The Beginning (43 page)

Jaax broke through the last clump of trees at the edge of the wood and shot his green eyes in the direction of the Ruin, his heart almost stopping as he took in the scene before him. Several yards away many broken groups of men had Hroombra surrounded, throwing stones, shooting arrows, and thrusting lances and swords at him. They wore crude armor and shouted out harsh phrases in a foreign tongue. Smoke was rising from a few charred patches of earth where Jaax was sure Hroombra had breathed fire, and a large pile of firewood was aflame, the thick smoke billowing high into the sky.

The Tanaan dragon seethed with heated rage and hatred, but his blood froze when he saw who could only be their leader, a dark figure astride a tall horse.
No, not a horse
, Jaax shivered, a low rumbling beginning in his throat,
a quahna
. The dragon recalled what he knew of the terrifying animals. The quahna were horse-like creatures that the Crimson King had developed near the beginning of his reign. Massive in size, cloven-hoofed with the teeth of a boar, this monster struck fear into the hearts of the bravest warriors. The quahna were known to tear a soldier from the saddle, kill his horse, and then come after the soldier himself.

Jaax shuddered once again, feeling like his blood was draining from every inch of his body. He didn’t fear the frightful animal or even the men that had assailed Hroombra and the Ruin, it was their very presence that terrified him. He now knew that Denaeh’s predictions were right; the Tyrant had finally found Hroombra, and in finding Hroombra he had finally found Jahrra.

Jaax opened his wings, ready to leap into the air and rain a torrent of fire down upon the mercenaries, but at that very moment another rider came charging over the crest in the road. Jaax nearly choked in horror.

“Jahrra!” he whispered hoarsely.

She must have seen the smoke from wherever she had been and rushed back, for Phrym was slathered in sweat and the girl looked like she was about to fall out of the saddle. Jahrra wouldn’t know the danger she was riding into, and the thought of what could happen if she was recognized was something that terrified Jaax more than anything.

“Don’t come any closer!” he tried to roar, but his warning only came out as a faint croak, impossible for her to hear over the distance and shouts of the attackers.

He crouched to take flight again, but before he could leap into the sky, the dark figure on the quahna turned and spotted Jahrra gazing down upon the scene in horror.

“JAHRRA! RUN!” Jaax roared successfully this time.

The dark figure pulled his monster around and spotted the dragon just on the edge of the woods. Jaax couldn’t see the cloaked man’s face, but he could feel his malicious grin, cutting across the distance between them like a scythe.
No!
he thought desperately as the man turned his quahna once more, drawing a wicked-looking sword and charging full speed towards Jahrra and Phrym.

No longer frozen in shock, Jaax spread his wings and took off from the ground with great speed. He flew low over the field, wishing he could help Hroombra who now lay unconscious beside the Ruin, but knowing nothing, not even aiding the old dragon, was more important than protecting Jahrra. It took Jaax only moments to reach the top of the gentle slope. With the grace of Ethoes, he managed to land right in front of the girl, just before the dark rider reached her. The man pulled his beast to a skidding halt, almost crashing into the Tanaan dragon.

Jaax unfurled his giant wings to their full extent and stood up as tall as he could on his hind legs, completely blocking Jahrra from view, as he roared a stream of jade and sapphire flames directly at the mercenary. The quahna screamed with rage and fear, but its hide was too thick to suffer much damage from the dragon’s breath, and its rider blocked the torrent of flame with a long shield. The men who had been harassing Hroombra stopped dead and stared blankly at this new, much more powerful dragon in unsettled awe.

Jaax had a feeling that whoever had sent these men hadn’t counted on another, much more ferocious adversary to stand in their way. He glared down at the man on the demon horse and caught a small glimpse of the right side of his face. The Tanaan dragon lost some of his rage then. He dropped to the ground, staring at his enemy in raw horror.
The stolen emblem of the Tyrant; the mark of Cierryon.
It was the blood rose of Ethoes, but tainted and twisted in its design. Branded onto this man’s face, it no longer symbolized the life-giving force of the Goddess, but the evil carnage wrought out by the Crimson King.

