Standing Steady in the Storms: Ch. 23

Supper in Castle Throg

Amrah led him out of the cell and down a long corridor that opened into the main hall of Castle Throg. Kalmar blinked in surprised. He thought he had been in the Deeps of Throg, when really he was only a few minutes' walk from the top of the world.

Amrah showed him into a bathroom where hot water had already been drawn and heated, then left. A fresh pair of clothes were laid out for him, and when Kalmar put them on after his bath, he was surprised to find that they fit perfectly. He looked at them suspiciously, wondering if they did belong to him. Yet he did not recognize them in the slightest. He put the thought at the back of his mind to come back to it later and instead focused on how wonderful it felt to be clean again. It had been weeks since he had had a proper bath, and even though it had never been his favorite time of the week, it felt amazing now.

With these thoughts in mind, Kal opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. 

"Hello," a deep voice said in his ear. Kalmar jumped slightly and turned to see a Grey Fang standing to his left.

"The Lady asked me to show you to the dining hall," it said in a low tone bordering on a growl.

Kalmar nodded nervously as he followed the Fang. It led him to the room he and Janner had escaped from when they were in Throg years ago, but now the long table was not covered in rotten and raw meats and spoiled fruits and vegetables. It was clean and orderly, set for two.

He felt a sting in his heart when he thought of Janner, but he pushed past it. Right now, he had to figure out what Amrah wanted. If he knew anything about those who served Gnag, it was nothing good.

Amrah was already sitting in one seat, so Kalmar took the one across from her. She said nothing, so he fidgited and waiting for someone to break the silence.

“So, we of course, must discuss preliminary matters,” Amrah began. Kalmar looked at her in the same way he did the stuffy speakers at the meetings he was forced to attend, albeit with more disgust. She motioned toward someone behind him, and he turned his head to see a different Grey Fang stepping out of the shadows, his head bowed low and two bowls of soup. He placed one in front of Kalmar and the other in front of Amrah. She picked up her spoon and began eating. 

Kalmar found himself hesitating. As delicious as it looked, he was still wary. 

Amrah sighed. “Please, just eat it. I intend to have you at my table until it is time for you to fulfill your duties. This is the food you will be fed. Comply.”

He eyed the soup and lifted a spoonful to his mouth. His eyes lit up — it was surprisingly delicious. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Kal saw Amrah smile. “See, I told you it was fine. This food will not kill you, Kalmar Wingfeather.”

He was still uncertain about Amrah’s motives. Surely she had something up her sleeve, something devious planned. It didn’t make sense for her to call him out here just to talk to him and feed him. He chose to pose a careful question. “How exactly did you—” Kalmar waved his hand, searching for the right words. Janner was better at this than he was.

“Come to be here? Like this?” Amrah’s eyes glittered again in a dangerous way. “Why, I am delighted you asked that question. I was planning on telling you, but it is much more fun when you are actually asked to share something, don't you think?"

Without waiting for a reply, Amrah began. “After my mother and I swam into the sea, we were pursued by that red Sea Dragon. She was right behind me, aiming to get the ancient stone back, even at the expense of my life. My mother ordered me to give it to her and I did. Not long after, I learned it was the best thing I could have done.

“The Sea Dragon—”

Kalmar felt frutration flare up. Hulwen was well-respected in Anniera, and she deserved to be called by her name. “Hulwen,” he corrected her. “Her name is Hulwen. She’s a dear friend of the Kingdom, particularly Leeli.”

Something unrecognizable flickered in Amrah’s eyes, but instead of flaring up in anger, she simply nodded to him. “Thank you, High King. I would not wish to displease the Song Maiden by referring to her friend with anything other than her true name.”

Kalma blinked in surprise. There was no biting bitterness in her tone when she said "Song Maiden." It was so different than the way she said talked about Janner. It was as if the very mention of him was a curse.

It seemed as though Amrah felt an odd liking towards Leeli. It was somewhat unexpected, but not unsettling. He supposed that Leeli had been a bit more cooperative than him, and certainly more compliant than Janner. Perhaps that accounted for her attitude towards them. And that leaves me, her "prodigal child." Why doesn't she hate me?

He glanced up at Amrah who was waving to the Grey Fang again. They came and took their bowls, returning a minute later with the second course.

She began speaking again once their plates were on the table.

“Hulwen killed my mother while wresting the ancient stone from her. I checked what remained of her body after the ordeal, but could not find the holoél which she took from your brother.

“I admit I could have searched harder for it, but I chose not to. Instead, I headed for the Phoob Islands." 

Kalmar gazed at her curiously. Then he remembered what was at the Phoobs. His mouth formed a perfect ‘O’ without saying a word. Amrah smiled at him again and waited for him to speak. “So, erm,” he cleared his throat a bit. “When you got there, you used the holoré to—”

“Meld myself with a person and return to human form again. Yes, I did. It was only later that I learned your brother did the same thing for the other Fangs and cloven using the larger ancient stone. It killed him, of course, but I suppose you used the Water from the First Well to bring him back to life.” 

Kalmar’s eyes slitted angrily, and he glared at her. “If you think you’re going to get Water from the First Well from the Annierans in exchange for my return, then you are very, very mistaken. We used the rest of what we brought back to restore the Shining Isle, as per the Maker's instruction. The Well itself remains shielded by the Maker's Will.”

