On the Edge of the Dark Sea of Darkness (26 page)

50

The Throne Wardens

I
was the queen,” Nia said. “You three,” she let out a long, tearful sigh, “are all that is left of the great kingdom across the sea.”

“The Jewels of Anniera,” Peet whispered, and he bowed so low his forehead touched the floor.

Podo, to their amazement, did the same.

Janner thought about the picture of his father at the prow of the boat, arms spread as wide as his smile.
A king? And not just any king, but the king of Anniera?

Janner could scarcely believe what was happening. He didn't believe it, in fact. But he
knew
it. And now he realized that he had always known it, but the thought hit him with as much fear as wonder.

“So, if my father's dead, then that means…I'm…king?” Janner stammered.

Nia looked at him carefully. “No, son. No, you're not.”

Janner's cheeks flushed.

“It's all right, dear,” she said, placing a hand on his arm. “You see, in Anniera, the kingship is passed over the eldest son. For as long as there have been rulers in Anniera, the position of highest distinction is that of protector. Too many kingdoms have fallen because of envy, greed, and lust for power. So the second-born wears the crown.” She looked at Tink. “Your brother is the rightful heir to the throne.”

Tink blushed and averted his gaze from his mother's placid eyes.

Janner felt an unwelcome shiver of envy in his belly.

“But a great honor is bestowed on the eldest,” Nia continued, taking Janner's hand. “The eldest son, upon the birth of the younger, becomes the protector of the king. It is his life's duty to serve and defend the younger from all harm. He is trained in battle, and his name is praised in every home in the kingdom.”

Janner thought about all the pressure his mother and Podo had put on him to watch over Tink and Leeli. Not a day had gone by that they hadn't told him that it was his duty as the older brother to take care of them. It had always felt so stifling, and now he imagined his future as a groveling old man, chained to his brother forever, unable to do anything for himself—a lifetime of fretting over his reckless younger brother and crippled sister, while Tink reigned and Leeli did—well, whatever she wanted.

Nia sensed her son's thoughts. She took Janner's face in her hands and fixed her eyes on his. “It is no small thing to be a Throne Warden of Anniera. They have been sung about by bards for a thousand years and are accorded a place of honor like no other kingdom—like no other king—in the world—not because they're lords, but because they're servants. There were many days when your father wished he were a Throne Warden and not the High King.”

But Janner had stopped listening. The burning envy in his chest cooled when he remembered something he had seen in one of Peet's journals.

“Throne Warden?” Janner said.

“Yes, it's the name for—”

“Artham P. Wingfeather, Throne Warden of Anniera,” Janner said.

Peet lifted his head from the floor.

“Yes, my lord,” he said to Janner.

Tink gasped. “But, that would make you—”

“Our uncle!” Leeli finished.

“Yes, Lady Leeli,” said Peet, bowing to the floor again. Podo was watching Peet with a surly eye. His good humor was fading.

“That's enough, Artham,” Podo said, trying for Nia's sake not to sound too gruff.

“But what happened to you? To your arms?” Janner asked.

“That's something I've been wanting to ask him myself,” Nia said, turning to Peet.

But Peet shook his head violently. He scooted back against the wall of the tree house and fixed them all with such a look of terror that Janner leapt to his feet. Peet took in rapid, shallow gulps of air and was covered with sweat.

“Back up!” Podo said to the children. They scrambled to the wall of the tree house, and Podo put himself between them and Peet. Nia laid a hand on Podo's arm and stepped slowly over to the Sock Man.

“Shh,” she whispered to him. “Artham. Artham, it's me, Nia. You're safe.” Her voice seemed to have a calming effect even on the wind outside, and the rain fell slower. Peet gazed at her and his breathing eased a bit with each intake. She sat down beside him and pulled him tight. She held him like a mother holds a child who has woken from a nightmare, and like a child, Peet let his eyes finally droop shut. He was soon asleep. Nia's eyes shone with sadness as she held him.

“You should have seen him in Anniera, when he was Throne Warden,” she said quietly. “His hair was as black as midnight, and he was in the eye of every maiden of the kingdom. He wrote the most beautiful poetry. He wrote high tales and silly poems and read them to you, Janner and Tink, when you lay in your cribs at night. Your father used to say that there wasn't a better man in the kingdom than his brother Artham.”

Peet whimpered in his sleep.

“Shh,” Nia said again.

The children eased back from the edges of the room.

Podo sat down with a huff, shaking his head. “He's dangerous, Nia.”

“He would die before he would hurt these children, Papa.”

“But what happened to him?” Janner asked.

“We don't know,” Nia said. “When Gnag and his army attacked Anniera, they drove us into Castle Rysen, at Dorminey, in the center of the kingdom. That was where we made our home.” Nia stared at the rain streaming down the tree house window glass. “The Fangs, trolls, and other foul beasts that we'd never before seen had breached the wall—Leeli, you had just been born. Janner, you were three; Tink, you were two. Your father told Peet to take us and go. There was an ancient escape route, a secret way out of the palace that led to the River Rysen and then to the Dark Sea. But your father wouldn't leave. He said that he would fight as long as he could, and then he would meet us at the river.”

