In Hours of Grievous Hope: Ch. 13

Restoration and Reunion

Notes:

The chapter...that will seal fates. I think the next chapter is the last chapter in this story, and it's, like, 3.5K words, somehow 😅

*****

The trip back up the steep slope was less difficult than Kal anticipated. He had thought getting a massive number of half-crippled Cloven (not all of them were, but a good deal were) through a place full of hazardous rocks, bones, drop-offs, and slippery spots would mean certain death for all parties involved. It turned out the Cloven were both relatively nimble and surprisingly willing to assist each other, often carrying smaller ones or more deformed ones that could barely walk, let alone climb. 

Kalmar had offered several times to take a turn carrying one of the Cloven, but they refused, saying he was the King and the most steady on his feet of all of them: it would be better for him to lead them. As it was, he still managed to offer a helping hand or a boost when he noticed someone stumble, and they were always grateful.

Many rest stops were needed, truly needed, but the Cloven were eager enough that once they had rested for just a few minutes, they were ready to go again, ready to continue their journey to the real world, hopes of restoration and new life spurring them onward. 

Admittedly, it grieved Kalmar and brought him joy at the same time. He didn’t grieve for himself and the fact he would never get to play Zibzy or Handyball with Janner on Rysen Hill as they had once dreamed. He grieved for his family and prayed continuously that the Maker would take the pain away from them and heal it with Janner’s life, if that was at all possible. Yet at the same time, he had great joy that he would finally be able to give to others. People had given and sacrificed their lives and desires for him so many times, and he wanted to give that to someone else more than almost anything.

*****

By the time they arrived at the top, Sara, Artham, and all the Cloven from the Blackwood, distressed yet thrilled, broken yet glowing, awaited them. 

They were not the only ones, though. A panic mixed with anger fluttered in Kalmar’s stomach when he saw Nia and Leeli and Oskar and….and even Janner’s wrapped body. What were they doing there? Why were they there? How was he supposed to meld with the Cloven when they were all there? He couldn’t force Nia to watch something like that twice; it was too cruel, too horrible. 

He tried to speak, but his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. Swallowing, he tried again. “Why are you all here?” he asked, his voice trembling. 

Nia looked straight at him, her eyes filled with tears already. “Apparently we’re here to say goodbye, hopefully not permanently.”

Kal stared at her, then at Artham, then at Sara. “Why did one of you tell them?” he asked, choking on his words. “I was trying to keep it from hurting so much!”

Sara stepped forward, one hand clutching her other arm tightly. “Kalmar, I’m sorry. It was me.”

Frustration bubbled up inside his heart, and Kal found himself struggling to keep from yelling at her. “Why? Why would you do that? Now, now Mama has to think about it. Now they all have to think about it.” He gestured toward Nia, Leeli, and Oskar collectively, and perhaps that was unfair to them, lumping them into a group, but he didn’t know what else to do. He was sure he would never come back. Now they would spend time having false, desperate hope as they dragged is shriveled body through the Blackwood, and that hope would be dashed to bits and pieces as soon as they tried anything like the Water from the First Well.

Her blue eyes now flashing, Sara gave him a half-glare. “Haven’t you seen what Janner’s death has already done to your mother? Maybe you think it’s better for it to be sudden and not have preparation, but if my family had known I would be taken before the Black Carriage stopped outside our door, that last goodnight would have been a hundred times more precious. Maybe you’ll come back afterward and maybe Janner will too, but if neither of you do,” she choked on her words, and Kal nearly sobbed with the thought of how close she had come to the truth. “Then a goodbye is the least you can give your family!”

“Kalmar, I would give anything to have been able to say goodbye to you brother,” Nia whispered, her words quiet even though her heart was clearly breaking. “Why do you think I wouldn’t want to say goodbye to you?”

Tears filled Kal’s eyes, and despite the enormous number of Cloven surrounding them, they spilled down his cheeks, and he covered his face, a sob escaping from his throat. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I— I don’t want to hurt you; I don’t want to. But…but the Maker…”

Nia rushed forward and pulled him into her arms, trembling even as she clung to him fiercely. “Oh, Kalmar, I know. And I don’t want it either, and I don’t know why the Maker has subjected us to this…this grief over and over again,” there was a hint of anger in her voice, and Kal did not blame her for it by any means. “But there will be some good in it,” she whispered, her tone filled with grief and suffering. “And, just think — there’s still a chance, a very good chance you’ll return to us, at least as good a chance as there is with Janner. Worst comes to worst though,” she paused, her eyes shining with tears as they focused on memory. “You’ll be with Es, with your Papa again.” An odd, grief-and-joy-filled laugh escaped from her throat, and she smiled even as tears rolled down her cheeks. 

