Through Ages of Weary Fulfillment: Ch. 34 & Epilogue

Together Again (Almost)

Notes:

YAY!!! We've finally reached the end 🥳 (there are kittens, @Whacker of Bats (TTH Sugar Doctor 👩‍⚕️) I promise)

*****

The next morning over breakfast, Gammon gave the good news that he had managed to locate the dragon who had brought Artham to Skree (“He,” Artham corrected. “And his name is Hyrindale.”) and had both written a note and fastened it to said dragon and gave a verbal explanation of the situation, in case the dragon happened to understand.

Artham had explained the dragon could indeed understand, and as long as Janner hadn’t managed to put himself into a coma in the past few hours, the message would be easily conveyed (his remark referred directly to the contact Leeli had made with him via dragon and whistleharp the previous evening, in which he was assured that Janner wasn’t dying, whatever that meant. Making light of a situation he was concerned about seemed the most reasonable solution).

This comment produced a snort from Maraly, who apparently found it rather entertaining. Gammon shifted the conversation back to the note and message easily, still having something he wanted to say about it.

“It’s mostly for Arundelle, of course,” he began after finishing his scrambled eggs. “I’m pretty sure she’s the only one the others can manage without long enough to come here.”

The thought of her mother, her real mother, her true mother, made Ilana absolutely giddy with excitement, and even the news that it would be at least eight days before Hyrindale returned was not enough to dampen her spirits. Nothing could ever do that, not even the news that Amrah wasn’t actually dead, and that Gammon had opted for saving Artham rather than killing her. 

Well, she supposed that made her a bit crestfallen, but it was nothing in comparison to the jubilation filling her.

As it turned out, Hyrindale was back in a mere six days, an absolutely terrified Arundelle as her passenger. The reunion was a rather emotional one, what with Arundelle crying because she was seeing her daughter for the first time in nine years and because her husband had nearly gotten himself killed and still wasn’t alright and certainly wouldn’t been for a number of weeks at least, not to mention Ilana crying at the memory of being terrified her father would die and because of how happy she was to meet her mother. 

Artham was the most collected of the three, at least until Arundelle detailed how sick Janner had been and that he had almost died, but he was sort of on the mend when she left. That made him groan and blame himself and want to go back immediately, if not the day before, but Arundelle convinced him that leaving that moment by ship, which was the only sensible way to travel considering his condition, wouldn’t do anything to help anyone. 

Ilana, for her part, was still rather confused as to who Janner was, who the rest of her family was, and a good deal of time was spent listening to her parents as they caught her up on the many (tragic) details about the family and Anniera.

On hearing it all, Ilana felt a warmth spreading through her, an odd sort of relief that though she had been broken, she wouldn’t have to be broken alone. Her whole family was that way: broken and healing. It seemed to be their defining factor.

The three stayed in Fort Duid town for another week, in which Gammon managed to procure a lovely tabby cat whom Ilana cherished very dearly and named Ginger. 

After said week had passed, the Enramere passed through briefly, and Gammon deemed it an appropriate time for departure. They did a bit of backtracking, of course, but only by a little. Once in Dugtown, he did allow the crew a rest before sailing on to Anniera (which ended up taking another week) and switched out a few of the men who had families waiting for them. 

He and Maraly came, of course, because they really did need to make a first visit to Anniera and catch up on everything, plus having two vigilantes around to make sure no one kidnapped someone else was always a good idea. Maraly, who Ilana was slowly getting to know and quickly liking more and more, took great pride in being called a “fellow vigilante.”

As she stood on deck, up against the rail, smelling the salty sea air mixed with dead fish (she did not like it but was quickly reassured the horrific odor would not follow them too far. Ginger did seem to like it, though), Ilana couldn’t help but smile, hearing her mother and father’s hushed voices, the former telling the latter, “he really needed to be resting below deck,” and the latter replying that, “just a few more minutes wouldn’t hurt.” Arundelle conceded.

A lovely warmth filled Ilana’s heart, the sort of warmth one felt when everything was alright in one’s world, and she reached back to stroke the braid her real mother had twisted into her hair. 

It wasn’t just “alright,” she knew. It was wonderful. It was perfect.

*****

“Do you think it’s them?” Sara asked, turning to Janner.

He looked up from watching the sand he had scooped up in his hand trickle through his fingers, and squinted out to sea, trying to focus on what was probably a ship, but what currently looked like two blobs on the horizon. “Maybe?” he said doubtfully, shifting his gaze toward her. “Is this supposed to be another test, or are you asking me for real?”

