Standing Steady in the Storms Ch. 55-56

Part IV: Fulfilled

At the Gates of Castle Throg

Notes:

And we begin Part IV, the longest part that is also (probably) going to be traumatic! Apparently I made certain readers very upset with this section.

*****

Janner trudged through knee-deep snow for about an hour before he finally reached the high walls that encircled Castle Throg’s courtyard. Though, he reflected as he stood at the enormous, spiked iron gates that closed off the entrance to the courtyard. They look like baby thwaps compared to the actual castle. 

Castle Throg towered above everything, scraping the sky with its blatant blackness. The highest turrets were hidden in clouds and the lowest jutted out far above his head. Beyond it, the snowy landscape veering sharply downward into cliffs that dropped onto rocks. The path leading to the courtyard was narrow, but hopefully not so narrow that he would fall.  

Janner stood there for a few minutes, breathless with the effort of breaking the path while wearing his cloak underneath Artham’s — one or the other was for Kal, it all depended on who fit what better. As of the moment, Artham’s cloak was nearly slipping off Janner’s shoulders, given hs uncle's muscular build, not to mention the fact that Janner was still slighter than he usually would be. He couldn’t help but admire Castle Throg, even if there was a good deal of fear and horror accompanying it. When he and Kal had been in the castle before, they were being chased by Green Fangs, Bonifer Squoon — who had melded with a spider — and trying not to get eaten by trolls. Of course, the trolls helped them in the end, but they still hadn’t gotten a chance to actually look at Castle Throg. 

So Janner was getting his opportunity now. He tried his best to absorb every detail so he could write it down later, assuming there was a later. Not only as the Throne Warden but as a brother, he was going to rescue his King or die trying. 

Sara’s worried blue eyes fluttered into his mind, and Janner felt a twinge of guilt in his heart. If it came down to it, he would die for Kalmar, but how hard it would be to leave Sara behind. 

There was a wavering moment when Janner wondered if he would actually be able to die and force her to grieve. In the next, he felt inexplicable shame wash over him. He had no choice. If the circumstances fell in just the wrong way, Janner would die. Sara would be left broken. And Kalmar would survive. That was the way things would have to be. And there was nothing anyone could do to change that.

Janner steeled himself, fixed his gaze on the iron gate before him and the Maker above, and went forward.

*****

“Uncle Artham!” Leeli called out as she slipped off Hulwen’s back and ran into the middle of the clearing. “Uncle Artham, where are you?”

She heard no response. Only the sound of songbirds in the trees, the swish of the grass as it swayed in the wind, and the cool breeze that blew down from the side of the mountain. 

Leeli adjusted her whistleharp case and glanced around, wondering where on earth Artham had gone.

Thorn ran up to her, and breathlessly asked, “What’s wrong, Leeli?”

She turned around, puzzlement on her face, both because of Artham’s disappearance and Thorn’s shortness of breath. “Why do you sound as though you ran in the Finnick Durga?”

“‘Cause gettin’ offa Hulwen’s back is a lot more hard 'n ya might think,” Thorn replied. “Slidin’ offa her without landin’ in a splat on the ground ain’t easy.”

“Isn’t,” Leeli corrected softly as she drifted off into thought, wondering where Artham had gone. 

“Leeli, my grammar's not what’s wrong,” Thorn blurted out, causing her to startle and focus on his face again. “I mean, it is wrong, that isn't what's botherin' you. Why aren’t ya tellin’ me? I wanna help you. So what’s really wrong?”

Leeli sighed and looked down at her hands. Then she looked up again, directly into Thorn’s sweet, sincere brown eyes. “Uncle Artham isn’t here,” she said simply, looking around again in hopes that he would manifest out of thin air. He didn’t.

“Well, might be that he’s helpin’ Janner ouf by bringin’ ‘im food or somethin’ else,” Thorn reasoned. 

Leeli nodded. It was possible. In fact, it was even probable. But her intuition was telling her something different.

That something was or was about to be terribly, dreadfully wrong.

*****

From a distance away, Janner had been hesitant to assume that the gates were passable. He couldn’t remember what they had looked like seven years ago, in fact he didn’t even remember them being there seven years ago. 

“Most likely,” he said under his breath as he broke through the last hundred feet of snow. “They were open because the courtyard was being guarded by trolls. And the second VOOM.” Janner paused and looked around, just in case.

Presumably Amrah was not employing trolls to simply watch her castle. That meant he was free of having to worry about sneakery right now. Though it might come in handy soon , Janner thought as he reached the gate, rolling his feet and walking as lightly as possible so as to not attract unwanted attention to himself. If he could keep this a secret and not allow anyone else to know, there was a good chance that both he and Kal would be able to get out totally unscathed. 

