“Come on,” Leeli said when Janner and Kal hesitated. The boys clambered up behind Leeli. The dragon’s hide was soft and cool to the touch. “You too, Mama.”
With a sigh, Nia climbed on behind the children. As soon as they were situated, Hulwen swam gracefully out to the Watercraw, keeping her four passengers well out of the sea. She ducked through an opening in the chain gate and weaved through the mass of empty Fang ships. It was eerie, like walking through a graveyard. Hulls bumped against one another, sounding as hollow as empty coffins.
When they were clear of the mass of ships, Hulwen increased her speed and swam toward a ship in the distance—the same one that had carried the children to the Hollows the day before, which already seemed an age ago.
When they reached the ship, the deck was clear.
They heard the Murgah’s voice before they saw her. “What do you want?” she shouted from the cabin on the foredeck. Her voice gurgled, as if she were talking with a mouthful of soup. Amrah and the Fangs were nowhere to be seen.
“What doyou want?” Kalmar asked.
“What have you done with our master?” she asked. She sounded desperate. “Where is he?”
“He’s dead,” Kalmar said. “It’s over.”
“Don’t come any closer!” she shrieked. “We have the stone!”
“And what do you plan to do with it?” Kalmar asked.
She laughed madly. “I’ll throw it into the sea!”
Kalmar flashed a smile at Janner and the others. “No! Don’t!” he said. “Whatever you do, don’t throw the stone into the sea!”
“I will if you don’t leave me be! I’ll never let you have it.”
“Bring us closer,” Kalmar whispered to Hulwen.
“I see you!” the Stone Keeper screamed. “I’ll do it!”
When Hulwen was close enough, Kalmar hopped over the rail of the ship and landed on the deck. Murgah and Amrah burst from the door—except it wasn’t Murgah and Amrah. They were the two most wretched and hideous cloven Janner had ever seen.
The old one, who had been Fanged once already, was now lumpy and greenish and covered with gills. Many fins covered her cheeks, neck, and shoulders, flapping like moth wings as she squelched forward on translucent pods where her feet should have been. The only thing about her still remotely human was her terrible, sneering face.
Amrah, on the other hand, still wore her robe, but she dragged herself foward on her belly, using bright red crab claws. Where her legs should have been, a long fish tail flapped on the deck. The gills on her neck opened and closed as she gasped for breath and bared her teeth. The satchel that held the ancient stone was slung over her shoulder.
“Hurry, daughter!” the Murgah-fish-thing gurgled, and she lurched to the opposite rail. With a cackling scream, she flopped over the side and splashed into the sea. Amrah clawed her way to the top of the rail and turned. Janner saw fear on her face, but it was quickly replaced by a look of hatred. She followed her mother into the sea.
Kalmar stared over the edge with his mouth hanging open. “That wasn’t exactly what I had in mind,” he said. “Are they . . . ?”
Hulwen dipped her head under the water and lifted it out again a moment later.They’re alive. But the Dark Sea of Darkness is a dangerous place, even for a sea dragon, she said.They won’t last long.
“But what about the stone?” Janner asked.
I’ll find it.
The amidships hatch popped open and the heads of several Green and Grey Fangs poked out. “Are they gone?” one of them asked. “They melded with a bunch of fish! Tried to get us to do the same.”
“It was gross,” another Fang said.
“Yeah, they’re gone,” Kalmar said as he retreated to the rail, ready to jump back to Hulwen if he needed to. “The war’s over. Gnag is dead.”
The Fang whispered to the others then spoke to Kalmar again. “Er, what do we do now?”
Kal’s head cocked to one side. He looked at Janner, but Janner only shrugged. “Well, I guess you can go away.”
The Fangs whispered among themselves, then the leader spoke again. “Where do we go?”
“I don’t know,” Kalmar said. “Just go away. Stop hurting people.”
“I’m not sure we can do that. Not without our old names.”
“The ones the Fang wrote down in the book?”
“Yes.”
“You’re telling me youwant to know your old names?”
“Some of us do.”
“I don’t!” one shouted from below. “I like being evil!”
