Rather than Resenting: Ch. 31

Gifts for Obedience

Notes:

I had a GREAT title for this chapter last night and now I can't remember what it was 😭😭😭

*****

The forest glowed with light, pulsating with the brightness of a thousand stars and with forgiveness and mercy and grace and a love so wild no one could contain it. There was pressure and pain and speed, racing faster than anything, faster and fiercer and stronger than the most tumultuous gale. There was beauty and birth, glory and grace, majesty and magnificence, hope and healing. It hurt, it hurt so dreadfully, so terribly. Such a beautiful pain, a glorious ache,  a majestic agony, a hopeful searing it was. And all of it was intertwined, interwoven with light and love, throbbing light and love, light and love that never ceased, light and love that continued on and on for eternity.

One thing ended and another began. Falling, falling into a cold so warm. Words jumbled together, letters made no sense, breath disappeared, pressure would not stop, pain would not stop, oh, but that doesn’t matter, because the love and forgiveness outshines it all, the light still glowed but not as fiercely, and it was cold and dark and the light was fading away. So, so cold.

Yet indescribably, inexplicably warm and safe and lovely and perfect.

******

Artham was tempted to go upstairs so he could talk to Sara and find out if she knew where Janner was since she was the most likely person to know what he was doing, but decided against it. As of that moment, he was the only one who was dreadfully worried and there was no need to increase that number. If he couldn’t find Janner anywhere in the castle, then he would go to Sara. There was no reason spoiling her evening with concern and franticness. For that matter, there was the chance he was simply paranoid that Janner had chosen to free Amrah in the middle of the Ball. Perhaps he hadn't. Perhaps he had been sensible.

His musings did not distract from his concerns, though. In lieu of asking Sara, he figured checking the dungeons would be a safe bet, just in case Janner was there or had gone down there. It was oddly convenient that no one milled around in the Throne Room, since that made it much easier to actually get to the lower part of the castle. 

His search was in vain though. Well, in vain depending on what way he looked at it. If he meant vain as in not finding Janner, that was certainly true. However if I am speaking of the glaring detail of an empty cell with the door swung open, clearly indicating that Amrah is not here, likely because Janner let her out, then, no, it was not in vain, he huffed inwardly.

The cell itself was fairly bare and offered no clues as to where its former occupant and her liberator had gone, though the satchel Amrah had brought with her was still in there. Artham had forgotten that Kalmar chose to leave it with her rather than taking it. He had been curious at the time as to what was inside it, considering how closely she had held onto it. It might be a violation of privacy…but checking inside won’t hurt, Artham thought as he stepped into the cell and took the satchel in his hands. After all, there could be something inside it that indicates just where they’ve gone. 

On opening it, Artham was a bit surprised at the contents that consisted only of an odd-looking stuffed animal that he guessed was supposed to resemble a bear. The creature was made of at least six different kinds of fabric, had two different looking eyes, crooked stitching, and disproportionate limbs. He was slightly miffed that nothing helpful had been inside the satchel but chose not to let it be and not muse on it any more than simply assuming it belonged to Amrah. There were far more important matters at hand.

Once again, the lack of people in the Throne Room made it infinitely easier to get to the private sector of the castle, which was really the only place Janner might be. And of course the question was where Amrah had gone. There was the chance they were both outside, but that made little sense.

He made his way upstairs and checked every single room except Sara and Janner’s room to try and keep from ruining anyone’s evening other than his own but eventually gave up. Reluctantly he knocked on the door, opened by Nia seconds later after a flurry of frantic-sounding words 

“Yes, Artham?” Her voice was pitched slightly higher than usual and there was a hint of concern in it that he could find no real reason for. Why would she be worried? He hadn't said anything to worry her.

Looking at her closely, Artham waited for a moment before asking. “Have you seen Janner? It’s about time for his speech. I can’t find him, and I’ve looked everywhere.”

Terror flickered through Nia’s eyes. “He’s outside,” she said quickly. “In the forest somewhere. The one across from the castle.”

Artham furrowed his brow, choosing not to mention his suspicion that Janner was actually with Amrah. “Why is he out there?”

Nia shook her head. “I– I can’t explain. Just go. And please hurry.” Then she shut the door without another word, and Artham was left standing there, utterly confused and even more worried than before.

*****

“Maker, please tell me I didn’t kill him,” were the words that filtered in slowly, quietly, gently, almost as if they were easing him back into the fringes of reality. 

Janner felt his chest rise and fall and it didn’t hurt, not like it had what felt like only seconds before, but it felt strange, almost foreign. Almost as if he was reading a book that had come to life rather than actually being there fully. At the same time, though, he knew he was there — physically he was completely there, completely present, completely in the vicinity of…someone — even if his mind wasn’t quite certain.