Janner looked at the bars separating Castle Throg from the rest of the world. He smiled a little and slipped off his backpack, sliding it between the iron poles. He also removed Artham’s cloak from around his shoulders and tossed it to the other side. 

Then he stepped through. His left leg first, then his left arm. His head and torso went through next — getting his head through was a challenge, but he was able to manage and still keep both of his ears intact. His right leg and then his right arm passed through, and Janner once again felt the odd numbness in his gloved hand as it brushed across the iron bars. But the sound of his sword hitting the metal ringing out and echoing across the mountain drove all thoughts of worry about other tiny things away from his mind and conjured up new ones. He looked around frantically, expecting Amrah to jump out from behind a snowbank, but saw nothing.

Still wary, he gathered up his now-snowy things again and couldn’t help but wonder if leaving everything in the cave with Artham would have been a better idea. Everything except my sword and cloak of course, he mentally corrected himself. Kal could’ve used my cloak and I would’ve just dealt with the cold for a few short minutes while we raced through the snow to safety. 

But that was not how it had happened, because Artham insisted on Janner taking two cloaks because no one ever knew what could happen. And he had two pairs of gloves in his backpack because his uncle had apparently brought them with him. 

Janner looked around the monstrous courtyard, surprised to see that other than the lack of enormous trolls dressed to look like bombnubbles, foot-print covered snow, and gargantuan spider-fangs, it looked almost the same. The inner walls were still made of gray, craggly stone, and the floor that did poke through was created with the same. 

The archway that led into Castle Throg was blocked by a huge wooden door, but it didn’t appear to be bolted from the inside, at least from the distance that Janner stood from it. He walked closer, painfully aware of how his footprints marked his trail on the otherwise-untouched snow. It would be obvious that Janner had been there, and he wasn’t sure whether to cover up his tracks or to leave them. Of course I have nothing to conceal them with, he thought sensibly. And even though some element of surprise is important, Amrah knows I’m coming, she’s been watching for me, and if she has any plans to make this harder for me, she’ll have them at the ready. 

Janner stood directly in front of the wooden door, looking up and it and wondering how in Aerwiar he was going to get it open. Well, I suppose I could try pushing. 

He leaned against the door and pushed it with his left shoulder as hard as he could. It wouldn’t budge. He shoved again and thought — or perhaps imagined — a little creak of rusty hinges. This time, Janner planted both hands against the door and pushed with all his might, conscious of the fire prickles it sent through his right hand but ignoring them as best he could, because Kal needed to be saved from Amrah. But what if he was angry or furious or upset or something else? What would be do if his King rejected him because of his selfishness? 

Just as the door cracked open an inch, enough so that Janner could at least get his hand through to create some leverage, colors and light swirled around him, and he heard music in his heart, his fears briefly melting away.

“Leeli,” he breathed.

*****

Notes:

Welp. Let's hope nothing bad comes of connecting now^^

Bound

Notes:

And because we haven't actually heard from him in a while....

*****

Kal sat on the rotting wooden-plank bench in his cell, twiddling his thumbs and sighing heavily because he was so bored and there was absolutely nothing to do. He had no idea how long it would be until Amrah or a Fang brought him his next meal, but he would’ve liked it to be right at that moment. 

He would hear the sound of light and quick or heavy and slow footsteps, then the lovely metallic jingle of keys and click of the lock as they opened it. The cell door would creak open — they had been using the actual door that opened into the corridor where the rest of the cells lay — and a hand would poke through, either a spindly one that somehow glowed white in the blackness, or a furry one that always made Kal’s heart leap into his throat. The hand would throw some stale bread and a canteen of water in and then slam the door shut again, locking it promptly. The footsteps would fade into the blackness, and Kalmar would be left alone with himself, his thoughts, some dry bread, and state water.

As he was thinking about this, almost as though he had made it happen — though he of course did not — he heard the light tap-tap-tap of Amrah’s footsteps walking rapidly towards the cell. In between her steps, he could make out muttering underneath her breath that grew louder as she drew closer. 

When the key clicked in the lock and the door swung open, Kal started in surprise. For one thing, Amrah never opened the door all the way. He had not seen her face since the day she thrust him in the cell. For another, she was glowing. A lovely, whitish-blue glow that emulated from her neck but spread outward like rays of beauty surrounded her, and it filled Kal’s heart with peace and comfort, even as it made him squint and blink furiously because of the brightness that was like the sun stepping into the black of night after being concealed for so long.

Kal opened his mouth to speak, because in his heart he thought he knew what the stone was. He had seen it before. “That’s the—” was all he got out before a thick wad of cloth was shoved into his mouth and even more was tied across his face and behind his neck. “UUHT?!” he muffle-shouted as best he could. Amrah slapped him unexpectedly and just before the sting enveloped the left side of his face, Kal caught a glimpse of her eyes. They glowed white in the light of what she carried around her neck, but they shone with anger, excitement, and evil. 

