Standing Steady in the Storms Ch. 49-50

Warmth on a Cold Night

Notes:

You'll get four chapters today!!!! 😄😄😄😄

*****

It had been four days since Janner began his trek up the mountain, and the elevation’s cold was finally beginning to bite. It was not terrible in the middle of the day or even in the afternoon when the sun was still high in the sky, but when the light faded, it sucked away the warmth and breathed out icy air in its place.

Janner paced, shivering in the cold evening air. He drew his thick cloak tighter around him and wished for the hundredth time that it came lower than his waist. His breath came out as enormous white clouds, and every intake made his throat ache.

Climbing up rock after rock, pulling with his arms, pushing with his legs, and heaving with his entire body had utterly exhausted him, but he knew he couldn’t rest, not really. It had been alright in the past few days, but it had also been warmer then. Now, if he fell asleep there was a good chance of freezing himself to death. Although, I don’t think it’s quite cold enough for that. Soon, though, he thought as he looked further up the mountain. It had been a nearly vertical ascension for the past day and a half and while that meant he was drawing much nearer to Kal — Castle Throg was situated more up than out, as he had gathered on the occasions that the clouds above parted to reveal the dark stronghold near the peak of the mountain. Unfortunately, it also meant it was going to grow steadily colder. And the chances of snow would grow more and more. 

As he walked back and forth across the rock, desperately trying to keep sleep from his mind, Janner tried to think of ways to distract himself. Making note of what he saw, for example. The snow lay in patches around him, enough that it was obvious that it was cold, but not so much that it was cold enough for ice to form. He supposed that was a good thing, since it meant that it was still somewhat warm by mountain standards. “But it’s still freezing,” he murmured, rubbing his hands together involuntarily before remembering they were already gloved, friction was not going to make them much warmer, and any sort of motion reminded him that his right hand was uncomfortably numb. 

The real question was when he was going to sleep. There was no way of him sleeping, not without something other than his cloak, blanket, scarf, and gloves to keep him warm. For that matter, how was he even going to manage to sleep at all in the next few days? Considering that it had taken him three days to get as far as he had, it would be about...

Janner counted in his head, estimated how much farther Throg was. “Four days? Five?” He shook his head. There was no way he could survive without sleep for five days or even four, especially not if he was expending so much energy scaling rocks. Now, granted, he had yet to scale any flat rock faces with no grips or ledges or holes. He hoped he could never encounter any of these, because he was not certain how he would actually go about climbing one. 

Rocks aside, he was thankful that he had managed to find a trickle of water earlier that day. It had been coming from a crack in the rocks, bubbling just slightly, making a little pool of crystal clear mountain water that was colder than anything he had ever tasted. 

Well, I suppose not anything, Janner reflected. I got a good deal of that frigid salt water in my mouth when I dove in after Kalmar, and not only was that freezing, it was salty and utterly disgusting. 

Now he had water. He had water and food and — he hoped — physical strength to carry on to Castle Throg, but he lacked rest. Why did it always seem as though his path led into places of darkness or places of exhaustion? Granted, there were the seven years of peace and the nine years before that to figure in, but when everything was in turmoil, those were the two things he could not find. He struggled to find companionship, too. A friend. Someone to talk to. Someone to be with him and help him through the darkness. 

No, Janner, you have never been alone. The gentleness in His Voice made Janner stop in his tracks. He did what any sane person in Aerwiar would do: he listened. 

In the Fork! Factory!, you had Sara. In the Ice Prairies, you had Maraly. In Ban Rona you had Kalmar. In the Deeps of Throg, you had Me. In the storm of your mind, you had Artham and Sara. 

And never forget that I was always, am always, and will always be there for you.

In the same moment the Maker finished speaking, Janner heard a shout from somewhere nearby. He turned away from the mountain face and looked out at the color-changing sky, wondering if the noise had been a part of his imagination. 