“I’m sick of it,” said the first one. “But when I try to remember my old name, or where I came from, my head hurts. Everything gets squishy.”
“What if I gave you new names?”
The hatch lowered and Kalmar heard them whispering again. The conversation rose and fell in heated murmurs, then abruptly the voices hushed and the hatch popped open again. “Will they be good names?”
Kalmar shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess so. Why don’t you come out so we can talk about it? I have a dragon, so don’t do anything stupid.”
After a brief pause the hatch flipped wide open and twenty-three Fangs climbed onto the deck. Hulwen lifted her head so the Fangs could see her. They shrank back and held out their hands.
Janner had no idea what Kalmar was doing. Did he think that he could just give them a random name and the Fangs would suddenly be good again?Was it that simple?
It wasn’t.
87
Mercy
When word reached Ban Rona that there was a ship of Fangs heading into the harbor, there was little fear and much anger. Kalmar had asked that the chain at the Watercraw be lowered for the first time since the war began, and after some discussion with Guildmaster Clout (who had unintentionally become Rudric’s replacement), it was done. Four Hollish men and women mounted the towers at either side of the Craw and sent the chains hurtling to the sea. Hulwen conscripted the other dragons to help her clear away the empty Fang ships from the mouth of the Watercraw, and once the entryway was clear, a gold dragon towed the ship of Fangs into the harbor. A crowd of Hollowsfolk waited on the shore, every one of them holding a weapon.
As Hulwen guided the ship into its berth along the quay, Kalmar stood at the prow and explained.
“Hollowsfolk! There are seventeen Grey Fangs, five Green Fangs, and one very big Bat Fang in the belly of this ship. I don’t blame you if you want to execute them all right now.” Several Hollish warriors affirmed this with shouts, and Kalmar nodded. “But I know what it feels like to be Fanged. I’m only myself because Artham Wingfeather rescued me before I was given a name. So I propose that we show them the mercy of imprisonment rather than death.”
“Oy! What happens if they escape?” shouted Clout. “They’ve killed our countrymen. They’ll kill again, and you know it.”
Kalmar stiffened. “They’ve asked for mercy. We should give it—as the Maker has given it to us.”
“These monsters killed our people,” a woman shouted. “Our families!”
“I know,” Kalmar said. “But these monsters—they used tobe someone’s family. They just—they lost their way. Maybe we can do more than just defeat Gnag. Maybe we can undo what he’s done.”
The Hollowsfolk shook their heads and muttered, and though they eventually agreed to send the Fangs to the dungeon, Kalmar could see they did so begrudgingly.
“That went well,” Leeli said with a smile.
“This might be a terrible idea,” Kalmar said, “but I’ve got to try.”
A group of men boarded the ship and Kalmar opened the midships hatch. “We’re taking you to the dungeon,” Kalmar called down. “This won’t be pleasant, I’m afraid.”
In the dark of the hold, Janner could see the Fangs only by the sunlight reflected in their eyes. Even with Gnag dead, he couldn’t shake the fear that they might leap forth with a snarl and try to kill them all. But they didn’t. They crept out one at a time and were passive as the Holl
ish men wrenched their arms behind their backs and secured them with shackles.
One by one, the Green and Grey Fangs (and one tall, silent Bat Fang) were lowered down from the ship and led through the crowd. The Hollowsfolk watched in silence as the Fangs, heads down and arms bound, passed through the city their kind had destroyed. The sight evoked too many emotions for the Hollowsfolk to express anything but silent grief.
The walls of the Great Hall were damaged, but the old tree had held and kept it from total ruin. When the rubble blocking the doors to the lower level was cleared away, Kalmar and Clout led the prisoners to their cells. Janner followed, feeling an unexplainable need to be near his brother.
When they reached the lowest corridor, he heard the inhuman snarling of the Fang that had been there all along: Nuzzard. Kalmar stopped in the hall, ears twitching.
“What is it?” Clout asked.
“Nothing,” Kalmar said.
