Sailing on the Enramere — Again
Sara cried out in joy and slipped off her horse, running into Artham’s outstretched arms. She jumped into his embrace and rested her head on his shoulder. His feathers tickled her nose in an oddly pleasant and familiar way. The ache she felt for love, for family, only ever left when Artham was near. Gammon was kind, Armulyn had been friendly, and Maraly was a surprisingly good listener, but only when she was near Artham did she feel the hole in her heart begin to close.
Maybe it was because Janner had sent him.
“What are you two doing?” He asked, after he had placed Sara gently on the ground.
“We were coming to get you,” Sara explained, slipping her small hand into his rougher, taloned one.
At one time she had been surprised by the talons. Before, back when her family would travel to Glipwood for the Dragon Day Festivals, she often saw Artham — at the time known as Peet the Sockman — around the town, often following the Igiby kids. Wingfeathers, she mentally corrected herself. Back then, Artham’s hands were covered in socks, and she knew for a fact that the glorious, dark wings that sprouted from his back had not been there.
Sara loved his talons. They were curved — not so curved that he couldn’t write — and graceful. They were strong and powerful. They were their own weapons. And Artham would stand by loyally and protect those he fought for with his magnificent wings and talons, no matter what.
At his puzzled expression, Maraly tried to explain. “Well, um, we didn’t want ya to be alone, since you were actin’ a bit...”
“Crazy?” Artham raised an eyebrow. “I know. But I’m fine. Now, at least.” He looked as though there were more words attached to what he said, but he did not speak them.
“Artham,” Sara said quickly. “Please come back to Dugtown. Please, come and live with us. Come and protect the orphans. Please. Give them hope.”
“Wait.” Artham held up a hand. “Sara, you must know something. I have to get to Anniera. I have to set out as soon as I can. Now, here’s no way to get there soon, but I must leave for the journey there.”
For an instant, but only an instant, Sara felt her world crashing down around her. Again. She felt despair welling up inside, and grief taking over her. What will I do without Artham near? What can I do. Oh, Maker, what will I do?
Then an idea, a wonderful idea, an idea that glistened, sparkled, sang, and laughed came to Sara’s mind. “Can you please take us?” she asked, hearing a plea in her voice.
Artham looked at her lovingly and waited for her to continue speaking. He knew she had more to say.
Sara took a breath. Maker, send the right words from my mouth. “Only myself and a diminished number of my orphans are left. They’ve lost hope that their parents are coming, and, frankly, I have, too. If there’s a place like Anniera, a place where what you want and what is best for you are the same, a place where life and family are sacred, a place where beauty blooms, then I want to live there. I want my orphans to live there. Can we? Please?”
“Sara, darling,” he crouched down, so he could speak to her at eye level. Sara loved it when he did that. It reminded her of her father when he was asking her a question, or showing her a new plant he’d discovered growing in the cracks in Torborro’s older streets. “I’ve received word from Leeli’s whistleharp that Anniera is to be reclaimed, and soon. They will need citizens. They will need to rebuild and bring life to that barren land. So, dearest, of course you and your orphans can come to Anniera. It will be a home for you.”
Tears came to Sara’s eyes, and joy sparkled in them.
“Wait a minute,” Maraly frowned, furrowing her brow. “What about those Fang ships we saw leavin’ from Dugtown? Thet can’t bode well for em’.”
“Well,” Artham shook his head in wonder. “Based on what I could understand, it seems that they have already arrived and are being beaten back as we speak. So, Queen Sara,” he scooped her up into his arms again, and she giggled. “And Shadowblade, let’s go.”
The three began the trip back to Dugtown, passing every weed, tree, and flower they had come across only hours before. Sara and Maraly, once again, rode their horses, while Artham flew above them, basking in the sun’s rays. In Glipwood Forest, it was quite a lovely day.
Every few minutes, Sara glanced back just to make sure Artham’s journals were still firmly strapped to her saddle. She hadn’t noticed them when he first appeared, and it wasn’t until he had placed her on the horse’s back and began tying them to the saddle that she realized he had brought them. When she looked at them, it wasn’t just that she wanted to be sure they had not fallen, she longed to open them and read every one. In search for any references to a certain “Janner Wingfeather,” an inner voice teased. Sara blushed at the thought.
She couldn’t believe that she was going to see Janner! And in Anniera, no less. The land of dreams. The land of miracles. The land of beauty, love, devotion, and hope. The land of life. No wonder Janner had brought such feelings to her when they were in the Fork! Factory! His spirit planted seeds, and his Annieran blood watered them, bringing light to her and, in turn, the rest of the orphans.
Sara smiled. She couldn’t wait to tell Janner about what happened after he left.
Of course, her shoulders slumping again and her heart sinking at the thought, it would take two months to sail across the Dark Sea of Darkness. How would she manage it? How would she survive so long, waiting desperately to see him, to speak with him, to…well, hug him? Perhaps once they got to the ship, she would ask Artham what Janner had done on the trip across. Surely that would give her some sort of inspiration.
She blushed again, glad the Maraly rode in front and Artham flew above. She believed her cheeks would be dyed a permanent shade of red if she kept up this line of thought for much longer.
But, still, she simply couldn’t wait to see Janner again. Her heart beat faster at the thought, her mind raced, her face glowed, her eyes sparkled, and laughter bubbled from somewhere deep inside her. She clicked her horse into a gallop and called out at the top of her lungs: “Race you back to Dugtown, Artham!”
