Naming it an “Adventure”
Notes:
And we continue working to actually leave Anniera...
The common question that came up last chapter that will be answered was how exactly they would have time to get Oskar and the Dragons there^^
*****
The moment Artham took off into the misty, grey morning, Kalmar made his way down the hill and did his best to find the place where…where so many lives had been restored the morning before.
If he remembered correctly, no one had set up camp near the site, almost as if they had collectively decided it was a sort of sacred ground. Kalmar was glad of that, even though Janner would have hated it if anything had been called “sacred” because of him. Though it does mean I'm looking blindly, Kal thought with a spark of irritation as he stood amidst the thick fog.
He finally shrugged and began walking forward, figuring that if he was supposed to find the Ancient Stone, the Maker would lead him to it. His hand was barely visible in front of his face, and as he walked without quite knowing where he was going, Kalmar felt himself wishing for the ability to smell his way to the Stone. That wish disappeared very quickly, though, and was replaced by burning shame. Janner had given his life the morning before so he would be healed, the Maker had spoken to him just hours before, and he was already wishing for something like that? How wrong was that of him?
“I'm sorry,” Kal whispered into the mist puddles about his feet. He wasn't sure if he was talking to the Maker or to Janner or perhaps to no one at all, but it felt like he needed to say it.
He looked up after about a minute and decided to search in a different direction and—
His mouth dropped open. Directly in front of him in this new direction (he had no idea if he was facing North or South or East or West or anything in between) was a lovely, golden glow, piercing through the fog with a joyous light. Smiling, he trotted toward it, and on arriving right next to it was once again very surprised.
It was cracked in two. Two smaller pieces that, unlike the original ginormous Stone, could actually be carried reasonably.
“Two smaller pieces, two brothers,” Kalmar whispered as he crouched beside the two stones, both still glowing as bright as tiny suns. He paused in confusion and nearly began to ponder the words he had said (which had come from out of nowhere), but before he could do that, the mist above him swirled and billowed with such power, parting to reveal Artham.
Kalmar stood as his uncle lighted on the ground, holding something familiar in one taloned hand and something dear in the other, his back and Rudric’s (Janner’s) sword, respectively.
“What are you doing here?” Artham asked, titling his head in curiosity. “This is where…is this where…?”
Kal nodded. “Yeah. It is.”
“So…what are you doing here?” he asked quietly, shifting a bit uncomfortably.
Hesitating only a moment before he responded, Kalmar decided to tell Artham what the Maker had told him. I mean, it's not as though He told me I couldn't tell anyone. “The Maker came to me in a dream last night. He…He told me to get the Stone. I don’t know why.”
“What made you mention the Well, then?” Artham looked as though he was sincere in asking the question, but Kalmar really hoped the doubt he heard in his uncle's voice was his imagination.
“I…uh, I don’t know,” he replied honestly, shrugging and having the sudden urge to dig the toe of his shoe into the dirt. At the rate he was having the need to do that, his shoes would be worn out soon. He might have done so if he hadn’t remembered he was quite possibly standing on the very ground where Janner had clutched the Stone close to his heart, and instead shifted his position on the grass to somewhere further away from the stones. “I just…the idea came to me. I thought it was worth a shot, that’s all.”
Nodding, Artham pursed his lips and said nothing more, even though it looked to Kalmar as though he wanted to. An awkward silence fell over them, one in which Kalmar found himself unexpectedly wavering between belief and disbelief that anything regarding the First Well would even work. After all, the Maker had never said anything remotely related to it that he recalled, nor had He mentioned Janner or the idea that he could possibly be brought back to life. He had only mentioned the Ancient Stone and more who were “lost.” How did the First Well even fit into that picture? The hope of the First Well was very likely a figment of his imagination; what if he was about to lead their entire family into a dreadful circle of hope that would lead exactly to where it began: grief and sadness?
Artham was the one to break the silence with an ounce of encouragement. “My apologies,” he murmured and looked down at his taloned-hands, laden with the precious items they bore. “I hoped in the First Well Water for so long and believed it would work for years. I have no right to place doubt in your heart. Here…I thought you might want your pack or need it for something. I guess you do. And I don’t know if you want Janner’s sword or not but…I think he would rather you have it than anyone else,” he added sheepishly, holding them both out.
Kalmar paused before taking them, trying to dispel the grief and uncertainty in his heart by distracting himself with buckling the sheath around his waist. It felt wrong, dreadfully wrong, but at the same time he couldn’t bear the thought of not holding onto it. Hopefully all he would be doing was holding onto it temporarily until Janner could take it back, but what if that wasn’t what happened?
