Through Ages of Weary Fulfillment: Ch. 6

Reaching Ban Rona

Notes:

This chapter ended up being about 800 words longer than it was originally because there was a HUGE edit. So that's why it took longer than I wanted for it to be ready for approval 😅

*****

Even though their pace was rather slow, Janner felt his strength waning by the time they reached the clearing where they had first set up camp. Still, it was not even comparable to the day before, when they had made their first stop (at his request) only twenty minutes into their hike. That plus not having a strong desire to lean against a tree for support was something he counted as a win.

But, of course, without pure exhaustion distracting him, Kalmar and grief and his worry about Nia and even Sara took over, leading his mind around in circles that tired him more than walking had. He couldn’t show it on his face, though, because then Nia would ask him about it and he would either have to tell her the truth and feel guilty because she grieved far more than he did, or he would have to lie and spend the rest of the evening being fussed over again. 

A misplayed, particularly-high note on Leeli’s whistleharp, followed by a fit of giggles, drew him out of his thoughts and somewhat aimless meandering enough to see Leeli and Sara together (perhaps he needn’t be so worried about her; she seemed as though she connected with their family well), Nia looking into the contents of her pack as if trying to decide on what she could make, and Artham and  Oskar discussing something likely book related by a rather large boulder he hadn’t noticed before.

Suddenly, something swept over him and he staggered for a moment, wondering where the gust of wind had come from, before he realized it was not wind that knocked him off-balance, it was a gust in his mind: one of a vision. His eyes closed, he listened closely, hoping beyond hope that he would hear something familiar, something, or, rather, someone more than anything. Sounds of nature, of perfection, of wonder entered his mind and then…and then he began seeing things. 

Janner’s eyes flew open, though it did not distort the image in his mind. He saw the Maker’s World in as much majesty as he could on Aerwiar: the forests, the flowers, the seas. What he did not see were people. No trace of Kalmar or Esben or Podo or Wendolyn or Rudric or Nugget, none of them. Janner’s heart sank. He had longed to hear them yet—

Then his heart lurched and his mind throbbed, and he pressed his palm against his forehead automatically. How could he think such a thing? If there was anyone in their family who should see Kal, it was Nia. Nia was the one who needed closure, not him. How selfish was he?

The music from the whistleharp and the Maker’s World skipped as if a dissonant note was plucked, and everything faded except for Janner’s throbbing mind and the re-discovered need to seek support from a tree. When he opened his eyes to find said tree, though, he saw Hulwen and walked toward her, though now the trip across the clearing seemed an arduous one.

Artham headed the same direction as well and was ready the moment Hulwen began speaking. Janner wasn’t. Though her voice was far quieter than Yurgen’s had ever been, any dragon’s voice resounding in one’s mind could be a painful process.

The party has yet to reach Ban Rona, she began gently in terms of the dragon spectrum of gentleness. I believe it would do them some good to have the Throne Warden, High King, and Song Maiden of Anniera serving as diplomats in terms of discussing everything with the Hollish.

Artham said something in response, but Janner didn’t hear it over the aching in his head. He only heard, Throne Warden, High King, and Song Maiden of Anniera, echoing in his mind again and again. Oh, the words were the same but the people were not! Why was Kalmar gone? Why couldn’t he be there? He was the King, Janner was his Throne Warden. That was the way it was, and that was the way it would always be. In his heart, Janner knew he would never be king. He was a Throne Warden, first and foremost. 

He felt Artham’s hand on his shoulder and heard the words, “Janner, what do you think about Hulwen’s suggestion?”

Janner nodded dumbly in response while eyeing the blades of grass at his feet. “Yeah, it sounds great. We’ll do that,” he murmured, unwilling to raise his voice anymore than that for fear someone would realize how much the thought of ruling bothered him, even though the Maker had given His approval.

Even though he stared at the ground, he knew Artham trained his gaze on him. Then his uncle knelt, looking straight into his eyes, forcing Janner to blink; he hadn’t realized his vision had blurred.

“Was it the the music and window, I guess you might call it?” Artham asked softly. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice immediately; I was listening a bit too hard, I suppose.”

Janner shook his head and winced at the movement. “It’s not just that…it’s everything. Hearing Hulwen hurts, too. No offense,” he added sheepishly.

There was a rumble from Hulwen’s throat that sounded almost like a purr, and she dipped her head as if to tell him she understood without actually saying anything that would pain him further. Janner smiled and whispered, “thank you” for her consideration.

“Well we need to get to Ban Rona,” Artham continued. “Preferably before all of the former Cloven show up there. I’m guessing Clout would prefer a warning. Hulwen said she would take multiple trips for us. If you, Leeli, and Sara go now, Oskar can go next, and Nia and I can follow on the last trip.”

“In the words of Plog Dray,” Oskar spoke up. “‘No, my good fellow. You go second, and I’ll wait for third.’ You and Nia may be needed, far more than I will, at least in terms of diplomacy.”

