In Hours of Grievous Hope: Ch. 11

Part of the Remnant

Notes:

Hopefully there is at least one vein of logic running through this chapter...meaning I don't actually know how logical it is and am really hoping it's not too far-fetched.

Let me know if the chapter seems too choppy. I already know it's choppy, but I'm concerned it's too choppy 😅

*****

Kalmar wasn’t exactly certain how they would find the Deeps of Throg again, especially when considering that they had only found it the first time because they were being chased by angry Cloven. Rather, he and angry Cloven were chasing Janner, who was being protected by Oood. However it went aside, the main point was that it made it a bit difficult to explain to Artham where they should begin looking for the entrance to the Deeps. Plus they were flying above the trees in the Blackwood instead of running below them, which didn’t make it any easier. 

In the end, they settled on simply descending into the Blackwood every few minutes to see if Kal could get his bearings, if any bearings were to be had. He seriously doubted it, but Artham insisted it was possible, just not super likely. 

After a good while of no progress, Kalmar decided two things: one, flying up to Castle Throg and going into the Deeps that way would be simpler; and two, if they were wandering around the Blackwood, he might as well spend his time letting out a few shouts so any Cloven hiding nearby would know an opportunity awaited them. 

Since Kal was one to speak his mind, Artham spoke his, affirming the latter and countering the former. “You see,” he began as they were walking through the Blackwood for a spell, hoping for a spark of recognition. “While it may very well be fast to fly up to Throg and down into the Deeps, there’s a good chance we’ll die that way.”

Kalmar stopped in his investigation of a familiar-looking bush’s branches and furrowed his brow. “Wait, how?”

Sighing, Artham shook his head, as if explaining would be difficult. “When you go up very high very quickly, especially when it’s cold, sometimes it gets really hard to breathe. You can get dizzy, or pass out, or die.”

His mouth clamped shut after that and he moved to pick Kal up again so they could fly up and try a different angle. 

Seeing what his uncle was doing, Kalmar hollered for the lost Cloven quickly before complying, and they shot up through the trees and into the clear, blue sky above. 

It was a few minutes after glancing off into the distance and seeing the Mountain Throg towering, its spiky point piercing the sky, that he finally pressed Artham. “You said it like you know about it, like you really know about it.”

“Hmm?” Artham replied, his mind already off the topic of Castle Throg or Mount Throg. Or perhaps he was simply trying not to think about it, even though his head forced him to. 

“About heights and cold and stuff,” Kal pressed anyway. “It’s not normal information. I think.”

Artham was quiet for a while, probably scanning the verdant trees as if they captured his full attention, before finally answering. “It was something they did to the Annierans in the Deeps, taking them from lower than ground level to higher than Castle Throg. They had crude Bat Fangs, then, that could drop at a moment’s notice and plummet to the ground, you still in their arms. If you didn’t die because the Fangs didn’t stall in their flight, there was always the chance the cold or altitude would take care of the job.”

The pain of memory flooded into his words, and Kalmar held his breath, snapping his mouth shut. He wouldn’t ask his uncle about the Deeps or Throg or anything that might trigger him, not again. Why had he even thought it was a good idea? But…Kal twisted his head around awkwardly in an effort to look at Artham. Though the grief in his blue eyes was more clear than anything, no insanity or panic roiled beneath the surface. He heard no guttural Peet-like noises, nor did he feel Artham twitching as he sometimes did before slipping into a frenzy. He was not at peace, not by any means, but neither was he frantic. 

Kalmar allowed himself to breathe again and turned his head so it was in a more comfortable position, meaning one in which he was not looking up. His uncle, his hopefully temporary Throne Warden, was alright. Their prayers had helped. They had worked. He had no clue if they would continue working long enough for it to last all the way through the Deeps of Throg, but he prayed they would.

*****

After what felt like far too many trips into the Blackwood from above it, Kal finally felt a spark of recognition. Well, he supposed it wasn’t so much that he felt a spark of recognition that he saw it. Growing quite audaciously in the middle of a clearing(ish) mostly shadowed by dense tree cover was a patch of the most vibrant flowers he had ever seen. They were lovely: bright blues, purples, yellows, oranges, with fantastically open and spreading faces, looking as though they were drinking in the little bits of sun they could find. Their leaves spread far and wide, almost as if they were arms flung out, exuberant to be alive. 

