Standing Steady in the Storms Ch. 44-45

The Game Changer

Notes:

Frustration will be assuaged^^

*****

By the time they flew over the town of Ban Rona, Janner felt his worries slipping away and being replaced by determination mixed with…enjoyment. He smiled at the thought. He was thankful that he could still relish the wind in his face that blew his hair into a tousled mess, the beauty of the countryside below him, and the warmth of Sara's arms as she clung to him for balance and support. 

Janner was glad he was able to support her, now. She deserved it, she really did. Janner found himself wondering if Sara had leaned on others enough over the past two months or if she had tried to survive on her own. He prayed it hadn't been the latter. Yet at the same time, she wasn't particularly inclined to always seeking help. If he knew her well enough, Janner guessed she had done a little bit of both. 

"You're going to let me take care of you now, right?" He asked her, craning his neck so some of the words might reach her ears and not be swept away by the dragons' wind.

Sara looked at him for a second and hesitated. Janner could practically see the inner turmoil as she fought between her desire to help and be helped. "Only if it will help you," she finally said quietly, blinking at him shyly.

"Sara, it's alright. You don't need to do this to yourself anymore. I can take care of you and I'm going to."

"But what if something happens again," she whispered almost inaudibly. Janner watched a single year trickle down her cheek and he carefully removed his hand from where to clutched the dragon's neck and wiped away her tear with his thumb.

" Nothing is going to happen," he reassured her, the usual certainty in his voice. Really, the "certainty" was rarely ever "certainty" at all — it was a façade. Sara didn't need to know that, though.

Another hour later, they had arrived at the base of the peak that towered into the clouds. Castle Throg was at the top, they  were sure of it. Hulwen had flown around the base to see if the outpost Janner remembered from years before when Murgah and the Fangs had captured them was still there. It was, but the VOOM has been destroyed. Janner could only imagine that Amrah wanted others to stay out and that she did not care about isolation.

Rather than landing there, though, Hulwen lighted down on the outskirts of the Blackwood, where the trees abruptly stopped as if held back by an invisible barricade. In between the forest and the mountain was a green clearing, covered in lush grass and thick shrubs. It was a comforting place and would be perfect for setting up camp for the night. 

Artham slid off her back and reached for Leeli, but she shook her head. “Hulwen and I have already decided to watch from above. It’ll be better that way.” So the two of them had left in a swirl of mist that was beginning to climb down from the mountain. 

The sun was only a ray of light filtering through the dense forest by the time they began unpacking. Based on their actions, Janner knew that both Artham and Sara would rather not begin scaling a mountain when they couldn't see their hands in front of their faces. 

Though Uncle Artham mightn't mind, Janner mused. He can see reasonably well in the dark, and it's not as though the moon is completely gone. We could start tonight. Except... He glanced over at Sara, who had already begun unpacking the food Nia had packed. She looked so calm here in the valley. Janner wondered if turmoil roiled inside of her. He did not feel turmoil — years before, or even months before, he might have described some of his experiences as tumultuous, but now he knew. He knew and understood the cacophony of the mind and the chaos that could dwell there. — yet he did not feel peace. He was so close to righting his wrongs, so close to rescuing his brother from a monster-from-the-dead. Janner still couldn't imagine how Amrah had managed to become human again — she had been a fish the last time he saw her!

I suppose it's not that I can't, Janner reflected as he slipped his pack off and unrolled his bed roll, smoothing it out in the process. I think it's more that I can and just can't bear the thought of what she did to return herself to the way she was before.

Janner moved on to unfolding Sara's bed roll and smiled just at the thought of helping her. He wanted her to have a break, to have a time to relax and rest and not worry about anything. Unlike himself, Sara was capable of experiencing true peace utterly stress-free. Now though, she insisted on coming to help him find Kalmar. Janner loved her for it, for her urge to help him and be with him, but he feared for her safety. The Throne Warden—

Forget the Throne Warden business, it's the husband inside of me.

The husband inside of him had this desperate urge to keep Sara safe from all harm and misery. Strangely, Janner had a feeling that wouldn't happen in the fallen world of Aerwiar. Not until the Maker brought His children into His Kingdom would all be perfect and safe and pure and joyful.

"Janner, what do you think: fire or no fire?" Janner looked up from the blanket he was laying on Sara's bedroll and saw Artham standing just a few feet away with just a piece or so of wood in his arms. 

Janner looked at him like he was crazy. "Uncle Artham, we may have restored the cloven in the Blackwood to the way they were before, but there are tons of toothy cows roaming in the forest. Personally," he lowered his voice as jerked his head toward Sara. "I want to keep her as safe as I can, and that involves not having a fire."

Artham looked at him in a way that told him there was an underlying question. "What is it?" Janner asked him.

“I know what you're thinking," he said softly. "I know that the mindset of normalcy is coming back and that you want to protect Sara at all costs and that you want to rescue Kalmar as soon as possible, but you need to face the fact that you cannot control either of those things.”

