The Awakening (2 page)

There was a rumor circulating as well, one that turned my blood colder than the day I learned who had overtaken my child. A rumor so horrifying that my dreams became saturated with it. It was whispered among the people of Ghorium that their tyrant king had plans to destroy what remained of the human race, the Tanaan from the west, those who had so readily allowed their sovereign and his seven sons to leave their kingdom and come to die in Ghorium. Ciarrohn was ready to take the next step in eradicating the bond Ethoes had struck between the peoples of her world and their land. He would put an end to the human race once and for all, and leave Oescienne free for his taking. Never mind that it was on the other side of the world, for the humans were weak and they would be easiest to defeat.

I waited in agony as the weeks passed and the rumors became more frequent. The very air was vibrating with the essence of doom and many reports from the castle to the far north only confirmed my fears. My son was creating more of his battle dragons. He was planning a campaign to the west.

We would never see the Crimson King march with his great armies, however, for one month before he was to leave on his great conquering mission, a small band of warriors arrived in Ghorium, led by a young, vibrant man full of passion and vengeance. I later learned that this young man was the eighth son of the king of Oescienne and he had spent the past several years planning a mission of revenge. The poor young fool. But I understood his pain; his need for vengeance. I could only imagine that the love between a son and his father was just as strong, if not stronger, than the love between a mother and a son. Though I yearned for him to return to his homeland where he might be safe for a little bit longer, I could not blame him for what he had chosen to do.

I remember the day the Tanaan fell as if it happened only yesterday. I had left my forest retreat behind and had joined the masses of people who had marched across the plains of Ghorium to witness what they hoped would be the end of my son’s reign. I longed for an end to this tyranny; for an end to the slavery my child was enduring under the control of Ciarrohn, but at the same time I anguished at the thought of his demise. I prayed for the release of his soul while at the same time I longed he would be forgiven. Yet, deep down in the depths of my heart I feared, I knew, that this battle would end in tragedy for all.

I remember it well. The trees were gilded in flame and gold and the autumn air held a chill that always seemed to linger in the province of Ghorium, no matter the time of year. We huddled together, the peasants and common folk, alongside those who had once owned grand houses and titles. We gathered along the edge of the plain like rats awaiting their turn at a carcass freshly caught by wolves. Silence was our cloak, and fear was the shoes we wore. The Tanaan prince led his soldiers and even from our great distance, I could tell that he was propelled by pure fury and purpose. He resembled my husband in his looks and his father who had come and died before him. But he also reminded me of my son, or of who my son could have been had he not been corrupted by the god.

He sat proudly upon his horse, commanding his great army of men and dragons. From looks alone I would have said he had a great chance of defeating my Kalehm, but the Korli dragons did not stand a chance against the army of Morlis, their size and pure brutality no match for the more peaceful kruel of their brethren. As the day turned from dawn, to noon, to dusk, we watched and listened in horror as the great battle dragons burned entire legions and tore to pieces the Korlis charged to aid the Tanaan race of humans. Slowly, those around me crept back towards the forests, their numb terror nearly keeping them from their escape.

I could not leave. I stood there, watching as my child destroyed an entire army of men, dragons and elves. I witnessed the carnage, tasted the metallic tint of blood in the air and smelled the acrid scent of burning flesh on the wind. I forced myself to observe the tragedy, for it was my sentence. Someone had to witness what occurred here; someone had to write it down, to remember it. I was the most appropriate candidate. After all, it was I who had brought this about. Had I not been selfish, had I not fallen for the king’s charms, had I been braver and taken my son and fled, then this would never have happened.

The air was rife with emotion; pain, anger, sheer terror. By sundown I was sure everyone was dead, for the carrion crows were circling and the Morli were backing down, retreating to the north. But I was wrong. As the sun dipped behind the distant mountains, a piercing flash of light rent the air. Blinded, I blinked and sucked in a deep breath. When I regained my sight, I fell to my knees and felt the blood drain from my body. My senses were so numb that, for several moments, I could only feel the pebbles beneath my knees and dirt gathering beneath my fingernails. It felt as if I had fallen into the sea while in a deep sleep and I was struggling to reach the surface.