However, there were more sounds that he recognized. They were sounds that told him everything he saw and heard was very real indeed. “Did you leave Sara behind?” he shouted, going to the edge of the rocky flat-ish platform. 

“Hello to you too,” Artham called out. “I figured you might need some wood. And, no. Leeli convinced Sara to go back to Anniera with her.” He showed Janner the thick pieces of wood in his arms, but he wasn’t really paying attention to that. 

Janner was thinking about Sara and the twins and the fact that she had gone back to Anniera. A huge weight lifted off his shoulders — she was with Evnia and Elquinn, she couldn’t get killed by Amrah at a moment’s notice there. All three of them would be safe. “Thank you,” was all he could manage to say, even after he had thought about it for a little while.

Artham laughed. “Oh, Janner. The look on your face alone is worth the struggle of dragging the wood up here to keep you from freezing your nose off. I figured it would be warm enough outside for you to sleep up until about this point. Here, take it.” He passed down one piece at a time, and Janner took them and laid them together in an orderly pile. 

Once he had turned back around and looked at Artham again, Janner tried to find some way to express his gratitude. “Do you want to stay and enjoy the fire?” he asked, eyeing his uncle’s wings and wondering how long he could fly nonstop without falling to the ground in exhaustion.  

Artham shook his head. “I’m pretty sure I’m already walking — rather, flying — a very fine line so far as Amrah’s rules are concerned. I wouldn’t even do this, except for the fact that you dying from hypothermia means that Kalmar stays trapped. It also means you’re dead. So either way, we would be met with disaster. ”

Janner couldn’t help but laugh, even though the prospects were morbid. “Alright. Thanks for the wood. And the information about Sara.” His voice grew softer with the latter expression of gratitude.

“She didn’t want to go, you know,” Artham said quietly. “She wanted to stay.”

“I’m not upset about that. Actually, I’m relieved that she’s back in Anniera. I don’t want her to get hurt and Evnia and Elquinn need her.” That was the truth. He loved Sara but placing her in any sort of position that meant harm or danger was the last thing he wanted to do. She felt as though she needed to make sure he was alright and safe and alive and know at a moment’s notice if anything had happened, but her safety mattered more than anything else. 

Artham smiled. “I understand. I’ll be back tomorrow evening with more wood.”

As he flew off, Janner called out, “Only do it if it’s safe. Don’t kill yourself trying to keep me alive.”

“You know you would do the exact same thing, so don’t even think try and warn me against it,” came the laughing response. 

*****

Janner stacked the wood together in a neat pile and pulled his journal and matches out of his backpack. He flipped to the back of his journal and looked at the blank pages lovingly before tearing out one and crumpling it into a ball. The match striking made a sparked golden, and Janner was grateful there was no wind. He lit the paper and held it near some of the wood fibers that were splitting from the rest of the piece. The little wood splinters glowed, piercing the now-dark night with white-hot light.

In a few minutes, the fire was burning hot and lovely. Janner relished the warmth on his cold cheeks and pulled his gloves off so he could feel the heat on his hands. His fingers on his right hand tingled as a little feeling came back into them, and Janner found himself breathing a sigh of relief. His entire hand wasn’t going to be permanently numb and tingly. It was just a result of the cold. 

But speaking of cold temperatures and fire, Janner thought as he glanced at the glowing blaze before him. I wonder if it will keep until morning or if I’ll have to stoke it constantly to keep it from dying. 

He shrugged. “I guess I’ll just stay up with it,” he said to no one in particular. Of course, the whole point of bringing the firewood to him had been to keep him from freezing to death in his sleep. Artham’s efforts might have been slightly less helpful than Janner had originally seen. 

For a while he did stay up with the fire, sitting in front of it hugging his knees close to his chest. He found a long stick his uncle had included with the firewood and used that to move logs and coals around as needed. But as the shadows deepened and the pinpoints of starlight became more and more visible, Janner found himself yawning. “No, you can’t sleep,” he told himself, yawning again in the middle of his command. 