“That idiotically-vile Janner you so stubbornly vouch for is here,” she hissed. Kal stared at her, frozen in shock. She took advantage of the moment to spin him around and tie his hands together. 

After the first seconds of surprise that were a combination of the thoughts, I’m about to be rescued! and, What is Amrah about to do to us? he jerked his hands from Amrah, hoping to shake her off. 

She held fast, though, with a firm, cold grip. “Do not even think about it Kalmar Wingfeather,” she whispered menacingly as she tightened her grasp on Kal’s wrists painfully. He whimpered and heard a little laugh from her in response. “I will kill your brother on the spot if you resist. Do not think I will not follow through with it, because I  promise: I will.”

Kal swallowed the words he so desperately wanted to say but could not because of the gag and the running he so frantically wanted to do but could not because of her threat. 

After his hands were bound tightly — the ropes dug into his wrists and it was all Kal could to do to keep from crying out in pain — Amrah shoved him over. With no arms to steady himself he fell, catching the stone floor painfully with his shoulder. 

Amrah took advantage of his disorientation to bend down and tie his ankles together, not as tightly as his wrists but still tight enough to where he could feel his ankle bones knocking against each other uncomfortably. There was no way of running like this. 

Kal twisted himself around to glare at her, but she only smiled a terrifying smile, made obvious in the white light of day. She bound his knees as well, making the knots even stronger and sturdier, and wrapping the rope three times. It took every bit of Kal’s strength to keep himself from doing what every fiber of his being desperately wanted him to do: defy her and kick her to the ground. 

But then Janner would die. And he couldn’t have that. 

When she was done, Amrah stood and grinned at him wickedly. “I am leaving the door shut but unlocked. Do not make a sound until your brother is in the corridor. Then and only then will you call for him. You must do so before he checks any of the other cells. If you move from where you lay sprawled on the floor I will know. If you do not obey these instructions, I will kill him without a second thought. I have Grey-Fang guards stationed in every one of these cells, and I will be alerted if you try anything.” Kal felt his heart in his throat and nodded. “My time of vengeance is coming,” Amrah continued in a terrifying whisper. “It will not be as I originally intended, but it will satisfy me all the same.”

Then she left, and once again Kal was alone with his thoughts, but this time, he was gagged, bound, and utterly terrified of whatever was about to happen. 

He laid there for what felt like forever, pushing the wad of disgusting cloth around with his tongue and trying his best to get it out, but it didn’t work. 

Even though it felt like eternity in his mind,  it was really only five minutes before something changed. And it was something Amrah had no power to control. 

Lovely flashes of color began dancing before his eyes, sparkling with warm beauty in the cold, dark cell. 

Leeli, she’s playing. Oh, Maker, don't let Amrah manage to catch Janner know. Kal thought. He barely had a chance to think of this before Janner quickly came into sight. Kal already knew from Amrah's words that he was nearby, and it looked to him as though his brother was just outside heavy, dark wooden doors. His hair was windblown and his cheeks were bright-red from the cold. Kal could even see the white cloud of Janner’s breath in the frigid air. Kalmar desperately wanted to shout as loudly as he could for Janner to be careful and watch for Amrah because WHO KNEW when she might be coming around the bend to attack him or capture him or something along those lines...but he couldn't.

Within the next few seconds, Artham and then Leeli appeared. Artham was frozen in what looked like a mid-pace stride and his brow, rather than being furrowed as Kal had often seen it, was relaxed and there was an oddly content look on his face. Leeli stood in...a clearing somewhere, and it looked as though Thorn was standing beside her, his mouth curved upward in proud astonishment. She must be somewhere in the Green Hollows, Kal mused.

By the look on his sister’s face, he knew that Leeli felt the tumult that roiled inside his heart. Kalmar still didn’t know if she could feel the why but she could at least feel that something was wrong. Maybe she would say something or think something really, really loudly and Janner would hear her and then he would stay away.

The colors slowly began growing dimmer, not because their connection had snapped or because Leeli had stopped playing, but because...well, Kal wasn’t really sure why the images were fading away. But they were. Maybe it was because that was what the Maker had chosen, or because whatever dragon was near Leeli — most likely Hulwen — had either left or decided to weaken the connection. He caught one last dim, flickering image of Janner, determination written on every feature of his face, staring at the door. He was ready to go inside Castle Throg. And he wasn’t about to let anything stop him. 

Then it was gone. The cell plunged into blackness again, and Kal could see nothing. But he felt grief and frustration thundering inside his mind. Janner, he thought, feeling tears gather at the corners of his eyes. Why do you have to care so much? Why can’t you just try and keep yourself from getting killed?

*****

Notes:

And so an AU player in this story (the holore) has manifested itself^^