Kal attempted a quivering smile, but it didn’t quite work. “I’m still sorry,” he whispered. “But…but I want you to try and get Janner back, okay? The First Well, it’s just a few miles that way.” He pointed in the right direction, surprised at how much his arm shook. 

“What makes you think we won’t do the same for you?” she asked fiercely. “I just assured you will.”

He inwardly flinched and wanted to smack himself to for misspeaking. In the end, he chose not to reply, because he wasn’t sure what made him think the First Well would bring Janner back from the dead but not him. It really was not rational at all, he supposed. Maybe Nia wouldn’t have to suffer as much heartbreak as he had anticipated, only a few minutes worth. 

She was speaking again, her words tearing him out of his thoughts. “And why would you ever think Janner’s life would make up for the loss of yours?” she whispered, her hands falling to her sides, heartbreak in her voice. “Kalmar, you don’t really think he matters more than you, do you?”

An odd feeling sparked inside Kal’s heart and he dug the toe of his shoe into the grass. “No,” he said slowly. “I wouldn’t think that. I mean, he’s always been better than I am, but I know you love us the same.”

“Kalmar Wingfeather,” Nia fixed in an intense, loving gaze. “You are my son. I love you dearly, and while you are not perfect, Janner was by no means perfect either. I would never trade one of you for the other, never.”

Smiling a little, Kal nodded at her, feeling strangely old and yet young at the same time. 

Leeli limped forward, throwing her arms around him. “And I love you,” she whispered. She looked up at him, her bright blue eyes filled with tears. Kal felt as though she, too, understood the finality of his fate, much like she had just days earlier. “No matter what happens after this…I’m going to write songs for you, you know that? Songs about King Kalmar, who sacrificed himself for a people who were not even his own, who loved his family dearly, and was loved unconditionally in return. And who was hopefully able to rule them for years and years to come.”

Kalmar squeezed his eyes shut, trying to hold his tears back for her sake before turning to Oskar. “As…as…” he fumbled, failing to come up with any sort of quote. “In the words of me,” he whispered. “Thank you for your life and happiness, and thank you for putting up with me as often as you did. I will dearly miss you, Kalmar, though I hope it won’t be for too long, just the duration of the walk to the First Well. And I’m sorry if I rambled about a book to you unnecessarily anytime. Alongside Leeli’s songs will be tales written of your valor and kingly willingness, whatever the outcome of all this is.”

Digging his hands into his pockets, Kal found himself grinning. “Mister Reteep, you don’t have to write anything. And I don’t mind listening to you talk about books.” Actually, the few times he had been trapped he had minded very much, but he was not about to tell such an old friend that sort of thing at that time. 

Kal knew he needed to say something to Sara (she had stood off to the side awkwardly since he had half-yelled at her), but he wasn’t quite sure what. He positioned himself in front of her, eyeing the ground and eventually managed to say, “I’m sorry. You were right.”

“Maybe,” she replied, but when Kal looked up, she was shaking her head. “I shouldn’t have done it without your permission, though. You’re the King after all.”

Kalmar flashed her a teasing smile. “Yeah, but sometimes I’m an idiot. And not saying goodbye to my family when I had the chance…that would have been pretty idiotic. I'm really sorry you didn't get to say goodbye to your parents the way you wanted. Thank you for not letting me make a mistake like that when it could be prevented.”

“I' msorry too. But you’re welcome,” she whispered, a tear rolling down her cheek for just a second before she brushed it away.

Artham came toward him next, getting down on one knee, his head bowed. “My King,” he said softly. “I would give anything to take this burden away from you.” He said nothing about the First Well’s healing powers, something that scared and yet calmed Kalmar more than anything. 

Still, he shook his head in response. “You can’t, Uncle Artham. It has to be a full person melding and you…you’re not. But you will be. Will you sing the song of stones with all these Cloven here?” His outstretched arm swept over the crowd of deformed, twisted, still beautifully hopeful beings.

“I—” Artham stammered. “I’m not worthy of such a thing.”

“None of us are,” the odd gambloat cloven said, stepping forward. “We accepted that ages ago. But it’s a gift, a wonderful one.”

“I mean, I’m already doing it,” Kal added, trying to put a bit of mirth into his tone. That didn’t appear to work, so he switched to sincerity. “The Maker is offering you this healing, Uncle Artham. I want you to accept it. I’m your king, and He’s mine. Won’t you let us do this? And...and a while ago, Papa...I mean Esben asked us to tell you, 'thank you for the Song.' I think we all forgot until just now but if he sang it, can't you?”