“This is the place,” he said softly, slipping his hands into his pockets as he looked at the flowers.

Artham cocked his head. “What place? This looks nothing like the Blackwood.”

Kalmar smiled and pointed to the flowers. “No, this is where Janner and I spent the night with our troll friend, Oood. We thought he was going to die, and I accidentally managed to find the First Well. I gave some of the water to him. In the morning, he was gone, but there was new grass where his head had been.”

“Where the Water spilled,” Artham whispered in awe, tentatively stepping closer to the patch of flowers, glowing with beauty in the middle of such a dark forest. He crouched down and reached out his hand to touch one of the petals, jerking it back suddenly when he saw his talons. Hand drawn closer to his face as if it was under careful observation, Kal saw emotions of grief and longing playing out in his uncle’s eyes. 

He remembered what Artham had said before they left Anniera, that he had wanted to try the Water from the First Well for the longest time. What exactly had that meant? Artham had had the Water and kept it in a flask for years…had he never tried it? Why wouldn’t he? What had held him back?

Artham shook himself, standing up quickly, his shoulders straight even as his eyes were tinged with sorrow. “Please lead the way to the Deeps, Kalmar,” he murmured. “The Well is not our priority. The Cloven are.”

Kal nodded without speaking. “It’s this way,” he replied, his voice quiet and unobtrusive as he looked south at the steeply sloping ground. 

Then he found himself staring, almost more surprised than he had ever been. “Uncle Artham, look.”

“What…what is it?” 

Glancing up, Kalmar saw that Artham was now staring as well, confused and curious beyond belief. “It's as though a spot of Clovenfast manifested here,” he whispered, walking toward a remnant of the twisted once-humans gathered near what was likely the mouth of the Deeps of Throg.

When they were within a reasonable speaking distance of each other, Kalmar opened his mouth to speak to the Cloven, but one of them at the front of the crowd (a sort of large cat with misshapen, muddy-colored wings and a woman's kind eyes) addressed them first. “Are…are you King Kalmar?” she asked, her voice timid even though she began the conversation.

Kal nodded. “And this is Artham Wingfeather. What are you doing here? There aren't many of you.”

“We heard you offering healing at the Deeps,” she explained, her tone lacking certainty. “And…I know there aren't many of us, but we're the only ones who would show ourselves. The others are scared.”

Feeling his stomach sink with dread, Kalmar forced himself to ask how many Cloven still hid in the Blackwood. They couldn't stay there forever, and searching could very well take that long.

The Cloven shook her head. “Not many, and we know where they are,” she added, referring to her little group of Cloven followers. “If someone goes to them and speaks with them directly, I believe they will come.”

Kalmar wanted that. He wanted it terribly. The last thing he ever wanted to do was leave one Cloven behind, desperate, alone, and afraid. There were more, though: the ones trapped in Throg. They would have to free them and guide them out. Would they bring them right to the yawning mouth to the Deeps and do the melding there, or would they bring them up to the top of the slope, a precarious and nearly impossible journey for so many deformed beings?

He sighed. There were too many questions, too many things he needed to decide, and too many of them were far too important! He wanted to worry about something that didn't have to do with finding or counting or freeing Cloven, or just not worry at all. Pulling double-duty and having to take care of his job as King and Janner's job as the worrywart was less than enjoyable.

Just then, the sound of someone landing after hopping out of a tree caught his attention, and he shifted his gaze to see Sara walking toward him, looking rather upset. He froze. What had she heard? What did she know? Was she going to tell everyone?

“Kalmar Wingfeather,” her voice was stern, sterner than he expected it to be, and he had the urge to shrink back. “I was out looking for edible fruits when I came across these lovely new friends of mine. They informed me that the King of the Shining Isle was willing to heal them with an Ancient Stone. One thing led to another, and eventually I was able to piece together that you're planning on dying for them, just like Janner—” she choked on her words. “Just like he did. How can you do that to your mother, and to Leeli?!”

