Journey to Hope-Chapter 16

Notes:

• JM, I loved what your fanfic said about Ulambria. It brought that bit of canon to my attention, which is why it’s in here. 😁

• Did I get all of Clovenfast right?

  
  

Chapter 16 Return

The family walked slowly around the town square, wondering where to make camp. They settled for a small, one story home that was facing the square. Everyone was slightly unnerved by the silence and emptiness of this place that was clearly once full of life. The center of the courtyard had a large, soot stained fire pit in the middle, and the darkness of night found the company sitting around a small fire and a snot wax candle. They were just finishing their meal when Artham said,

“Alright Kal. We’re here now. I think it’s about time you explain exactly where here is.” Janner and Kal looked at each other, realizing how little their family really knew of the events that had brought Janner and Kal to Throg. Janner found himself traveling back and back through his memories, back to his thirteenth birthday and those terrible honey muffins. Kal found himself doing the same, back to when he had left the Keep to find reinforcements at the Field of Finely. The boys began to tell their story. At first slowly and hesitantly, they told of how they had both gone for the hills, Kal looking for Throg, Janner looking for Kal. When Kal told of his desperation, of the monster that was inside him, Nia’s eyes glimmered with tears and Artham put an arm around his nephew. Together, the boys told about their trek into the Blackwood and the stampede of toothy cows. When Artham heard of Arundelle in her cloven form, how she had escaped Throg, how she had ruled Clovenfast so well, his expression was a mix of love and sadness. He relished every word about his beloved, but hated to think of her going through anything near what he had experienced. When the boys told about how they had left Clovenfast, they stopped.

“Do go on, go on,” Oskar said, scribbling furiously in his notebook. The Throne Warden and High King looked at one another with some doubt. Neither wanted to re-live their experiences in Throg, but they continued anyway. About an hour later they finished when the children had been reunited outside of the Fane of Fire. Their family looked at them in astonishment. Leeli and Sara had snuggled up to Artham when the boys had told of Throg, both to comfort and to be comforted. Nia was staring at her boys in both grief and pride. She wished she could have saved them from the darkness, from the pain and difficult choices, but she was proud of them, so proud of them for enduring and persevering, helping to overthrow the darkness, spreading light and hope in the Deeps.

“Well done,” Artham said to Janner and Kalmar. “You never gave up. You stood up for what is right. I am proud of you.”

“Thank you, Uncle Artham,” Janner said, and Kal nodded his thanks. Janner had been watching Artham during the whole story and he was amazed. Artham Wingfeather truly was healed. Not once had he stuttered or whimpered, not once had Janner seen the storm. He saw grief, yes, he saw pain and guilt, but those things no longer had any power over Artham. He had been forgiven and made whole, and that truth shone through his very being. Artham had been most stirred when he had heard of Janner’s fight with the Stone Keeper. He felt pride in his nephew when he heard of Janner standing up to her, resisting her. He took comfort in the fact that this Throne Warden hadn’t given in. He had felt joy at the thought of every one who had been freed from Throg unbroken, and all the rescued ones who the Maker had restored. Oskar sat writing furiously for a moment longer then snapped his leather book shut, saying with a sigh,

“That was quite the extraordinary adventure, Wingfeather lads. The stuff of legends, and we have lived it!”

“You said something like that a long time ago, Mr Reteep,” Janner said. “After Miller’s Bridge. You said that ‘all the old legends must have begun as ordinary days,’”

“And so they have. Wingfeathers, look around you. The things you have lived will one day become one of the great legends of our world, told to generation after generation of Skreeans, Hollowsfolk and Annierans. Perhaps someday your story will even spread beyond the edges of the maps, to inspire the people in those far lands to bravery, honor, and sacrifice.”

“And now, children of mine,” Nia said, putting a hand on Sara and Kalmar’s shoulders, “heroes or not, It’s far past your bedtime. We will have a busy day tomorrow, so let’s get some rest.” Kalmar’s loud yawn set everyone walking to their bedrolls in the house they were sheltering in. Leeli, Nia, and Sara laid down by one wall, Janner and Kal by the other. Oskar slept by the third, back wall. No one would admit this, but all of them (except Kal) wanted to be as far from his snores as possible. Artham laid down on the ground across the doorway, his sword unsheathed and a few inches from his hand. To Artham it was merely habit, a Throne Warden’s instinct, but Janner realized that nothing could enter that house without going through Artham Wingfeather. He smiled, then rolled over when he felt Kal poke him in the back.

“What?” Janner whispered as quietly as possible.

“Are we going to the place tomorrow morning?” Kal was whispering too.

“Yeah.” Janner paused. “You didn’t tell them about Esben’s den while we were talking. Why?”

“Well you didn’t tell them either!” Kal accidentally let his voice go above a whisper.

“Shhh!” three voices from across the room said at once.

“Sorry!” Kal said. He returned to whispering with Janner.

“I guess I just thought it would be better to tell them when we can actually see it.”

“You’re probably right. Good night Kal.”

“Night Janner.” Soon Kal and Oskar were snoring, and everyone else was breathing regularly. Only Janner was left awake. He stared at the roof, full of questions. Janner smiled. He was surrounded by family and he could almost feel their peace. A Throne Warden of Anniera was keeping watch. Janner finally fell asleep feeling content and safe.

