Half Moon Rising-Chapter 2

Notes:

• Okay, so this is my first time writing something quite like this, so please let me know if it’s choppy or if the people seem out of character.

Link to previous chapter:

https://thethwaphouse.wixsite.com/thwap-house/forum/spoiler-fanfiction/half-moon-rising-chapter-

Chapter 2 Crashing Down

     Artham Wingfeather sat peacefully on his large bed, an open book on his lap. Bright, warm sunshine poured in through his open window, warming the cool stone floor, accompanying a refreshing, sweet-smelling breeze. Artham smiled softly as he read, for several reasons. One, he was reading poetry. He loved poetry, and would spend hours upon hours committing passages to memory. He liked best poetry that described quests and battles, but also had miles of other poems memorized, especially the silly nonsense ones that Esben loved. When they were little kids, they would spend rainy days in the library, loosing track of time, Artham reading silly poems that would set Esben rolling on the floor and both of them laughing. Now that they were older, they spent time on more serious things, but Artham and Esben both still enjoyed the lighthearted laughter that surrounded the poems of their childhood. The brothers weren’t exactly kids anymore, in fact, a few months ago Artham had turned eighteen, officially coming of age. Esben was fifteen, but when he wasn't banging his head over books he was forced to read or capturing life on his canvas, he’d convince Artham to forget he was, as Esben said, ‘so incredibly officially grown-up.’ They would spend hours exploring or horseback riding, or swimming in the sea. 

     The other reason that Artham was smiling was that he knew that somewhere out on the wide sea, sailing swiftly, bound for Anniera, was a many masted sailing ship, the Sea Queen. On that ship, Artham and Esben’s parents were sailing home from some sort of conference in the Green Hollows. Artham and Esben had begged to go as well, they both loved visiting the Hollows, but their parents wanted them to stay home since they would only be gone a week. The boys were disappointed. The brothers always thoroughly enjoyed the delicious fruits, the huge dogs in the houndry, and especially the Durgan Guild. The boys were both vigorously trained for battle and defense in Anniera, but they both welcomed the extra challenge of the Durgan guild. Every other year or so, they would stay in the Hollows for a few months at a time, training with the Guildlings. At first, they had been somewhat ignored by the Guildlings, but once Artham and Esben had proved that they weren’t afraid of the Hollish games, they were welcomed with plenty of good natured punches, which they returned gladly. Continuing this train of thought, Artham wondered how some of his Hollish friends were doing. He didn’t have many friends, but those he did have would be his friends for life. Oh, he had plenty of admirers, as well as a group of people that continually flocked around him, and he was very good at acting friendly and upbeat, but he cringed inwardly at having to plaster on a fake smile and pretend to understand every conversation he had with that group of ‘friends.’ He much preferred to spend a quiet evening on his horse, with a book, or his few close comrades. 

     Artham drifted out of his train of thought again and reburied himself in the poems, his lips unconsciously moving like he was reading out loud. He loved the rhythm and beat of those lines, how much meaning could be packed into a few choice words. He heard wild running steps pounding down the long hall, and didn’t even stop his reading. He knew it was Esben. He would know those footsteps anywhere. Besides, no one else made a habit of running in the castle. Except Artham himself, of course. He did glance up, however, when Esben’s footsteps didn’t stop outside the door to his own room, but Artham’s, and began jerking at the doorknob. Artham sighed and looked down at his book again, trying to at least finish the poem he was on before going outside on whatever adventure Esben had planned for them. His eyes quickly ran across the page and he heard a Bang! as Esben opened the door. 

     “Artham!” As soon as Esben spoke, Artham knew something was wrong. His voice was tense and strained, and when Artham looked up in surprise, Esben’s eyes were wide in shock, and the corners squinted with grief. After he had thrown open the door, he had taken a few staggering steps inside. Now he stood straight and rigid, eyes locked on Artham’s, his mouth half open as if he was trying to say something but couldn’t think of the words. Artham had risen slowly to his feet and his book had tumbled to the floor. Now, still surprised by Esben’s strange expression and tone, he found his voice.

     “Esben! Are you okay? What’s wrong? What happened? Are you hurt?” 

     “No, no, I-I’m okay…but…Artham…” 

     “What happened!?” 

     “It’s the Sea Queen- she went down- just out of sight of Anniera.” Artham went pale as he realized what Esben was saying.

     “Esben…” Artham’s voice trailed off and he looked questioningly, almost pleadingly at Esben.

     “No…”

     “Bonifer told me just now. Artham, there-there were no survivors.” With those words it was as if Artham’s whole world came crashing down. A pang of pain shot through his heart like a burning arrow and he sank back down until he was sitting on his bed again. An avalanche of memories crashed down on him, of his parents and of his aunt. He saw their faces, heard each of their voices, felt the love that bound them together. He remembered a thousand things, his father’s encouragement and deep laughter, his mother’s grace and her gentle firmness, his aunt’s patient instruction. But above all, he felt overwhelmed with memories of their love. Their unconditional love that he could always rely on, and he knew it was gone now. They were gone. They were gone. That fact pounded through Artham, filling, or rather emptying his very being.  It was like the world took on a new, twisted shape, changing, crashing, cracking.The next few moments felt like a dream. He heard Esben making an odd, strangled sound inside his throat and saw him run across the room into his arms. He felt Esben’s shaking sobs and as he became more aware of what was happening, hugged his brother back. He felt his throat burning and realized that his own cheeks were wet now. Tears blurred his eyes again and he blinked them away furiously, but it was no use because they just kept coming back. The memories continued to flood through him, and with every loving word, every touch, every patient teaching sent a new wave of hurt through him because he would never experience those things again. His mind raced as he realized the whole reality of what this meant. They were gone. It was like the ground beneath him, his foundation, had been torn away, and he had a horrifying sensation of sinking down, down, down into a cold emptiness. Only Esben’s grasp kept him from drowning. Esben. Artham opened his eyes and realized he hadn't been breathing. He tried to start breathing normally again, but the first gasp sounded more like a cry of pain. Esben. Artham remembered he wasn't the only one hurting. He squeezed his eyes shut and returned his brother’s clutching embrace with everything that was in him. They sat there for a long time. How much time, neither of them knew. The grief was still tearing through Artham, numbing him to his surroundings, drowning him, when he heard Esben’s voice. It was just as full of panic and hurt and confusion and despair as Artham’s thoughts were. 

     “Artham, what are we going to do?” It was a long time before Artham could answer.

     “I-I don’t know.”