Conquer the Castle - A Legend of Oescienne Short Story
Jenna Elizabeth Johnson
Conquer the Castle
______________
A Legend of Oescienne Short Story
By Jenna Elizabeth Johnson
Copyrighted Material
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, incidents and cover images are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons and places is entirely coincidental.
CONQUER THE CASTLE
_______
A LEGEND OF OESCIENNE SHORT STORY
Copyright © 2012 by Jenna Elizabeth Johnson
All rights reserved.
No part of this book or its cover may be reproduced in any manner without written permission from its creator.
For more information and to contact the author visit: www.jennaelizabethjohnson.com
Or visit the official Legend of Oescienne website: www.oescienne.com
CONTENTS
CONQUER THE CASTLE
About the Author
Other books in the Oescienne Series
Connect with me Online
Sneak Peek of The Legend of Oescienne-The Finding
Conquer the Castle
____________________
A Legend of Oescienne Short Story
“Master Hroombra!” Jahrra yelled over her shoulder from inside the Castle Guard Ruin as she dug around in an old trunk. “Are these the only old clothes you have lying around?”
It was a stupid question, Jahrra knew that, but she cringed as she held up the old, age-yellowed shirt and leggings. Where on Ethoes did he get these? she wondered. They looked like something a noble would have worn a hundred years ago.
As Jahrra contemplated the antique clothing, her guardian walked through the dragon’s entrance of their home, blocking out the light for a moment as he came to stand over her.
“Your teacher’s note said old, white clothing,” he said blandly when he saw what she was doing.
Jahrra dropped the clothes back into the trunk and scowled at the Korli dragon. “Yes, old,” she emphasized, “not ancient!”
“Well, that is all I have.”
Jahrra sighed heavily and started digging through the trunk again. She could use some of her own clothes, but she didn’t want them to get stained in the game of Conquer the Castle she and her classmates would be participating in the next day. She would have to make do with what she found in the trunk. It held not just the two pieces she had found earlier, but an entire wardrobe of garments, nearly all of them well-tailored and of a high quality. They ranged greatly in size, but none of them were so big that she couldn’t fit into them. She also realized that they were boy’s clothes since there wasn’t a single dress among the lot. Thank goodness, she thought.
She leaned back on her knees and studied the pile from a short distance. Yes, where had her mentor acquired these clothes? At first glance she had assumed they were costumes. Of course, why the dragon Hroombramantu would have costumes was just as puzzling as why he might have a wardrobe more fitting for a Nesnan or Resai elf.
“Ah,” Hroombra said over Jahrra’s shoulder, startling her out of her contemplation, “a fine choice.”
He nodded towards the long white shirt and leggings Jahrra had set aside before he’d come into the room.
“Master Hroombra,” she started, ignoring his observation, “why do you have all these clothes anyway?”
The great dragon was standing behind her, but for a moment, only a moment, she thought she felt him tense up. She turned her head and furrowed her brow at him. He was very still and a dark look seemed to have occupied his face, but in the next breath he brightened up a bit and said, “They belonged to a past student of mine.”
Jahrra’s eyebrows arched at that.
Hroombra merely nodded. “Though the general presence of dragons is frowned upon in this day and age, there was a time when our wisdom was sought out by those wishing to educate their children. I like to currently think of myself as retired.” He gave her an amused look. “But I once had several pupils.”
Jahrra held up a rather gaudy short coat, sewn from dark green velvet and embellished with golden thread and beads.
“And were some of your past pupils royalty?” she teased, flapping the coat about in a haughty way.
The slight twitch of Hroombra’s mouth could have been rather telling, but before Jahrra could decipher whether it was an acknowledgement of her statement or a mere reaction to something he found humorous, a familiar voice called from outside.
“Jahrra! You up?”
Jahrra dropped the coat onto the unkempt pile and raced for the door.
“Yes!” she answered as she met her best friend, Scede, at the door. Gieaun, his sister and her other best friend, was just behind him.
“Did you find anything to wear for tomorrow?” he asked, crossing his arms and trying to peer over her shoulder.
“Ugh,” Jahrra moaned as she rolled her eyes and grabbed his sleeve, pulling him outside to join Gieaun.
“For some strange reason, Master Hroombra has a trunk full of boy’s clothes that belonged to an old student of his. I found something in there.”
Gieaun beamed. “Good! Now we can start looking for the stuff to make our face paint.”
Jahrra returned their grins. “Perfect! Let me go fetch Phrym . . .”