Nia looked at him, aghast. “Oskar, you can’t stay out in the Blackwood alone for hours. You might get eaten by some wild animal!”

Oskar shook his head. “No, and I’m putting my foot down. You five need to be in Ban Rona more than I do.”

They realized it was useless to argue with him and dropped the subject. If Janner’s head hadn’t ached so much as Artham helped him and Leeli and Sara onto Hulwen’s back, he likely would have protested. The thought did not even occur to him, though, and they were soaring through the chilly, evening air on Hulwen before he noticed an extra cloak fastened around his shoulders that he was very grateful for in the end.

He did his best to stay awake as his mind grew more and more distant from reality, and even so nearly drifted off to sleep a few times. By the time they reached the Field of Finnley, where Hulwen alighted and let them slip off her back, their “goodbyes” and cries of “thank you” were nearly lost to his tired mind, though he did manage to think that it was disappointing that his first dragon ride was clouded by exhaustion.

Sara’s question of, “So now we just wait?” gave him enough motivation to rouse himself to a point of awareness.

“I don’t exactly know,” he replied uncertainly. “I mean…how long did the flight take?”

Leeli glanced at him quizzically. “You don’t know?”

Janner chuckled sheepishly. “I wavered between half-asleep and half-awake the entire time, so not really.”

“I don’t think it was much more than half an hour,” Sara mused, looking off into the distance as if trying to see Hulwen. “So your mother and Artham shouldn’t be more than an hour. What can we do in an hour?”

Shaking his head, Janner resisted the urge to sink onto the ground. The final battle of the war had been fought there, and he had suspicions as to whether the once-grass (now dirt) ground was fully cleaned from the massacre that had taken place. “I don’t know if we can do much. It’s too far to walk all the way to town, check and see if there’s a room in the inn, and come back.”

“I guess we’ll just have to wait,” Leeli sighed. “I would play my whistleharp but it seems too somber a place for something filled with joy.”

Sara shifted her gaze between both of them. “Wait, what happened here?”

Janner wanted to at least smile bitterly, but he didn’t even manage that. “The final battle of the war was fought here. Too many casualties, too many lives lost.” And now Kalmar was one of those lives, gone like the morning mist. Only unlike the morning mist, he would never come back.

An uneasy look settled in Sara’s eyes as soon as she heard they were standing somewhere that had been a war zone a little over a week earlier. “Maybe we can at least move to somewhere else?”

Leeli shook her head. “The battle was fought all over.”

Sara wasn’t done. “But grass means less trampling, and less trampling means less fighting, while more dirt means more trampling, and more trampling means more fighting, right? We’re standing on dirt right now…so can we go and stand in that grass over there?”

Glancing in the direction she pointed, Janner shrugged. “Sure, why not?” A few rocks that looked as though they would make good seats were in the area as well, and sitting down would be nice. 

As soon as they walked over though, he made sure to offer to Sara and Leeli first. Chivalry was not dead and would not die if he had anything to say about it. At first both girls said they were fine, but once Sara remembered that by chivalry’s code, Janner couldn’t sit until both of them did, she coaxed Leeli into listening, winking at Janner as soon as they were both seated comfortably on rocks.

Only the two were actually worth sitting on, so Janner opted for the grass next to one of the rocks, which ended up being more comfortable anyway. The side of the rock was far softer and more comfortable than he had expected, so comfortable in fact that he felt his eyelids drooping and no matter what he did, whether it was pinching himself or yawning or pulling up blades of grass or trying to listen to Sara and Leeli’s murmuring conversation, sleep took over his mind with ease.

The next thing Janner knew, someone whispered his name and clutched his shoulder as if trying to wake him. Opening his eyes groggily, he blinked the someone into focus. It turned out to be Artham, crouching next to him. 

“Uncle Artham?” he asked sleepily. “What is it?”

 “Hulwen got a bit of help from one of the other dragons, so your mother, Oskar, and I were able to come on the same trip. Do you think you can walk all the way to the Orchard Inn? Leeli said the room all of you stayed in before might still be available.”

Janner closed his eyes briefly before nodding. “Yeah, I can.”

He felt himself lifted to his feet a moment later, and soon he was walking (stumbling) with the rest of the family, Artham supporting him. Though his mind grew a bit more alert as they trudged onward, Janner knew his thoughts drifted and bordered on dreams more often than not, and his tired…everything never would have been able to get him anywhere on his own.

The urge to fall to the ground and curl up in sleep grew stronger as his energy waned, to the point at which one time, after drifting back into reality, he heard Nia murmur, “Artham, he’s asleep on his feet. Just…just carry him.”