The dark stranger pulled his hood tighter over his head, and in an angry, foreign voice, shouted out an order to all of his men. They quickly stopped gawking at Jaax and ran for their horses, tripping and shoving each other out of the way. Within minutes, they had all disappeared over the edge of the northern end of the hill, followed closely by the Tyrant’s servant on the quahna, his dark cloak flapping loosely behind him.

Jaax stood still for several moments, no longer looking menacing, trying hard to make sense of all he had just witnessed.

“Jaax! Master Hroombra!” Jahrra said in a panicked voice.

The Tanaan dragon immediately pulled himself back together and glanced behind him at Jahrra. She had been crying, he could tell by the subtle change in her blue eyes, but the threat was gone for now, and she hadn’t been harmed.

“Stay here,” he said gruffly.

He turned without waiting for a response and beat his great wings once, lifting easily into the air, gliding down to where Hroombra lay like a small, cold mountain. When he landed Jaax realized, with overwhelming relief, that the old dragon still lived. He lay there motionless, looking faded and destroyed, and Jaax knew with a painful wrenching of his heart that his oldest friend wouldn’t be with him for very much longer.

“Hroombramantu!” he breathed, his voice thick with sorrow and regret.

A small flicker of movement shivered over Hroombra’s worn face, and the Korli dragon opened his golden eyes, peering solemnly up at the young dragon standing before him. A slight smile, pained but necessary, pulled at the corners of his mouth.

“No, Jaax, I only have strength and time for a few words,” he murmured in a voice that didn’t sound like his own.

Jaax found it very hard to look down at his mentor, bloody and broken on the cold earth. He wanted to interrupt, to say something, anything, but when he opened his mouth, nothing came out. All of the apologies he should have made that morning, all of the kind things he had always meant to say, became lodged in his throat, turning into one, great painful lump. Jaax couldn’t speak, so he listened to what Hroombra wanted to say instead.

The dying dragon took a long, rattling breath and spoke on, “Know only this, you and Jahrra have each other now, and you must rely on one other. I will always love you both, no matter where I am, and I will be watching over you.”

Hroombra paused and took another ragged breath, his strangely determined voice sounding once again like sandpaper, “Take care of her, as I have cared for her. Promise me you’ll let no harm come to her, promise me!”

It was so hard to look at Hroombra now, but Jaax knew he owed the old dragon that much. He still owed him so much more.

When Jaax finally spoke, his voice faltered, “Hroombra, I, I’m sorry.”

“That does not matter,” Hroombra cut in, whispering on a smile as his eyelids drooped. “I know your spirit, and I know hers. You are both eternally forgiven for what you have said before; you must now set forth and finish this. I have done everything I can, and my time is now up. It is your time now, and hers. Jaax, you must tell her now, it is time, it is time for both of you.”

With those final words, the old dragon that had been Jaax’s mentor and friend for so many long years, lay his head down and closed his eyes for the last time.

Jaax stood there for awhile, not knowing what to do, not believing what had just happened, and realizing that everything would now change. He knew, as the sorrow invaded his thoughts, he could no longer put off what his fate insisted on. He could no longer sit back and wait; it was time for him to act. He thought back to the pain of his younger years and allowed it to meld with the ache he now felt. The sorrow and loss, both from the past and from this very moment, slowly filled the emptiness within him, burning him like poison.

He didn’t know how long he sat there in that position, staring over the lifeless body of his dear friend. It felt like ages, but it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes. The world around him had disappeared and he had grown numb. The clouds had broken and shifted above him, but he couldn’t sense that the sun was no longer directly overhead. It was slowly falling towards the west, painting the thunderheads vermillion, gold and coral, but Jaax didn’t see the sky’s beauty and he was too distracted with grief and shame to hear Jahrra approaching on Phrym. When he finally heard them he suddenly became rigid and turned around very quickly, feeling dizzy from his sudden movement after sitting so still for so long. It felt like his head was filled with water, sloshing around his mind as it drowned out all of his senses.

