Standing Steady in the Storms Ch. 67-68

The Day before the Escape

Notes:

Since Janner spent the previous night not sleeping, it's logical it would end up being a necessity to sleep at some point.

*****

The day crawled by, and by the time it was two hours past noon Janner’s last nerve was spent. The day had begun so well, talking about Sara and Evnia and Elquinn, but for some reason his mind had totally shifted from that line of reasoning to, “sleep now,” even as it refused to let him sleep. 

Of course, it certainly did not help that Kal was bored. A bored Kal was not a testy Kal, but a jumpy Kal. The drawing had helped for a little while, but his brother had apparently gotten tired of that. It wasn’t as though Kal had done anything frustrating or abnormal. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened. He had just mentioned the lack of food approximately twenty times every half hour. The dried bread crusts had not lasted all that long.

“Are you sure there isn’t anything to do?” Kal asked.

“One second, let me think,” Janner forced his brain to work and function as it needed to for his hyperactive younger brother. “Um, you could draw or something.” It worked earlier! his mind added silently.

Kal looked off to the side a little bit and hesitated. “I’d really rather not use too many of the pages in your journal, because it’s special, and I don’t exactly know how many pictures of Galya you want in there…” 

Then Kal began prattling on and on, leaping from one subject to the next. Janner nodded in response to all of the random things he said and closed his eyes, begging for sleep to come. It didn’t, though. It blatantly refused.

With every extra word Kal said that Janner’s brain registered as more of a noise than something that made sense, he felt his brain buzzing and ringing just a little more. And when he convinced his tired but sleepless eyes to creak open, he looked up at Kal who kept shifting in front of him, wavering back and forth because for some reason he couldn’t keep still. “Kal, please stop,” he begged. 

The words ceased in an instant, and an immediate, lovely silence spread over the cell. Kal studied Janner — or at least, it looked like he was studying him, but Janner couldn’t imagine how anyone could study anything if they were shifting incessantly — and when he spoke, all he said was, “How much did you sleep last night?”

Janner hung his head, mostly from exhaustion but partially from embarrassment, because he was just that bad at hiding it. “None,” he mumbled.

Kal sighed and said nothing for a few moments. When he did speak, his voice was still gentle, but now it was more insistent than before. “Sleep, then. Please. If you’re too tired to do anything tomorrow, we won’t be able to run.”

“You will.”

“No,” Kal stated firmly. “I’m not leaving you behind. So if you don’t sleep, we’re both going to get dangled on that ledge tomorrow.”

Smiling just a tiny bit despite the worries that still ran through his mind, though they were growing slower by the minute, Janner listened and fell asleep.

He awoke hours later, hungrier than he had been before but certainly less drained. Janner heard Kal’s soft snoring and smiled, his brother’s sleeping form bathed in yellow and orange shadows of flickering candlelight. He wondered how long it would be until it was a reasonable time to get up and prepare for their escape. 

Janner was sensible enough to know that while being on top of things and getting ready in advance was, as a rule, a smart decision after dreaming and Sara and the twins almost the entire duration of sleeping. The part was different, though. He had dreamed not of his wife and children but his Papa, and real fatherly comfort and reassurance and sweet, restful peace. It had felt so real and had made more sense than anything that had happened in the past month. He basked underneath the warm sunlight of peace and love that his dream left behind, allowing it to nourish his soul, replenish his strength, and renew his faith.

It was so wonderful that hours later when Kal woke with a yawn and a mighty growl from his stomach, he couldn’t help but open with a surprisingly cheery, “Good morning.”

Kal looked at him, still a little grumpy from just waking up, hungry at that. “Sure. Now you’re optimistic again.”

Janner shrugged. “I’m not so optimistic as I am not anxious.”

Kal, who was clearly not in a good mood, snorted. “You’re kidding me, right? You’re always stressed out about one thing or another.”

Smiling, Janner shook his head. “No, I’m actually at peace for once. In fact, I don’t think I’ve felt like this since I was in the Maker’s World.”