Kalmar led the train of Fangs past the cell without looking inside it. But when Janner passed at the rear of the procession, he stopped and peeked through the caged window to see the thing that made such a racket. He looked on a shriveled, pitiful beast, in much worse condition than when Janner had seen it upon their arrival in the Hollows. Its fur had fallen out in patches and it crouched in a corner, whipping its head about madly. It was as if everything human in the Fang had evaporated, leaving only a mindless and soulless beast behind.
No wonder Kalmar was afraid, Janner thought. He was afraid of becomingthis. Was this what lay in store for the other Fangs? Was this what lay in store for Kalmar?
Clout consigned the Fangs to individual cells and locked the doors. When he was satisfied that they were all secure, he led Janner and Kalmar out of the dungeon. “What’s your plan here, guildling?”
“I don’t have a plan,” Kalmar answered. “I just don’t want to kill them.”
“But you know they’ll only get worse. Like the other one.”
“Yeah. Unless I can stop it.”
“Why would you want to?” Clout asked.
“Because I’m not Gnag, I guess.”
“And you really think they want to change?” Clout asked.
“Not all of them. But if some of them do, then maybe—I don’t know. Maybe there’s hope. There might be an Annieran or a Skreean or even someone from the Hollows in there who wishes they had never been fanged in the first place.”
“It won’t work.” Clout pushed through the doors to the Great Hall and left the brothers alone.
Kalmar sighed and sat on a chunk of stone that had fallen from the ceiling. “Do you think I’m a fool, Janner?”
Janner sat beside him. “No. But I’d like to know what you plan to do.”
“I need to get back to Anniera.”
“Right. The beautiful Shining Isle,” Janner said wryly, kicking a loose stone across the floor. “They say one gets used to the smoke after a while.”
“And the ash-covered hills. So lovely.”
“Don’t forget the Castle Rysen. They say its ruins are beautiful in the spring.”
Kalmar’s smile faded and he toed at the rubble. “What a mess.”
“Well, whatever it is you’re planning, I’m with you.” Janner punched Kalmar in the shoulder. “I have to keep you out of trouble.”
The boys found Nia and Leeli near the Great Library, helping a distressed Oskar sort through heaps of wet books. The Hollowsfolk had resumed their cleanup and Janner heard them singing at their work several streets away.
“Mama, can we leave?” Kalmar asked.
Nia looked up from her book pile with surprise. “What do you mean,leave?”
Kalmar nodded. “I want to go home.”
“You mean Anniera.” Nia looked at each of her children, then at Oskar, who was buried up to his waist in books. “I was hoping you’d say that. Oskar, do you want to join us?”
“Books,” Oskar said without looking up.
“You don’t have to come. And if you want to join us later, it’s a short sail away. There won’t be any books in Anniera, I’m afraid.”
“There’s so much to do.” Oskar removed his spectacles and gestured at the piles. “I’ll come. Just wait a moment while I figure out where to placeSmoodge’s Finest Plays, Poems, and Porridge Recipes. There are so many options, you know! It could go in Poetry, of course. But it also belongs with Hollish Delectables. So much to do!”
“And you’re the one to do it,” Kalmar said. “They need you here.”
“But—” Oskar said.
“That’s a command from the king,” Janner said.
Kalmar waved his hand at the scattered books. “Ban Rona needs a Head Librarian.”
“And Anniera needs a king.” Oskar nodded. “Hugs,” he said with a sniffle. “I need to hug.” He tried to extract himself from his pile but failed, so the children climbed over them and embraced the old man. He patted their backs and squeezed each of them, saying, “In the words of . . .” over and over without thinking of a single quote.
“We’ll see you soon,” Janner said.
“Please do,” Oskar blubbered.
Nia leaned over and lifted Oskar’s white stringy hair from his pate, then planted a kiss. Oskar was stunned, then bowed his head and wept as the Jewels of Anniera and their mother made their way to the water.
88
Sailing Home
The Wingfeathers told few people they were leaving. Leeli insisted that they find Thorn, which took only a few moments once she whistled for a dog and sent it to fetch him. He arrived at the quay with Baxter and Frankle on his heels.
“You’re off, then,” he said.