When my hearing returned to me I gazed off into the distance. There were more dragons than I had seen before, perhaps hundreds or even thousands of them, but they were not Morli, nor were they Korli. They resembled Traagien, that great savior from so long ago. I felt my consciousness slipping away, but all I could hear was screaming, a screaming like no other sound I had ever heard before. It was the sound of a soul being torn from a body, the sound of a mother holding the broken body of her child. I could not bear it. I curled into a ball and rocked myself back and forth, trying desperately to cleanse my ears of that horrible sound. But it was no use, the wails and shrieks of pure hopelessness tore down my barriers, and I fell . . .

-
Chapter One
-

Getting Away

Jahrra woke to the sound of her own cries, tearing through the pre-dawn air like a wailing banshee flying down a steep canyon. This time the nightmare was worse than before, holding her hostage even though she knew it wasn’t real; keeping her within its own evil world even as she tried in vain to escape. Only after hearing the horrible sounds of the screaming dragons did the night terror release her and allow her to wake. That was when the shouting stopped and the sobbing began.

Jahrra forgot all about her throbbing ankle and aching knee, as well as the deep, late winter chill that had managed to seep into her bones. She had even forgotten about her semequin Phrym, now standing sheepishly aside where he was tethered, lightly whickering in concern as he eyed his suffering master. He knew something was wrong but he could not discern what it was.

Jahrra’s cries were soon joined by the heavy wing beats of some large animal, a dark shadow against the still-black sky.

“Jahrra!” a strong voice hissed. “Jahrra, what’s wrong?”

A great Tanaan dragon landed beside her, pulling his wings in before they became entangled in the low oaks dotting the hillside where they had made their camp the night before.

The distraught young woman couldn’t answer him, or wouldn’t. The unfamiliar memories from long ago too near and too real for her to do anything other than fight against the pain. This particular dream had visited her too many times in the past week of travel and it had exhausted her both physically and mentally. More often than not, the dream changed before she woke, scooping up her own memories and pasting them on to the end. Instead of the battlefield rife with screaming dragons, it became Hroombra, crying out in agony before his death. Jahrra shivered and squeezed her eyes shut. How many times did she have to suffer the loss of the dragon she loved as a father? But tonight the terrible screams had shaken her from sleep before she could revisit her own horrifying memories.

Jaax scanned the surrounding area, his dragon sight not missing a thing, and when he found no immediate threat he narrowed his eyes and glanced down at Jahrra. He relaxed, then took a deep breath and whispered knowingly, “The nightmare.”

Jahrra simply nodded, clenching her teeth and curling into a ball despite her injured leg. Her tears still came, but she was no longer sobbing so aggressively.

“What did you see this time?” the dragon asked gently, tucking his legs under his body and folding his wings as he lay down in the cramped space next to her. He was careful not to touch her, for he knew she was still fighting the vivid reality of the dream.

Jahrra merely shook her head in answer to his question and closed her eyes. But that action only brought the pictures streaming forward once again. The stone hallways of a cold, desolate castle, a cruel king with empty eyes, an army of terrifying dragons, the smell of blood and the anguish of a mother’s loss. These memories weren’t right; recollections from a past she had no part of, from a lifetime that wasn’t hers. Gasping, she opened her eyes again and tried to focus on something else.

“Please talk to me, Jahrra,” Jaax pleaded quietly as he curled more securely around her. “I need to know that you are still with me.”

Jahrra was so used to the totalitarian version of her companion that his unusual kindness drew her out. She took a deep breath and regaled the tale to him, her voice trembling during the worst parts. She didn’t bother telling him that the dream seemed to be taking place from her point of view, as if the memories were her own. When it had started worming its way into her usual nightmare regarding Hroombra, it had scared her nearly to death. Had some long dead spirit somehow possessed her, reliving its turbulent past through her dreams?

When she finished, Jaax released a smoke-tinged sigh and said, “I’ve had nightmares as well, different than yours but nightmares nonetheless.”

Jahrra uncurled a bit and looked up at him. “You have nightmares too? Why have you not said?”