His brother looked at him like he was nuts. “Janner, you do realize that everyone else spent those four days in absolute misery, right? I can’t describe to you how horrible it is to be singing that  song one second and be holding you...” he choked on his words and cleared his throat. “And now we’re about to either escape or go to our death. And the chances of actually escaping are terrible, so someone we love is going to look at our dead bodies a-and feel the h-hurt,” his breath hitched, and tears of grief and sorrow spilled down Kal’s cheeks. 

Janner saw the despair in his little brother’s eyes and knew his fear. He had felt it just yesterday, and the knowledge that the Maker had given him a dream of his Papa to bring peace not only to his mind but also to Kal’s filled him with wonder and gratefulness. He pulled Kal close to him and hugged him tightly, holding him against his chest as he would if he were comforting a young child. Janner stroked Kal’s unruly hair just as he remembered Artham and Nia stroking his when he had been trapped in the throes of his mind.

It scared him to feel Kal thinner even then he normally was and knew that he was the same way. They would only escape from Amrah by the Grace and Goodness and Strength of the Maker, because anything less would cause them to slip and fall. 

Kalmar did not protest and even drew nearer, pressing into the embrace. Janner ignored the pain and instead loved it, because he was seeing to his King’s wounds, and that meant any he had would be healed as well. “What if, w-what if I never-er see G-Galya again?” Kal asked, his tears flowing stronger than before. 

Janner smiled a little because he could feel his brother’s tears dampening his shirt. He felt so close to Kal in that moment. “Then you’ll know she loves you,” he whispered in response. “I can promise you that. Nothing more. But if the Maker chooses to allow us to escape, you will see her again. We can only do that if we prepare.”

Kal laughed shakily and adjusted himself so he could look Janner in the face while still remaining close. “You’re one to cut to the chase, aren’t you?”

“I’m practical,” Janner said, smiling at him. “Grieve as much as you need to, Kal. We will make ready when you're ready to do so.”

*****

As they put their few belongings in the pack, Janner felt the urge to tell Kal about their Papa. He had not before because he almost felt as though speaking about him would be treading on sacred ground the Maker walked. Strangely enough, it no longer felt this way. Perhaps it was because his death was inevitable and the Maker wanted him to give Kal one last word of encouragement before slipping away again. But only for a time, he thought. 

Janner smiled as he buckled his sword sheath around his waist and slipped Artham’s cloak over his head, grimacing a little as it thumped onto his chest heavily. The wound had stopped bleeding long ago, but the bruising was ghastly. 

Kal was testing the pack’s straps and trying to decide if he would need to adjust the buckles, ticking his tongue out just a little bit at the effort of trying to figure out exactly how much he needed to fix it. 

“You know, I could just wear it,” Janner suggested as he watched Kal’s somewhat futile efforts. “Then you wouldn’t have to worry about getting it to fit you.”

Kal shook his head. “No. If we are going to escape like you said, then we have to make it as easy as possible. You have your sword. That’s extra weight, which’ll slow you down. If you have it and the pack everything will be off balance and—”

“Since when do you know so much about balance?” Janner asked as he stepped over, took his pack from Kalmar, and began adjusting the straps to where he guessed they needed to be. “And how much time have you actually spent thinking about this, because it’s pretty impressive considering your dislike of thinking and affection for acting.”

Kalmar laughed. “Janner, I shoot arrows. That’s my niche. I like it a lot there. And it’s all about balance. If it is, every weaponry skill is. It didn’t take much thinking.”

“No,” Janner said, shaking his head and smiling. “No I suppose it didn’t.” He handed Kal the pack again and watched triumphantly as it slipped on perfectly, with just enough wiggle room for the last part of his “escape attire.”

Kal, however, chose to ask why the pack was still too loose. “You know, since you know the right way to do things.”

Janner grinned. “Well, you see, you’ve forgotten something. Take off the pack. Good.” Kal set the pack on the ground and Janner turned around at the same time and picked up his cloak, unclasping the fastener. He put one corner of it in each of his hands, remembering for the first time in what felt like a while (though it could not have been long) that he could barely feel his right palm. Still, he held it in his outstretched arms like a royal cape. “Your robes, High King Kalmar Wingfeather of the Shining Isle of Anniera.”