Even as he said this, though, his mind became drowsier by the second. HIs eyelids began dropping shut, and Janner felt his cheek coming to rest on his knees. “‘ll just sleep for few m’nutes,” he mumbled sleepily. 

In seconds, though, he was sleeping deeply and dreaming about Sara’s blue, sad eyes that slowly morphed into Kalmar’s scared ones.

*****

Notes:

Artham is a genius 😂

Anger Towards the Enemy

Notes:

Sara would be physically capable of pacing, right?

*****

Sara walked from one end of the room to the other, back and forth, back and forth, over and over and over again. Her white dressing gown swished as she walked and below her crossed arms, Sara could feel the too-tight knot she had tied without thought an hour earlier. Elquinn’s too-early morning frustration had, for once, not woken her — she had lain awake all night, praying that Janner was alright and worrying herself into bits — it had only caused her to get up. After holding Elquinn for a little while and feeding him, he had quieted down and drifted off into a restless sleep. That was what he was doing now: sleeping in his crib, hopefully until morning. 

But in case he did wake again and because Sara knew she wasn’t going to be sleeping a wink the rest of the night, she stayed up, pacing the floor in an effort to put her fears somewhere. 

She thought of Janner, wondering if he was alright on the mountain. Daybreak was in a few hours. How high was he? Had he hit the snow? Was he warm enough? Had he found some way to keep from freezing to death? Had Artham done something to fix the problem? If he hadn’t, he had certainly tried to because that was the sort of person who Artham was. He loved Janner dearly, he wouldn’t let anything happen to him, would he? But what if something did happen? What if — Maker forbid it — Janner died on the mountain alone, cold, unable to think or breathe or do anything but have the aching knowledge that she had not been with him? 

If that happened, Sara would never forgive herself. The first time Janner had died, she was probably brushing her orphans’ hair or cleaning the mess they had left in the hold of the Enramere. They had been separated for months when it had happened, and she had felt such profound grief because she had spent so long hoping in the light he left, and she hadn’t even been able to say thank you. Or goodbye.

What if that were to happen again? What if she could not live up to her side of the Anniera marriage vows: “I will not leave your side until the last breath leaves your lips or until my heart stops beating, because my love for you knows no boundaries and stretches farther than the sun can reach, higher than the birds can fly, and deeper than the dragons can swim.”

Sara closed her eyes and smiled a little remembering their wedding day. Mid-spring, when the air was still fresh and new, the flowers adorned all the trees with their bouquets, the baby animals clustered around their mothers, unaware of the world. 

It was always such a time of life, love, and laughter. It was a time for celebration of the renewal of all things pure and good. It was the same time that Anniera sprouted forth, anew and unblemished.

For Janner and Sara, it had represented their hope of a new life through their union, to bring forth new life unmarred by the horrors of the world. 

As she had the thought, Elquinn let out a loud scream and Sara rushed over to pick him up again. “Shh,” she said as she swayed a little to calm him. She patted his back and whispered softly in his ear. “You know, you act as though you know about the horrors of the world. At least, that’s what your screams tell me.” Elquinn fussed and threw his tiny fists out to either try and hit something or express his frustration, Sara wasn’t sure. She smiled. “Oh, my darling squeeblin. Now is not the time for war. Now is the time for growing and being a little baby with no worries but that of your tummy. And I pray you and your sister can grow up in times of peace.” Sara looked down into Evnia’s cradle and reached down to touch her soft, little cheek. She shifted a little and yawned, and for a second, Sara worried that she would wake up fussy like Elquinn. But Evnia did not. Instead, she reached up and grabbed the finger that brushed her face. 

Sara felt her heart melting. And then, as Evnia held her finger tightly as if she would never let go, Elquinn settled and snuggled into her shoulder, actually sleeping. 

