Through Ages of Weary Fulfillment: Ch. 27

Silken Hope

Notes:

Time to find out what Sara and Nia and Janner have been up to...and apologies in advance...

*****

“He’s not waking up,” were the words Sara first heard when her eyes blinked open, and she wasn’t sure what they meant at first. They were so random, so unexpected so…so odd sounding that she couldn’t even manage to place them. Who would not wake up, and what would the reason be for? It seemed ludicrous.

The moment her blood ran cold, it didn’t seem so ludicrous anymore. The covers flew off of her, and she was up in an instant, her mind already frantic with panic and worry and pure terror. Nia’s voice had spoken the words, “he’s not waking up,” and there Nia sat, on Janner’s bed, holding his limp, gaunt hand in such a tight manner that Sara wondered how she had not broken it yet. Swallowing in fear, Sara forced herself, her far too frozen self, to make the “journey” toward her adoptive mother and her dear, dear, friend.

“What’s wrong?” she finally managed to force out, standing in front of Nia, her eyes wide with panic. 

Nia shook her head, not shifting her gaze from Janner’s face. “I don’t know,” she whispered, a tear rolling down her cheek. “He won’t wake up. He’s still here, he's just…I don’t know where he is.”

Sara couldn’t help but stare, just stare blankly, yet feel horrible staring because it seemed so wrong, so inappropriate, so intrusive. A memory came flooding back, one from before the Fangs had taken her away. She and her cousin, Rella had spent nearly every moment together, playing make believe outside whenever they could, creating enchanted patches filled with fairies and elves in the middle of meadows, among streams. 

And then something happened, something she never really understood at the time. Rella stopped playing for a little while. Then her uncle came by suddenly someday, saying Rella wouldn’t wake up, that it was almost over. He had been right. And the funeral was one week later.

Chills spread throughout her entire body as the horrifying realization dawned on her that…that Janner might be dying. Nia knew it too, for though she hadn’t said so, her posture, the grief in her eyes, it said as much.

“Where’s Leeli?” Sara asked suddenly, still quietly, though. 

Nia tilted her head a little, as if remembering or thinking about anything other than what—rather who—lay before her was a trial, one she wasn’t sure she wanted to endure. “I think I sent her off with Thorn,” she murmured absentmindedly. “Preoccupying her seemed best in the moment. I’m not sure it was the right choice now, though.” 

Nodding, Sara reached out and placed her hand on Nia’s shoulder. “It’s as right a choice as you can make, I suppose, considering the circumstances. Do you want me to see if I can find Mother Madalana or someone else who can help?”

Nia sighed wearily. “They won’t do anything, will they? They can’t. He’s…I don’t even know if he’ll…I-I’m sorry, Sara,” she said suddenly. “I shouldn’t have—”

“I already knew,” she replied quietly, her eyes stinging. “It’s alright, Mama. I already knew.” 

Silence filled the room after that, and because Sara couldn’t bear hearing anything other than the sound of hers and Nia’s steady breathing and Janner’s halted breaths, she did the only thing she could think of that might add a bit of noise. She hugged Nia and as if on cue, her adoptive mother choked, sobbed, and then tears began streaming down her cheeks.

*****

Sara stood at the top of one of the cresting cliffs of Anniera, one blanketed atop by grasses, flowers, and sky, the one with crashing waves as its footstool.* Wind swept across it, blowing her dress so it billowed, twisting the free strands of her hair that had slipped out of her braid  into hopeless knots.

She didn’t care, because the wind also dried her tears as soon as they spilled down her face and left salt trails behind, almost as if it wanted to wipe away her sorrow, if only for a moment. Not that anything of the sort was possible. 

Nia had asked her to give Arundelle some sort of message to convey to the people around Rysentown, one briefly detailing the circumstances they now faced without going into so much detail things would seem dire. Sara understood the logic in it. Why concern anyone until it was truly necessary? Yet by holding back the core truth, it seemed as though a sort of denial was happening. A denial that now conveyed it would be alright eventually. Because deep down in her heart…Sara was sure it wouldn’t be. And it seemed as though Nia knew it as well.

She hadn’t seen Leeli all day. Granted, “all day” meant the hour she had spent with Nia, the fifteen minutes she had talked with Arundelle, and the three hours she had stood there, looking out at the sea and sky and seeing nothing while feeling everything.

Why was this happening? She knew it sounded so dreadfully selfish, but she was tired of life being absolutely slaughtered. It had happened to her so many times in her short life. There was Rella and the Carriage and the Fork! Factory! and the terrors in Dugtown and Janner being…dead and Kalmar dying and Janner coming back and now…now Janner was dying.

What had she done to deserve this? What had Janner done to deserve this? What had Nia and Leeli and Arundelle and Artham done to deserve anything, this and other tragedies included?! It was completely, utterly and totally nonsensical. 

“Why, Maker, why?” she whispered, her throat burning. “I don’t understand. What have we done? Where did we go wrong? Maybe I haven’t done much for You but…but the Wingfeathers have sacrificed everything! Half their family is dead or has died because they followed You, and now this comes hurtling at them? Would You really allow Janner to die after everything You’ve done to bring him back to us?”

