A Desire to Rescue
Notes:
In case anyone was wondering where Artham and Amrah had gotten to, now you'll find out^^
*****
“It’s been far too long,” Artham muttered to himself as he paced back and forth inside the cave. “Far too long.” It had taken Janner about as long as he had assumed to reach the gates of Throg, but Leeli had played her music over a day and a half ago. He had flown reconnaissance towards the Castle Several times in the past forty hours and had seen nothing.
On one hand that was a good thing. It meant Amrah had not killed Janner and Kalmar and thrown their corpses outside of the Castle Courtyard. Since he saw no evidence of that, Artham had narrowed it down to only a few possibilities. One, Amrah would try her deception tactic on Janner. The likelihood of it actually succeeding was incredibly low. Two, she would throw both boys in a cell indefinitely. This would be an interesting choice, but sometimes simply not knowing was enough to drive someone mad. Three, she would torture one or both of them until she felt satisfied. That one made Artham shudder in fear.
If she chose to do that...well, how would she do it? Would she torture them physically, just waiting until they gave into her because of the pain? Or would she do something else, like torture them in the way Gnag and Murgah had tortured hundreds of Annierans after the fall of the Shining Isle.
Artham’s wings twitched nervously as he remembered being trapped in the Deeps of Throg, Esben in the cage with him. Sitting there for eternity, just waiting for the semi-relief of time-passing sleep to come before being jolted awake into the world again. Only it never was the world, it was always that dark, dank place that dripped constantly and crumbled to bits every-so-often. The stench in the Deeps must have been horrible enough to make any sane person pass out, but being there for so long made the odor of waste obsolete and almost nonexistent.
“Maker, don’t let either of them be in the Deeps,” Artham prayed, looking up at the cave ceiling and feeling as helpless as he ever had. It always seemed as though he came to a place where there was no reasonable way of helping, of fixing the problem, of righting the wrong. He could storm Castle Throg. The only problem was that he had no idea how many Fang guards were posted, he had no idea of the layout, and he had no idea where Janner or Kalmar even were. He did not have the slightest idea of where Amrah could have put Kal. And at this point there’s a good chance she’s captured Janner, too, Artham thought wryly.
It was either that or the slight chance that it was taking Janner an extremely long time to find Kalmar. Though this was unfortunately unlikely, considering how adept Janner had always been at finding his younger brother, even when they were little, still living in Glipwood, unscarred by the world and oblivious to the majesty that burned within them. I was still following them around secretly, wearing socks on my hands and feet at that time, Artham thought with a slight smile.
If he chose not to remember the other memories that surrounded those nine years — the memories of Podo stabbing him in the heart with his glare every time he was near, of Nia desperately longing to reach out to him but too afraid of what her father’s reaction would be and what his reaction would be, of the horrible nightmares that plagued him that he still preferred not to dwell on — if he chose not to remember those parts, blocking them out and only letting the joyful pieces resurface, then it became a semi-happy time. Even if it was only happy because the Jewels knew little pain and grief, at least it was happy because of that.
Now they knew such pain and grief, horrors and crushing defeats Artham never could have dreamed of. When they were little, he had been able to protect them from harm — or at least save them when harm came charging at them — but when they grew older and knew they were the Jewels, then it became so much harder. “Impossible, really,” he whispered to himself, clasping his hands behind his back and looking at the ground. “I have not been able to protect them from so many things.”
Artham glanced outside. The sky was growing darker with the coming night, and the air was becoming chillier. He resisted the urge to shiver, convincing himself that he really wasn’t cold, it was just fear for his nephews’ safety. They were not safe. Wherever they were, whether Janner had been captured or not, whether Kalmar was alive or not, whether...whether something he did not know about had happened or not, they were not safe.
But soon the day would turn to night. Soon the mountain would be covered by darkness. Soon I can go out and scout out the castle, Artham resolved. Perhaps I can find a way to at least try and save them.
*****
“Why in Aerwiar do you have to be so hard to kill?” were the words that awoke Janner from his rather uncomfortable sleeping position on the floor of the stone cell. He propped himself up on his elbows and opened his eyes, only to send them flying shut again as fast as possible. He had expected the dim glow of dying candlelight or blackness, but he saw light that seemed brighter than a thousand suns.
“Amrah?” he asked, though it was beginning to get annoying. Janner felt like he had said her name in an interrogative manner far too many times. Why couldn’t he just get answers?
“Yes, it’s me again,” she snapped. “And if you could look at me when I am talking to you, that would be lovely.”
