A fanfic, pt.3

As they flew, Janner thought back to what had happened over the past few days. He remembered being completely drained, yet also being filled, as all of the Fangs — people, now — sang the song. But between that and the morning that he woke up, he could not remember anything, although he was sure that something had happened to him.

He remembered waking up, and how his family had hugged him.

How Sara had come running from the forest.

How Artham had come, and had been proud of him.

How Oskar had been there, too. He remembered with a tinge of sadness that the last time they had collapsed the tent on the old bookseller was with Podo near the River Blapp back in Skree.

The past morning had been a lot of work. They had organized the containers, packed up their things, put their things on the dragons, then started figuring out how many full containers the dragons could carry while still being able to carry the empty containers.

After everyone was settled, they had to rearrange — for people added a significant weight, as well. But soon enough, they had gotten on their way, and they were now flying north and west, towards Ban Rona.

Sara’s heart was full. Everything that she had hoped for was coming true: the Fangs were gone, her orphans were well taken care of, the Shining Isle of Anniera was real, and she even got to be a princess — and of Anniera, no less!

And now, she was riding on the back of a dragon with Janner Wingfeather.

A dragon! With Janner!

She sighed contentedly, then leaned forward to rest her head on Janner’s shoulder for the second time that day.

And, of course, for the second time that day, Janner turned a bright red.

They flew over Ban Yorna first, and after a slight course correction, were speeding through the skies toward Ban Rona. The three dragons stayed together — with Artham flying alongside them — all the way to the Field of Finley. 

Artham and the green dragon descended, then landed, while the other two dragons circled the field. Nia and the children saw Clout come running out to meet them. After a few moments of conversation, the green dragon spoke: The Water we have is plenty. The rest can be stored in the Fane for safekeeping.

Kalmar nodded. Alright, he thought back.

Then he turned to Hulwen. Let’s go.

She nodded once, then, with the gold dragon close behind, turned toward Anniera.

Clout was amazed that they had actually found it.

“And you not only found it, but brought back two whole barrels of Water?!?”

“Yes. A few drops of this will heal — and cure — anyone sick or hurt.”

Clout stood in astonishment for a moment, then called to the nearest person. “Oy! You! Yes, you! Go find Ladnar, and have him round up all of the Clan leaders. Tell ‘em to meet in the Great Hall. Oh, and get as many canteens as you can find!” The person nodded, then raced off.

“This should be enough — more than enough, actually, if all that’s needed is a few drops.”

Artham nodded, and they started walking toward the Hall. “Too much would not be good. Back when the Wingfeathers were living in Skree, they had a dog named Nugget. Long story short, a Fang hurt him quite badly, and Leeli was devastated. I still had just a few drops of the Water left — I had gotten some when I first came from Throg, see — and I gave about twice as much as was necessary to heal the dog. It certainly healed the dog, but it turned him the size of a horse. The thing was about as tall as I am, and came with all the benefits of being large — he was amazingly strong. Quite loud, too.”

Clout nodded. “We don’t need any giants running around the Hollows. No more of them, at least.”

“Certainly not.”

“Artham Wingfeather — whose mind is now apparently restored — along with the rest of the Wingfeathers, and some others, has found the First Well and brought the Green Hollows some of its healing water.”

Gasps arose from nearly everyone in the Hall.

“And you’re sure that your mind is restored?” asked Bunge, still somewhat suspicious of Artham.

“Yes. In fact, I’ll tell you the whole story of what happened: When the Fangs took the Castle Rysen, my brother — Esben — said he needed something from inside. Now that I think about it, he was probably referring to some of the First Books. He said he would come back, but he did not. I stayed, trying to help him, but we were both captured and separated. By the Maker’s blessing, neither of us were killed, but both of us were eventually Fanged.