Janner’s shoulders slumped. “I know. But I can’t bear the thought of anything else.”

Artham looked at him with empathy in his eyes. “Janner, I can’t tell you what is going to happen. There’s a crazy old woman who lived with Gnag most of her life and spent her time Fanging innocent people. She was once an oddly-melded Fang but was smart enough to choose to become a person again. Those smarts, though, are a disadvantage to us.”

“She has something up her sleeve,” Janner whispered, fingering the hilt of his sword. Simply allowing them to rescue Kal was far too simple. It just didn’t make any sense. 

Artham nodded. “I’m sorry, but I spent a month, I think, hearing her meld people day after day after day and…she’s smart. We should be on our guard.”

Janner glanced over at Sara, who was cataloging how much food was in her pack and sneaking looks into his to see how much he was carrying. He half-smiled, knowing that she was about to learn he had given her all the light consumables and himself all the heavy ones. “I swear, if Amrah tries anything,” he said through gritted teeth. “I will—”

“How delightful of all three of you to come to the base of the mountain. It’s going to make everything else so much more exciting for me,” Amrah declared grandly as she appeared from out of nowhere, held by a Bat Fang. She held a yellow lantern in one hand and it glinted pleasantly in the darkness. The Fang lighted down and placed her in the middle of the clearing, far enough away from them that she could escape before getting attacked, but close enough that they could see her, but only her face.

Janner drew his sword and heard Artham do the same. Glancing over at Sara, who stooped by her pack, motionless, he walked toward her — closer to Amrah as well, but he was not about to let anyone hurt his love — and put his arm around her protectively. “What are you talking about?” he asked brittley. 

Amrah smiled and rocked the lantern so the light cast odd shadows across her face. “Well, you’ve all come so willingly. I hate to tell you that I am only going to let one of you trek up the mountain to bring your King back from Castle Throg. I will only allow the Warden to go.

“And he’s not the one with wings.”

*****

Notes:

See, now I've fixed the problem with Sara being there and made it even HARDER for Janner, all in pretty much one paragraph!

Unpleasent Restrictions

Notes:

More on Amrah being...Amrah.

*****

“That is a back-handed decision, Amrah,” Artham said coldly. Janner could almost hear the ice in his voice. “You told us to wait a week so Janner could get his strength back and failed to mention that he was the only one who would be scaling the mountain. If we had known that, I would have insisted on waiting at least another two weeks.”

Amrah smiled. “Now where would be the fun in that?” She looked at Janner with eyes that glinted wickedly, glowing in the light of her lantern. He shuddered. “So, Throne Warden,” she spat the word out as if it were a profanity. “Can you go it alone? Are you even willing to? Are you willing to put aside the selfishness of leaning on those who care about you when Kalmar has spent the past two months with no one to help him?”

Janner flinched. The way she said those words…it was almost like the voices. The same hissing, sneering tone, the same clingy fingers of the storm, the same echo of thunder. 

“Janner, don’t listen to her,” whispered Sara’s gentle voice in his ear. Her words trembled, and he knew it was in anger, not fear. She was angry that Amrah had told her no, but Janner realized that he couldn’t help but feel relief. He didn’t have to worry about Sara hurting herself trekking up the mountain. She would be safe, away from the ice and snow and hardship. Physical hardship, at least. She would be able to be with Evnia and Elquinn again. They would be alright. Somehow, Amrah managed to help them and assuage his fears far more than increase them.

Janner concealed these thoughts, though, and only nodded so Sara would know he had heard her. Then he turned and looked Amrah in the eyes straight in the eyes. “How long will it take to get up the mountain?” Janner could almost feel the frustration and confusion radiating from Sara at his words.

An oddly wicked smile curved onto Amrah’s face. “How good of you to ask. And I’m glad your decision was a ‘yes.’ If you had said no, I would have killed your uncle and wife and taken you alive to Castle Throg. Not that I wouldn’t enjoy killing them,” she tossed her head in a particularly despicable manner but Janner held his gaze, hoping that the need to retch wasn’t as obvious as it felt. The thought of Sara’s death was more than he could bear. “But it would make you almost useless for the rest of my plan. And I have great plans for you.”

Great plans? Janner thought as he clenched the hilt of his sword tighter. What ‘great plans’ could she possibly have? What is she trying to get out of us? What am I about to trek up that mountain and do?

“Stop,” Artham interrupted. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I can,” she said, an evil smile curling across her face. Her words sent chills down Janner’s spine and twisted his insides into a queasy knot.

Sara stepped away from him and faced Amrah, her mouth set in a hard line and her hands on her hips. Janner couldn’t think about how wonderfully fierce she looked. “Who’s to stop us from going with Janner?” she demanded. 