Noticing that he wasn’t telling himself to breathe, it was simply happening on its own, he decided to try telling himself to do something, like move or speak. 

Speaking, definitely a priority, he decided when the words he had first heard a few seconds earlier came again. 

It took a try or so, but he eventually coaxed his mouth to move, then convinced his voice to actually say something. “It’s okay; I’m alright.”

And when he had spoken, a little jolt of surprise ran through him — it hadn't been as hard as he had expected, still harder than normal, but not impossible, and he knew if he tried it again, the same difficulty, the same pause between the thought and the words would happen, but that was alright. It was alright if speaking would not be as it had been for as long as he could remember (which, in that moment, he realized was quite a lot of memories, some of them far more disturbing than others), because the Maker had allowed him to live and for that, he was inexplicably grateful.

In the same few seconds in which he came to that realization, Janner heard a brief choking sound, then sobs intermingled with laughter that could only have been produced by pure joy and gratitude. Out of habit he opened his eyes (why had they been closed anyway?) and scrambled through very cold snow that was soaking his pants into a sitting position so he could actually see the shedder of those tears.

Blinking a few times, first because of how surprisingly bright it was even though it was clearly night — evening, the ball, the Redeemer’s Ball, the speech, he remembered — and second because had had not expected to see a woman in her early to mid-fifties kneeling beside him sobbing with thankfulness, Janner stared. He almost asked her, “who are you?” but he realized around ten seconds after he planned to ask that his tongue actually wasn’t working in sync with his mind and instead became tied in a bit of a knot. The knot worked in his favor, though, because it gave time for the memory to flutter in like a light breeze — Amrah.

Janner found himself furrowing his brow in momentary confusion, so many questions peppering his mind. Why was he with Amrah? Why were they in the middle of the forest at night? Why were they anywhere other than the castle on the night of the Redeemer’s Ball (Kalmar was going to have his head if he missed his speech)? Why was it so bright outside if it was nighttime (he checked again by looking up at the sky; it certainly was nighttime)?

Thankfully, the answers to the questions that he knew he had — it was just a matter of asking them for the secrets to be unlocked — followed soon after. He was with Amrah because the Maker had told him to meld with her, and he had listened. Presumably. Though he didn’t think he felt as many physical effects as he should have. They were in the middle of the forest because he had been worried about someone stopping them, and if they had, it would have been perfectly understandable. They were not in the castle because someone might have seen them and stopped them from melding. And it was so bright because the holoré pulsated with daisy-colored light and beauty, casting both shadows and light on everything in the vicinity.

“I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry,” Amrah gasped out in between her sobs. “But thank you. Thank you so, so much.”

Janner smiled at her and gave his tongue a few extra seconds to catch up with his thoughts before he expected words to come. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. But you shouldn’t be thanking me,” he said honestly, placing a hand on her arm. “The Maker—” his words paused of their own accord and started up again a few seconds later. “Is the One you should thank. He’s the One who told me to meld with you. It…it wasn’t me.”

“But you didn’t have to do it,” she whispered. “He told you what to do, but it really is always a choice. That’s how He is. He lets us choose. Maybe you melding with me was the right choice and what He wanted, but you didn’t have to listen. You chose to. You chose to give up your life for me. You didn’t have to do that.”

Shaking his head, Janner made sure to factor in the potential pause again. “I did do it, but it might not have ended in my death. I knew that.”

Amrah looked straight into his eyes and for the first time, he saw that hers were a lovely golden-brown that was now tinged with grief. “You know I melded with another person right?” she whispered, guilt pouring from her tone. Janner nodded. “Well…I looked into how he was doing during those six years after…after Throg.” Tears began glistening in her eyes. “He didn’t make it. He died only a few months later.”

Feeling his heart still with a quiet acceptance, Janner gazed at her with a burning intensity that did not fade before his words came forth. “I would have done it anyway. I think…there was a part of me that knew what would happen. And part of it—” (another agonizing pause) “Part of it was my choice. I chose to listen to the Maker, and I chose to forgive you. Because, Amrah, I know the Maker loves you. He always loved you. There was a part of me that was angry because of that. But,” — this time when he paused, he gingerly slipped the holoré into his right hand and helped Amrah up with his left — “I’m not angry anymore. He loves you just as he loves me or Kalmar or anyone else. It doesn’t matter what we’ve done, because we’ll never deserve His Love. He gives it freely. He just asks for obedience in return. And you did that. You listened to him.”

“And so did you,” she whispered as they began walking back toward the castle, the glow of the holoré lighting their way. 

*****

Notes:

So I am really hoping the quality of the writing matches with the message I'm trying to convey, otherwise this story is sadly going up in flames because of my failure to write the final climax well (there were, like, three climaxes 😅)