“Esben was first, with a bear. He sang the song but faltered and stopped halfway through. I was second, with a hawk, but as I started singing the song, I saw him and knew that I had failed to protect him. Thus, in my shame, I stopped singing after only a few words, but by that point my hands were already claws. They took us to neighboring cells, but we were soon separated. I was then given a cell with a good view from the mountaintop. I saw the Blackwood, and I saw that there was a way out. I was able to break my bonds and escape, eventually going through the Deeps of Throg, and it was after wandering in the Blackwood for a few days that I stumbled upon the First Well. Somewhere in my crazed mind, I realized this, and I used the shell of a massive seed to draw the water from the Well. I almost drank some of it, but I remembered Esben, and I could not bear to be made whole while he was still broken. I made my way out of the Blackwood and found a small vial on a farm near the edge of the forest, and put what water was left after my journey into it.

“I was then steered by the Maker’s quiet voice toward Skree. I stowed away in a Fang ship, and after almost starving, I stepped onto the shores of Skree and found myself in Glipwood, where the Wingfeathers were in hiding.

“A few years later, they were exposed as the Jewels. I tried to protect them from the Fang horde, but I was captured and held at the Phoob Fortress. The family attempted to get to the Ice Prairies to escape the Fangs, but the brothers were separated from the rest of the family, and then Kalmar was separated from Janner. Kal was captured and taken to the Phoob Islands, where he made the decision to become a Fang. I was held in a cage above the Fanging box, so I was able to see what was about to happen, but I was unable to do anything about it in the cage.

“So I joined in the singing, trusting that, although the song twisted, it could also straighten. It was then that the Maker blessed me with flight. I was able to break free of my bonds, and I took Kalmar and escaped before he was given a name. He was a fully formed Fang, but through the help of his brother, he was eventually able to regain himself.

“After Gnag — or, rather, Davion — was killed, the Jewels were able to open the Fane of Fire, rumored to be the place where kings would commune with the Maker. I can only assume that this entrance is one of the last things that Esben wanted to protect. Kalmar went down, and there, spoke with the Maker, who told him of a way to make the Fangs whole again.

“As the stones can bend, they can also straighten. As they can take life, they can also give it. Thus it was Kalmar’s plan to meld the Fangs back into humans.

“But in the same way an animal is drained of its life when a person is Fanged, so a human would need to be drained of their life. Kalmar knew this, thus he planned to give up his own life so that others might have it. But Janner — a true throne warden — protected the king from sacrificing himself. So Janner took the stone and sacrificed his own life so that his brother — and all of the former Fangs — could have theirs.

“But the Maker had a plan. Praise be to him, for he has blessed us greatly: Because of the First Well, Janner’s life has been restored.

“So, to answer your question, Bunge — yes, my mind has been restored.

“But that’s enough talk for right now: we have water that heals, and we have wounded in the city. What are we doing here, talking, when we could be distributing the Water?”

Everyone was silent. Then Bunge stood up, looked toward the guards at the door (who had been quietly listening to Artham’s story), and said, in a quiet, firm voice, “Get me every single sick or hurting person that you can find. And tell me where all those who can’t move are.”

Leeli was sitting just in front of Nia, which meant that she was the person closest to Hulwen’s head. This gave her the best view.

They were flying high enough for the ground — now the ocean — to seem very far away, but they were still a long way from the clouds. Leeli looked back towards Ban Rona and saw the little city, tucked inside a bay. Moments later, they passed through the now-lowered Watercraw, and she saw the two tiny guard towers, each with a black chain coming from one side and running down the cliffs to disappear into the deep blue water below.

She turned back around, and looked out across the sea, as Hulwen turned southwest toward Anniera.

It was sunset when they landed immediately next to the castle, and were greeted by Arundelle and Cadwick.

Both had heard what was happening from Thorn and Biggin O’Sally, who had themselves heard what was happening when they were in the Green Hollows. They had heard that the Wingfeathers were trying to get to the First Well, but they did not know why, or how, they had left from the Isle, nor what they were going to do when they found the Well.

Unfortunately, the O’Sallys had returned to the Hollows, although they did mention coming back to Anniera after the Hollows were cleaned up.

Both Arunelle and Cadwick were utterly amazed at what had happened. Janner was — somehow — alive.

Kalmar nodded once in greeting, then said, “We did it.”