Kal looked at the ground, biting his lip and painfully aware that Artham and the Cloven were watching them intently. “The Maker told me to,” he finally said. “I've been praying that He'll help everyone once I'm gone and that Janner will come back, because that might help a little with the hurting.”

She stared at him, something he wasn't sure of painted across her face. “And you're following Him through it? And, Artham, you're helping?”

They both nodded. “I don't have much of a choice, do I?” Kal asked. “He's my King.”

“And he is mine,” Artham added quietly.

Sara looked at him intently for a few moments, pure sorrow in her eyes. “What makes you think Nia won't try to bring you back like Janner? If you think the Water from the First Well can bring him back to life, why wouldn't it do the same for you?”

Kalmar looked at the toes of his shoes for a little while. He hated to admit it and likely wouldn't, but there was a part of him that doubted the First Well. Yes, it had kept Ouster Will alive for epochs and yes, it had healed the dragons' wings and other injuries, and yes, it had even brought Podo back from the brink of death what felt like lifetimes ago. But actually raising someone to life? Someone who had already been dead for days? That was more than a healing of the body. That was a matter of the Maker returning someone's spirit to their body and healing the destruction done by death itself. Of course, if it was the Maker's Will, He could and would do just that.

That, of course, brought him to the question of why exactly he felt as though it was the Maker's Will that Janner return, but not that he should. It made no sense (at all, whatsoever), but then again, most of his ideas made little to no sense. This was not his idea, though, but something he felt as though the Maker had wordlessly revealed to him. Unless he was wrong and at the end of the day, their whole family (minus Podo and Esben and Rudric who really might have made a great stepfather; he was so kind) wound up together again, he wanted to prepare himself.

Sara would never accept that mess as an answer, though, and so he simply replied, “I suppose it could. But that's not the most important thing. What is most important is that we heal these Cloven.”

Quietness for quite a while was Sara's only response, and the while was long enough for Kalmar to begin thinking that they really needed to get down to the Deeps’ entrance so they could subsequently free any still-trapped Cloven.

“Let me help you, then,” she said finally, her eyes sincere.

Kalmar's mouth fell open in surprise — one second she had been adamantly against him, and now this? Though I suppose half-misleading her with the information that there is a good chance I might come back may have helped out some, he realized, subsequently feeling rather guilty.

Artham may or may not have noticed his reaction, but either way he took over the talking for him. “We still need to free the Cloven from Throg,” he noted. “And possibly find some way to get them up here.”

Sara nodded. “You should go do that. I can go find the Cloven still in the Blackwood. Trisha, can you take me there? I think I can convince them to come.”

The Cloven who had spoken to Kal dipped her head. “Of course.”

“Wait!” Kalmar cried as they began walking away, the other Cloven who had come with Trisha following close behind. “Sara, you can't be alone! It's…it's the Blackwood!”

She smiled brilliantly. “I've dealt with much worse than this. The dangers of the Blackwood are the least of my concerns. And besides, I have Trisha and the other Cloven as my guides. We’ll be alright.”

They continued walking off without another glance back, and Kal continued staring after them. It wasn't until Sara and her entourage were out of sight that he had the sense to turn to Artham. “Wait, why did you let her go without some escort?!”

Artham continued looking into the forest Sara had disappeared into. “Like she said, she built an army of children and overthrew the Overseer, almost without mine and Gammon’s intervention. Then, she led said army to battle in Dugtown, armed only with forks, and didn't lose a single child. I trust her in the woods, Kalmar. Are you ready to descend now?”

Kal nodded wordlessly, reeling in astonishment of what one young girl could accomplish, and he hadn't even been told the half of it, he was sure.

*****

Notes:

Okay, NO, Kal is NOT crushing on Sara in that last line. Sara's track record is simply very impressive. She has a great resumé.

Again....any canon inconsistencies, please point those out...

Oh, and the reason why Sara was able to get to the Deeps a lot soon than Artham and Kal is because they were wandering, trying to find their way there, whereas she was making a purposeful beeline for them by following the Cloven.