The only response was silence, and Kalmar could only pray that Artham would become willing in the next few minutes. 

He shrugged his pack off and worked the buckles holding the top flap over it. His fingers trembled so that it was nearly impossible — Leeli even fell to her knees to help him, and he gave her a side-hug out of gratitude and love — but soon the pack was open, lovely, buttery light pouring from it and turning the onsetting evening aglow with glory. He picked it up gingerly, cradling it in his left arm and forcing a smile onto his face that defied the throbbing terror of his heart. 

“Mama, I’m sorry,” he whispered, coming closer to her one last time, fighting against tears hopelessly.

Nia pulled him into a shaking hug and kissed his forehead, the tears on her cheeks rolling onto his face. “I love you,” she said fiercely. “I have always loved you. I loved you before you made this choice. I can only thank the Maker for shaping you into such an amazing, young King. Your father would be so proud.”

Kalmar squeezed his eyes shut, Nia’s mention of Esben coaxing tears into escaping. “Speaking of Papa and of me,” he said softly, waving Leeli toward him. “I need both of you to make sure something happens, you know, just in case.”

The conversation was a quiet one filled with understanding and grievous acceptance. There was a new shine in Leeli’s eyes, especially when she looked at Artham, when it was over, and there was even perhaps a glimmer of hope in Nia’s, though she did end the conversation with a humorously sharp, “I am praying that is not the case. I love you even if it is, though. I have and I will love you forever,” she finished tears in her eyes.

Turning away and raising the Ancient Stone above his head just as he had the morning three days before, Kal walked away from his family and through the crowd calling, “Sing the Song of the Ancient Stones, and the blood of the boy imbues your bones,” and of all the things he could be aware of in that moment, he felt Janner's sword against his thigh, the sheath still buckled around his waist.

The wordless melody began flitting through the air, then growing in volume as more voices joined in, to the point at which it consumed his mind and body, every thought and desire and hope, all of it slipping away gloriously, rushing upward finally at the crescendo before silence fell over his entire world.

*****

And seconds later, he could hear and feel and sense everything. He felt himself being hugged fiercely by arms he knew so well and had desperately wanted to feel for the past few days that he almost began crying.

“Janner?” he gasped, his eyes flying open (when had they closed?) and immediately seeing the back of his brother’s sandy blond head of hair that he had come to know so well (though perhaps not as well as he could have, since Janner always lost the footraces). He pulled back, wanting to make sure he was really seeing Janner and that he wasn’t dreaming.

He wasn’t. The grey-green eyes and the joyous smile were so amazingly familiar, yet different. There was no worry in the eyes, no anxiety in the smile, and no scars anywhere. Kalmar was certain that if he were to ask Janner to do something with complete and total reckless abandon, he would laugh and listen without even a half-seconds’ hesitation.

Kal opened his mouth and immediately began rambling almost nonsensically, because what he had wanted to tell Janner since he had died was such a haphazard variety that there was no other way to say it. “Janner, thank you, thank you, and also I’m really sorry. And I love you so much, but why did you do it?”

Cocking his head, the smile didn’t disappear from Janner’s face. “What are you sorry for? There’s no need to apologize for anything here.”

His arm swept out in a steady arc, and once again, Kal found himself gasping in wonder, even though most of his questions had gone unanswered.

It was like the Maker’s Garden in the Fane of Fire, but an inexplicable number of times more glorious and vibrant, glowing and beautiful. The majesty that poured forth from every sliver of that place was more than could ever be accounted for by wealth or title, and even that was only a fraction of Who the Maker was.

In the middle of it all, racing toward them was a man, a tall, strong man with golden hair down to his shoulders, a man Kalmar remembered from his earliest memories that had long since hidden themselves in the clutter of his mind. “Papa?” he wondered aloud with complete certainty, and a second later, he was being spun in the air, then drawn close into the strongest, most loving bear hug imaginable.

“Oh, Kalmar, my son,” Esben whispered into his ear. “Well done. See, I said you would be a much better King than I ever was, and I was right.”

Kal laughed a little before becoming confused. “It’s over now, though. Isn’t it?”

Esben’s face took on a more serious look, though not despairingly serious or grievously serious, just importantly serious while still being joyful. “It is if that is what you want,” he replied, setting him down on the ground and crouching so he could look at both him and Janner at the same time. “You have a choice, Kalmar. If you want to return, you may. And if you want to stay here, you may. Janner and I have been over this already, of course.”

Glancing to his right, Kal saw Janner nodding, a glint of acceptance in his eyes. “Yes, sir, we have.”