He couldn’t, could He? But, no, if that was His will, He could. And if it did happen…she couldn’t blame Him, could she? Terrible things happened to people every day, whether they trusted in the Maker or not. That was simply a fact of life. Her family hadn’t done anything to deserve being ripped apart, yet she was torn from their arms by the Fangs. Neither had the Wingfeathers done anything to deserve the pain they had gone through. In fact, the Maker had blessed them and her despite the pain. He had brought them together. He had given them hope. He had given back life. 

He had come through so many times before. Would He come through again now? 

“‘xcuse me,” a tiny voice piped up out of nowhere, and Sara turned her head to see a blonde-haired, cherub-of-a-girl staring at her. “Why’re you crying, Miss Sara?”

Raising her hand to her cheek in an effort to wipe away whatever tears the wind had not dried yet, she replied, “A friend of mine is sick, and I’m worried about him.” It was an understatement of unparalleled proportions on so many levels, but she didn’t need to trouble the girl with things weighing so heavily on her heart. “You know my name…but I don’t know yours.” She hadn’t been one of her orphans, which meant she must have been one of Armulyn’s who managed to slip past her watch.

The little girl beamed. “I’m Layna! Can I ask another question now?”

Sara nodded, checking to see if the smile was still on her face. It was, but it wavered. 

“Is your real name Sara Cobbler?” Layna asked, her eyes now taking on a more serious quality. 

Affirming this, Sara cocked her head, curious—and for a moment, curiosity hid her grief and fear. “But why do you ask?”

“Because,” Layna began, plunging her tiny hand into a small pocket in the pinafore over her dress. The moment she found whatever she had searched for was obvious by the way her eyes lit up. “I have something for you.” Then she pulled her hand out, her fist clenched tightly around something. “I think this is yours,” she said softly, her face suddenly solemn, but a joyous sort of solemn. 

Sara watched as the small hand turned and the fingers uncurled, revealing…she gasped softly, tenderly picking up the little thing in Layna’s palm.

As she turned it over and over between her fingers, she couldn’t help but how it looked just the same as before, the eyes perfect indigo dots, the mane ratted and beautiful, the cobalt twisted horn majestic, the body soft, silky, white, and somehow unmarried but for a few smudges of brown on the legs.

“Where did you get this?” she finally breathed, unable to look at anything but the lovely, little, silk tricorn her Papa had won for her on Dragon Day.

“A kind man,” Layna began simply. “He saved me. I think he was your papa.”

Sara’s heart beat wildly. “Saved you from what? Whom? Where is he?”

Lanya shuddered. “Lizard monsters. They took me and he saved me.” She didn’t answer the last question. Perhaps she didn’t know the answer to it.

“What happened then?” Sara asked, knowing that somehow Layna had gotten to Armulyn, so maybe even if Layna didn’t know what happened to her papa, Arumulyn did. There was a chance.

She received a bit of uncertainty for that answer. “I don’t know,” Layna began, her brow furrowed. “I think…I think he was sick. Like your friend. He told me to go to the music man, and I did!”

Sara stared at her, and even as her heart sank with fresh grief, her spirits rose. Children had a wonderful gift for perception others lacked, and even if they didn’t…somehow she knew her father was gone. Truly gone. And she had known it for a while, just failed to admit it. But her little tricorn was left, as were her memories and the knowledge her father had died saving this little girl. 

“Thank you,” she whispered in spite of the tears rolling down her cheeks. She knelt, and Layna came forward, immediately accepting the hug. 

Thank You, she cried in her heart, knowing the Maker had given her a sign to trust Him. He knew all that happened in Aerwiar, all that happened beyond. He had sent this lovely little girl to her at just the right moment, giving her a spark of hope she would hold fast to, no matter what the outcome of the current pain. 

A breath of warm air swept into her lungs, and it filled her heart and her mind with peace and comfort. It didn’t just give her those things, it spoke to her, He spoke to her. Dearest, He whispered. It will unfold as I have planned. I need you to trust me. Trials will come for you in the future, ones that will require patience, understanding, and raw faith in Me. Trust in Me now in this, for I have given you the measure of faith required.

*****

Notes:

*I'm pretty sure I looked up the Anniern geography specifically for this (that was several weeks ago when I wrote this chapter, though, so my memory is fuzzy). I COULD be wrong, but iirc, when Leeli is drawing close to Anniera, she sees the towering cliffs that are the first thing you see, so the front of the island looks a bit like....

|``\

that weird thing up there I just made up (that's a cross section); the left is the front, the right slope is the back). Please, correct me if I'm wrong^^

Well, would you look at that! My reading of PBtM came in handy! I used it here! On starting this story, I decided Sara and Layna needed to meet sometime during it, I just didn't know when. So that was when^^

The title refers to her little silk tricorn :')

Of course, it's surrounding other things that are a bit not good....so.... 😬