The Jewels Rise Again: Chapter 3

Sailing on the Maker's Wind

They had been underway for only a few hours. Sara stood, eyes closed, facing the open ocean. She leaned against the rail. Her hair whipped her face, sending it flying everywhere. No matter what the books said, she knew it would only end in disaster. Her hair would most likely be a mess of tangled knots before the day was over. Still, she allowed herself the pleasure, even though she would gripe furiously at herself that evening. 

Sara heard wingbeats overhead, and knew that Artham had once again returned to the ship’s deck after scouting ahead. Or, rather, he called it “scouting ahead.” Sara was almost certain he was just enjoying himself. 

He lighted on the deck next to her. She smiled. Sara enjoyed his presence. She had come to love him in his months of insanity, but to have Artham, the strong, noble, capable Artham who had broken into the Fork! Factory! by her side was a treasure. 

“So what was the other trip like?” Sara asked him, turning away from the Sea to look at Artham. 

Artham smiled. “By that do you mean, ‘what did Janner do on the trip?’ or do you want to know about everything that happened?”

Sara found herself blushing again. Artham had guessed from the beginning that there was more than a simple friendship between the two of them. She didn’t mind, though. Her father would have teased her a bit too, so it was like Artham was teasing her for him. “Well...both, I guess.”

Artham nodded and looked out at the Sea. He gazed at it for a long time before speaking. “Janner, Leeli, Nia, his grandfather, and Oskar — the owner of Books & Crannies, do you remember him?” Sara nodded and he went on. “Fell onto the ship’s deck after sliding through an icy trap door. They were escaping the Fangs during the Battle of Kimera. You’ve heard plenty about it.

“I came with Kalmar. We had both transformed —  into what the Maker chose for me, and Kalmar into what he chose for himself: a Grey Fang.” Sara started in surprise. “Anyway, only minutes after we were in the water, sea dragons erupted from the deep, roaring and demanding for their vengeance to be fulfilled.”

“What vengeance? Why?” Sara asked, eyes wide in wonder. The other orphans had heard the story and congregated around Artham to listen. Armulyn had joined them, and Sara saw that same delighted look on his face that he had been there when Artham had spoken of Anniera. 

“You may learn in Anniera and you may not,” Artham said carefully, after several thoughtful moments. “The important thing is that Leeli Wingfeather, a young girl of eight,” he eyed the young children around him. “Went straight to the face the the Dragon King and began to play music on her whistleharp.”

“Like Armulyn!” One of the orphans, Taurlilly cried. Sara smiled. She was one of Armulyn’s orphans. 

“Just like Armulyn,” Artham whispered. “Except when Leeli played, the dragons all around began to sing with her, and they told Janner and I of their past, of the deeds they had done and the trials they had faced. They realized their vengeance could wait.

“And with that,” Artham finished. “The dragons allowed the Wingfeathers passage. They sailed on to the Green Hollows!”

All the children cheered and clapped their hands and scattered into little groups in corners of the deck. A few of them dragged Armulyn with them and begged him to play his whistleharp. Much to their delight, he began to. The crew enjoyed it, and nobody objected. 

Sara glanced at them and then back at Artham. “What about Janner?” She asked. 

“Janner proved himself a Throne Warden,” Artham said, a smile on his face. “Kalmar dove off the side of this ship, right off the railing where we’re standing, actually. Janner lept after him, saving him from drowning in the icy waters. When I pulled them out of the water, there was a look of pure joy on Janner’s face, despite the blood that the filled the Sea.”

Sara looked up in surprise. “Kalmar attacked him?”

“Kalmar wasn’t himself. Janner saved him, just like a Throne Warden is destined to.”

Sara glanced down at the railing. She wondered whether or not it was her imagination that she could see a dark patch that looked oddly like a bloodstain. Janner had saved his brother. He had sacrificed himself. Sara shuddered at the thought. What if he had died? She didn’t know if she could bear it. Her heart pounded in fear at the thought, and she breathed in and out, calming herself. The fact was that he wasn’t dead. He was alive and whole, and in Anniera. With his family. And he had no idea of the longing in her heart as she waited for him.

 *****

Sometime in the middle of the first night, Sara was woken when the entire ship jolted. What’s going on? she wondered. She sat up and swung her legs off the bunk, planting her feet on the floor.

“Queen Sara,” one of the younger orphans, Lizze, who was sleeping beside her, tugged on her nightgown. “What happened?”

