Half Moon Rising-Chapter 15

Notes:

• Arundelle had finally shown up…

• Without further ado, I am happy to present Esben’s painting!

  
  

  https://ibb.co/fkFzkjN

• Sorry it took so long to get the chapter done.

  
  

Chapter-15 At the Resting Place of Kings

“Artham. Artham, what’s wrong.” Esben’s whispered voice was accompanied by a feather-light touch to his arm. Artham opened his eyes and shook his head almost imperceptibly. With an exasperated, nearly silent sigh, Esben pulled his hand away from his brother and looked at the man standing on the pedestal next to his painting. Artham was looking in the same direction, but barely even saw the bard. The painting on the easel consumed his thoughts. His parents’ and aunt’s faces on the canvas seemed so real it took his breath away. His brother had worked his magic again, and Artham could tell by the murmurs around him that everyone else was marveling at the painting too.

The painting portrayed his mother and father standing side by side with their hands linked together, with Illia standing behind them, a hand on her brother’s shoulder in a protective embrace. They were all smiling, looking straight ahead from the canvas in a way that made Artham feel like they were smiling at him.

At the sight of their faces, Artham felt a hundred things he thought he would never feel again awake inside him. Inside grew a tiny bit of how he had felt in the warmth of their love: secure, confident, capable, and the knowing that no matter what happened, he had someone he could take refuge in. The return of all those things surprised and confused him. When he looked away from the painting to the bard who was strumming the beginning chords to a song on his whistleharp, the dulled sting in his heart returned and doubled because he knew that they were gone. Because of that, none of those feelings could be real.

He didn’t understand how or why seeing Esben’s painting made him feel like that, and it was like there were two warring sides in him. One side longed to feel the security and love he saw in their faces, and the other told him not to, because it would just make reality worse. He swallowed hard, telling himself to fight it out later, to not start feeling all these things over again lest he do something he hadn’t planned for.

Despite what he decided, he kept looking at the painting, and had no inclination to look away. When he did glance up, he realized that all his thinking had taken only a few moments, and there was now a young woman standing beside the bard who had begun to play in earnest. They were twins who Artham didn’t know very well, but genuinely liked. He kept his gaze on Esben’s painting, but listened intently as the girl started to sing.

You were called Home, and here we are left behind,

In this land of shadows, land of the blind.

Wanderers here to all we know,

Why do we stay, but see you go?

In this land that is the dim reflection,

of what will be when we join you in perfection.

Wanderers, we journeyed together,

Kept strong by the other in the storms we weathered.

If we traveled the life-road side by side,

What's left when you’ve gone with your eternal Guide?

Wanderers in a land of dark,

We search for what will satisfy our heart.

But our farewell is not for always.

When our mission has reached its end of days,

We leave the land in which we wander,

In the place of shadows to walk no longer.

The life-path will end in the Maker’s land,

Until then we are guided by his hand.

Artham breathed deeply and tried to let the melody calm his stormy heart. It was an old Annieran song, often played at funerals. It gave him some measure of peace. He decidedly pushed away all of the other doubts and arguments that clamored for a place in his mind, the returning grief and anger. He knew they would catch up with him soon, probably that night, but he was in no place to start thinking about all of that again. And anyway, if he could catch some measure of peace, he was going to hold on to it. His aching heart needed the rest. He listened as the last wreaths of melody drifted from the boy’s whistleharp and kept his gaze on the painting.

* * *

Artham stood, head bowed and eyes closed as he listened to his brother’s prayer. They stood next to the large memorial stone dedicated to Jru, Nala, and Illia Wingfeather. The gathered crowd around them was so quiet that Esben’s clear, steady voice could be heard even by the farthest person.

“…and we commit them into Your keeping until we meet again in Your presence.” Esben exhaled slowly, and the crowd remained respectfully quiet for a few moments longer. Artham looked up and gazed out at the crowd. It was much larger than the one in the cathedral had been. After the final song, they had walked down the path to the field where the memorial stood. They had been joined by hundreds of people from all over Anniera, come for the dedication of the memorial. The crowd began to murmur quietly, then to walk around. A few left immediately, needing to reach their homes again before sundown. A few milled around the Resting Place, reading the dedications on other stones, and most walked back up the path toward the cathedral. Esben went with them, walking quickly, leaving Artham behind. The dedication ceremony had concluded the funeral, and the afternoon would be spent in the cathedral, talking with the people who had come. When he realized that Esben had headed back up the path, he hurried to catch up.

He caught up to him right inside the large cathedral’s door and reached out to touch his brother’s arm.

“Es…”

“Yeah?” Esben turned toward his brother.

“I just want to tell you that…your painting is amazing” Esben smiled for a minute and looked like he was about to say something, but Artham continued.

“Just…thanks,” Artham then turned and hurried off into the cathedral. He talked his way quickly through the crowd, accepting sympathies and condolences, thanking people for coming, and found a spot somewhat near Esben, halfway behind a curtain so that no one was likely to see him, but if they did, they wouldn’t think he was hiding. He swallowed and took several deep breaths, reminding himself that he was going to have to go back into the crowd in a minute, and tried to sort out or at least tuck away the wild tangle his thoughts had become. He kept his eyes on Esben, ready to head back into the flood of people, when he heard a soft voice from behind him.

“Hello, Artham,” he spun around in surprise to see a tall girl with green eyes and long silvery brown hair. Artham’s heart leapt at the sight of her..

“Arundelle! It-it’s good to see you.”

“What are you doing behind a curtain?” Arundelle asked with a hint of laughter in her eyes.

“Hoping no one thinks I’m hiding,” Artham responded.

“Don’t worry,” Arundelle said. “I overheard some of the girls talking. I’m pretty sure they think you are being ‘protectively vigilant.’” Arundelle laughed quickly and lightly, and Artham chucked in spite of himself.

“If you aren’t up for conversation, avoid the east corner of the cathedral,” she said.

“Okay. Thanks for the tip.” Artham smiled at Arundelle and she looked at him hard, her head tilted slightly to the side.

“What are you doing, Aru?” Artham asked, a hint of laughter in his voice.

“Trying to figure out what you are thinking.”

“Oh.” The smile fell from Artham’s face.

“Did you know Esben was looking for you?”

“Yeah. I just needed a break from the crowd.” They stood in silence for a few moments, then Artham abruptly asked,

“Did Es send you over?”

“No,” Arundelle said, her soft green eyes trained on Artham’s blue ones. “But he did ask me to talk to you if I found you.”

“Did he tell you…”

“Some of it. Enough to know that you need to stop.”

“Why did he tell you?” Artham asked, more frustration boiling up inside him.

“Because he thought maybe you’d listen to me,” Artham sighed.

“He doesn’t need to worry! I-”

“He doesn’t need you to act tough, Artham,” Arundelle said with a firm voice. “He just needs you.” Artham looked away, avoiding Arundelle’s penetrating gaze.

“I should go,” he said. Arundelle laid her hand gently on Artham’s shoulder. If someone else had grabbed him, no matter how hard, he would have broken away and lost himself in the crowd, but Arundelle’s gentle touch held him fast.

“He needs you, Throne Warden.” Artham nodded quickly, his breath starting to come faster. Why did the way she said that remind him so much of Aunt Illia and the way she reminded him again and again to protect his little brother?

“I know. I’ll try, Aru. I promise.”

“Good,” Arundelle let her hand slip from Artham’s shoulder and nodded.

“I’m sure there are others who are looking for you. You should go talk to them.”

“Okay. I’ll see you later, Aru.” Arundelle smiled at Artham and watched as he wandered back into the crowd.