*****

Notes:

The number of author's notes on my AO3 fic that have to do with me not sleeping is actually really concerning. Apparently that was the inspiration for this chapter 😂😅

But aside from that, I think it's logical that Kal would be scared about this. I mean, he's not that old. He's still pretty young. But Janner's there^^

Waiting with Memories

Notes:

I found (or, rather, Janner found) this chapter important. So that's why it's here^^

*****

Kal had never enjoyed the more stuffy, ceremonial parts of kingship and it was only recently that he had learned to appreciate the throne for what it truly was: an opportunity to serve others not just Annierans but Hollish and Kimerans and Skreeans as well as the Maker saw fit.

Kalmar’s preferences aside, Janner couldn't help but tease him about it now and then. That was what brothers were for. It tickled him to think of how Kal had initially reacted to the news that he was King and Janner was his Throne Warden — he had planned to use Janner as his soup-fetcher. 

Now, though Janner knew Kal hated the thought of making him — or anyone, for that matter — do anything trivial in relation to formalities and obligations. 

Despite all that, Kal was willing and even happy (though it seemed as though he rolled his eyes just a little) to shrug off Janner's pack and accept the cloak from him. It was the smaller and much less cumbersome of the two, and while it was less warm than Artham's cloak, since their goal was not surviving in the middle of a blizzard or trekking through frigid temperatures for hours it would not matter all that much. 

"Are you sure you want the bulkier one?" Kal asked as he fastened the clasp of Janner's cloak around his neck. "This one is yours and it's lighter, which would mean less pressure on your chest and easier access to your sword—"

“Yes, but if it came down to it,” Janner interrupted him calmly and kindly as he held out his pack by the straps so Kal could put it back on. "It would be easier for you to flee in my cloak than in Uncle Artham's. If I have to fight, I can always throw off this cloak in an instant so it won’t get in my way.”

Kal stared at him without saying a word. When he did speak, Janner felt a hint of fear at what he thought was anger in his little brother's voice. “After all this time do you seriously think I would leave you behind? You may be my Throne Warden, but you're also my brother! I'm not about to leave you to die or anything like that.” 

“And under normal circumstances, I don't think you would,” Janner replied collectedly, choosing his words carefully. “But you don't have a weapon, which means if you were caught in a pinch, you wouldn't be able to defend yourself. And I might not be able to either, at least not before you got yourself killed or hurt.”

"Or worse," Kal whispered menacingly.

 Janner glanced at him and saw a twinkle in his brother's eyes that conveyed his apparent consent and the end of the argument. “So in the event that something like that were to occur, you would run and not look back, correct?” he said slowly, trying to get every syllable drilled into Kal's brain.

He rolled his eyes a bit and threw his hands up. "Yes, that's what I would do. I would leave you to die at Amrah's hands."

Janner punched Kal lightly in the shoulder. "Nah. You'd run and get help."

Kal snorted. “Obviously. ‘Course, it’d be a matter of actually finding Uncle Artham, but that shouldn’t be too difficult.”

Nodding a bit uncertainly, Janner couldn’t help but think that if Artham was being sensible, he would stay in the cave during the daytime. His dark wings would stand out against the crisp, white snowscape, and he was smart enough to know that if he was seen, the likelihood of him being able to save them would lower drastically. The only trouble that posed was that it might be harder to find him in the event they needed rescuing. 

Concerns that did not worry him as much as they normally would have aside, Janner remained standing, fingering his sword’s hilt with his right fingers. It still felt strange and numb, but he was growing more and more used to it. The only trouble was that not noticing it did not mean the same thing as healing, which in turn translated to his inability to use that hand to wield his sword. If Amrah was the only one coming to their cell, it wouldn’t be a problem. But it was much more likely that she would have Fangs with her, and if that was the case he would need to use his sword from the start.

Maker, please don’t let anything dreadful compromise this, Janner prayed. 

*****

Time crawled by. The candle showed them that it really wasn’t that late in terms of Amrah’s arrival, but it felt like forever. Janner’s fingers itched to get his journal out of his pack and just write , but then they might not be prepared to flee at a moment’s notice. He usually would have been pacing the room, but his dream about his father calmed him. Kal, on the other hand, was pacing and fidgeting and practically climbing up the walls. 

“Hey, Kal,” Janner broke the silence. “I’d like to tell you about Papa.”

