Half Moon Rising-Chapter 22 (End)

Notes:

• If I made any canon mistakes, please let me know.

• This is the last chapter😁

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Chapter 22-A New Era 

     The next morning, Artham let out an anxious puff of breath as he secured the thick clasp of his large red ceremonial cloak, arranging it so that the shining gold circle lay heavy over his heart. He swung his arms and shrugged his shoulders, getting used to the weight of the thick cloth, feeling its velvet softness brushing against his rough knuckles. He ran his fingers nervously over the gold embroidery, and his hands lingered over the Annieran dragon symbol stamped into the clasp. He squared his shoulders and clenched his fists, looking at himself in the mirror. 

      It’s time. You are ready for this, he assured himself. He felt the anxious fluttering start up again in his stomach. It had been there all morning and now he continued to ignore it.

       He and Esben had eaten an early breakfast and spent the entire morning preparing for the ceremony. Actually, Esben had eaten. The incredibly annoying fluttering in Artham’s stomach had prevented him from eating much of anything. Instead, he had done most of the preparing, taking a last look at the ceremony and glaring with great annoyance when a servant had distracted him from his frantic last minute preparation by bringing in their coronation clothes. Artham took a deep breath and closed his eyes, trying to slow down his rapid heartbeat, remembering the peace that had come to him the night before. He said a short prayer to the Maker, and went to Esben’s room. Esben was struggling with a similar cloak, this one blue and silver, but the clasp was stamped with the same dragon. Artham walked over to him and straightened the draping folds over his little brother's strong shoulders. 

      “You ready, Es?” Esben took a deep breath and lifted his chin determinedly. 

      “Yes,” 

      “Then let’s go.” The brothers walked side by side through the royal quarters in silence, their cloaks swishing behind them, and out into the main hall, where they were instantly met by two Annieran warriors  who had been waiting to escort them to the huge main courtyard in front of the Castle Rysen. Artham felt his spirits lifting as he strode along by his brother’s side. A few servants remained in the nearly empty halls of the castle, rushing back and forth straightening this, carrying that, delivering something else, and preparing delicious food. Everyone had a smile on their face, and those whose hands were free waved at the brothers as they passed. The festive mood of everyone he saw was contagious. Esben was trying to keep a serious face, but Artham could tell that he was ready to go and celebrate that minute, despite the fact that the reason for all the celebration hadn’t actually come about yet  

     “Go ahead and smile,” Artham said, leaning over a bit to whisper in his brother’s ear. Immediately, a smile broke out on Esben’s face as he surveyed the frantic last minute preparations for the coronation’s festivities. They went swiftly down a long hall to the building that was at the front of the courtyard. The hall was silent and deserted, the only sounds being the echo of boots on stone as they reached the end of it. Artham soaked up the silence, getting ready for the huge crowds that he and his brother were about to face. Dust motes swirled in the morning light that poured through the high windows, and Artham grew more serious as they passed a few of them, slightly appalled at the huge amounts of people.

     Rysen’s gates had been opened wide and Annieran people filled the courtyard and the battlements above it to see the ceremony. The courtyard was packed, and those that couldn’t find space inside were gathered around the gate, prepared to run ahead of the King and Throne Warden, shouting the news through Rysentown to start the celebrations when the brothers began making their way to Rysentown’s  Great Hall, where most of the celebration would take place. Hoping no one would see him yet, Artham looked carefully through every window they passed, smiling to see all those who were mingling with the Annierans.

     In the several months of preparation for the coronation, letters had been sent to all of Anniera’s allies and friends in the known lands of Aerwiar. There were Hollish Durgans who had accompanied the Keeper and representatives from all of the twelve clans of the Hollows to the celebration, and multiple members of Doonish royalty, also accompanied by their guards, and many more. A few letters of invitation had been sent across the sea to Skree, but no one was particularly disappointed when the invitation was ignored. They stopped suddenly, and Artham looked up to find that they had reached the end of the hall. When the ceremony began, the huge oak doors that now stood closed before them would open wide, and the brothers would step out to the cheers of all Anniera. 

        * * *

     Esben could feel his heart pounding so hard he wondered if Artham could hear it. He stared at the huge door and gulped as he heard voices just on the other side. Someone was probably trying to quiet the crowd as they spoke, cheered, and shouted in anticipation. The guards moved away from the brothers and  stood on both sides of the door, getting ready to lift the bar across the door and open it wide when the trumpet sounded. Esben looked up at his brother, wondering if Artham was as nervous as he felt. Artham caught his brother’s eye and reached over to give his Esben’s shoulder an encouraging squeeze. Esben spoke in a whisper. 

     “We’re ready for this?” Esben’s words started out as a confident statement and trailed off into a question. 

     “We are,” Artham responded firmly. “Don’t worry, everything will go fine. You are going to do great.” Esben nodded and resumed staring at the door. An expectant silence settled over the hall, deepening as the crowd outside simmered down, and Esben could almost feel its weight. He started to wonder if whoever was blowing the trumpets had fallen off the battlements or something, when the silence was pierced by one long, clear, high note. The sound spread over the crowd and faded slowly, but then trumpets all around the courtyard responded to it in a short melody that resonated in the people’s hearts like a joyful proclamation. The soldiers flanking the door removed the bar across it and pushed it outwards, flooding the hall with light. 

