The Fight Begins
Notes:
No trauma in this chapter, don't worry^^
*****
They sat in nervous silence and anticipation after that, Janner clasping and unclasping his fingers together, twisting and turning them around each other in a way he never would have before. He did not doubt the Maker’s will would come to pass or that it would be what was best for them, but even so, he feared for the hearts that would break if they did not succeed.
Kalmar breathed in and out loudly then softly, quickly then slowly. His fingers drummed on the stone floor over and over again, and Janner couldn’t help but think that if he continued doing it for much longer, he would rub the tips of his fingers raw.
After what seemed like an eternity, Janner heard hushed voices. He sat up quickly at the sound of quick footsteps, closing his eyes for just a second in an effort to figure out how many there were. Certainly more than just Amrah. Not too many though, he thought to himself. When he opened his eyes again, Janner could see torchlight flickering outside the cell rather than the light of the holoré. It only took him a moment to realize that Amrah could choose Fangs or the holoré, not both. Fangs shied away from the light as if it were poison to them. For once, she had chosen practicality over love.
It doesn’t exactly help us, Janner thought wryly. Now the Fangs will be more dangerous. And there’s no way they’re unarmed.
Still, the lack of the holoré meant certain details would be shadowed, which meant there was a chance Amrah would not see how ready they were to fight until it was too late. Janner turned his head and nodded at Kal, whose eyes stared at him in fear. Even though he was scared, he remembered to lift the latch on the little swinging door of the lantern and blow out the candle as they had planned. The cell plunged into darkness again, though it was not as dark as it could have been. The light of the torches reflected on the stone walls and created odd, reddish shadows. They made the cell look terrifying.
The footsteps drew closer and became louder, and Janner’s heart thumped in his chest so wildly he was sure they would hear it and know exactly what they were planning. The torchlight flickered more brightly now and shone through the little barred window at the top of the cell door, creating odd light formations inside. Janner looked back at Kalmar and implored him with his eyes to come over and stand next to him, while he carefully lowered himself onto the wooden bench. It was the best way to conceal the sword and seem submissive.
“Ships and sharks,” he breathed, and Kal cracked a quivering smile.
The key turned reluctantly in the lock and the door squeaked open with rage. Amrah’s silhouetted form stood before a backdrop of orange and yellow flickering light, and Janner could not conceal a swift intake of fear.
“So, Wingfeathers,” she began menacingly. They saw no mouth moving, only words spewing forth, and it seemed as though shadow spoke to them. “What have you decided? Denial or Death? I win either way, but with the first you at least escape with lives. The latter gives you nothing but grief and despair.”
Janner moved his right arm and pressed his sheath against his thigh to keep it from making any noise before standing. “We choose death,” he stated firmly, looking at where he assumed her eyes would be.
The air in the cell curled with her horrid laughter. “Are you sure? Think of your wife, your daughter, your son. Janner Wingfeather, are you really willing to fail them?”
Janner closed his eyes and squeezed the hilt of his sword as tightly as his hand allowed him to. “If I die, I die. Only let me die in honor, not shame.”
Amrah snorted. “Fine. Have it your way. Kalmar, surely you are going to be more sensible than your sorry excuse for a Throne Warden? Are you really willing to agree with someone who would burn his family’s hopes and dreams alive in an instant? Do not be that person, Kalmar. Rise above your brother’s decision. Choose the better life.”
Kal hesitated, and Janner felt fear gnawing in the pit of his stomach. His younger brother had always been more unsure, more fearful, more in need of convincing, more doubtful. What if he chose to live instead of die?
Janner, remember that you also doubted, a loud yet gentle Voice spoke in his head, and the words sent a wave of guilt mingled with everlasting peace through him. I strengthened you as I saw fit, you did not strengthen yourself. You gave My Strength to Kalmar. Trust him. He will not fail. And neither will you.
Kal shook his head, and stared at the black form, fire in his eyes. “No. You tried pitting me against Janner again and again and it never worked. What makes you think it will work now?”
“Nothing,” Amrah hissed. “I did not think for a second that either of you fools would listen to the sensible choice of life over death. If I had, I wouldn’t have needed guards. All you Wingfeathers are so stubborn and just refuse to die. It’s not just you two. Your father and Uncle were the same way, never willing to deny the Maker. Even when they sang the Song they would only sing half of it. I’ll be glad to lead some of you to your death.”