Artham, of course, won. Sara tossed her head a bit as he glided down, congratulating her on her near-win. “I know you could’ve been to Dugtown twice in the time it took us to ride there,” she said, still grinning as she pulled off her horse’s tack and led the strong animal into the stable. Fast, too.
Artham’s eyes twinkled in a way that Sara had never seen before. She knew that his spirits had risen at the thought of Anniera, too. He couldn’t wait to go home.
It took much less time than either Artham or Sara expected to tell Gammon, organize the children, and prepare a ship for sailing. In fact, when they arrived in Dugtown, one was being loaded with provisions for the journey to the Green Hollows, which was only a day’s sail further than Anniera.
“Maker be praised,” Artham said with wonder as he walked towards Sara and Maraly after speaking with Gammon. “She’s ready and sea worthy. It’s the Enramere. She’s the same ship we sailed to cross the Dark Sea after leaving Kimera.”
Sara’s eyes widened. She’d seen plenty of Fang ships sailing from Torborro to other parts of Aerwiar, and even those traveling short distances, like to the Ice Prairies, had taken days to stock for provisions and load weapons and passengers. The Enramere was truly a gift from the Maker.
*****
An hour or so later, Artham, Sara, her remaining orphans, and the crew were all aboard. Sara leaned on the railing and waved at Maraly, who stood there, somewhat expressionless, and Gammon, his arms crossed and a look of happiness on his face.
“We’re off in fifteen minutes!” Sara glanced behind and saw a tall man with dark hair standing at the helm.
“Errol was part of the crew when Janner and his family sailed to the Green Hollows,” Artham said, coming to stand beside her.
Sara nodded and her heart trembled again, thrilled to be on the ship Janner had sailed, with this uncle and at least one of the crew who had been there as well. She knew monotony would set in after a while, but for now she would relish the joy she felt.
It wasn’t until five minutes before their departure that Maraly, who had been staring at the ship rather sullenly for the past hour, shook her head, ran up the gangplank, and threw her arms around Sara’s neck.
“I’m gonna miss you,” she whispered. Sara hugged her back and felt tears pricking the edges of her eyes. She would miss Maraly. They had become so close in the past few months.
“I’m sure you can come for a visit,” Sara pulled back a bit and placed her hands on Maraly’s shoulders. She was surprised to see her friend crying. “Oh, Maraly,” she whispered. “I’ll miss you, too.”
“I’ll visit if you do,” Maraly said, her voice trembling as she spoke. She didn’t even bother wiping away the tears that streamed down her face. “‘Cause, you know, Gammon’s gonna need help from Shadowblade to corral Dugtown and the lawless Stranders. And I won't be able to be away for very long, 'else it'll get crazy around here.”
“I will,” Sara laughed a bit, a sob on the edge of it. “And I’ll make sure to bring Kalmar.”
“And Janner,” Maraly stated pointedly. “I don’t think you’ll be able to spend a single second away from ‘im once you see ‘im for the first time.”
“Alright, I’ll bring Janner, too,” Sara smiled at the thought, and didn’t even care that her cheeks turned pink.
Maraly quickly wiped her face with the sleeve of her black shirt and faced Artham. “Handshake?” She asked.
Artham nodded and accepted her firm shake of farewell. “By the way,” she added, placing the old Strander growl at the edge of her voice, though in a humorous manner. “You never did sew that mask for me.”
Artham laughed heartily and threw his head back. “Shadowblade, I am always true to my word. Here is your mask. Hand-sewn.” He reached into a pouch on his waist and pulled out a silky, black eye mask that shone when the sun hit it right.
Maraly whooped with joy when he handed it to her. She tied it on as quickly as she could, then pulled out one of her numerous daggers from the folds of her clothes. “How do I look?” She asked, eyes slitted, face set in an angry scowl.
Sara’s hand went to her mouth to hide her smile that she feared would turn into laughter. “It looks great, Maraly. Fantastic. Artham did a surprisingly good sewing job.”
“Farewell, Shadowblade,” Artham bowed to her formally, reminding Sara of the Florid Sword for a second. Then she remembered that Artham was royalty, and he was probably used to it in his sane moments.
“Goodbye, Maraly,” Sara whispered as her friend trotted off the gangplank just before it was removed from the dock. As they pulled away, Sara noticed that Maraly blinked harder than she had before and eventually reached for Gammon’s hand. He held it close, and Sara was once again reassured that her friend was loved by a true father.
"WAIT!!!" A voice hollered. Sara's mouth dropped open at the sight of a barefoot man, his dark hair still stringy, his clothes still tattered, and his whistleharp in hand, racing towards the ship. The crew began murmuring in confusion and Errol shook his head, chuckling.
"Men," he adressed them. "Lower the plank again. It looks like the Bard will be with us after all."
When Armulyn had run up the plank and stood before Sara and Artham, panting he glanced over at Errol. "Many thanks," he said breathlessly.
"Armulyn, what are you doing?" Sara asked.
"Queen Sara, something told me to run back. So I did."
“Well, you're in luck." Artham laughed. "Because we're on a direct course for Anniera. And on the Enramere once more."
Note: I spaced out the paragraphs this time to make it easier to read :)
Amazing! I love it!