Amrah cocked her head at him, a slightly disappointed look on her face. “Dear Kalmar, I don’t want to live forever. Look at where it got Ouster Will. The only one who would have me for a bride has been dead for years, and these Fangs are not the greatest company. You do know that while they seem intelligent and cunning, they act on order only.” She leaned forward a bit, as if she were sharing a terribly important secret. “The Grey Fangs do not have better sense than the Green or Bat Fangs, they are simply created with smarter people, people who have more potential than others. I made you a Grey Fang because I sensed the strength and wit in your mind. If you had none, I would have sent you here so my mother could meld you into a mindless Green or Bat Fang.”

“So then you came to Castle Throg, and just lived here doing nothing for seven years?” Kalmar asked, wondering if that was the end of her story.

Amrah nodded and held her goblet to her lips, taking a lady-like sip. It was odd to see such a despicable person doing such a proper thing, but every second, Kal found himself thinking that Amrah was more human and less monstrous than he had always thought.

Wait, what am I thinking? Kalmar mentally shook himself. Was he really beginning to fall under Amrah’s spell? Again? That was just embarrassing. This is ridiculous! She kidnapped me, she worked for Gnag, she loved Gnag. Even if she is a person, she is still a monster. She is a twisted thing, twisted not in body, but in mind. And what has she done in the past seven years? Created more Fangs?

“Surely you haven’t spent the past seven years idle,” he said cryptically, taking another bite of his food. 

Amrah laughed. “Kalmar, if you are going to accuse me of something  or ask me a question, ask me outright. But I’ll forgive this once.” She winked at him. “No, I have not been creating another fang army. That was Gnag’s crusade. Rather, it was part of his crusade. I do not have my mind set on such…let us say, ambitious goals. He accomplished half of his work: he sacked Anniera, overthrew your father and uncle, and conquered Aerwiar.”

Kalmar swallowed quickly so he could speak without food on his mouth. “I’d say that’s more than half of his work.”

Amrah laughed again. “Dear Kalmar, you do make me laugh, I’ll admit that. 

"Still there was one more thing that he truly wanted, truly craved, that he could not get his hands on. Not indefinitely, at least.” Her eyes took on a menacing look. 

Kalmar stared at her. “The Jewels of Anniera,” he whispered. Then he furrowed his brow in anger, remembering what had happened years before. “But, he had us! We did what he wanted!”

Amrah shook her head. “No, Kalmar, he was only able to accomplish half of his goals with you. So I have made it my mission to bide my time and wait for the right opportunity. Don’t tell anyone this, but finding you and your brother on that island was mere chance. The Bat Fang who captured you was a runaway, but he turned out to be useful. He did not know much, but he knew enough to bring you to me. I will use you to do what Gnag longed to for every year of his life.” Amrah rose from the table and bent to whisper in Kalmar’s ear. Her voice was quiet and sinister, and every syllable wreaked of venomous hatred. “I will pit brother against brother, High King against Throne Warden. Hand against hand, sword against sword. Then Gnag will have the revenge he so desires.” 

Kalmar looked at her, a sickening feeling of dread creeping into his stomach. She stood up abruptly, the wicked look on her face switching to one of contentment and pleasure. “Come, dear one, I will show you your quarters. You have been in that nasty cell long enough.”

Kal followed her, not knowing whether to thank her, yell at her, or ask her more questions. He chose not to speak instead. 

Amrah led him into a room that was surprisingly warm and homey, especially considering the dark atmosphere of Castle Throg. The walls had been overlaid with a light brown wood, and though the floor was still cold stone, a thick, brown carpet covered the majority of it. A warm and well-built fire crackled in the grate, because even though it was nearing summer in Anniera, Castle Throg rose high above it on a mountain that was covered in snow and ice year-round. A normal bed with a light blue bedspread and a generous number of pillows was situated in the middle of the room and there was a lovely desk beside it, with a chair that matched perfectly. On top of it was a journal. 

Kalmar walked over to the desk and touched the journal lightly with his fingers. He picked it up and flipped it open. Every single page was empty, perfectly empty and ready to be covered in art of all forms, shapes and sizes. 

“Open the drawer,” Amrah said softly from where she stood in the doorway. Kal glanced at her, a little startled. He thought she had left. 

Still, he glanced at the knobs on the front side of the desk and pulled on it gently. What he saw made his jaw drop in astonishment. There were paints and pencils and dyes and ink of every color, brushes of every shape and size, charcoal pencils of every thickness, ink blotters, erasers, more parchment, and every artist’s instrument he could think of. Everything was there, right in front of him. 

Kalmar felt his fingers itching to hold them and touch them to the paper, and his mind whirled with all he would sketch, draw, and paint. He reached his hand into the drawer and selected a thin piece of charcoal. He drew it out and rolled it gently between his fingers. Kal closed his eyes and smiled at the delightful feeling of finally having something to express himself with. His mind had been so full in the past weeks. Now, though, he could place every thought on paper.

“Do you like it?” Amrah’s quiet voice spoke again. 

Kalmar turned towards her and smiled. There was an almost motherly expression on her face, and it puzzled him so much that he almost asked her about it. But he chose not to. “I do,” he said finally. “I really do. Thank you, Amrah.”

She nodded at him and left. 

Kal looked back at the paper and touched the charcoal to it. With art in hand and mind, he might just survive in Castle Throg. Maybe he could put his guilt into words and manage to move past it enough so it would not torture his heart any longer.

Notes: Hm. Amrah is being....very confusing, lol