“Come with me,” Kalmar said. “If you don’t want what I’m offering, I’ll leave you here and you’ll die anyway—either at the hands of the Hollowsfolk or the ridgerunners or each other. Or you can come with me. If you do that,” Kal spread his hands, “then all I have is yours.”
A fendril sang in the distance. Kalmar kept talking about healing, but Janner didn’t think it was possible to un-Fang the Fangs. Did he think that giving them names would make them more human—like Kalmar and Artham were? Janner tried to imagine the Shining Isle teeming with Fangs and cloven, but in all his dreams of Anniera, he never pictured it the way Kalmar proposed. Even if the creatures were tamer somehow, it was still offensive. Nor did Janner believe a single Fang of Dang would willingly lay down his life at Kalmar’s feet. Looking out at the hairy, scaly, and bat-winged horde that stank up the Field of Finley, he began to worry that Kalmar had lost his wits.
Kalmar climbed back into the houndrick and raised his voice. “If you accept my terms, then follow me to the ships. If not, I leave you to your own ends.”
He shook the reins and drove the hounds up the hill toward Ban Rona. Janner followed, wanting to look over his shoulder but keeping his eyes on his brother. He heard the cloven close behind, snorting and whispering among themselves. When they crested the hill, Janner could stand it no longer. He reined up the hounds and turned.
Most of the Fangs were still in a cluster on the field, but every few seconds more of them broke away and made their way toward the city. One of the Grey Fangs howled and gestured mockingly at those who were leaving, then led the rest of the Fangs away in the direction of the Blackwood. In the end, fewer than half the Fangs joined them.
By the time the first stars appeared, the Field of Finley was empty. A gust of wind breathed on the valley and scattered the remaining ashes of Gnag the Nameless. The ashes settled among the new grass and clover, where they would lie silent for all the epochs to come.
92
Sailing Home (Again)
When the boys led the procession past the Guildling Hall, they found Clout waiting with a contingent of Durgans. The men each held a torch in one hand and a weapon in the other. Clout’s face was red with anger.
“Keeper Clout,” Kalmar said with a nod as a contingent of cloven shuffled by.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Clout demanded.
“I told you I would take them, sir.”
“But,” Clout said, looking from Janner to Kalmar to the cloven and Fangs moving silently by. “But—”
“I need the Fangs in the dungeon, sir,” Kalmar said. “All of them. We’ll be gone as soon as we can.” Kalmar dismounted the houndrick and walked with the Fangs down the hill to the first streets of the city.
“What does he think he’s doing?” Clout asked Janner.
“I honestly don’t know, sir,” Janner said.
“He’s just going to—to set them free? To let them live? They killed thousands! They killed yourfather.”
“I know who killed my father,” Janner said evenly. “But I also know that Kal is building a kingdom.”
“A kingdom of monsters,” Clout muttered.
Janner climbed out of his houndrick. “They say that the people of Anniera were a people of song. They say that Annierans sang in the fields, that joy flowed through the land like the River Rysen.”
“Oy. What of it?”
“If Kalmar can make them whole again,” Janner said as he watched a young man shuffle by with a digtoad cloven at his side, “maybe he can give them something to sing about.” Janner joined the procession and walked down the hill toward the city.
“Wait!” Clout called. “Is that all of the Fangs?”
“No, sir. A few hundred of them headed for the Blackwood and the mountains,” Janner said over his shoulder. “Enough to keep the Durgan Patrol busy.”
Janner caught up with Kalmar at the Great Hall and followed him into the dungeon. The guards gave them no trouble and watched, dumbstruck, as Kalmar opened the cells. He gathered the Fangs together and explained his offer, and every one of them agreed to follow the Wolf King to Anniera.
“Janner, wait,” Kalmar said, as the Fangs filed out of the dungeon in silence. “There’s one more.”
Janner knew whom he meant. The boys made their way deeper into the dungeon and peered into Nuzzard’s cell. The ragged beast crouched in one corner, watching the boys with malice.
“Kal, I don’t think this is a good idea. It’s too dangerous.”
“I have to try.” Kalmar unlocked the door, and it swung open slowly.