     Esben glanced one more time up at Artham, who gave him a reassuring wink, and the brothers walked out of the hall side by side onto the wide space in front of the door that descended in a few large stone stairs onto the courtyard. As soon as they stepped into the light, a cheer erupted from the crowd, accompanied by the music of the trumpets. The noise finally died down, the crowd’s excitement barely covered by a thin veil of anticipation.

      Once an expectant silence settled over the courtyard, Esben watched as an old man that he hadn’t noticed before walked between him and his brother to stand in front of the crowd. He was thin but not frail, and age hadn’t bent his figure. His clothing was regal but simple. He lived on the castle grounds, and his life was dedicated to the preserving and studying of the First Books, as well as the Fane of Fire.  It was he who had performed Jru, Nala, and Illia’s coronation, and his father before him, as the Maker’s Sage, had crowned Ortham and Madia. Now, it was he who was going to crown the next generation of rulers in Anniera. He held gently in his hands the largest and most ancient of the Books. The faded silver tree on the Book’s cover reflected the morning sun in its entwining branches. 

      “Welcome, people of Anniera, the Green Hollows, and Yorsha Doon,” in the quiet, the man’s voice was heard throughout the crowd and even outside the gates to the crowd gathered outside. 

      “to the coronation of Esben and Artham Wingfeather.” A suppressed cheer rose from the crowd but was died down, replaced by complete and utter silence as the people waited in expectation. The Sage turned and though his eyes were utterly serious, he smiled warmly at the boys, and Esben stepped forward. 

     “Esben Wingfeather, Prince of Anniera, here, in the sight of these witnesses and in the sight of the Maker, place your hand on the First Book and swear your vow to your country.” Esben breathed deeply and placed his hand on the Book. His heart had stopped racing, and he could feel again the peace that had filled him in the Fane of Fire. His voice was clear and strong, sounding across the courtyard as he said the words that he had committed to memory, binding him to his land and his people.

     “I, Esben Wingfeather, swear upon the name of the Maker and upon the stones that are the foundation of Anniera to serve this land. Seeking the Maker’s grace and strength, I swear to uphold justice and mercy, and with humility to guide my people in all that is good and noble and true. I swear to serve the Maker as my King, and with all that is in me to lead my people to do the same.” Esben took a deep breath and gazed out at the crowd, taking his hand off the Book and stepping back as Artham stepped forward. 

     “Artham Wingfeather, Prince of Anniera, here, in the sight of these witnesses, and in the sight of the Maker, place your hand on the First Book and swear your vow to your country.” Artham’s heart was pounding, but he was at peace. As he placed his right hand on the ancient book and his left fist over his heart, his eyes filled with seriousness, but his heart and mind were united in the vow that he spoke and everything in him resonated with the words of the duties that he had been preparing for all his life. 

     “I, Artham Wingfeather, swear by the name of the Maker and upon the stones that are the foundation of Anniera to protect my King. Seeking the Maker’s grace and strength, I swear all my life to remember and to remind the King of all that is good and noble and true. I swear to hold his safety in higher value than my own, to stand by his side, to be prepared to shed my blood for him and lay down my life for his.” 

     “Esben and Artham Wingfeather, kneel.” The silence of the crowd deepened as the brothers knelt side by side and bowed their heads. On both sides of the steps, a whistleharp began to play as two people came out the open door behind the brothers and stood beside the Sage. The first person handed him an ornate and jeweled crown as he stood before Esben. 

     “Esben Wingfeather,” he said, holding the crown in his hands above Esben’s head, “With the authority of this crown, do you swear to serve your people, ruling them justly and mercifully?” Esben breathed deeply and answered steadily, sounding far older than his fifteen years. 

     “I swear.” The Sage set the heavy golden crown gently on Esben’s head, and Esben exhaled slowly as the weight of the crown settled on him. The Sage then turned to Artham, who also knelt but now looked up, his hands on his knees. The Sage turned to the other person standing by him and took a sword and a shield from his hands. Both were newly made and their steel shone in the sun. Both wore the dragon of Anniera. 

     “Artham Wingfeather, with this sword, do you swear to fight for your King and your people, and with this shield to protect them?” Artham’s voice was strong and clear as he answered. 

     “I swear.” Artham held out his hands and received the sword and shield. The Sage spoke again, his voice full of joyous solemnity. 

     “Rise, High King Esben Wingfeather and Throne Warden Artham Wingfeather.” The boys stood and Artham sheathed his sword. He felt Esben’s hand grasp his firmly and a deep joy and love for his brother filled his heart, along with an incredible assurance that he didn’t understand but believed was undeniable evidence of the Maker’s pleasure. The brothers raised their clasped hands and at the gesture, the crowd erupted in cheers. The trumpets sounded and far off, the bells of Rysentown were heard, announcing the joyful news across the land, until every town in Anniera had its bells ringing and its festivities beginning, celebrating the beginning of the reign of Esben and Artham Wingfeather.