The Beginning by Jenna Elizabeth Johnson

have blue or green or hazel eyes, who can intimidate a tyrant king without dark eyes?”
    “Don’t be ridiculous, Jahrra!” Gieaun proclaimed. “It doesn’t matter what her eyes or hair looks like, she has to be strong and tall!” She was picking around the pile of horsehair looking for the lightest colors.
    “What do you think Scede?” she added after finding what she was looking for.
    Scede was suddenly attacked by two pairs of eyes, and he fumbled a little bit before answering.
    “I hate to take away the thrill you two are having by thinking a girl is going to save Ethoes, but I think it will be her army that really destroys the king, not her all by herself.”
    “Oh, Scede, you ruin everything!” Gieaun said, throwing her arms up in the air in mock outrage.
    Scede shrugged and got back to work untangling his own pile of horsehair, not caring much whether he dashed the hopes of the girls or not.
    The three finished their simple costumes that day, and it was late afternoon before they finally waved goodbye to Denaeh and headed home, still discussing the prophecy.
    “Why don’t you just ask Master Hroombra about it?” Gieaun queried. “I’m sure he knows something, he knows everything about Ethoes.”
    Jahrra hesitated before answering. If she really wanted to know, she would ask Hroombra, but something in the pit of her stomach warned her against it. He would wonder where she’d heard the story, and she wasn’t going to tell him about Denaeh and how she’d discovered her in the Belloughs of the Black Swamp.
    Suddenly, as if prompted by some unknown spirit whispering into her conscience, Jahrra remembered the paintings on the walls of the Castle Ruin. Could they be about the story of the prophecy? she wondered. She still hadn’t told Gieaun and Scede about the mural, and she imagined she never would. Hroombra had taken her there, just the two of them, and he’d seemed so saddened by it. Telling Gieaun and Scede would be like telling them Hroombra’s darkest, deepest secret. Someday, when she finally knew enough Kruelt to read the dragons’ tongue, she would go back there and find out. Until then she would just have to wait.
    “I can’t ask him,” she said finally, batting a swamp fly away from Phrym’s ears. “If I do, I’ll have to tell him about Denaeh. And if I tell him about Denaeh, then I’ll have to tell him I went into the Black Swamp.”
    “I guess you’re right,” Gieaun conceded. “I just hope she tells us more about it next time.”
    “You mean, you’ll come back to the Belloughs with me again someday?” Jahrra asked with a smile.
    “I guess so,” Gieaun replied, trying not to let her grin show.
    The three friends pointed their horses in the direction of home and the conversation turned to the upcoming Sobledthe holiday. As they disappeared over the low hills of the Black Swamp, the strange woman called Archedenaeh watched them closely, wondering, wondering . . .
    A loud caw from Milihn broke her concentration and she jumped slightly.
    “Milihn! You mustn’t do that!” she breathed quietly.
    The large bird merely looked at his master with one jet-black eye. Denaeh nodded ever so slightly and he hopped off her shoulder, disappearing into the depths of the forest.

- Chapter Four -
    Setting the Trap
     
    The next couple of weeks passed by slowly, and Gieaun, Jahrra and Scede spent much of their free time working diligently on their nearly-complete lake monster.
    “I really hope we’re done by Solsticetide!” Scede breathed exhaustedly as the three friends rode home from school. “It would be nice to do absolutely nothing over the winter break for once.”
    They had just over a month to finish their project if they wished to have it done by the Solstice, but their weekend was already spoken for. Jahrra, Gieaun and Scede had more exciting things to do than spend their few days off from school stranded on an island in the middle of a lake draping wet, smelly seaweed over a