Janner backed up and drew his sword. But the thing’s eyes never left Kalmar’s face, and it made no movement other than its papery panting. Kalmar crouched in front of the Fang and reached out his hand. Nuzzard cringed, then held still as Kalmar touched its shoulder.
“I want to take you home. Is that all right?”
The Fang’s stillness was its answer. As Janner watched, Kalmar knelt and slowly, slowly gathered the creature into his arms. Frail as the old Fang was, Kalmar carried it easily out of the dungeon. He passed the Nuzzard Fang to the first Grey Fang he saw. “Keep this one safe. Please see that it gets food and water.”
The Grey Fang looked down at the shriveled beast in its arms and nodded with what Janner thought looked like pity. The Hollowsfolk hid in their broken houses and peeked out of windows as the boys walked with the solemn parade to the shore where Biggin O’Sally waited. Biggin looked as confounded as Clout.
“Oy, King Kalmar,” Biggin said, eyeing the Fangs warily. “I tried to find help, but no one wanted to leave Ban Rona so soon with so much to be done. I have to admit,” he added, “I’m not real keen on leaving, either.”
“We have all the help we’ll need,” Kalmar said.
“I didn’t say I wasn’t coming,” Biggin said. “I’m only staying long enough to get you settled in. This is all for you.” He indicated a pile of supplies: sacks full of totato, clumpentine, sweetberry, greenion, and zingrid seeds; a wagonload of hoes and rakes, saws, hammers, bags of nails; and several more crates full of dried winter fruit. There was also a pack of dogs. “People mean to help Anniera as best as they can, but I’m afraid they’re staying put for now.”
“We’re grateful,” Janner said. “But Leeli will be heartbroken without Thorn.”
“Oy, I wouldn’t worry about that,” Biggin said. “He aims to marry her as soon as their age befits. He loves her real bad.”
Since it was clear that the Hollowsfolk were eager to get the Fangs out of the city, Elder Cadwick suggested that they waste no time boarding the ships. Janner helped divide the passengers into groups and figured out which of the Fangs knew enough to crew each boat. By dawn, every Fang ship was loaded and sailing out of the harbor. The last ship carried Janner, Kalmar, and Biggin O’Sally, along with Elder Cadwick and his family, Queen Arundelle and several of her tiny thwappish and gulpswallow courtiers, and a crew of Green and Grey Fangs.
Janner gave the order to push away from the quay, and only then did the Hollowsfolk emerge from their homes to watch the fleet sail through the Watercraw and into the Dark Sea of Darkness. Janner didn’t blame the Hollowsfolk for their distrust. Their wounds were deep and would be slow to heal.
The Fangs, to Janner’s surprise, seemed less evil that morning than they had the night before. He suspected it was because they were used to following orders. Their leader had been wicked, so they had been trained in wickedness. Now that they had submitted to Kalmar’s authority, they reflected his goodwill, even if unintentionally.
There was growling from time to time, and more than one fight broke out; a few of the Fangs even had changes of heart and jumped ship to swim back to their comrades. Kalmar didn’t try to stop them; even if they made it back to shore, there would only be angry Hollowsfolk to greet them. But after a few hours on the open sea, their restlessness faded and even the Fangs who had second thoughts realized there was no point trying to go back.
Kalmar
kept to himself. He spoke when spoken to, and smiled at Janner’s occasional expressions of concern. Something was surely wrong, but whatever it was, Janner couldn’t deny that it seemedright, too. Kalmar was at peace in a way that Janner had never seen, even if it was a peace marked by a strange sorrow. When Kalmar retreated to the captain’s cabin, Janner followed. He wanted to be near his brother, and though they said few words, Kalmar welcomed his company.
Several hours later, Cadwick knocked on the cabin door.
“Your Highness,” he said. “We have spotted land.”
The boys stepped out into the bright sun and stood at the rail beside Cadwick and Arundelle. Her leaves had grown greener by the hour, rustling in the sea breeze. Her branches blew back from her face like long strands of silver-green hair.
“I remember it all,” she said. “The cliffs. The white shores. The green hills. Music running out on the wind to greet us.”
“Listen,” Kalmar said.