Such “tests” had been rather subtly conducted in the weeks following his return to reality. At least, they had been conducted after the point at which he and those around him (meaning Sara) had realized something was wrong. It wasn’t a terrible wrong, certainly not the worst that could have happened, just a more convenient wrong, one subtle enough that they hadn’t even bothered telling anyone. It was issues with little things like balance and coordination and vision. All things aside, the “tests” were meant to, well, determine the state and improvement of what were issues. So far the only one that had changed at all were the balance issues.

Sara took several moments before responding to his question. “I was just asking, since this is the approximate time when they would be getting back. But I suppose it was killing two birds with one stone, since now I don’t have to think up a way to slip one into a different conversation. So: what did it look like?”

Janner sighed and glanced back at the “ship” that still didn’t really look like one. “I know it’s a ship, but it looks more like a fuzzy blob,” he confessed. “Two fuzzy blobs, actually. Good sized blobs, so it’s probably sort of close. What do you see?”

She was quiet again before saying, “I can tell it’s a ship. And you’re right, it is close.”

Janner sighed and rubbed his eyes, gritting his teeth rather than bursting out in frustration. Was it always going to be like this? Would his world always be blurred and distorted?

He felt Sara taking his right hand in hers and couldn’t help but smile as she did so. He was so glad Kalmar had absolved him of his guilt, because it really was much better this way.

“Hey,” she said gently. “I know what you’re thinking. I can see it on your face. I think…I think it’ll be alright eventually. And even if it’s not, I’m here for you. So is everyone else.”

Janner opened his eyes and looked at her, once again gazing into her beautifully blue diamond eyes, because they weren’t blurred, never had been, and never would be. “Thank you,” he replied, but the melancholy hadn’t quite left his heart yet.

“I’ve got an idea,” Sara announced after several minutes. “Until that ship comes in, we’ll practice walking, and if that works out well, we can talk too, alright?”

Janner nodded and slowly raised himself to a standing position, sensing Sara’s hand hovering over his back, just in case. Once he was up—and without help, he was pleased to say—they began walking along the beach, heading nearer to the water where the sand was damper and clingier, but a bit less shifty. He held Sara’s hand, more for moral support than actual support. 

“Wonderful!” Sara exclaimed happily, truly happy, not patronizing at all. “I think…I think it’s actually going better than it normally does!” 

Janner smiled. Being able to walk on even dirt without wobbling had been fairly simple, grass had been a bit harder, but sand had definitely been the hardest. And it was the only one he still needed to master. “So, talking can happen now, right?” he asked, teasing her a little bit. 

Laughing, Sara shook her head. “Sure, why not. So, what would you like to talk about? Our incompetence in figuring out what was actually wrong?”

Janner snorted. “No, let’s pass on that one. I’ve heard it at least four times already.”

What Sara had referred to was how long and by what measure it had taken them to figure out why he was so sick. Part of it was obvious: the drenching in the chilly seawater had been too much for his already compromised immune system. But what had made it that way in the first place, other than that which was already known to them? 

Galya, in fact, had come up with the solution, a day after he had woken up. She had brought cookies and remarked that Mrs. Striggs had stated that mold and other nasty things often grew in dark, damp places, and just a little mold that was undetectable to normal people could be detrimental to someone who was sick.

The pieces had quickly fallen into place after that, as had the resolve to keep him out of the cellar. Nia had employed Thorn and another young man or two who had been more than willing to create a bit of a decent structure out of the crumbling courtyard, and that had gone very well.

“What about,” he considered as they walked along. “What about Ilana? What do you think she’ll be like?”

Sara tilted her head for just a moment before shaking it. “I don’t know, but I’d rather be surprised than guess. But if you insist on me guessing—”

“And I do,” Janner interrupted her playfully.

“Then,” Sara continued, now smiling broadly. “I think she’ll be a lot like Artham. And other than that, I don’t want to speculate.”

Janner nodded. “Okay, so that was my attempt at a conversation starter. Now, it’s your turn.”

“That isn’t fair!” she retorted, looking at him in mock irritation. “Your conversation starter lasted three sentences!”

Laughing, Janner took one eye off the ground and focused them both on her, just for a moment. “That isn’t my fault,” he insisted, and he knew his eyes were twinkling. “You’re the one who stopped the conversation.”

“Oh, you—” Sara began, but Janner accidentally interrupted her by tripping over something and managing to pull them both to the ground. 

The next few minutes were a jumbled mess of laughter and embarrassment and apologies and futile attempts to brush damp sand off their clothes and their faces and out of their hair. They did manage to figure out what the culprit was—Janner was pleased that it had not been completely his fault; there had been a rather large pale pink and dark-grey-dotted crown conch shell buried underneath the sand. Sara was even more delighted when she found no little sea creature living inside, meaning they could take it home—and proceeded to continue their walk, this time purposely heading toward Rysen. Sara did not want to take any sort of chances, and Janner was more than willing to comply.