A knowing grin crept onto the dragon’s face. “Oh, for the same reason you were reluctant to tell me of yours, I’m sure.”

Jahrra nodded. No one liked to admit their vulnerabilities. Of course, her habit of declaring her night terrors for all those to hear made it harder to keep them to herself. She wondered that if she were to watch Jaax sleep, would she witness some evidence of his own bad dreams? She thought about what else he’d said, about how his dreams were different than hers. Did someone else’s memories infiltrate his nightmares as well?

Taking another deep breath and rubbing her swollen eyes, Jahrra sat up and took in their surroundings. They had been on the road for just over a week (Jahrra’s injury and foul weather creating quite a delay) and so far they hadn’t encountered any of the Crimson King’s soldiers. Jahrra wondered if it was pure luck or if Jaax had been correct in assuming the Tyrant’s minions would have a harder time finding them should they head inland. In either case, she was grateful not to have come across them. Her nightmares and her memories of why they were leaving Oescienne in the first place were bad enough.

Jahrra yawned and moved to stand up, wincing and crashing back down to the ground when she put too much weight on her sprained ankle. The injury she garnered while escaping her attackers outside the Castle Guard Ruin was healing but it still bothered her, especially on these cold nights when she had been sleeping on the hard ground.

Jaax lifted an inquiring eye, quietly asking if she needed assistance.

“I’m fine,” she grumbled as she managed to pull herself upright. “Just a little stiff from the cold is all.”

And still a little shaken from her night terrors, but that would pass.

The dragon nodded then watched her disappear into the bushes to make herself ready for the day.

Jaax sighed and contemplated what their next move should be. He had planned on hunting before dawn but the current circumstances changed his mind. Jahrra needed him here despite their awkward friendship, a friendship that seemed only as new as their week-old journey, regardless of the long years they had known one another.

Once the initial numbness of Hroombra’s death had started to wear off Jahrra had become distant and withdrawn, as if she had no will of her own. Jaax had tried everything to keep her mind occupied: pointing out the changing scenery and unfamiliar wildlife as they moved farther north and east, telling her old tales in Kruelt, asking her about all the details of her childhood that he had missed out on. Jahrra had only answered in shrugs and nods for several days and Jaax had begun to worry. He knew about her nightmares, for he woke nearly every night to the sounds of her terrible dreams, but she never wanted to talk about them.

Sighing, the dragon stood up and stretched, gazing out over the long, wide valley they had climbed above the day before. Glordienn was only a few more leagues to the north of them and the last point of civilization they would see in a long time. One of them would have to venture into that great sprawling city and purchase some much needed supplies. The wilderness could only offer so much and the suddenness of their escape had forced them to leave not as well prepared as Jaax would have liked. He knew Jahrra would have to be the one to make their purchases, and although it made the most sense it still sent fear coursing through his heart. He loathed sending her into an unknown city alone but a hooded figure riding a semequin was not nearly as conspicuous as a young woman escorted by a Tanaan dragon.

Jaax had it all planned out, regardless of his reluctance: they would arrive on the outskirts of the city well before dawn and before the sun had crested the eastern mountains. Before the sprawling rural city had a chance to properly wake up, Jahrra would have conducted her business and would be well on her way, meeting him at the eastern gates. Some dried provisions, water skins, extra travel bags and rope. That was all they needed. It wouldn’t take long to gather such common items and Jaax happened to know of a general store that would carry all four. The traveling bags would cost twice as much there than at the leather smith’s, but Hroombra had saved up plenty in the back room of the Castle Guard Ruin and if it meant a quick and discreet sale, then it was worth it. Besides, this particular store was located on the outskirts of town, very near the eastern gates and away from the busier streets.

The sound of rustling brush drew the dragon’s attention back towards his ward. Jahrra, still looking a little groggy but more alert, stepped back into the clearing, stretching and yawning. Jaax thought her limp seemed less pronounced but he couldn’t say for sure.

“How far will we make it today?” she asked, weaving her long blond hair into a braid.