“Your father,” Podo said, “insisted that we go. He said there was something in the palace that he had to get. Something he had to keep out of Gnag's hands.”

“And you don't know what it was?” said Janner.

“No idea,” Podo said.

“See, children,” Nia explained, “it was in Peet's blood and bones to protect his brother. It's the very breath of a Throne Warden.”

Janner and Tink glanced at one another awkwardly.

“But your father ordered him to see us safe to the river. Peet didn't know what to do. He loved us all and wanted to help us, but he couldn't bear the thought of leaving his brother behind. The monsters were in the palace, and they were looking for us. Artham—Peet—left your father—but only in order to help us.” Nia stroked Peet's face. “It may have been the hardest thing he's ever done.

She was silent a moment, the only sound the pattering of rain against the windows.

“He swore to return once we were safe,” she said, lost in memory. “Peet fought through the Fangs and led us to the secret exit where your grandfather was to meet us with a boat. I held you, Leeli. Janner, you were old enough to hold my hand and keep up. Tink, my mother carried you.”

Podo looked away.

“Our grandmother?” Leeli was suddenly wide-eyed. “She knew us?”

“Aye,” said Podo, his voice thick with sorrow. “And she'd know you now if it wasn't fer that uncle of yours.” Podo spat.

“Papa, enough!”

Podo wiped a tear from his face.

Janner had never seen him cry.

“We got to the riverbank before your grandfather,” Nia continued. “Fangs and trolls came out of nowhere and attacked us. Peet was the finest swordsman in the kingdom, but even he couldn't fight back that many.” She paused to push down the lump in her throat. “Mama—your grandmother—was killed.”

“But how could you blame Peet for that?” Janner said. “You just said that there were too many Fangs.”

Podo glowered at Peet, his eyebrows quivering, and an uncomfortable silence followed.

“What happened to her was no one's fault,” Nia said firmly. “That's all that needs to be said.” Podo sputtered a protest, but the look in Nia's eye silenced him. She turned to Leeli and placed a hand on her cheek. “Peet held them off as best he could while we boarded, but—one of the Fangs grabbed you, dear.” She took Leeli's hand. “He tried to tear you from my arms, and…”

“My leg,” Leeli breathed.

“I'm sorry,” Nia whispered. She covered her eyes and struggled to keep her composure. Leeli scooted over to her.

“It's okay, Mama,” Leeli said. “I have Nugget now.”

Nia took a deep breath and hugged Leeli tight.

“We made our way down the river,” Nia said after a moment. “Peet ran back through the Fangs and into the palace to find your father, even as it burned. The last I saw of Anniera was fire and death. We sailed the river for hours to the estuary at the Dark Sea and saw nothing but towering flames on either side of the river.”

“I couldn't see anything,” Podo said, staring out at the storm. “I was sailing on a black river between walls of fire. We rode the River Rysen all the way to the Dark Sea. Gnag had sacked every village we passed, and I saw things I'll never forget, though the Maker knows I've tried to.” He was silent a moment. “When we got to the sea, we asked the Maker to guide us, to protect the Jewels of Anniera, and I tell you, he did. He sent up a mighty storm that nearly tore that little ship to pieces. The waves were high mountains, and sea critters like I'd never seen churned up from the deep and watched us pass with eyes as big as a house. I've never been so afraid, and I tell ye I felt like the Maker had cursed us sure. But when the storm cleared, I saw we were better off than before—we were in the Phoob Islands, just north and east of here, on the other side of Fingap Falls. We had crossed the Dark Sea in
five days.
That's something I've never told anybody for worry that they'd think I was crazy. And besides, we were in a little skiff with naught but one sail. It's impossible, I tell ye.” Podo spread his hands. “But here we are.”

He looked at his grandchildren intently. “Your grandmother's name was Wendolyn Igiby,” he said. “You took on the Igiby name when we came here and left the name of Wingfeather behind.”

“So how did Peet find us?” Janner asked.

Nia looked puzzled. “We still don't know. About five years after we settled here, we saw him in town. We barely recognized him, and when we did we were frightened. We were sure that somehow he would lead Gnag to us. For all we knew, Gnag had turned him into one of his own. Podo told him to keep away from you, from us. And he would, for a while. Then he'd be back in town, carrying on and making a spectacle of himself for some reason. I can't explain it.”

Nia continued, shaking her head.

“Before last night I didn't understand why he wore the socks. I thought the old Artham was lost forever. But he's in there.” She stroked his wild hair. “Whatever happened to you,” she whispered to Peet, “I'm glad you've got it in your head to protect my children the same way you would have protected Esben.” Nia looked up at Janner. “And I tell you, you should rest easy knowing that a Throne Warden of Anniera is keeping watch.”