Sara carefully maneuvered herself so she could sit down on the bed without disturbing Evnia or Elquinn. Somehow she managed not to, and with the touch of her children comforting her heart and soothing her mind, she felt peace drift over her. Without knowing that she did so, Sara lay down and fell asleep as her daughter held her hand and her son slept on her shoulder, with the thought, it was worth it, playing through her mind.

***** 

Janner awoke to the feeling of being incredibly cold and stiff and the words, “Are you really sleeping? I have important things to tell you, and you must hear them.”

He blinked and sat up, hearing the sound of snow hitting the ground sharply before being thrust away by the gusty wind. Janner looked up and squinted, in an effort to actually see who was speaking. The sun wasn’t actually up yet and the sky was still mostly dark, except for the loose snow particles that caught in the wind and blew every which way. 

“Amrah?” he asked, a little confused, even though he knew of no other terrifyingly tall and petrifyingly terrifying women who were spending their days roaming the Killridge Mountains. 

“Yes, it is me,” she snapped. “I am only here to tell you that Kalmar—"

“What did you do to him?” Janner demanded as a jolt of panic shot through him. He leapt to his feet and stood rather stiffly — his legs hadn’t warmed up yet — and glared at her. Had she decided to change the terms again? Though, Uncle Artham did half-way violate the terms. Janner’s heart sank. That was why Amrah was here. He glanced toward the fire, but he only saw a white blanket of snow that stirred restlessly as the wind blew it. Thank you, Janner breathed silently. But if it had not been the fire, then why was she here?

Amrah glared at him. “Nothing that he did not deserve. He defied me and attacked me, so I put him in a cell. He’ll stay there until you come for him.”

Janner clenched his fists and fumed. “You said —”

Amrah laughed and shook her head. “Oh, no. I did not say anything. Besides, I am the one keeping him alive, am I not? I could have dropped him into the Sea or down the chasm or simply killed him with the sword as soon as he came. But, no. Instead I treated him like royalty.”

“He is royalty,” Janner seethed through gritted teeth. The wind howled in response.

“Well I really do not care all that much. It does not matter, because now things have changed. I know things.” Amrah glared at him, and Janner shuddered. The darkness that flooded from her pale eyes covered him in a sheet of terror. What did she know? “Because these secrets were kept from me, Kalmar now waits in the dungeon. I was going to simply hand him over to you but now you will have to work for it.”

The way she said “work” sent shivers down Janner’s already freezing back. It was as if she twisted every letter and turned it into some vile and despicable to him, but pleasing and priceless to her. “What will I have to do?” he asked warily, shifting a bit to keep his feet from freezing in the cold. 

Amrah smiled that evil smile of hers. “That is for me to know and you to find out. When the time comes, you will understand.”

That was the last thing she said before spinning around and stalking off, apparently towards a Bat Fang that waited in the snow. Janner felt a little spark of pleasure as a gust of wind rocketed toward her and she stumbled, briefly falling into the snow. In a minute, though, the two rose far above Janner — this was when he realized dawn was breaking — and headed for the black disfigurement atop the mountain: Castle Throg. 

He stared after them, angry, confused, and a little scared. That MONSTER locked my KING in a cell for no reason at all whatsoever, Janner fumed inwardly. He packed his things roughly, shoving them into his pack without thought for organization and practicality and barely even noticed the numbness in his hand. 

As he swung his pack onto his back, Janner glanced at the place where the fire had been the night before. No smolders came from it and it looked like little more than black rocks sticking up out of the snow. The already fallen snow danced around it in a lively prance. He stooped and picked up his sheath and drew out his sword, inspecting it for damage. There was none.

“I’m coming to get you Kalmar Wingfeather, High King of the Shining Isle of Anniera,” Janner shouted into the cold, dark morning air, not caring that his words were caught by the wind and carried away, most likely never to be heard again. “And if Amrah resists, she is not going to enjoy coming face to face with me when I’m angry.”

*****

Notes:

Angry Janner...is not someone anyone wants to be around 😅😬