A low melody rose from the sea and circled around them like a mist. As the harbor came into view, Janner caught glimmers of red and blue, gold and green, sparkling in the cove. The sea dragons whirled and spun over the water. They sang as they danced, just as they had each year below the cliffs at Glipwood—except that now, when they burst from the water, they soared on gilded wings, twisting and whirling in spirals high above the waves, before diving into the sea again.
Hulwen led the dance. When the she-dragon spotted the coming ships, she sang out, higher than the rest, and flew toward them. As she glided overhead, Janner noticed another sound woven through the strands of dragon song: a whistleharp.
“Leeli!” Janner shouted, and the two brothers waved as Hulwen flew over them with Leeli on her back. Their sister called back, but the dragon song was so deep and close that it drowned out her voice.
The dragons escorted the fleet—some of them swimming, some flying—under bales of billowing, sun-shot clouds. The cloven on the decks clamored and grunted happily, doing their broken best to sing along, while the Fangs plugged their ears and grimaced.
Hulwen landed at the water’s edge and lowered Leeli to the dock. Hardly able to contain her glee, Leeli slid down and hopped to where Nia waited.
When the boys approached, Nia hugged them as if they had been gone for years. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” she said quietly as the first of the Fangs disembarked.
The dragons fell silent and floated in the sea, watching with curiosity as the Fangs and cloven began the slow, clumsy process of docking their ships and coming ashore. Some jumped overboard and swam, while others held back, still unsure of their decision to come.
Kalmar waved Hulwen over to the end of the dock and she raised her head till it was level with his. Janner couldn’t hear what Kalmar said, but Hulwen’s voice filled his head.
Yes, King Kalmar. I’ll bring it in the morning. Hulwen nodded, then swam away.
Kalmar jogged over to Nia and Janner as Cadwick approached.
“My queen,” Cadwick said. “It is good to be home.”
“This is Arundelle,” Janner said as the tree woman approached, her roots caressing the soil, burrowing for water.
“Arundelle,” Nia said with a smile. “You, I remember.”
“Your Highness.” The gray bark of Arundelle’s cheeks stretched to a smile. “I would bow, but—” Her leaves quivered as she laughed and bent her trunk a little.
“My boys tell me you’re the Queen of Clovenfast.”
“Iwas the queen,” Arundelle said. “I would rather serve you and yours the rest of my life than rule in Clovenfast for another day.”
“Elder Cadwick,” Kalmar said, “tell the cloven and the Fangs to gather in the morning at the Castle Rysen.”
“What shall I tell them is to happen?”
Sadness flashed over Kalmar’s face again before he spoke. “I’m going to keep my promise.”
Nia and Janner exchanged a worried glance as Thorn ambled over to them.
“Here you go,” Thorn said, handing Leeli her crutch.
“Thanks,” Leeli said with a blush. She had done a lot of blushing lately. “Are you coming back to the castle with us?”
“I think I’ll stay and help Pa and Kelvey with the supplies. We’ll sleep on one of the ships tonight.” Thorn grinned, and Janner realized it was the first time he had ever seen it happen. “See you tomorrow, Song Maiden.”
Leeli turned a deep shade of red as Thorn and the dogs headed to the docks.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Song Maiden,” Kalmar said in a high-pitched voice, and Leeli punched him in the shoulder.
“We should get moving if we want to be back at the castle before dark,” Nia said. “On the way, Kalmar, you can tell me what in Aerwiar is going on.”
The Wingfeathers walked back to the Castle Rysen through fields of white flowers as the Fangs and cloven amassed on the shore.
93
Morning at Castle Rysen
After Janner and Kalmar told Nia about the gathering of Fangs on the Field of Finley and the trip to Clovenfast, the Wingfeathers walked in silence along the River Rysen. The white flowers turned pink as the sky blazed, and fish splashed on the surface of the river from time to time. Janner’s heart was more content than it had ever been, leaping with joy whenever his eyes fell on some new beauty of the Shining Isle. Little skonks darted under logs, nibbling on the flowering vines; fendrils soared overhead; owls hooted and swooped silently among blackened trees, snatching mice from the riverbanks. The island had burned, but it was far from dead.
The land rose gently from the river and the sea to the knoll where the Castle Rysen had stood. Already little paths were visible around the castle, trails threaded through the white flowers where Leeli and Nia had walked, as if their footsteps had begun to write a new story into the island’s book. The shape of the land, too, was pleasant and soft, with hills not so dramatic as those in the Green Hollows, but wide and easy and visible for miles as it spread to the sea.