Janner felt a surge of pride.

Nia smiled at him.

“Grandpa, what's in the bundle?” Tink asked.

“Ah, yes,” Podo said as he laid the blanket on the floor between them and folded back its edges.

51

A Letter from Home

F
or you, lad,” Podo said to Janner, handing over an ancient leather-bound book. “It's one of the oldest books in the world, one of the First Books, according to some.”

Janner looked at it with wonder.

“Among the treasures of Anniera were several ancient books that were passed down to the Throne Wardens over the ages,” Podo explained. “This one's said to give ‘wisdom to the wise,' whatever the deep that means. I never took to readin'. Artham here, if he's not too crazy, will be able to tell ye more about it. Yer father gave it to me before we were run out of the palace. Told me no matter what, to make sure it got to you.”

Janner held the big book gingerly but didn't open it.

“And for you, young Tink. High King Kalmar, I should say. That
is
yer real name, after all.”

“Can you just call me Tink?” he asked, blushing.

“As you wish. Tink, then. This is for you.” Podo handed Tink an old, tattered notebook.

“Your father's sketchbook,” Nia said. “He was an artist, just like you. He filled this book with pictures of Anniera, along with his own writings. I wanted you to have something to remind you of your homeland. It's a prettier place than any picture could tell, but your father loved his land, and you can see that love in these pictures. I fetched it for him on my way out of the palace because he never let it leave his side. I thought he'd want it once we were all safe and away. But it's yours now.”

Tink's eyes shone as he accepted the gift.

“And for you, my lass.” Podo lifted the last fold of the blanket and handed Leeli a silver whistleharp. This belonged to your great-great-great-aunt Madia, Queen Sister of Anniera, and it's been in the kingdom longer than that. See, whenever a third child is born, that child, according to Annieran tradition, is to learn to sing and make music. That's why we've taught you all these old tunes over the years. Legend says there's a power to protect Anniera in the music of a Queen Sister who knows the right songs. Nobody believes that anymore, mind you, but this very whistleharp has been in Anniera since the beginning of the Second Epoch.”

“That's three thousand years ago,” Janner said with astonishment.

“Aye,” he said.

Leeli held the gleaming whistleharp to her lips and hesitated.

“Go on,” Podo said, smiling.

Leeli played “The Fisherman's Elbow,” one of Podo's favorite tunes, and the happy music filled their hearts.

Peet woke to the familiar song of his homeland. He seemed more like a man and less like an animal there in the brightness of the melody. He stretched, then rose to stoke the fire, pushing back the wet chill even further.

Night had come and the storm yet raged outside their haven.

The Igiby children laughed with one another and felt the bond of their blood grow stronger than ever before. Nia and Podo, relieved of secrets carried too many years, leaned back in reverie of memory and song.

Janner thought Tink didn't look much like a king, but maybe in a few years. He was only eleven, after all.

Tink opened the first page of his father's notebook and saw a sketch of an island rising out of a fitful sea. In the center of the picture, lifting out of the trees, were the lofty spires of a castle. Next to it, beneath a drawing of a puffy cloud, was written one word by the hand of his father:
Home.

While Tink marveled at his father's sketches, Janner opened the ancient book in his lap. The pages were yellowed and tattered. The handwritten words were in another language, but it was beautiful to look at nonetheless. Janner felt a familiar tickle in his stomach as he turned the pages of a book he hadn't yet read. To his surprise, a folded piece of paper fell from the book and into his lap. The paper was white and crisp compared to the book's old leaves, still Janner was careful in unfolding it.

At the end of the letter was a sketch of a little boy sleeping peacefully in a crib surrounded by flowers that had withered from the smell of the child's soiled underclothes.

Janner's heart felt large and full. He lay down in the tree house and stared up at a dark, rain-battered window, thinking of his father.
Esben.

He heard Nia and Podo in the other room talking softly, but he made out enough to understand they had agreed it would be best to stay in the tree house with Peet for several weeks, maybe longer. Peet assured them that he had learned how to live safely among the creatures of Glipwood Forest, and the Fangs wouldn't be coming near the forest for a long time once they saw the remains of the battle at Anklejelly Manor.

Skree, meanwhile, was shrouded in darkness. The black storm roiled in the sky, and the bright moon could not penetrate it.

The Dark Sea of Darkness moaned and heaved beneath the thundering expanse.

Among the glipwood trees, chorkneys and thwaps and toothy cows alike sought shelter from the mighty wind and rain, and the town of Glipwood sat as barren and windblown as a ghost town. The hearts of the people and trolls and Fangs all across Skree were black on this night while they tossed and turned in gloomy beds.

Darkness was everywhere.

Except, of course, in a tree house, deep in the murky heart of Glipwood Forest, where the Jewels of Anniera shone like the sun.