AUTHOR’S NOTE: This is actually a short story divided into three parts. This tale takes place three years after the Wingfeathers have fled to Skree after the fall of Anniera. It narrates (mostly) from Nia’s perspective Artham stumbling into Glipwood after being presumed dead. But Nia and Podo quickly notice something is not right, and fear for the jewels’ safety…
*
Nia’s thoughts were clouded with memory.
She was moving about her day: cooking breakfast, folding laundry, and helping Janner and Kalmar with their T.H.A.G.S., but her heart was not there. Even after three years, there were still days when she relived that tragic night Anniera fell.
Someone had opened the gate to Castle Rysen. All they had heard were the Fang’s inhuman screeches echoing through the halls when Esben and Artham stood together in alarm. Nia had heard rumours of war, but she never thought they would reach the Shining Isle, and that soon.
Artham had led her, the children, and Wendolyn outside the castle before the onslaught of Fangs, much to their grief over Esben, who remained behind. Nia could still picture Wendolyn’s dying expression as she passed into the Maker’s Light, and Artham’s dismay as he turned to find her fallen. Her dear Podo arrived not long after to find his precious wife gone, and Artham leaving with the promise of return.
But he and Esben never did.
Grief and the deepest of sorrows still tugged at Nia’s soul, so much so she felt she was drowning. Her sweet mother, her noble brother-in-law, and beloved husband had fallen all in one night. How could she bear this without the Maker and her father there to hold her up?
“Lass?” Podo’s voice interrupted her thoughts.
Blinking a few times, Nia turned to face her father. His face was contorted with worry, but anger burned in his eyes. Alarm rose in her chest, and she dried her hands of water and soap spuds from the dishes.
“What is it, Papa?”
“I need to speak to ye.” His voice was gruff and low enough that the children couldn’t overhear.
Nia’s brows furrowed. She draped the dish rag over the wash bin as she followed him to the door. Podo opened it slowly, scanning the land before giving her the clear. He shut the door behind them as Nia tried to search for what her father had been looking for.
“I wasn’t sure at first, but this is the third time.” Podo exhaled sharply, his hand still on the doorknob.
“I saw Artham, Nia.”
Nia’s heart dropped, her mouth slightly agape. She was silent. She wasn’t sure what to say or think.
“But,” Podo continued, his back still to her, “it wasn’t Artham. He was… different.”
“Different?” she echoed.
“That’s why I wasn’t sure at first. But I know it’s him.”
“But how could it be?” Nia asked. “We never saw him after he…”
“It’s him, lass. I’m sure of it. He’s been following me. He followed me to the cottage.”
Nia crossed her arms as her mind and emotions churned. How could Artham be here, in Skree, much less the tiny town of Glipwood? How did he cross the Dark Sea? Why was he “different,” as Podo put it? And… she was afraid to hope, but… could Esben have survived, too?
“Papa, why did you never tell me this?”
“Because he’s not Artham, lass.” Podo explained darkly, turning to face her finally. His face was as cold and hard as stone.
“I don’t understand.”
“Something’s…,” his voice trailed off as he struggled to find the right words, “something’s not right in his head.”
“Well, we can’t just leave him in Glipwood, Papa,” Nia replied. “He just crossed the Dark Sea and went through Maker knows what.”
“He can’t come here.” Podo crossed his arms.
“Why?”
“From the way he’s acting, I think Gnag may have turned him.”
Anger burned in Nia’s chest and her brows furrowed. “Not Artham.”
Podo remained expressionless, but rage burned behind his eyes. “He’s a different man, Nia. I’m afraid for the jewels.”
“Artham would die for the jewels,” Nia said, exasperated.
“Ye haven’t seen him, lass. He’s not the man he was.”
Nia squared her shoulders with a huff. “He’s my brother-in-law, Papa. And he’s your son-in-law. We aren’t going to abandon him again.”
With that, Nia entered the cottage and left her father on the porch. Podo stayed there long after dark in his rocking chair, his lantern lit as he watched the horizon.
Ooh! I can imagine this happening just like this! Very good!!!
But I don't think Artham could be called Podo's son-in-law; he'd be his daughter's brother-in-law, or his son-in-law's brother. 😉
I’m excited to read this! I can’t wait to hear your perspective on Artham’s arival.
Oh boy, here we go! I'm curious to see her reaction to Peet