Amrah stepped out of their line of sight and two Grey Fangs took her place. They walked forward, slowly and menacingly, snapping their jaws all the while. Janner could feel Kal quaking beside him, but the only thing Janner heard, saw, and felt in his body were three words, protect, protect, PROTECT!
He threw off his cloak in less than a second — he had not fastened the clasp, which made it much easier — and drew his sword as swiftly as lightning. His blade slashed deftly, and in a moment Fang-dust filled his lungs. Janner choked for a second and felt guilt surging over him. He hated to kill the Fangs, knowing that they had once been people. They had once had lives and families. But he had to get his King to safety.
“RUN!” he shouted at Kal as he charged forward out of the cell into what had looked to them as deadly as a blazing furnace. Out of the corner of his eye, Janner caught a glimpse of a dumbfounded Amrah gaping at him, a Green Fang about to pounce, and Kal’s hesitating form, holding one of the fallen Fang’s torches. “Kal, RUN!” he yelled as he spun to face the Green Fang advancing on him, which unlike the two Grey Fangs was not only expecting him but brandishing its weapon dangerously.
Janner caught the edge of the Fang’s twisted blade as it lashed toward him. He threw his arm in an arc that sent the sword twisting in a different direction entirely and shook the Green Fang slightly off-balance. It hissed angrily and its venom flicked from its fangs toward him landing with a steaming sizzle on his left hand. Janner winced only a little but kept his eyes fixed on the yellow eyes of the Green Fang, trying to read its next move in its eyes. The torchlight was flickering strangely and coming from a different angle — the question that couldn’t be answered then was whether it was because Amrah had moved to kill him or fled.
This time it jabbed its blade, aiming not for Janner’s heart but for his left shoulder. He jumped out of the way in the nick of time. It has orders not to kill me, then, Janner thought as the Fang went back to hissing and began circling him. He returned the stance, evening their advantage. I wish it did. Then at least it would be a fair fight and I wouldn’t have to feel so guilty about this.
The Green Fang swung its blade again, and by this time it was becoming blatantly apparent that it was not skilled with the sword. Its attempt was wild and chaotic, and left a clear opening. Janner chose to end it as swiftly as possible because he was not here for a sword fight, he was here to help Kal escape. How he wished, though, that the precious, half-alive souls were not being killed.
When the Green Fang had faded into dust, Janner wiped his sword on his pant leg and slid it back into its sheath before looking around. Amrah was nowhere in sight, and two of the torches she and her Fangs had brought with them were on the floor, the third one taken by Kalmar.
“It’s time to join Kal,” he breathed, running back just a few feet to get Artham’s cloak before racing as fast as he could — which would soon be very slow — towards the flickering lights at the far end of the prison corridor. Arundelle would be disappointed if her husband came back without the cloak she had painstakingly made for him.
*****
Notes:
This chapter and the next few take place over the course of just a few hours, in case you get confused with the timeline. So it'll feel like a long time to go without seeing Sara or Leeli or Artham, but it really isn't.
Additionally, I have no idea whether or not Janner would feel guilty for killing Fangs. He never kills any in the books (as far as I can recall) so I thought it would be interesting to explore his thought process regarding that.
Kalmar should snatch one of the weapons from the fallen fangs!
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!
Janner would definitely feel upset, maybe guilty, about killing fangs. I think he did kill fangs in the books, though not as many as Kalmar did, and he was very sad when he had to kill the cloven who attacked. "I'm sorry." 😭
And now his hand is burned with fang venom and he'll have to use his numb right hand!
Waiting like that would be TORTUROUS! Especially the last few seconds before they had to act!
SHIPS AND SHARKS!!!! It's funny how a game that consists entirely of tickling children can be so meaningful!
That's a really good point. We can't control what goes on in someone else's heart. But the same person who worked in our hearts is working in theirs, and we can trust HIM!
I hope Kal ran somewhere smart.
And I wonder why the fang had orders not to kill him? Since they were about to kill him?
Oh yeah. I've played Ships and Sharks. As the shark. It's a lot harder than it sounds! Six year olds are FAST!!!