“I still don’t understand what’s happening,” Leeli said as they settled around a lantern on the floor of the cellar that evening. “I mean—you’re just going to give them all new names?”
“Sort of,” Kalmar said. “It’s hard to explain. The Maker—” He looked at Nia bashfully. “The Maker said I would know what to do when the time came.”
“How can you be sure the Fangs won’t change their minds and attack?” Nia asked.
“I can’t. But you saw them,” Kalmar said. “They’re lost. They don’t know what to do without Gnag bossing them around.”
“And what if they go crazy?” Leeli asked. “You told us that it happened to you, just like it does to Uncle Artham.”
“I think thatwillhappen if we wait too long.” He sighed and stared up at the lamplight flickering on the ceiling. “All I can tell you is that the Maker told me to bring them here. I know what goes on in someone’s head when they’re Fanged. It’s terrible. It’s a dark, bottomless feeling in your gut, and it seems like the only way to survive is to sing the song and accept the melding. I’m ashamed I didn’t fight harder back in the Phoobs, but I was confused. And hopeless.” He closed his eyes. “And to be honest, a part of me reallydid want the power the Stone Keeper promised. It seemed better than torture or death. When you run out of hope, everything is backwards. Your heart wants the opposite of what it needs.”
“So you think these Fangs can just turngood again?” Nia asked.
“I don’t know.” Kalmar shook his head in frustration. “Actually, I do know. But I can’t explain. You’ll just have to trust me. Please?”
“I trust you,” Janner said. “But to be honest, I’m dreading tomorrow.”
“Me too,” Kalmar said.
“Well, I think you’re very brave,” Leeli said matter-of-factly as she lay down. “No one else would have thought twice about trying to help all those Fangs.” Leeli yawned. “I wish Grandpa was here.”
“Me too,” Kalmar said again.
&nbs
p; Nia blew out the lantern and lay down beside the Jewels of Anniera. “I love you three,” she said after a while. “There’s nothing to do but sleep. Tomorrow, we’ll see what tomorrow holds.”
“Breakfast,” Kalmar mumbled in a sleepy voice.
Janner lay awake for a long time. He thought about the Fane of Fire, just on the other side of the ancient door, where the world was made of light. He wished they could open that door and let the light out.
He wondered what was going on in Kalmar’s head. Most of all, he wondered why Kalmar seemed so troubled, and why his own heart was so heavy with worry over whatever would happen in the morning.
They were home at last, but in a way that he never would have guessed: sleeping in the ruins of the Castle Rysen with a thousand Fangs and cloven gathered on the island.
Janner woke before dawn, troubled by a dream he couldn’t remember. He sat up and knew somehow that Kalmar was gone. He tiptoed over Nia and Leeli and climbed the stairs out of the cellar.
The sky glimmered with stars so close he was tempted to try to touch them. The air was cool and still, and all the world was hushed with the anticipation of the coming sun.
Janner wandered the ruins of the castle, trying in vain to be quiet in all that stillness, and eventually climbed atop a broken wall where he could see the land below glowing faintly with the starlight caught in the flowers’ open palms.
Then he spotted Kalmar, a shadow drifting along the slope. Janner didn’t call for him but watched for a while, wondering what Kalmar was doing but not wanting to disturb him. Then he realized Kalmar was moving his way. Of course. Those wolf eyes and that acute sense of smell had probably sensed Janner’s presence the moment he had climbed from the cellar.
Kalmar came near, quiet as a cloud, and stood beside Janner, looking out at the array of starry flowers. “I’m scared,” he said.
Since Janner had no words, the best he had to offer was his presence. The two of them leaned against the remains of a wall. Janner’s mind was too full of questions and confusion to sleep, but Kalmar’s head nodded. It hung low, his snout nearly resting on his chest, then Kal changed positions and rested his head on Janner’s shoulder. Normally, Janner would have shoved him away, but Kalmar’s furry warmth was welcome. Besides, the Wolf King, for all his bravery and newfound leadership, was still just an eleven-year-old boy. Janner eased his arm around his little brother and held him close.
The Warden and the Wolf King Page 44