“Sure, he’d just love to. It's not like you tried to kill him or anything,” Kal muttered under his breath. Janner glanced to his right and saw his younger brother sitting against the cell wall, washed in white-blue light and looking very, very bored.
Amrah huffed irritably, and Janner looked back at her, blinking rapidly at the blinding light that emanated from her. He felt as though he recognized the light, as if it were something familiar that was hiding behind a little bookcase in the library of his memories.
“Now I do not want either of you interrupting because, frankly, I am sick of it. I am sick of playing nice to you, Kalmar, but, Janner, I do have to say thank you for allowing me to unleash some of my irritation on you back in Anniera because,” she laughed a little. “I was honestly getting really tired of being so nice to your brother.”
Janner glanced over at Kal, who shrugged. “Uh, you’re welcome?” he said warily.
“I really am genuinely grateful. I mean, playing the ‘nice godmother’ was fun for the first week or so, but then he began to get really annoying by insisting that you were going to come for him and refusing to hate you for abandoning him—”
“He didn’t abandon me!” Kal seethed, jumping up from the floor, his eyes like daggers. “He tried.”
Amrah rolled her eyes and began giving Kal the death glare. “And this is what I am talking about.”
“Why are you here this time?” Janner asked, growing impatient with Amrah’s very strange tactics of doing whatever villainous thing she was trying to do.
“Oh, right,” Amrah said, looking back at him with an odd smile on her face. “You see, I wanted to make sure I received credit for a few little details regarding your care here. Firstly, I am the one who instructed the Grey Fang to shoot you, Janner, because I wanted Kalmar to suffer through watching you die again. I left the lantern solely so Kalmar could actually see the look of pain and fear in your eyes as you succumbed to death.”
Despite her weirdly level tone, Janner found himself feeling very uncomfortable, and not just because Amrah was talking about how annoyed she was that he was still alive and how much she apparently wanted him dead. It was mostly because of the way that she acted. It was so spontaneous and dramatic. She would be screaming one minute and talking calmly like this in the next. When she was in furious hysterics, Janner was able to see that she was the one causing them harm, who had been causing them harm for a while. But when she spoke calmly — even though she was talking about how she was trying to kill him — he found himself being oddly soothed. It was very unnerving. Quite a paradox, he mused. Being both disturbed and soothed at the same time.
“Sadly, you are still alive and Kalmar is not in tears," Amrah said with a huff. "Not only are you alive, but it seems as though nothing is even physically wrong with you.”
Janner resisted the urge to shift his gaze over to where the pile of furs sat innocently against the wall with his pack. If Amrah learned those items were why he was alive, who knew what she would do. Would she explode in anger? Or would she remain calm and collected as she did now? Janner didn’t know, and he had a feeling that Kal did not either.
“Suffice to say,” Amrah continued. “I am growing bored. You will not die and this is apparently a recurring matter. Why should I fight the odds?” Janner felt hope wary hope growing in his heart and rose slowly, so he could actually face Amrah. “If ‘the Maker’ as you call Him is on your side as much as He appears to be, nothing I do will successfully terminate your life. You will live it.”
*****
Notes:
So what is this extremely sporadic-seeming villain doing now....
Two Choices
Notes:
This one....has hints at martyrdom, so I'm hoping it'll be okay for posting....
*****
“Where, in this cell?” Kal snorted disdainfully.
Janner felt his heart stop in fear for just a moment as he silently begged his little brother to say nothing more.
“No, outside, you ridiculous teenager.” Amrah stared at him as if he had asked the most nonsensical question in all of Aerwiar. “I am letting you go.”
Janner looked at her warily. “Both of us?” Kal opened his mouth to speak again, but Janner put his hand out, indicating for him to be silent.
“Yes, but on one condition,” Amrah smiled wickedly. Whatever condition she's going to set will most likely be one we can never agree to, Janner thought.
“Tell us what it is, then,” Kal demanded. Janner wanted to tell him to calm down and stop antagonizing Amrah who could — and most likely wanted to — kill them at any moment. The only reason they were alive was because she wanted something out of them, and they were about to find out what that was.
“You have to admit that Gnag was right. That it was noble and righteous of him to meld the people into something far better than what the Maker had chosen them to be. He freed them from their lives of misery and grief and pain and gave them a purpose. Gnag glorified them in a way the Maker never could. You have to admit that Gnag created them beautiful because the Maker refused to bestow his beauty on them.”