“Not too far. We’ll travel to the outskirts of Glordienn.” Jaax nodded in the general direction of the large settlement at the base of the mountains, just now appearing in the pre-dawn light. “And then we’ll camp again.”

Jahrra gave him a quizzical look.

“We need supplies,” he continued. “Some rope and food, and extra bags for storing these things.”

“Phrym is already carrying enough,” she said, eyes cast down and voice growing softer.

Jaax grimaced, though Jahrra didn’t see it. “I have plenty of room on my back,” he offered.

Jahrra glanced up, a look of surprise on her face.

“As long as you find some bags with straps long enough to drape over my neck.”

“Me? I have to do the shopping?”

Yes, unfortunately
, the dragon thought. “A young woman alone so early in the morning, although unusual, is not nearly as unusual as a young woman and a dragon.”

Jahrra nodded again. Jaax didn’t have to elaborate. She knew exactly what he was implying. If the Crimson King’s men did travel this way, asking questions, they would have a better chance if the people of Glordienn could only report the sighting of a girl and a semequin and not a girl, semequin
and
a Tanaan dragon.

Jaax sighed, singing the leaves of the closest tree with his hot breath. “We’ll continue along this ridge, then descend a little just above Glordienn and wait through the night.”

“It shouldn’t take us too long to get to Glordienn, maybe half a day,” Jahrra noted, lifting a hand to her forehead as she scanned the wide valley below. “What will we do the rest of the afternoon?”

Jaax grinned. “We’ll think of something.”

As Jahrra had predicted, they crossed the ridge by noon and descended closer towards the city an hour after that. Jahrra suggested they move nearer but Jaax didn’t want to risk being seen. To pass the time, Jaax told her stories of his time spent searching for her. When she asked how many years he had spent looking for the human Ethoes had promised, he merely shrugged and looked away.

“Too many to count or remember accurately,” was his reply.

There was something sad about his tone and Jahrra would have pressed further, only she knew that both of them were doing their best to stay away from morose memories for the time being.

Nighttime came swiftly and after eating a quickly prepared meal, Jaax suggested that Jahrra get some sleep. He watched her shiver for several moments then cleared his throat and said, “You know, there is no point in you freezing every night.”

He lifted the wing closest to her and gestured towards the spot on the ground just beside him.

Jahrra cast him an incredulous look.

Trying his best not to sigh in frustration, Jaax continued, “One of the benefits in having a continual fire burning inside of you is that your skin is usually very warm. Besides, I’ll feel better with you as close to me as possible. No sneak attacks in the middle of the night.”

When Jahrra ascertained that he was being completely serious, she reluctantly moved her sleeping mat and blanket to the spot he had indicated. Jaax had been right. It was like lying next to a low burning fire. Just as she was getting comfortable, he let his wing drop casually to the ground. Jahrra squawked at the sudden darkness of being trapped under a dragon’s wing.

“Jaax!” she hissed. “You’ll suffocate me!”

“I most certainly will not. And who will try and get close to you now?”

Jahrra didn’t like being held captive like some helpless sacrifice under Jaax’s wing, but he had a point. If anyone could even guess that a young girl was sleeping by his side, they would think twice about inciting his wrath. Grumbling to herself and inching as far away from his side as she could, Jahrra fell into a more peaceful sleep.

Jaax woke her an hour before dawn. She changed quickly and saddled Phrym before they began the short trek down the hillside and onto the edge of Glordienn. Jahrra felt immensely better that morning and she realized it was a result of sleeping so close to her new guardian.
Peace of mind
, she told herself.

The sprawling mountain city of Glordienn was more of a large trading post than a city and all of its buildings were constructed of rough hewn stones and wood; timber gathered from the plentiful trees blanketing the foothills of the Elornn Mountains. The great settlement was partially surrounded by a tall wood pole fence and Jahrra had no trouble finding an entrance as her eyes scanned their jagged points. The gates were open and no one was on guard, something Jahrra found odd but decided was a result of very little traffic coming through at such an early hour. As she and Phrym passed through the welcoming entrance, she noticed that the streets were muddy from the recent rainy weather and the houses and storefronts were dark.