Notes
I made myself cry writing this chapter.
Everything good here? No cannon mistakes?
😭😭☺️☺️
Chapter 10 Throne Warden
Janner stood outside the ruins of Castle Rysen, panic rising in his chest as Kal waded through the crowd of Cloven and Fangs, the melding stone high over his head. In a flash, he understood what Kal was trying to do. As the mass of melded things around his brother lifted their voices in song, Janner also realized that it wouldn’t work. His brother was part Gray Fang. He couldn’t seed the new garden, like Arundelle had prophesied. His heart started to pound as he remembered her exact words. I was told in a dream that a boy would come to Clovenfast, and he would be the seed of a new garden. Janner remembered the shriveled husks of the bats in the melding box. If Kal tried to meld with the Fangs and Cloven, it would only kill him. It had to be a boy.
Sing the song of the ancient stones and the blood of the boy imbues your bones. The Maker’s powerful voice spoke into the confusion of Janner’s mind. Protect. Protect. Protect. The words beat in his mind. Protect the King.
“Kalmar, no!” Janner shouted as he dashed into the crowd of Fangs and Cloven. The melding song was growing louder and louder as more melded things joined in. Janner could see the golden light of the stone swelling and pulsing, and fixed his eyes on his little brother. The Wolf King’s furry face was wet with tears and his arms trembled as he held the heavy stone over his head. Janner was still a little far away when he shouted,
“Kalmar, sing the song!”
“What?” Kalmar’s face wore a look of confusion and doubt as his brother ran closer.
“Sing it!” Janner yelled. Kal’s voice trembled as he began to sing the song. Janner reached his brother. He paused for only a second, and looked deep into his little brother’s eyes. They were bright, clear blue.
“I love you,” Janner said, right before he tore the stone from his brother’s arms and collapsed to the ground on top of it, embracing its warmth. He knew, without a shadow of a doubt what was going to happen to him, and he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that it was right. It was the Maker’s will. It would seed the new garden. As the song reached its crescendo, Janner both saw and felt the blaze of living light that flooded out from the stone. The last thing he saw was the bright light washing over Kalmar, before everything went black. Janner felt himself emptied of life, of air, even of thought, and his bones burned with a terrible and ecstatic love. He sensed the Maker’s presence and pleasure like a roll of thunder, a crashing wave, a cool rain, a newborn’s breath, all unfolding like the joy of spring from the earth’s wintry grave. Janner Wingfeather poured himself out, giving his life and his all, completing to the fullest the Throne Warden’s purpose. Protect. Protect. Protect.
Note: Except for the final four sentences, the final piece is directly from The Warden and the Wolf King
. . .
To Janner, it seemed that the blackness lasted only a few moments, barely longer than the blink of an eye. The sensation of love and of the Maker’s pleasure that he had felt as he melded with his brother and his people burned so much brighter that he gasped in astonishment, his eyes still closed. He took several deep breaths before he opened his eyes, trying to imagine where he could possibly be. For a few moments, all he could feel was the overwhelming power of the Maker’s presence. It flooded into his soul, mind, heart and body, until Janner felt like he would overflow. He sat up and opened his eyes. He gasped again as he looked around. It was as if he was in the countryside, but much more. The grass he was laid on was the softest, greenest he had ever seen. The towering trees were the tallest, most beautiful he had ever looked at, and when the wind stirred them, their rustling was like music. There was a wide, sparkling river to his left, and air was crisp and fragrant, fresh with the smell of spring. When Janner turned to his right, he gasped again. Beyond several rolling hills stood a city on a mountain, brighter and more beautiful than anything he had ever seen. It was reminiscent of his father’s drawings of Castle Rysen, but with the sunlight pouring on it, it looked like it was made of gold. Just before Janner took a step toward the city, a voice called his name.
“Janner Wingfeather,” Another shiver of warmth and love and joy rushed through Janner when he heard the voice. The Maker’s voice. Janner turned around and saw the Maker. He was like a man, yet more than a man, and larger too. Light was all around him, and it seemed to Janner that the light was an embodiment of love. Brightest of all was the Makers face. It shone like the sun with brilliance, a light that, in Aerwiar, would’ve blinded Janner, but now he looked at it with no pain, loving its brightness.
“Janner Wingfeather.” When the Maker spoke again, Janner knelt before his true King and his Creator.
“Rise, my son,” no matter how many times Janner heard the voice, it sent a shiver of wonder and love through his soul.
“Well done, my good and faithful servant.” Those few words from the Maker’s lips were worth more to Janner than all the rewards in Aerwiar.
“Thank you,” Janner said quietly, unsure of what else to say. That was when he realized that all fear was gone. Even if he tried to be afraid, it was impossible. The cold, entwining fingers of fear were banished from the Maker’s lands. Janner also realized that his scars were gone, every one of them. He didn’t ask about it though, because at that moment the Maker said,
“Come, my son. Walk with me in the Garden.” Janner came to the Maker’s side and walked with him into the Garden, his soul filled with awe and wonder and joy and peace and love.
. . .
Janner walked with the Maker in the Garden for what seemed like years, yet only a few moments. That time was the most wonderful thing in Janner’s life, too beautiful and amazing to be written properly. Most of the time they talked, and the Maker put to death all of Janner’s fears and frustrations and anxieties, putting in his heart an incredible peace that seemed like it would last forever. Some of the time they simply walked, and Janner soaked up the Maker’s presence as if it was the very air he breathed. Every word that the Maker spoke was a treasure, and Janner hid them all in his heart. When he saw that they were coming to the end of the Garden, Janner would have been disappointed, but the love of the Maker in his heart left no room for that. They walked out of the Garden in silence side by side. When they came to the end of the pathway, the Maker said to Janner,
“We have prepared something you will enjoy.”
We? Janner thought in slight confusion.
“Yes, we,” the Maker replied. “Turn around.” Janner obeyed, and what he saw took his breath away. Across a rolling field, looking at him, smiling, stood a tall, strong young man. His hair was dark like Janner’s, and his face looked familiar, both like Artham’s and Janner’s. He had a wide grin on his face that reminded Janner of Kal. In a heartbeat, Janner knew exactly who it was. It was his father, not as a golden bear, not as a cloven, but as a healed man, whole and hale. Janner’s eyes would have welled up with tears of joy, but as it was, he set off running as hard as he could toward his father because he couldn’t bear being apart from him a moment longer. Janner was running, running, his feet pounding the ground, the wind tearing through his hair. Esben started running too, an amazed, joyful smile on his face. They met in the middle of field and Janner threw himself into his father’s arms, saying,
“Papa! Papa!” Over and over and over again. Esben embraced him, hugging Janner to his chest.
“Janner! Oh Janner! I have you again! My boy, my little boy!” Janner remembered his father’s words from what seemed like so long ago. I’ll hold you fast forever. Janner hugged his father tightly and clung to him like he would never again let go.
Next chapter is here