Cadwick nodded, still astounded. “You found the Well, like that troll did. And the Maker not only blessed you with healing from it,” he said, turning toward Janner, “he blessed you with life.”

Janner nodded solemnly. “We were also able to bring some of the Water back here.” He pointed to the gold dragon, where 4 barrels were strapped to its side.

After a pause, Kalmar spoke. “Alright. Let’s unpack first — I don’t want to wait here for too long, and I don’t think the dragons do, either.”

The dragons laughed. You’re right, the gold one said. The Maker has given us the blessing of traveling with you to the First Well, but I think it would be nice to return to the Sunken Mountains for some time.

Kalmar nodded. “Alright, then. Cadwick, Janner — you can help me unload. Mom, Leeli, and Arundelle — we’ll need your help to carry the stuff in.”

Soon enough, everything was inside the castle cellar, and the sun had set.

Farewell, King Kalmar. The gold dragon leapt into the air, followed by Hulwen, both circling once before heading southwest and out of sight.

Since they had arrived to Anniera, the Castle Rysen had been only partially rebuilt. They had set all of their belongings in the cellar — they still had to unpack most of it — but they at least set up their beds. They would be able to sleep soon.

First, however, they needed to seal the Water in the Fane of Fire.

Janner and Kalmar had carried the barrels of Water to the underground room, and Leeli, Sara, and Nia were waiting for them when they arrived.

The room was round, like an empty well. The walls were ornamented with engravings of twisting vines, flowers, and depictions of stars, moons, clouds, hills, waves, and forests. Whoever carved it had possessed great skill, and in the flickering torchlight the scene seemed to breathe with life. The stones on the floor were laid in a circular pattern with three symbols carved at the center: a whistleharp, an eye, and a quill.

Kalmar grunted as he carefully lowered the last barrel to the floor. The barrels had been carefully placed to be on the stone circle that would lower into the floor.

“The Fane of Fire.” Kalmar gestured to the floor. “Where the Maker himself speaks to the kings of the realm. None can open it alone — it requires word,” — he pointed at Janner — “form,” — he pointed at himself — “and song” — he pointed at Leeli — “to open.

“The limning speaks, 

The shaping shines,

The melody is light in time,

And then the portal opens 

That the king may downward climb

The stair into the Fiery Fane,

The gilded city where remains

The holy burning heart of hope.”

He paused.

“Now, this may be a bit annoying, but only I am supposed to go down there — no one else. Believe me, I would definitely switch places with you if I could, but only I can go there.”

Kalmar looked around at them. Taking a deep breath, he asked them all, “Are you ready?”

Everyone nodded, then moved to the edge of the round room. Kalmar nodded at Janner and Leeli.

Leeli raised her whistleharp and played a simple, lovely melody. The air shimmered with it, and the torches fluttered as if a breeze blew through the room. Janner began speaking the words, and Kalmar began drawing the symbol in the air. His finger left a trail of glimmering sparks that hung between the children.

The floor vibrated with a pleasant resonance, a deep accompaniment to Leeli’s melody. The words Janner spoke, the song bouncing off the walls, and the sparkling symbol in the air seemed to exist in an exquisite union, filling everyone’s ears, eyes, heart, and bones with the very life of Anniera and Aerwiar. Neither Nia nor Sara had felt anything like it.

The symbol that floated between the children gathered to an exhilarating golden brightness, tilted until it was parallel with the floor of the chamber, then descended to the images around their feet. Warm light filled the carvings of the eye, whistleharp, and quill like liquid gold, then shot out along the seams and carvings of every stone in the chamber. The light surged, then vanished, leaving the chamber in an expectant silence.

Leeli lowered the whistleharp. The only sound was their breathing and the crackle of the torches, which now seemed dim and lifeless compared to the uncommon light that had flooded the room.

Everyone waited expectantly.