His sudden movement surprised Jahrra, causing her to jerk back in the saddle, but not enough so to unnerve Phrym. Jaax flared his wings to their greatest extent and avoided her eyes, gazing off to the side like a child being scolded.

“What’s wrong?” Jahrra said simply, her voice shaking with fear. “Master Hroombra is hurt, isn’t he?” she continued when Jaax didn’t answer her.

Jaax could hear the panic and strain of anguish rising in her voice, and he dreaded telling her the truth.

“Jahrra, you must not see what is behind me.”

The young dragon could hear his own emotion as he spoke, but he didn’t try to mask it.

“Master Hroombra!?” Jahrra shouted through a clenched throat. She jumped off Phrym and tried to run past Jaax.

He knew there was no use in hiding the reality of what had happened any longer. He just wished she didn’t have to see another one of her loved ones lost to evil.

“Jahrra, I don’t want you to see what is behind me. Please stay back,” Jaax pleaded desperately, his entire body seeming to wilt.

But Jahrra had a look of knowing in her eyes, and she took a short breath and spoke the words she feared the most, “He’s dead, isn’t he?”

She barely got it out, some of the words getting caught in her throat, some of them refusing to form. Jaax slowly and reluctantly lowered his wings and stepped away from Hroombra’s lifeless body.

Jahrra looked past him and let out a choked sob, her eyes now streaming like the rain clouds to the west. She slowly stumbled over to Hroombra’s body. He was so still, and he looked almost like stone. She knelt down and placed her trembling hand on his icy forehead, her tear-blurred eyes taking in the horror before her. It looked like his attackers had broken his wings, a sight that made it hard for her to breathe. He had a few large cuts and abrasions, and Jahrra’s heart clenched at the thought of what he’d gone through. She counted every injury she could find, but couldn’t tell what had caused his death, something she was actually grateful for.

Finally, Jahrra looked at her guardian’s face, and there, at least, she found some comfort. It didn’t look like he had been in agony, in fact, it was the exact opposite. His eyes were closed and he looked asleep, fast asleep and partaking in a wonderful dream.

She stroked Hroombra on the head, counting his many wrinkles, all the while trying to remember what the last thing she had said to him was. And then it came back to her. Her face, which was moments ago covered in a mask of sorrow and agony, was now a face of anger and disgust. The last things she had said to Hroombra had been horrible things. She had told him to leave her alone, that she even hated him. Jahrra balled her fists in anger and clenched her teeth. Jaax had done this, all of this. He had made her angry and caused her to attack Hroombra. He had told Hroombra that she would be going away. He had tried to hide the truth from her just now, and he hadn’t been there to protect Hroombra from those horrible men. Just as she had always done in the past, Jahrra now turned her torment on Jaax.

Before she could verbalize her thoughts, however, Jaax spoke up, whispering gently, “Jahrra, we need to mourn Hroombra’s death, I know.”

She could hear him swallow, struggling to keep his voice steady.

“But there is something you need to know, something I must tell you. Please, you have to trust me now.”

“Trust you?” Jahrra shot back, her voice a quivering whisper. “You want me to trust you? Where were you Jaax! Why weren’t you here when those evil men came and attacked Master Hroombra? He is dead Jaax, he’s dead!” Jahrra screamed with rage, her voice worn raw.

She took several short breaths, trying very hard not to break down completely. Jaax merely sat there, taking her harsh words, believing he deserved every last one of them.

Finally, Jahrra spoke again, her voice the smallest of whispers, “He is dead, you came here and caused all of this turmoil, and now he’s gone! Then you ask me to trust you? You who wanted to send me away from my home without even asking my opinion?”

Jaax took a deep breath, gazing sympathetically down at the shattered young woman below him, hoping that he could find the words to comfort her.

“Jahrra,” he began weakly, “you have no idea the danger your life is in now, how Hroombra died to protect you. You must understand, it’s up to me now to keep you safe.”