In Hours of Grievous Hope: Ch. 10

Planning to Search

Notes:

Yet another chapter in which very little actual action occurs...

*****

It was still too early for everyone else to be awake, so Kalmar decided to take advantage of the time. 

“I’m thinking we head for the entrance to the Deeps,” he began after he had found a patch of dirt in which he could draw some sort of diagram. He liked pictures if he was having to voice an idea. It made it easier. “That might be the easiest way to find the Cloven in Throg, and I guess we can also find Cloven along the way through that?” He glanced up from his dirt drawing that looked vaguely like a map of the Blackwood, along with Clovenfast, Throg, and the Deeps and furrowed his brow in concern. “Uncle Artham, are you alright?”

Artham was fidgeting again, titling his head and knotting his fingers nervously as his wings fluttered of their own accord. It appeared as though he hadn’t heard Kal’s question, and his eyes were unfocused, shifting here and there. 

“Uncle Artham,” Kal repeated, reaching out for his shoulder and squeezing it. “Are you alright?”

Blinking rapidly, it was a moment before Artham’s eyes settled on him again, then a few more before he opened his mouth to speak. “I’m…I’m sorry,” he stammered. “The Theeps of Drog — Deeps of Throg — it’s, it’s,” his taloned hands were open, as if waiting for the air to place words into them. “I just wanted to give Wesben the Ater, s-sorry, Esben the Water,” his blue eyes swam with tears, and he dashed them away furiously. “Got it from the Well, carried it. C-couldn’t hind fim.”

Kal felt his heart breaking for more than one reason. How were they supposed to do anything if everything about their location sent Artham into a frenzy? And how much guilt weighed down his heart, and how did he even survive a single day suffering from it?

“Hey, Uncle Artham,” he began haltingly. “Have you…I don’t know, ever thought about asking the Maker to help you?”

The trembling stopped briefly. “With what?”

“You know…with feeling guilty.” Kal struggled to voice it, largely because it didn’t seem right that he should voice such a thing. It wasn’t his place; it wasn’t his normal thought process. Besides, he knew there were plenty of times when he should have prayed but didn’t. How could he suggest someone pray when he had failed to so often?

Artham cocked his head at the thought. “Of course I have,” he whispered, his voice shaky. “Hut cow many times will it work? I-I left him. I sang the song. I deserve it.”

When he looked up, there was such shame and grief in his eyes that Kal actually had to break his gaze. “But trying won’t hurt, will it?” he offered.

Shaking his head, Artham whimpered, “Go nood. No good,” before wrapping his arms around himself, as if trying to create some sort of shield.

Kal hated to admit it, but he was beginning to feel a little frustrated. No, it wasn’t exactly Artham’s fault that he was…being weird, but at the same time it kind of was. If they were going to do anything, he couldn’t have him going into a frenzy when they took a step in the wrong direction. “Look, Uncle Artham. I get it. You feel like you can’t be forgiven because you’ve done this horribly wrong thing. But I need your help. You can’t help me unless you don’t do this,” — he gestured toward all of Artham for emphasis — “Randomly. So even if it’s just so you can help your King, can you at least try and pray that the Maker will help you? Because I kind of need you!”

Somehow, even though his words were harsher and ruder than he would have preferred (at least in hindsight), they got through. They made their point. Artham bowed his head in prayer, and Kalmar joined him, being sure to pray for Artham’s state of mind, not just because he needed his uncle to get something done, but because he truly did care. 

When they both looked up a few minutes later, Artham’s blue eyes did not waver, nor did his wings tremble, not even after Kal began explaining how they would need to go into Throg and to the cages in order to find the Cloven still trapped. He held firm and steady, a secure foundation. With the plans they made, Kalmar was more thankful than ever that the Maker had given him someone to help him and ease his burden.

He only prayed that when the time came for him to carry out the Maker’s instructions, he would follow through.

*****

The difference in Artham’s demeanor was enough to make even Oskar sneak away from his mind pondering all the “what ifs” the First Well would bring and comment, “My! As Ingerda Orline stated, ‘How much happier you seem this morning than last! That rain must have done some good.’ Of course, keep in mind that she was a gardener obsessed with her flowers. She spoke to them quite often.” 

Artham swallowed the bite of dried diggle meat he was chewing and laughed lightly. “I suppose I’ve been watered then, haven’t I?” His eyes twinkled in a way Kal had never seen before, and he was very aware he wasn’t the only one at breakfast almost overcome with astonishment. And he knew what had happened!

There was more conversation between all of them at that meal than any previous ones, aided by Artham’s joy instilling hope in all of them that there was a chance. Of course, it was strange knowing that Artham knew the ultimate plan, yet still helped everyone else have such jovial spirits that very well could have been mistakes. Though Kalmar supposed being relieved of one’s guilt for the first time in years was cause for joy, no matter what the circumstances were.

“Uncle Artham and I were hoping to fly out and look around,” Kalmar announced once it looked as though everyone was done eating, and as none of them were focused on something else, they all stared in surprise. 