Then the stone circle moved. There was a deep grinding of stone on stone, and Janner and Leeli stepped quickly to the edge of the room. Yellow light burst from the edges of the center circle where they had stood. The stone sank away, and the light so filled the chamber that they had to shield their eyes. The grinding ceased, and Nia, Sara, and Leeli lowered their hands from their faces. The room glowed again, now with a steady yellow luminescence, as if the rising sun shone through the opening in the floor.

Everyone moved to the edge of the shaft, eager to see what it looked like. Janner called down to Kalmar. “Do you need any help moving the barrels?”

“No, thanks! I can lift them. But thanks for asking.”

Janner nodded. Moments later, he — and everyone else — watched as Kalmar walked out of sight.

Janner crept back from the edge and sat with his back to the wall, next to Sara. His thoughts whirled, he felt one emotion after another, yet he still felt at peace.

Upon experiencing the Maker’s magic, Sara had felt a myriad of emotions. Relief, for her loneliness was over. Peace, for she finally had a family. Joy, for she was a princess in a place that she had always hoped was true. A sense of accomplishment, for she had found a home for all of her orphans. Love, for she knew the Maker was real, and she felt his burning love for her and for everyone. Anticipation, for she knew she was part of the Maker’s plan. Hope, for the evil had been vanquished. Humility, for she knew that all of her good work was insignificant compared to how the Maker had blessed her.

Thus Sara basked in the Maker’s glory as if it were sunlight, for she knew that he knew her. Tears trickled down her cheeks, for she could finally rest and have peace. She was home, and she was loved.

Janner woke to Kalmar’s gentle shaking. “It’s time to close it,” he whispered.

Janner nodded sleepily. He looked around. Nia and Sara had apparently gone back to the cellar, for they had disappeared from the room, but Leeli was still sleeping. Kalmar went over and softly called her name before gently shaking her shoulder.

She woke up, and seeing no one but her siblings in the room, tiredly picked up the whistleharp and moved to the side of the circle where the whistleharp engraving would have been. She raised her whistleharp and began playing the melody quietly, and, together with her brothers, closed the Fane.

Without a word between them, the royal siblings slipped back into the cellar and quietly got ready for bed. Within a minute, everyone was fast — and peacefully — asleep.

Janner woke up and quietly crept out of the cellar, bringing his journal with him. The sun was about to rise, as evidenced by the glowing sky in the east, and the morning air was cool and fresh.

He took a deep breath and looked around. Seeing a part of an old wall, he climbed up and found himself a place to sit. It was just big enough for one person to sit, and it provided a great view of the surrounding hilly countryside. 

Janner pulled out his notebook and began to write of what had happened in the past few days. He wrote about how he ‘seeded the new garden’, how he had felt as it had happened, how it had felt waking up a few days later.

A small noise made him turn from his notebook. Sara had just come out of the cellar. She glanced around, and, seeing Janner, began walking toward him.

Janner watched her for a moment, then quickly looked away and pretended to be busy.

Sara climbed up the rocks to near where he was sitting and sat down. “Good morning,” she said quietly, smiling at him.

“Good morning,” Janner replied. He thought for a moment. Then, turning to her, he asked, “Want to read what I’ve been writing?”

Sara brightened visibly. “Sure!”

He climbed down — all the way down — and looked around for another butte-like section of the castle walls. He had gotten slightly sore from sitting for a few minutes, anyway. Seeing a flat section just large enough for two people, he pointed it out to Sara. “Let’s sit there. I’m a little sore from sitting on that one too long,” He said, pointing to the place where he had previously been.

She nodded, then lightly hopped down. “Uh… wait. I don’t know if I can get up there.”

Janner chuckled. “It’s alright. I’ll help you up.” They walked over, then Janner knelt and held out his hands to form two steps. Sara carefully stepped on Janner’s knee, then hands, then grabbed the edge and pulled herself up. Janner stood up, dusted himself off, and tossed his journal up. Then he stepped a few paces back from the wall. 

He ran and jumped, catching the edge with two hands, then clambered up to sit next to Sara. Grabbing his journal, he flipped to the end, then decided against it, flipping to the beginning. Still undecided, he turned to Sara. “I’ve got poems, journal entries, short stories, sections from a longer story that I’m working on… What do you want to see?”