“Wait, what do you mean ‘I get to choose’? How do you choose that sort of thing?” Kal furrowed his brow, a bit confused. 

Esben smiled. “This is the Maker’s World, but nothing is final until you have seen Him. Once you have seen Him, I suppose you could go back. But you would never want to.”

“But, but I have seen him,” Kal whispered, unsure if walking with the Maker in the real world affected something like that. “And…I already think I want to stay. I want to get to know you and Him more than anything.”

“I knew you would choose that,” Janner whispered, not a hint of resentment in his words. 

Kal turned to look at him more closely, and saw a gentle smile on his face, an oddly tired one. “Janner, are you alright?” He asked immediately, surprised he had realized so quickly and even though he asked, he wasn't worried at all.

Janner nodded and closed his eyes for a few seconds, in which Esben pulled him close and eased him to the ground.

“Time is different here,” Esben explained, beckoning Kal toward him. “It doesn't exist, and it moves so strangely that a day can seem like years and vice versa.”

“I sang the song a little while ago,” Janner said quietly, opening his eyes again. “And then you came and now you've been here.”

“Wait,” Kal interrupted. “You sang it? How? Why? How did you know I was doing anything? Is…is that why you're…tired?”

“Papa told me what you were doing,” Janner murmured, his voice barely audible, his grey-green eyes almost completely shut. “Sort of, at least. The Maker wants me to be with our family again, and that means it's what I want as well.”

Kal stared at him, his gaze shifting between his beloved older brother and father. “So…you're leaving now?”

Janner nodded almost imperceptibly.

“I don't really want you to, not now, but I did before, back in the Blackwood. I've actually been counting on it these past few days,” Kalmar admitted, great appreciation and love welling up in his heart. He couldn't believe the Maker had placed such a difficult task on Janner's heart or that he was the slightest bit willing. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“Remember,” Janner whispered, almost breathlessly, and a glimmer of light that trickled onto Esben's arm surrounded him. “I'm your Throne Warden. Always. I love you.”

Kal reached out to grasp his left hand that Janner had clutched close to his heart. “Don't forget that Uncle Artham is yours. And I love you a lot more than you'll ever know.”

Janner smiled and shuddered a bit but not unpleasantly. A gentle smile crossed his face before he dissolved into a golden light that drifted away into the distance. Kalmar watched all the little bits and pieces that were his brother’s spirit glinting and sparkling their way through the air, gratitude filling his being.

“He left this remnant behind,” Esben said quietly doing his best not to break the silence as he picked up a tiny piece of the lovely golden light that still lingered. “I believe it is now yours.”

Kal opened his hand and Esben dropped the flickering little piece into his palm. “But what is it?” he asked, touching it tenderly with thumb, his heart a bit tempted to ache but too filled with joy in that perfect place to truly do so.

Esben smiled and drew him into a tight embrace. “His strength. And his love for you.”

*****

Notes:

🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹😭😭😭😭😭🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺😫😫😫😫😫

My reasoning behind Kalmar's death:

• Esben was King and he died, so perhaps as Kalmar had that example, he would have the courage to do the same.

• Kal said, "Janner, no! It was supposed to be me." His resolve to heal the Cloven and die began as a direct result of his time with the Maker in the Fane of Fire. Kal is not so intelligent as to come up with melding on his own, therefore the Maker must have said something about it to him. Maker would not so grossly mislead him. There has to be substance in his statement, therefore Kalmar must die.

• The Maker already told them Janner would die by saying he would be the Seed for a New Garden. He told Kalmar something else separately, leading into the idea that as there are two completely separate prophecies, there must be two sacrifices.

• As there is no Jesus in Aerwiar, there is no reason why there cannot be two redemptive meldings. There were hundreds upon thousands upon tens of thousands nefarious melds before this, and two good meldings is not a terrible thing.

• The Maker prepared all three Wingfeather children for some sort of sacrifice in/outside of the Fane of Fire. Kalmar may have been prepared simply for kingship later on, while Leeli was clearly prepared to allow her brothers to do something that would lead to their demise (remember, she held Nia back during the meld). We all know what Janner was prepared for. However, it is also possible that Kalmar was prepared for something other than kingship. He was prepared for sacrifice, he tried to sacrifice, and he deserves to be successfully sacrificial at some point in time.

I promise, Kal's death was not a haphazard decision. Did it spring off my sister's statement, "I want you to make Kal die so someone else can be the monarch"? Yes, yes it did. However, I did not take her suggestion lightly and seriously scoured the books to see if there was a possibility of it.

You may hit me with canon inconsistencies if you wish...but I have a feeling I know what they're all going to be related to...