“You know what, Lizzia?” Sara turned and cupped Lizzia’s cheek in her hand. “I’m going to go find out. Just stay here. Lay down in your bunk and try to get some rest.” Lizzia nodded, her eyes already drooping sleepily. 

Sara glanced around the hold, which was packed with children, and found her overalls. She quickly pulled her clothes on — she wasn’t quite sure why, instinct, she supposed — and walked toward the stairs, throwing out her arms for balance as the ship rocked again, more violently this time. 

“Sara, where are you going?” Armulyn whispered from the other side of the hold. It was dark, and she could not see him.

“Just on deck. I’ll be fine. Watch the orphans, please, Armulyn.” 

Sara heard nothing for a few seconds, then Armulyn’s quiet: “Of course, Queen Sara.”

“Thank you.”

She steadied herself, clinging to the railing, and willed her arm to push open the hold’s hatch. 

The sight left her mouth gaping open. 

Rain poured onto the deck. It came in torrents, most of it being swept off the deck by the hammering wind. The crew ran in what seemed a wild jig, going from one place on the deck to another. Sara quickly realized the hold would have to stay closed, otherwise sea and rain water would rush in. She promptly shut it. And she left herself on the outside. 

“Sara!” A voice called out. Sara spun around and saw Artham running toward her, his wings laden with water. His white hair was plastered to his head and had turned a pale-gray shade from the soaking. “What are you doing out here?”

“I came to see where all the rocking was coming from!” She shouted, raising her voice above the howling wind.

“Well, now you know, I suppose." Artham shielded his eyes with his hand in an effort to keep the water cascading from the sky from blinding him. "Go back below deck where it’s safe.”

Sara knew she should. She knew it would be safer there. She knew her orphans were expecting her. She almost listened.

Still, something inside her desperately longed to stay on deck. To brave the storm with the rest of the crew, to feel the downpour drenching her over and over again, to dance with one of the rowdiest partners of all — the storm. Besides, Lizzia was probably asleep again by now. And Armulyn was there to watch over them.

“Would you mind too terribly if I stayed on deck?” She asked politely. 

“What?” Artham yelled.

“I said—” Sara began. Then she shook her head. Being polite is futile in this weather. “Can’t I just stay?” she shouted instead. 

Artham looked at her like she was crazy for a second, then shook his head in amazement. “No wonder Janner likes you enough to dream about you. You both love books, you refuse to give up, and you’re not afraid of a stormy sea, either.”

Sara felt her cheeks growing warm even as the cold sea spray soaked her at the thought of Janner dreaming about her, but she chose to cherish that in her heart.

Over the roar of the gale, she yelled. “Wait, does Janner like sailing?”

“He loves it!” Artham responded, joy filling his words. “Too bad he’s not here. He wouldn't miss this storm for the world!”

So Sara stayed on deck. She helped Artham with whatever he needed and went below deck only when he did. At first, the crew seemed rather irked that a girl was helping on deck in the middle of a storm — not only was she a child, whom they figured would get in the way, but they also didn’t fancy having her swept off deck — but soon they grew used to it and even relished her company. 

Words were few and far between in such a gale, but it was a trip that Sara would remember for the rest of her days. And every moment she spent on deck, she thought of Janner Igiby — Wingfeather — standing beside her, holding the ropes with her, running messages back and forth from the crew below pumping water to the captain above. 

Her thoughts were glorious.

***** 

 When the storm finally cleared three days later, Artham worked to dry his wings as Errol checked the instruments. He squinted and scratched his head and shook the instruments just to make sure they hadn’t been overloaded in the storm. 

“Artham, come here,” Errol asked.

 Artham strode over from the side of the ship where he was airing his feathers by beating his wings. Hopefully they would be dry soon. Soaked feathers were quite a bother. So this is how the birds feel after they've been drenched in a storm, he mused. “What is it?”

“Look at this!’ Errol said, wonder in his voice. Artham looked. His draw dropped at what he saw. Then he glanced straight ahead and saw a patch of land. A patch of land that he knew well. Then he looked at the instruments again. 

“Errol,” he spoke, utterly awestruck. “The Maker gave us a song of guidance, then He gave us a ship to sail, and now He has gifted us with a storm of travel.”

“You mean to say...” Errol whispered.

“Yes, Errol.” Artham put a hand on the man’s shoulder. “We had sailed in the Maker’s storm, on the Maker’s Wind. And that, my friend, is the Shining Isle of Anniera, the Maker's land in Aerwiar.”

Notes: This was honestly a really fun chapter to write. Lots of rain and water. And storms. Storms are great. Storms are amazing things to put into stories, both figurative and literal :D