Janner’s heart sank, but his anger mounted. “Are you crazy? We’re never going to admit that. It would be denial. Why would we betray the Maker after everything he’s done for us?” He could feel Kal seething beside him and silently begged him to stay quiet and not explode in fury. Though, considering that he was having a hard enough time doing the same, it wasn’t exactly right that he should be trying to ask something so difficult of his brother.
“Now I wonder how I knew you were going to say that?” Amrah laughed a little, but it was a grating laugh that set Janner’s teeth on edge. “Never fear. I believe you will agree to my terms, but even if you choose not to, I still win. Let me show you what I will do if you fail to believe what I and Gnag both believe.”
She walked out of the cell, beckoning them to follow. Janner and Kal glanced at each other, and both could see fear and fury written on each other's faces. In addition to the cloak he was already wearing, Kal grabbed Janner's sword and pack. Immeadiately guessing what his little brother was going to try and do, Janner shook his head Leave them, he mouthed. Kal looked at him as though he was going insane, but listened and put them back down again.
When they were trailing a few feet behind Amrah, Kal whispered in his ear. “What are you thinking? We could use this as a chance to escape!”
Janner shook his head. “No, she’ll be expecting that. If she was expecting us to refuse and she was expecting me to come for you and she was expecting...well, whatever else she was, is, or has expected, then she’ll expect us to try and run. Bringing my pack would have been a little suspicious, but buckling my sheath around my waist would be a dead giveaway. And we’d probably end up dead.”
Kal groaned. “Why do you have to be so sensible?”
They spoke no more as they walked reluctantly behind Amrah, taking the same path they had when Janner had come to rescue Kal. He could almost see his little brother’s curiosity growing as they walked further and further away from the cell and through the winding passageways. He might have been annoyed that Janner was sensible, but nothing could keep Kal’s natural inquisitiveness from sparking. Even potential death.
They finally emerged from the long corridors and halls into the more open main floor of Castle Throg. This was where the dining hall lay. It was where Janner had passed through a few days before, and he could sense something near a warm familiarity in the way Kal’s style of walking shifted. He wondered what had really happened during the two months his brother had been there with only Amrah for company.
They did not stay in the dining hall, though. They passed by the long table and the smaller hallways that branched from it and went towards the huge, wooden doors.
“We’re going outside,” Janner whispered as Amrah took a huge key that had been hidden somewhere in her robes unlocked the doors. She pushed them open with some difficulty, but not so much as Janner had when he had come through them. Wait, he furrowed his brow. They weren’t locked when I went through them. But if Amrah is unlocking them to let all three of us out, it means...
“The doors are almost always locked,” he whispered, chills running down his spine.
Kal looked at him strangely. “Uh, yeah. They’re never not unlocked.”
“But they were when I came through them to rescue you,” Janner breathed, closing his eyes in frustration and worry.
“Oh,” Kal said, evidently realizing what Janner had already figured out. Amrah had purposely unlocked the doors in anticipation for his arrival, she had wanted him to come through, she had wanted him to almost rescue Kal, and she had wanted to do that all so she could kill him and hurt Kalmar.
Once again, Janner was filled with the deepest conviction that Amrah knew how everything was working, that she had backup plans for her backup plans, and that she was only waiting for the pieces to fall into place. And if one did not fall right, it would not matter. Because she had already figured out a solution to that. Hopelessness wormed its way into his heart, and Janner prayed the Maker would give him the strength to believe.
They passed through the doors and into the courtyard, the almost-perfect snow crunching beneath their feet. Janner shivered as the wind bit through his shirt. He had been wearing Artham’s cloak around his shoulders before, but he hadn’t fastened it because of how big and bulky it was. He glanced at Kal just a little enviously. He was wearing Janner’s cloak, because unlike Artham’s, it actually fit. I’ll just deal with it, he thought with a sigh that ended in a shudder from the cold. He dug his hands into his pockets and felt his right hand tingling in the way that he was ever so slowly becoming accustomed to, put his head down, and continued following Amrah.
“Do you wanna share the cloak?” Kal asked him, now speaking at a normal volume. The wind blew in their faces, which meant their words were carried away from Amrah’s attentive ears. Speaking was safer and less detrimental to their lives.
Janner shook his head. “I’ll be fine.”
Kal scowled at him and crossed his arms. “Janner, don’t be annoying. You’re going to use this on the return trip whether you like it or not.”