He shook his head, not wanting to think about that possibility even as it loomed overhead. If he had doubt in one segment of his hopes, he would put his faith and belief into the other: the one spoken by the Maker.
Bending down to retrieve one half of the Stone, he wondered which would be the best one to take and ended up deciding on the smaller half that looked like it would fit in his pack. Taloned-hands beat him to it, though. He looked up at Artham in surprise and maybe a bit of confusion.
“If…if you don’t mind…I’ll do it for you,” Artham said slowly, stammering just a bit.
Kalmar smiled and met his uncle’s eyes. “I don’t. Thanks, Uncle Artham.”
*****
The mist dissipated slowly as they made their way to the ruins of Castle Rysen to wake the rest of the family (plus Sara). Even if it hadn’t, Artham still would have been able to navigate them to it, Kalmar was certain. As they walked, Artham explained that he hadn’t actually needed to find the Dragons and ask them to take them anywhere; rather they had flown in of their own accord right as he came near the water’s edge and practically begged him to give them the pleasure of making the trip.
“They even brought a ‘scribe’ with them,” Artham continued, grinning. “At least, he’s calling himself, ‘the scribe who will chronicle this start of a grand, new adventure.’”
“I like that,” Kalmar said, a sudden smile crossing over his face. “‘Adventure.’ It is kind of an adventure, isn’t it? Wait, who’s the scribe?”
“In the words of Rodney Hilsnapper, the last poet anyone expected to sail down Fingap Falls on a dare,” came an incredibly familiar voice, one so welcome that Kal ran toward it on an impulse. “‘Who else but me?’”
“Oh, Mister Reteep,” Kalmar whispered as soon as the older man was in sight, balancing precariously on the back of a blue dragon. He felt grief sweeping over him again as he remembered how close Janner and Oskar had been, and how if, by some terrifying stroke of…of the Maker’s choice, the Water didn’t work or they couldn’t find it—
He shook his head, instead choosing to clamber up onto the dragon’s back and throw his arms around Oskar in an unexpected embrace that sent both of them tumbling to the ground.
“Sorry,” Kal said, attempting a smile but finding himself far more capable of choked sob. “I’m sorry.”
“No, dear child,” Oskar replied comfortingly as they righted themselves, though there was a touch of teariness in his words. “Don’t apologize. There’s nothing to apologize for. Only hope.”
“But,” he didn’t want to argue, not really, but with every second another patter of doubt ran across the lovely painting of expectation and desperate need that it would work. And when he glanced over and saw Janner’s wrapped body already strapped to the back of a green dragon (likely Artham's doing), that feeling only mounted. The fact that he felt his hope and joy dissipating so quickly scared him more than anything, because he wasn’t sure if he was doubting the plan or if he was doubting the Maker. “But what if it doesn’t work?” he whispered finally, an unwelcome tear trickling down his cheek.
Oskar studied a point in the distance for a moment before adjusting his spectacles and responding. “I came because the Dragons were gracious enough to inform me of had happened via a terribly spelled message from Thorn O'Sally and offer me a ride here. And on arrival, I heard Artham’s news: there might be a chance. And even if it’s only a chance, isn’t that slim chance worth holding onto?”
Kalmar considered it while staring at his hands. “How can I find it, though? I smelled it last time. I can’t do that now.”
“Remember Miller’s Bridge?” Oskar replied, a twinkle in his eyes. “It was just a wisp of a chance we knew only from a book. Yet we found it! You found it.”
Choosing not to harp on the fact that Nugget had died in the process, Kal did his best to focus on what really mattered: That the stories had been true. That the impossible had been true. That though it would be nearly impossible to find the First Well in the middle of the Blackwood with no starting points other than Clovenfast, if it was the Maker’s Will, they would find it. And maybe, just maybe, everything would be alright after that.
Even the fact that he had yet to figure out how the Ancient Stone (that strangely did not weigh him down yet) would fit into everything. His trust and hope and belief returned, and as if to chronicle the start of their adventure, the sun’s rays danced over the horizon. “Alright. Let’s go wake up the rest of the family.”
*****
Notes:
So,was Oskar's and the Dragon's arrival satisfying? I know there's not a great place for Thorn in this story, especially considering that this is from Kal's POV, not Leeli's, but I wanted to at least slip him in. He was there, of course, when Janner melded. At least, I know he came with them and the Fangs and I don't think he ever left...
And Artham tied Janner's body to the green dragon's back while he was also talking to Oskar and the Dragons. Kal was wandering around looking for the Stone for quite a while 😉
OH, and we had Oskar!!! His quotes are fun. I included him in this story more than the previous AtE^^
Hm, this makes me wonder - are they going to do Rudric's sword in the show? After they did Esben's and Janner has a special sword already?