Sara thought for a moment. “Poems.”

“Alright… from when?”

“Do you have any about when you first realized that you were a royal Wingfeather?”

“Yeah.” He flipped to a page near the front of the notebook, and began looking through the writing. “Hmm… no, not that one… that one’s no good… nope… still no… maybe… no… aha! Here we go.”

Janner began reading aloud.

“Like hills and valleys of a mountain range

are the emotions that I go through now.

I have just been made known, just today

I am a prince of the Shining Isle.

At first I was proud, and thought of importance

but then I realized that my role is the hardest

for I must protect all my siblings, for life,

whether they are annoying or nice.

Thus I am both excited and scared

for my calling is both the best and most feared.”

He took a deep breath and nodded. “There you go.”

“That was amazing.”

“Thanks.”

Sara thought for a moment. “Do you have any about me?”

Janner chuckled to himself. He flipped through the pages, and eventually found one that he deemed was not embarrassing but still good.

“Your eyes shine as beacons,

And your imagination is a watch fire

Your smile, with the creased dimples

at its upturned corners,

spill out a joyful dance that anchors me first —

then spurs my feet to movement,

dancing around the warm hearth.”^^

“Nice. And accurate.” Sara laughed. “Do you have any others?”

“Yeah… I have a few.” He began flipping through his notebook and pointing out more.

After a few pages, Sara stopped him. “Wait — that one. I want to see that one.”

Janner groaned inwardly. This one had been written in secret, and he had filled the page with other random words, so that at first glance it seemed like just a jumble of words that rhymed. Only someone who actually bothered to look carefully at the page would notice what was written. Thankfully, none of his siblings ever bothered to actually read everything in his notebook, and the only time his mother had found this, he had quickly snatched it out of her hands and flipped to another page, explaining, “Just a list of rhymes.”

Janner nodded. “Go ahead. You read it.” He buried his face in his hands. Great, he thought. Just great. Why’d she have to notice that one?

Sara’s lips moved silently as she read the poem. A moment later, her cheeks flushed, and she smiled slightly.

Of course, right as that happened, Kalmar noticed the two and smirked. “Is his poetry any good?” he called.

Sara looked up for a moment, nodded, then went back to reading. 

At the same moment, Janner looked up, realized that Kalmar had seen them, then buried his face in his hands even farther. Oh, no. He’s going to tell the whole family; I can already tell by that naughty little grin.

The moment he did that, Sara finished reading the poem, then closed the notebook and set it next to Janner. “Thanks,” she whispered with a smile, then jumped down from the top of the ruin.

Janner nodded in reply, but did not move to pick it up.

Sara walked over to Kalmar, and greeted him with a somewhat withering look. “Good morning, Kalmar.”

“Good morning, Sara,” he replied with a smirk.

“Janner’s poems actually are quite good, but I was wondering if I could see your sketchbook. Your drawings have to be at least as good as Janner’s margin scribbles.”

He was slightly confused, as he had just tried to embarrass her, but nodded all the same. He went back to the cellar, retrieved his sketchbook, and walked back over to where Sara was standing.

“Is there anything specific you want to see?”

“No, not really. Could I just flip through it?” she asked.

Kalmar nodded. “Alright.” He handed it to her.

She opened to the first page, admired the work there for a few seconds, then flipped to a new page. After a little bit, she was near the back.

There, near the end of the drawings, was a very carefully drawn picture of Galya smiling.

She grinned and glanced at Kalmar. He instantly noticed what page she was on, and snatched the journal back, turning quite red. “Please don’t tell anyone about that,” he said quietly, quite embarrassed. 

She was the one who smirked this time. “I won’t, as long as you don’t go looking through Janner’s notebook. If I hear that you have, I will find that drawing, and show it to the rest of your family.”

“Oh, I won’t read it,” he said quickly. “Not anymore, at least.”

“Good. You’d better not.”

^^Not my own work: see "Sarah Cobbler" by resurrectingtheminstrel on Tumblr.

[Link to part 4 will be in the comments.]