By the time all sorts of drying and clean up and changing had taken place, lunch was ready and eaten hastily. Nia would have minded and reminded them about manners the majority of the time, but this was an exception. The ship was drawing nearer and all four of them—Janner, Sara, Leeli, and Nia—wanted to be there when she docked.

The short walk to the port that really did look like a bona fide port for a bona fide town (much progress had been made on Rysentown over the past two months, and she was rising again, as the name suggested) was spent in pitter-patters of excited conversation that was regularly interrupted by both Baxter and Frankle’s barking. They walked quickly, slower, perhaps than they could have, but quickly, and Janner was still out of breath when they reached the port. As he slowed himself to keep from going into a coughing fit while trying to catch his breath, he briefly wondered if breathlessness would always follow him, or if it would eventually subside. 

To take his mind off it, he deliberately looked out at the sea, focusing on the ship sailing into port. He could at least tell it was a ship this time, albeit a blurred one, but still a ship. The rigging was fuzzy, but he could tell it was there.

“The people look like multi-colored tall blobs,” he whispered to Sara, not wanting anyone else to overhear. “But other than it being a bit blurred, the ship looks like a ship.”

“That’s wonderful!” she said back, her voice hushed. “It’s the Enramere, again,” she added.

As it turned out, not only was the Enramere back, but she had brought Artham, Arundelle, their daughter, a tabby cat, three kittens (apparently the cat had been pregnant and given birth during the sail), and Gammon and Maraly! Sara was overjoyed to see Maraly again after more than two months apart, and while Gammon’s presence there was a slightly unsettling one—for Janner, Nia, and Leeli, at least, who had been betrayed by him before learning they were not actually betrayed. Leeli was fairly forgiving, Nia was friendly enough, and Janner was cordial but wary—no one could argue against his vitality in terms of Artham’s survival. 

So, of course, they were grateful. 

Meeting Ilana for the first time was a wonderful experience, a perfect one, really, and while it did involve a few tears, there was, for the most part, only joy and excitement about the newfound member of the family. She and Leeli hit it off wonderfully, which was a good thing, since prior to Ilana’s introduction, Leeli had felt rather uncomfortable in the midst of Maraly and Sara’s reunion. The cat and kittens bonded with Baxter immediately, but Frankle was a bit more suspicious.

Though he had already heard about it in relative detail from Arundelle, Artham still took the time to be appalled at Janner for not telling anyone how sick he was and for getting sick in the first place and for almost dying. Likewise, Janner made certain to scold Artham, even though in the end, it was really all pointless since neither could have stopped the other from dying, and all agreed that someday, years from then—many, many years from then, Ilana and Nia argued—they would probably laugh about the irony, at least a bit. 

EPILOGUE

Later that evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Janner and Sara sat looking out at the sea from the highest crest on the western edge of Anniera. It was the perfect sunset, the sort only accompanying days just the same.

 “We’re getting closer again, aren’t we?” she asked, placing her hand over his. 

Janner shifted his gaze from the sea to her eyes. “Closer to what?”

Sara tucked a strand of hair back behind her ear before answering, perhaps a bit shyly. “Closer to the family being together again, I guess.”

A bit of an ache blossomed in Janner’s heart at the words, since the whole family would never truly be together again, not really.  

“It’ll never be quite the same, I know,” she added hastily. “But it feels like things are a little more complete now, doesn’t it?”

Janner smiled and placed a quick kiss on her cheek, then looked back out at the glistening waves. “You’re right. It does.”

Perhaps Kalmar was gone. Perhaps Podo was too, and his father and Rudric. But memories remained, memories he would treasure for the rest of his life. He knew the pain would fade as time went on and even now, he could smile while thinking of his brother. Surely, there was no better way to remember Kalmar than by fulfilling the duty, the privilege bequeathed to him. 

And when Sara scooted closer and laid her head on his shoulder, he knew everything truly was lovely in the world. 

*****

✨happy✨ (and let me know if anything is canonically weird^^)

I hope there were enough kittens, Batwhacker :DDDD

Medical note: what Janner is dealing with in this chapter is called cerebellar degeneration. I did some research and discovered it was the potential result of fever-induced comatose (and by fever, I mean 107°F or more temperature, which is technically considered hyperthermia). It can be permanent or temporary. Janner's is obviously temporary (because I can't bear to make it permanent. This precious child is not being permanently damaged until the next story 😄), but something tells me the symptoms will be added to the list of "things that worsen when health deteriorates."

There will be a bit of a lull in between this story and the next, as I'm working on getting ahead with chapter writing, but hopefully the first chapter of "After Times of Tender Agony" will be coming soon.

To my readers, thank you so much for all of your comments and likes! I have cherished every single one <3 <3