Chapter Seven

CHAPTER SEVEN

Artham shivered, though it was not cold. He stared blankly, though he had nothing really to look at. There was just the back of a huge structure. There was just a tunnel system for the sewers from that building. There were  just memories.

Tears filled Artham’s eyes. How had he been such a fool? How had he left Esben? In this place? How had he lived with himself? Oh wait. He hadn’t. These past five years had not been living. They had been years of survival. Building his own home multiple times since he burned it down. Hiding away from his own family. Worrying about his….her. Mourning Arundelle (he was glad she was still alive). Mourning Esben, and blaming himself for his death….but his brother hadn’t died, had he? He had lived in a worse situation than the Throne Warden. That was no where near right.

“You can’t think like that. The Maker’s Voice told you to come here for a reason. Even suggested Esben might somehow still be alive. Whatever the reason, you need to get in there.”

He walked forward slowly, and then crouched down and soldier-crawled through.

The tunnel was stuffy and hot. The wings on his back did not help, but covered him like a warm blanket, and he found himself sweating and breathing heavily. How he longed for clear air!

After ages and ages of crawling, he made it through.

Throg was just as dark as before. It was somewhat cleaner, but the grey corridor was still grey. The grey floor was still grey. The grey ceiling was still grey. The little girl was still little.

wait….

Artham dodged back in an alcove as a little girl started walking past him. She had light brown skin, her dark brown hair was tied in a quadrupled braid, her eyes were bright gold, her turquoise wrap hung around her petite frame, and her small feet pattered on the floor.

Artham’s nose twisted. Since when did children spend time in Throg? I mean, when Amrah wasn’t using them to her own ends.

Artham’s breathing was still a little heavy, so the girl stopped and turned around. She didn’t see Artham, but she did see a feather.

“I know you’re there. Don’t worry. Amrah won’t hurt you. Come out.”

Artham sucked in a breath. Get close to Amrah, find why he was here.

He stepped out, and the girls gasped. Her jaw was open, and her finger pointed.

Artham knew she was going to scream.

That;s exactly what she did. Artham rushed forward and placed one of his taloned hands over her mouth. She fought back and pushed him off.

“You are supposed to be my pet bird! Not a…a bird-man!!”

“Look. I know my appearance is shocking, but shouldn’t you be used to that?”

“No! I’ve never seen anything like you! Who or what are you anyway?”

“My name is Artham. I just have a—something I—look I don’t know why I’m here. Why are you here?”

“I live here now. My name is Gayla.”

“That name sounds familiar. “Don’t you…belong somewhere else?”

Gayla frowned. “Like in Anniera? Hand in hand with that child king? No. Anniera will be destroyed again anyway. Might as well be on the winning side.”

“You accept Janner’s sacrifice, but leave it?”

“I never asked him to do that! I was reached out to by the Master. An offer I couldn’t refuse.”

“So, you’re new destroyer of Anniera, wants an army of children?” Could this be why Artham was here?

“No, genius. I’m just a piece of the puzzle. Just like you.”

Artham laughed a little. “I’m not gonna help you.”

“Maybe not now,” came a soft, yet grating voice. Artham paled. He slowly turned and found himself looking straight at Amrah. A chill coursed up his spine. The madness ebbed at her brain. Her voice grated in his ears.

“I’ve missed you. You know, it’s a shame I wasn’t there every time for you. Me and my sister look quite alike don’t we?”

“S-s-sister? You mean, there’s two of you?”

“Yes. There are. I’m the younger one. You’ll find me to be…oh, what a coincidence. The exact same age as your Arthra,” she said with a smile.

Artham suddenly didn’t feel fear…he felt anger. A fatherly tick went off and he took a threatening step forward, talons bared.

Amrah took a quick step back. “You want to know where she is. Wish I could tell you. I haven’t seen her in years.”

Artham laughed. “As if I’d believe that!”

“You should, Artham. She’s telling the truth.”

Artham knew that voice. But he couldn’t believe it. He slowly turned, and saw a pretty woman standing before him, with curly red hair, bright green eyes, and a pale, sorrowful expression.

Before he could speak, or even react, Amrah clapped her hands twice, and four Wanderers of the Woes appeared out of nowhere and grabbed him. He fought back, trying to slice them with his talons. He only felt himself begin to bleed. They brought him down, and before he knew it, he was knocked unconscious.

“Off of him,” the woman said, and she walked closer to him.

Amrah sighed. “Good work discovering him Gayla. I wonder what would bring him here. Mother, you should know I am going to have to dispose of him. Throw him in the jail cell with his perfect mate.”

The woman took Artham’s unconscious, bleeding head and slightly elevated it and rested it in her lap.

“How have things gone so far? How could I not listen to you, my poor brother.”

“Take him away,” Amrah said, and the Wanderers did just that.

“Mother, do not interfere with our guests.”

“She’ll find him. And when she does, you will be in a world of hurt, or my name is not Emerald Wingfeather!” The woman rose to her feet, and she had tears in her eyes. Gayla was watching all of this in silence.

“It’s not,” came a man’s voice. “Your name is Fanshawe. It has been since the day we married, my love.”

“I know that day, Dralden. The day I burnt all my bridges, with both of my brothers. Amrah, promise me you will not hurt him.”

“Of course not mother. The bear might do some damage. He will be very threatened.”

“Must you pit brother against brother?”

Enjoy!