Insisting against that certainly occurred to Janner, but by the time he worked out the words to do so (his…word creator wasn’t creating coherent thoughts correctly) the sensation of being picked up and carried like a child—not an infant, nor a deadweight, but a child—came over him, as did a wave of peace. Artham’s gentle murmur, “sleep now, it won’t hurt anything,” and the soft cloth rubbing against his cold face were the last two things he remembered before drifting into welcomed rest.

Wakefulness tip-toed in again at the sound of creaking wood, likely floorboards, painfully loud and seeming though they echoed forever. Janner thought he heard Nia whisper, “it's a miracle no one is staying here yet,” at the same time as the security of Artham's arms left him. 

More murmurs followed, some hushed as well, but he couldn't properly place any of it, not really. Oh, but he heard the whisper in his ear, quiet but not breathy, saying, “goodnight, Janner,” and he couldn't help but smile as sleep took over him again. 

Sara.

*****

When he woke the next morning, sunlight streamed in through the window, illuminating the familiar room of the Orchard Inn, one of the only two left somewhat undestroyed. They had stayed there, all of them, after Davion’s death, and the memory of it nearly brought tears to Janner's eyes. They had talked of rebuilding Chimney Hill, and Kal had told them all that another home awaited them. 

How cruel it seemed that the only one determined enough to speak up about Anniera would never live there, would never rule there as he deserved.

 Janner supposed it wasn't truly cruel, though. Kal had made his choice. He had chosen to stay with their Papa. Many would live in Anniera now, and someone would still rule over them. Me, he thought dejectedly, his heart aching and quivering in uncertainty at the thought. How was he supposed to be King? He didn't know any better than Kalmar had and now…now it was thrust upon him. It seemed as though that was how it would always be in life, having responsibilities thrust on him that he hadn’t the slightest idea of how to fulfill properly. 

Maker, please help me see this as a blessing, he prayed silently, closing his eyes and feeling a tear roll down the side of his face anyway. I don't want this. I want to be a Throne Warden. I understand that, better, at least, than being a king. But…since it is Your Will, please give me the strength to fulfill this task.

“Oh, Janner, you're awake. How are you?” he heard Nia say pleasantly, and he subtly removed the evidence of the tears from his face before sitting up to prove that he was still alive.

“I'm okay,” he said, pinching himself underneath the thick cloak that served as his blanket in lieu of wincing and revealing how hard the movement of sitting had been. Nia didn't need to know that. It wasn't necessary. 

She smiled at him as brightly as was expected (more brightly, actually) before speaking again, busying herself around the half-broken room of the Inn as she did so. “Artham left at dawn to meet with the people and take over the dragons’ job of escorting so they can join the others. Oskar, Sara, and Leeli went about an hour ago after breakfast to find Clout or Olumphia or someone who knows of their whereabouts to give them a preview of who is about to arrive on Ban Rona’s doorstep.”

Janner started at Nia's recollection of the time at which the latter three had left. “You had breakfast over an hour ago? Why didn’t you wake me?”

Nia laughed lightly. “Janner, I saved some for you, if that's what you're worried about.”

Shaking his head in frustration, Janner thoughtlessly began. “No, I wasn't worried about that at all. I'm not—”  he stopped himself, his face and throat and eyes burning as he thought about what he had almost said. Kalmar. He had almost said, I'm not Kalmar. Of course it was true, but it hurt. He couldn't breathe or think or move or do anything. He just sat there, staring at the wall just beyond Nia.

After a few minutes he shook himself and blinked the world back into focus and saw Nia aimlessly dusting the windowless windowsill. Janner forced himself up from the floor, using the wall as support, and walked unsteadily over to her. “Mama, I'm sorry,” he said quietly, shame burning in his heart. His guilt only increased when her eyes turned to look at him, grieved and despairing. “I didn't…I wasn't…”

Nia gently placed her hand on his cheek. “Janner, it's alright,” she whispered thickly. She jerked a bit, and as if realizing a terrible mistake she had made cleared her throat and continued more briskly. “But there are some leftovers over there. It's cold porridge so I don't know how much you'll want it, but I don't want you passing out when we join Oskar, Leeli, and Sara, so you'd best have it now.”

Feeling dreadfully helpless, Janner watched as Nia walked toward the place he had slept, likely planning on folding up the cloak that lay crumpled there. How could he help her if she wouldn't let anyone in? And what were they supposed to say to Clout when he asked where Kalmar was?

*****

Notes:

So the reason why Janner saw things in the vision instead of just hearing things is because in N!obE when Kal is out of commission because he...got himself Fanged...Janner ends up taking over that role. And he does an excellent job of seeing too, he goes all over the Ice Prairies and to the Phoob Islands! So, anyway, I'm going out on a limb and saying it's canonical that when the High King/Queen isn't able to do their job in the vision thing for whatever reason, the TW does it for them.

Anything non-canonical or weird about geographical things or anything else at all that seems out of place (other than Kal's demise...) please let me know so I can fix it! :)