Kalmar stopped what he was doing, which looked like wiggling the hatch on the lantern to its breaking point, and looked up at him. “I thought you said you couldn't talk about that. Something about not being able to share it or whatever it was.”

Janner nodded, remembering the conversation not long after they came back from the First Well. They had been lying awake in the meadow, looking at the hundreds of thousands of stars as they twinkled like diamond dust. Kalmar had asked him what had happened when he was dead, and Janner had replied with, “Kal, it’s not death. It’s life. Papa was there. So were Grandpa and Rudric and Nugget.”

When he had stopped talking, Kal asked him why. His response had been, “I wish I could tell you everything. But something about it seems too sacred to share here. I almost feel like I can’t, like the Maker doesn’t want me to. I don’t have the faintest idea why, but…I just can’t.”

It had ended there and Kal had never mentioned it again, but every so often it would creep onto the edges of Janner’s mind and he would find himself feeling guilty that he had never said anything about it. It seemed almost selfish not to. But the Maker had not regarded it in that way. Always, when Janner asked why he was meant to hold it inside rather than blessing others with the knowledge, He answered, Wait, My son. The time will come when Kalmar and the others need to hear, but that time is not now.

But now...some how he knew now it was time. So he began.

"He seemed tall back then, but that might've been because I was  still kind of short. His hair is a lot like Leeli's, golden-blond and just a little wavy. It comes to just above his shoulders. His face looks like mine, and his eyes." Janner looked at Kal and tousled his hair. "His eyes are yours."

Kal batted his hand away pretending to be irritated, but he was unable to hide the light in his eyes. “What else,” he whispered in awe. 

Janner cocked his head a little, and even though the candlelight-covered stone walls of the cell were all around him, he saw not them, but his father. His Papa, standing at the ship’s helm, the wind blowing his hair back, his eyes warm and joyous as he stared out at the aquamarine sea. “I remember the look in his eyes and on his face,” Janner said softly. “He is content and alive and well. I think he’s looking forward to seeing Mama again someday. Even though he’s content, he still longs for her. Yet at the same time, he is at peace with everything and loves the life he is living.”

“An odd way of looking at it,” Kal observed.“You know, of living even though you’re dead.”

“I think it’s the most alive you can ever be,” Janner replied. “It’s lovely there. And perfect and peaceful. I think one of the things I relish the most — other than being with Papa — is how I didn’t feel worried or stressed or anxious. Even when I thought about it, I just wasn’t. I couldn't be, even if I had wanted to. You just feel so light and free there.” It was like the way he had felt in his dream, and the tendrils that clung to him now felt as if they had been placed on his heart and in his mind by the Maker himself.

Janner noticed an odd expression on Kal’s face. “What’s going on?” he asked.

Kal just kept looking at him. After a few seconds he said in a very small voice, “If you felt so wonderful there, why didn’t you stay?”

Janner felt his heart twisting in love and empathy. “Kal,” he whispered, squeezing his little brother’s shoulder. “I didn’t stay because it was not the Maker’s Will. And when I came back, I knew the second reason why I didn’t stay. Giving my life for you was a way of protecting you, but it grieved you terribly. Protecting you from your own grief is one of the most vital things I could have ever done. And I’m so thankful the Maker allowed me to do it.”

Everything was silent for a few moments as Kal stared at him, emotions flickering in his eyes and on his face without ever really being expressed or voiced. Janner felt worry rising inside of him at the thought that maybe his little brother had taken the words the wrong way or misunderstood them or simply didn’t appreciate his answer.

The broad smile that finally broke across Kal’s face assuaged those fears in an instant. “I’m glad you did too. But are you sure you wouldn’t’ve rather stayed there? I just watched you experience at least three different types of stress in a total of fifteen seconds, and all of them were crazy.”

Janner shook his head, laughing. “Well, I’d be lying if I said I’m not looking forward to going back. It is amazing there. But I can’t go until the Maker has deemed my work in Aerwiar finished. And a good portion of that work means protecting you and getting you back home.” He punched Kal’s shoulder lightly. “Let’s try and make sure that happens.”

*****

Notes:

Just a lot of brotherly exchanges that were sweet in these two chapters.

Action begins tomorrow!