And as much as he loved to see and hear her devotion, Janner still felt the urge to quiet her, to calm her down and tell her that it was alright.

Amrah looked at Sara, and the sudden fear that she would try to hurt her leapt into Janner’s heart. He stepped forward, his sword angled dangerously at Amrah. 

She noticed and responded with an angry flash of her eyes, but otherwise ignored him, directing her attention towards Sara and Artham instead. “If anyone other than he sets foot on that mountain or inside Castle Throg,” Amrah pointed up viciously. “They will be instantly killed. I don’t care who you are, but I will kill you myself. Or one of my Fangs. Either way, you’ll die.”

Janner saw Sara shrink back involuntarily, and he placed his arm around her shoulders, drawing her close. She buried her face in his chest, and he allowed himself to relish the feeling for just a moment before answering Amrah. “You will not talk to my wife like that,” Janner’s eyes were slits and his gaze burned in the dark of the night, even as he felt his stomach twisting in fear. “I promise you, they won’t touch your mountain or castle.” 

“Janner, you can’t— “ Artham whispered, looking at him in concern. 

He shook his head and ignored his uncle. “Just leave them alone,” Janner choked on his words a bit and found a sob gathering in his throat. “Leave Sara alone.”

Amrah laughed a little. “Well, of course I will. As long as she complies. The same goes for Artham. But I believe you asked a question earlier and I did not get answered. Something about how long it would take to trek up the mountain?”

Janner nodded and glanced up at the dark sky, filled with stars. Against it was a blacker, craggier, angrier shape that was jagged and dangerous. Foreboding mist clung to it and the snow-stained wind that blew from its peak to the clearing below was unexpectedly cold, especially for that time of the year. 

“It depends on how long you climb each day. If you climb in the daylight and avoid any problems, you should be there in no more than a week. We are very close to a path,” Amrah began her instructions. “In the morning you will be able to see a parting in the shrubs and trees behind me. Follow that parting. You’ll come to the base of the mountain, rocky and hard. A pass lies ahead of you. Climb it. Once you step foot onto the rock, you are committed. You may not turn back and no one, I repeat no one,” she glared at Artham and Sara. “May follow.”

“Because you’ll kill them,” Janner whispered.

“Gladly,” Amrah hissed. Then she blew out her lantern and without warning, the clearing plunged into darkness. Sara let out a little half-scream without meaning to, and Janner felt his stomach lurch, immediately thinking that Amrah had done something horrible to hurt her. 

“Sara, Sara, are you alright?” Janner looked around frantically, but before his eyes adjusted to the dark he heard her response. 

“I’m fine.” She was somewhere below him.

Janner blinked and sheathed his sword before crouching down. He placed his hand on her shoulder and felt her her trembling. Her fear broke his heart. “Shh, Sara, it’ll be alright,” he said softly, pulling her into an embrace. He wrapped both arms around her and rested his cheek on her head. “We’re all going to be alright.”

There was a hitch in her breath as she tried to speak through her tears. “Janner, I don’t know if you will. What does she want from you?”

Janner thought about it before answering, and the silence of the night was more painful than words could describe. “I don’t know. But whatever it is, I have to do it to rescue Kal.”

“Are you sure you’re up to it, though?” came Artham’s worried voice from out of nowhere. Janner felt his insides jump. He had forgotten that his uncle’s hearing was better than the average person and that he had probably been able to pinpoint exactly where they were without seeing. 

Janner nodded. “I am. I’ll be fine.” In truth, he wasn’t sure if he would be. Amrah hadn’t given a specific amount of time to tell them how long the journey would take, and he only hoped that he would have the strength to climb the peak. 

Whatever strength you lack will come from Me, said a Voice in his mind. Janner smiled. With the Maker on his side, no enemy dared stand against him. And if they did dare, they would soon learn that it was a terrible idea. 

***** 

The three of them laid down that night but did not sleep, Artham with the knowledge that everything would go down hill as soon as Janner went up hill, Sara with the fear that her husband would free to death or work himself to death on the mountain and anger that Amrah had denied her the right to follow him, and Janner with the determination to rescue Kal at all costs, because what he longed for — time with Sara, a peaceful evening with the twins, a normal meal joking with his family — would be counted as no pleasure in is mind if he had failed on the most important front.

When he set off up the mountain path the next morning, with both his and Artham's blankets, Sara's scarf, his own coat rolled up with his bedroll, rope, extra food, two canteens full of water, his journal, and his belief that he would rescue his brother, Janner felt a twinge of guilt in his heart. It grew and grew and grew with every step, as he remembered the look of grief and despair and anger — which he thought was directed at Amrah but might have been aimed at him — on Sara's face and the sting of her last embrace and the burn of her kiss on his cheek. He had left her. Again. He had left her for the same reason he had left her before: to find his family again. 

And that guilt bubbled inside of him like a sickly spring and tormented him relentlessly.

*****

Notes:

😭