. . .

The next morning, Janner woke up to the smell of breakfast and light streaming through the curtainless windows of the home in Clovenfast. Kal was already gone. To breakfast, Janner assumed. Sara was the only one still asleep. Janner stood up slowly, pushing off his blanket. Eyes on Sara, he tried to creep out without waking her up, but because he wasn’t looking where he was going, he tripped over Kal’s pack which was lying out on the ground, and hit the wood floor with a thump. He looked up cringing to see if he had woken Sara. He had. She rolled over, then sat up, grunting as she stretched, then looked up confusedly.

“I’m sorry!” Janner said. “I was trying not to wake you up, I tripped over Kal’s pack, I’m sorry!” Sara laughed and Janner smiled at the sound he had wanted to hear again for so long.

“It’s fine, Janner,” she said. “It smells like I was about to miss breakfast anyway.” Janner walked beside Sara out to the courtyard, now bright with sunlight, trying to think of something to say.

“I want to hear about what happened at the Fork! Factory! after I left, if you’re okay with telling me,” Janner said as they walked outside.

“I will tell you, Janner, but it’s kind of a long story…maybe when we get back to Anniera?”

“Oh, yeah, definitely. I’m fine with waiting.” They stopped outside the doorway, and Sara looked at Janner. She reached out a hand and gently touched one of the pale, thin scars on Janner’s arm.

“It looks like you have a lot to tell me too. When we go back. Back home.” She said the word with such care and joy, that for a moment, Janner realized how much it truly meant to her to be part of a family again. She was surrounded by people who loved and cared for her , and had a place where she truly belonged. That was something she had missed for a long time.

“You’re part of our family now, Sara. We can talk whenever you want. At home,”

“Thank you, Janner.” Sara smiled at him and they made their way toward the breakfast fire.

As they walked into the square, Nia was just finishing dishing out breakfast, and Kal already had his mouth full.

“Good morning, sleepyheads,” Artham said, grinning and winking at Janner. The group walked over to where Nia had eight steaming plates ready, all but Oskar, who Janner expected to be writing, but instead he was cradling the open First Book in his arms, looking eagerly from it to the walls and buildings of Clovenfast.

“Mr Reteep? Are you going to eat?” Janner asked.

“Ah, yes indeed, young Janner. It’s only that, I’ve come to a most fascinating theory about this place. In the words of Fisgan Reseib, ‘I shall need more proof, but I do believe it is so!”

“Bgleve wrt?” Kal asked, his mouth full.

“Kalmar! Please wait to speak until after you have swallowed,” Nia admonished.

“He means believe what?” Janner asked.

“I do believe that we are in Ulambria, the first city in Aerwiar, ruled by Dwayne and Gladys in the first epoch!”

“Wow, really?” Janner exclaimed. He and Artham leapt up and rushed to Oskar’s side, peering over his shoulder at the book.

“As I said, I shall need more proof. And now,” Oskar said as he closed the First Book gently, “In the words of Igerscon the Tasteful, ‘let us eat!’” Artham and Janner reluctantly followed Oskar back to the fire, where they both realized how hungry they actually were. After the meal, Kal stood up and said,

“Uncle Artham, Mama, Leeli, there’s something me and Janner want you to see. Oskar, Sara, would you mind staying here?”

“Kal!” Janner exclaimed.

“What? What’d I do?”

“That was just…” Janner stole a backwards glance at Sara, “kind of rude…”

“Don’t worry Janner,” Sara responded. “I don’t mind staying here for a while. I’d actually like to explore some. And I don’t think you could get Oskar away from here even if you wanted to,” she finished with a laugh, walking over toward Oskar.

“Is this the ‘you-know-what’ and ‘you-know-where’ from yesterday?” Leeli asked.

“Sure is,” Kal answered. As the Wingfeathers walked away, Janner glanced back at Sara and Oskar. Oskar was so absorbed in the crumbling walls that he hadn’t even noticed the group was leaving. Sara met Janner’s eyes and smiled as she walked toward Oskar. The Wingfeathers made their way slowly through Clovenfast toward the edge of the wall. As the large stone buildings thinned out, the spaces in between were filled with neatly built huts. Janner and Kal were flooded with memories of the last time they had walked these streets. They reached a door in the wall that surrounded the ancient city a while later. Kal took a deep breath before opening the door. They stepped into the dark wood, overshadowed by thick trees. The whole company could feel the weight of the grief that had taken place here. This was where the “untamed” as Elder Cadwick had called them, had roamed. These had been the ones who were lost in the darkness, or like Esben and Artham, remembered, and the memories had driven them mad. Leeli took a tighter grip on Nia’s hand, and Janner found himself edging closer to Artham, whose fingertips played against the hilt of his sword. The wood was eerily silent now, as all the cloven who had inhabited it had been at the Mending or had died in their grief and darkness. Janner was thinking, trying to imagine what Esben’s life had been like here, but the image that pervaded his memories was his young, smiling father, happy with the Maker. Janner chose to think about that, not about the hulking, twisted cloven that his father had once been. The path they were treading began to be covered with large stones. They walked for a few minutes more and stopped when there was a turn in the path.

“It’s just around the corner,” Janner said. Artham, Nia, and Leeli were looking terribly confused.

“This,” Kal said with a sigh, “was Esben’s den.”