“Reconnaissance,” Artham added, nodding at Nia. “We’re hoping to be back by evening.”

“Evening?!” Nia and Kalmar exclaimed simultaneously. The latter received a raised eyebrow in response and fell sheepishly silent, but that did not deter Nia. “Why so late?”

“It needs to be a thorough search,” he explained evenly. “We can’t risk forgetting someplace.”

After another few moments’ hesitation, Nia nodded. “Alright. Just, take some dried diggle meat or something so you won’t get too hungry. Kalmar, is there space in your pack?”

Kal froze outwardly, even though inwardly everything inside of him felt like it was racing in panic. Not only were they practically lying to (or at least misleading) Nia, she was dangerously close to discovering what was inside his backpack! 

Artham subtly snuck* his hand over to squeeze Kal’s forearm, as if in an effort to calm his nerves. So surprised was he that his uncle was aware enough and sane enough to react to something he wasn’t even showing outwardly, Kalmar almost missed the response. 

“Thank you, Nia,” Artham began, his tone of voice sure and steady. “But I know this area of Dang well. I know what is safe to eat and what is not. We’ll find something to eat to tide us over until we come back. However, I wouldn’t suggest trying to find food for yourselves. Some of the berries do very odd things when you consume them.” 

Nia looked incredibly disturbed at the notion, but Sara’s eyes lit up, a lot like the way Janner’s had when he was about to start talking about the things he had read as of late, only it was a glowing blue instead of a flashing grey-green.

“I’ve read about most of them!” she exclaimed. “In one of Mister Reteep’s books, The Edibles and Inedibles of Dang: What to Consume and/or Avoid if you Ever Find yourself Unfortunately Lost in the Woods of Dang, by Edith Splanch.** I could probably find fresh fruits for us if anyone is interested. Or not,” she added, ducking her head, likely because she realized everyone was staring at her.

Adjusting his spectacles, Oskar peered at her curiously. “In the words of Miffle Doom, ‘I thought that was on a shelf most could not reach.’ How did you get a hold of it?”

Sara laughed lightly, twirling a strand of her hair between her fingers. “I found it on the floor one Dragon Day and decided to read it in case I ever got to go to Dang. Papa talked about it a lot.”*** Her eyes had grown distant and her tone somber at the last words. In response to it, Nia got up and came closer to Sara, pulling her into a comforting embrace.

It took another few minutes of awkward silence for Kal to decide he was worried enough that he and Artham would be discovered and that Sara and Nia had had enough uninterrupted time for sentiment. He jumped up, hands in his pockets, and did his best to capture everyone in his gaze without seeming like he was staring at them oddly. “So…um, I guess Uncle Artham and I will be going now?” 

Artham nodded, apparently noticing that the statement had been an interrogative one. In response to both the question and the nod, Leeli got up and hopped over to Kalmar, not bothering to use her crutch for such a short distance. She hugged him tightly and asked, “You’ll stay safe, won’t you? We all want Janner back, but try and stay safe at the same time, okay?”

Kal did his best to cover up his distress with a cheeky grin. “You know I always do. Uhh, stay safe, that is.”

Giggling, Leeli tossed her head. “No you don’t. But try for once.” She left him after that, hopping the two steps over to where her crutch leaned against a rock and grabbing it to help Nia and Sara in cleaning up their breakfast mess. It was a quick job, but it was at least something for them to do.

Watching and a little reluctant to tear his eyes away, it was not until Artham’s firm hand grasped his shoulder that he looked up. 

“Are we going?” he asked in a way that somehow conveyed submission and determination in one tone.

Kal glanced at everyone who had no idea what was going to happen soon before bending down to grab his pack. “Yeah,” he said as he slipped his arms through one-at-a-time. “We are.” 

*****

Notes:

*snuck: I know, the ongoing debate is whether it's "sneaked" or "snuck." Just an fyi, I tend to use "snuck" because sneaked just bothers me. Like, which sounds better: "He sneaked around the corner" or "He snuck around the corner"?

I digress.

**I had fun with that title 🤣

***It used to read, "Mama used to talk about it a lot" but @J. M., a Throne Warden (that has ADHD and sometimes acts a bit more like a High King) to two sisters, a tinkerer/fixer of things, and a science, engineering, and aerospace aficionado extraordinaire commanded me to read "Places Beyond the Maps," in which I learned her father is actually the one who told her stories about Anniera (& etc.). Also, the author is really wordy and likes similes a lot and writes enormous sentences. Still enjoying it; haven't gotten very far yet^^

I did actually check and see if Artham has ever tried praying the Maker would make the voices stop, and I re-discovered that he does do that in Part: II of TWatWK. It works in a way; after he prays (without response, so he thinks) Armulyn comes by playing the Annieran tune, and that is able to get him out of his state. So anyway....

Ah, and I mustn't forget to ask all you lovely readers to point out mistakes in terms of canon issues or anything that seems wonky^^