“Yes. But not forever. It’s just that we—”
“I understand. Let me get my Pa.”
Without another word, Thorn left the dogs with Leeli and trotted up the street to where the work was being done. “Where is he going?” Leeli wondered aloud. Thorn returned a few minutes later with Biggin O’Sally and Kelvey.
“Thorn said you was leaving,” Biggin said.
“Were,” Nia corrected.
“Thorn said you was leavingwere.” Biggin shrugged. “I figured that to be the case. I don’t know much about sailing, but Kelvey does. He has a double guild in houndry and sailery, with a lesser in muffinry.” He pointed to a small boat on the north end of the pier where the damage was less severe. “Ship’s ready to sail.”
Biggin left no room for argument, and Nia and the children followed them without protest. They soon found themselves under sail in a gentle wind, heading through the Watercraw and toward open sea. It was a small ship, but plenty big enough for the seven of them to fit comfortably on the deck. Thorn sat next to Leeli, chatting about Frankle’s newfound obedience, while Kelvey took the helm and directed the boys.
After longing to see the Shining Isle for so many years, then seeing it as Gnag’s prisoners for so short a time, Janner felt oddly unexcited. The seas were calm—especially so after the stormy voyage the day before—and Kelvey estimated that they’d arrive well before sunset.
Janner leaned against the rail and listened to the grownups talk for a while, then his eyes grew heavy and he made a pillow from his Durgan cloak and lay on the starboard bench. The feel of the wind and the warm sun, the sound of pleasant chatter, and the rocking of the boat sent him into a deep sleep in which he dreamed of his father and Uncle Artham at play on white shores.
Nia’s whisper woke him. “We’re almost there.”
Janner sat up and yawned as Leeli handed him a hunk of sweetbread and a handful of shadberries. The sun stared at them from low in the west, glowing orange in a field of purple and blue. Kalmar sat at the bow, resting his chin on the rail. Beyond him, Janner watched Anniera rise from the sea.
Waves spewed up from the feet of the cliffs on either side of a little bay—the same one from which they had embarked the day before. He wasn’t sure if it was his imagination, but there seemed to be less smoke, less desolation than there had been the day before. The lan
d visible between the cliffs was still blackened, and smoke still rose in tendrils, but he was at least able to see the graceful shape of the island. It was easy to imagine how beautiful it would be if it were green and lush.
There was no shiver in his bones, no tingle in his spine as the ship floated into the bay’s still waters where the River Rysen met the sea. He didn’t feel the thrill he had always imagined when the boat thumped into the dock and he and his family set foot on the Shining Isle at last, without Gnag or his minions to defy them.
And yet, he wasn’t disappointed. Janner wasn’t interested in the feeling of being home as much as the actuality of it. He wanted to help his family build a life here. He wanted to roam the island unafraid, to see the seasons turn from year to year. Oh, how he wanted to bestill. No more running, no more terror, no more anxiety or troubled dreams. Just this one place in all the world into which the word “home” would fit unlike anywhere else.
Janner, Kalmar, Leeli, and Nia stood together on the sand while the O’Sallys tended the ship. The only sound was water: waves tickling the shore and tears causing Nia to sniffle. She hadn’t been home since Gnag had first attacked nine years before. Podo had said they floated down the River Rysen with a wall of fire on either side, weeping at the death of Wendolyn and the injury to Leeli’s leg and the certain death of so many Annierans.
Janner could see those memories playing out on Nia’s face and sending tears streaming down her cheeks. She took a step forward and collapsed to the sand. Janner and Kalmar helped her to her feet.
“It’s over, Mama,” Leeli said.
“Is it?” Nia wiped her nose with her sleeve and shook her head.
“Yes,” Kalmar said. “And it’s beginning, too. We’re home.”
Janner took Nia’s hand and led her up from the shore, along a path carved into the rock. The O’Sallys and the dogs joined them. Baxter and Frankle bounded from stone to stone, trying to smell everything at once. When they all reached the crest of the sea cliff, they came upon the ruins of several buildings.
The Warden and the Wolf King Page 41
