lined the walls. Great bundles of vine and brilliant scarlet flowers spilled through the upmost vents on this bright spring day long past, their sweet fragrance drifting in with them.
Hroombra began rebuilding the walls of the castle in his mind, walls covered in artwork created by people from all over Ethoes. He noted the collection of marble statues in the hall and the tapestries that hung from ceiling to floor, following the arched line of staircases that led to the many wings of the great castle. He smiled as he heard the people of the past taking part in pleasant conversation. Humans, elves, Nesnans, Resai, dwarves, dragons; every beast imaginable that lived in Ethoes, all were welcome to this place.
His smile grew when he recognized the great king that last ruled this land. He passed by, hand-clasped with his beautiful queen, her blond-red hair falling behind her like an autumn field. He could feel their happiness flowing around him; it was impossible for them to hide it. The seven eldest princes stepped in behind them, all fair haired like their parents. They laughed jovially and intermingled easily with the visitors of the castle. No person or being was turned away, rich and poor walked side by side.
Then, out of the corner of his eye, Hroombra saw another child, the youngest son of the king, his final child. The boy was no more than seven or eight in this scene of the past that played across his memory, but Hroombra’s heart ached with regret like it hadn’t in a very long time.
The young prince had been the Korli dragon’s favorite, and now he saw the boy as he had known him, happy and carefree, completely innocent and unknowing of the fate that would someday befall him. He looked like his father, tall for his age and strong featured with golden hair. His eyes were also like his father’s, bright and clear and shrewd, but they held the intelligence and fervor for life that defined his mother the queen.
Hroombra began to grow morose, and this colorful, blissful image began to fade from his mind. That’s enough for now, he thought to himself forlornly, I mustn’t dwell too long on that time. It has passed, and I cannot change it.
Hroombra shook off the last vestiges of his fantasy and opened his own amber eyes. He’d expected to see darkness and blandness, but he was surprised at the scene before him. True, the beautiful castle had disappeared, but the sun still shone as brightly as it had those many centuries ago. The dragon sighed and began to head in the direction that Jahrra had run off. May she have a better fate than those who came before her, he thought.
In the time that Hroombra had been reminiscing on the previous life of this haunted place, Jahrra had been further exploring the grounds. She poked her head in and out of every emaciated room she could find, wandering into a few of them to see what she would discover there. She climbed a few disintegrated steps of an ancient staircase hugging a massive wall, only to find that it abruptly dropped off ten steps up. The walls that somehow survived the ages were veined with massive holes and cracks. It was like walking around in a maze, Jahrra thought, a maze that had no beginning and no end.
Jahrra tried with all her might to imagine what this pile of eroded stones might have been like so long ago, eventually forming a clear picture of a shining castle in her head. Oh, she thought delightfully, how Gieaun and Scede would love this place!
She relished this thought as she passed through a particularly large broken archway into what might once have been a grand hall. Jahrra pushed past the bushes that had grown up here and there, wondering if this had been one of the ball rooms Hroombra spoke of. She pictured smiling people dressed in flowing gowns gliding around the candlelit space, hardly noticing the towering dragons that would have been sitting in the corners of the great room.
A gentle breeze rustled the canopy above, creating a whispering rhythm the imagined dancers could sway to. Jahrra smiled at her illusion, letting it pass through her mind the way she passed through this enchanted space.
Jahrra released a relaxed sigh and turned her attention to the worn stones stacked before her, forgetting the obscurity of a time long past. After brushing her eyes along the injured walls for several minutes, she spotted something out of place in front of her. It wasn’t anything spectacular, but just enough of a change in the stone’s color and texture to catch her attention.