“No, you are going to use it the entire time,” Janner stated pointedly as if there was no other option. He would be lying if he said he didn't want to use his cloak, but he was more used to exposure to such drastic temperatures after climbing the mountain. Kal wasn't, and keeping his little brother safe was more important than his immediate comfort. “I’ll use Uncle Artham's cloak when we're back in the cell and get warm that way.”
“If you don’t agree to use it on the way back, I’ll just refuse to use it now,” Kal retorted.
Janner laughed, but when he saw how serious Kal was, he stopped. “Ugh, fine," he muttered petulantly.
“Thank you!” Kal exclaimed, a smile of triumph planting itself on his face. Janner shook his head at his little brother's glee and grinned in spite of himself.
Then they lapsed into silence again, except for the sound of the snow beneath their feet, their breathing, and Janner’s occasional shudder. When the wind blew unexpectedly and sent a gust cascading over them, he couldn’t help but gasp at the cold, which made breathing even more painful. It was the one bad part about winter: breathing hurt.
They trekked through the snow for what felt like forever, but it was really only twenty minutes. Amrah stopped ahead of them, atop one of the peaks of the mountain. “Hurry up!” she called loudly, and her voice carried on the breeze, loud, foreboding, and dangerous.
Janner and Kal both broke into a run, the icy wind strong enough that probably managed to slice through Kal’s thick cloak. Skidding to an abrupt panting and wheezing — panting for Kal, wheezing for Janner — halt in front of her, they looked at Amrah and waited for whatever she was going to do or say.
In time with his breathing the words, don’t trust her, she could do something lethal at any moment , ran through Janner’s head over and over again. She could not be trusted. Trusting her would mean certain death. “Well?” he gasped. “What are...what are you,” he coughed abruptly and clenched his teeth at the pain his chest and throat.
“What do you want to show us?” Kal asked, finishing what he had been trying to say. Janner looked at him gratefully as he tried to catch his breath, hoping to convey the thoughts that should have been words. He assumed it worked, because Kal smiled at him, took off the cloak and forcibly put it around his shoulders.
He rolled his eyes but protested no more than that. The effect of the warmth from it was so profound that Janner entirely missed Amrah’s introduction to her threatening fate for them. He felt as though a fire had sprung up unexpectedly from out of nowhere and relished it as it somehow ran through his entire body, even though only his torso was being warmed.
Janner's mind entered the conversation at the words “ —are you seriously NOT LISTENING???”
Fear quaked in his stomach for a second as he stared straight ahead, seeing nothing beyond Amrah's furious wrinkled face and pale, hateful eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said submissively, looking away. Her anger was dangerously piqued, and augmenting it was not the smartest choice.
“You had better be,” she whispered, glaring at him. “Look over the edge,” she instructed, jerking her head towards the snow beyond that apparently dropped off.
Janner glanced warily at Kal, who cut to the chase and said, “Do you seriously think we’re going to look over the edge of a cliff you could push us from?”
Even though his brother's tendency for thoughtlessness could be dangerous, Janner had to admit that Kal's question was a reasonable one that he would have asked, just without the obvious malice behind it.
A sound like a growl came from Amrah’s throat. “I want you to admit that Gnag was righteous and that the Maker failed. What purpose to do I in killing you now?”
Janner could almost see the words, Because you've already tried to do it about fifteen times, forming in Kal's brain and placed a hand on his brother's shoulder to silence him. He figured there was some logic in Amrah's words. “I’ll look over,” he said softly, glancing back at Kalmar. “You stay back and make sure she doesn’t try anything.”
Kal nodded and Janner walked to the edge. He had grown accustomed to the cliff’s edge during his trek up the mountain and knew better than Kal how far he could peer over without falling. He stepped towards it tentatively and looked down.
There was nothing but rock. Bare rock, so sheer that no snow clung to it, so sheer that it dropped straight down into an endless abyss below. The wind whistled through it and battered the cliff face merciless. Black rock seemed to stretch on forever, except for a single ribbon of snow about ten feet below the cliff's edge. It was a small ledge that jutted out less than a foot. Worry gnawed the inside of Janner's stomach as he looked at, guessing what Amrah's plan was.
“That ledge is for you two,” Amrah said menacingly. “If you refuse.”
*****
Notes:
Oh, great. Now...now....now more problems.
Also and little details regarding Janner having trouble breathing and coughing, no, those are not part of my asthma headcanon. That's something else that will eventually become more prevelent (though not super obviously so) that no one else reading this managed to notice.
*grabs frying pan* Let me at her!!
Wait does he have lung damage from the arrow wound? Is something infected? Does he have pneumonia?? He should have propped his head up while he slept!