Chapter Four

New Wounds and Old Healings

Sun streamed through the High King of Anneira's window. Kalmar stirred. He sat up and squinted at the grandfather clock by his bedside.

"Eight o'clock?" he read. He yawned. "Time to get up."

Kalmar jumped out of bed and quickly brushed his teeth, groaning at the pungent smell of his breath.

He had just finished dressing when a knock sounded at his door. "Come in!" he called as he buttoned the last button on his shirt.

Maraly tiptoed in. "Kal." She sounded worried. "I can't find Janner."

Kalmar snorted. "Let me guess, you can't find Sara either?"

Maraly totally did not get what Kalmar was implying. She just looked confused. "No. Sara's worried about Janner too. I'm starting to get worried. Janner told Sara he would be back by five in the morning. That was last night! It's already nine!"

Maraly slumped in a chair by Kal's bedside. "I don't know what to do!"

Kalmar sat down in a chair next to her and put his arm around her shoulder. "It's okay, Maraly. It'll be fine."

Maraly showed of moment of rare tenderness. She rested her head on Kal's shoulder and gripped his hand. She looked at Kal with hope in her eyes.

Kal blushed and looked away, standing up. "I'll head out a search party," he said stiffly, detaching his hand from Maraly's.

Maraly stood up and looked into Kalmar's eyes. For being so brave, she sure was short. "Do it," she whispered. "Please."

Her plea fell on Kalmar like a brick wall slamming into him and he jerked back as if physically hit.

"Please. Kalmar please. I need you."

"Why?" he whispered.

"We need each other . . ."

Kal bowed his head.

Maraly tentatively reached out and slid her hand into Kal's.

Kalmar felt a tremor go through his body as she did so. He unconsciously tightened his grip on her hand and pulled her forward.

Maraly's eyes showed pure joy.

But she waited.

Waited to be certain this was what Kal wanted.

Kalmar rubbed his neck with the back of his hand. And then dropped it onto Maraly's shoulder, pulling her forward into an embrace.

Maraly had never felt this peace before.

Yeah, sure. Gammon had hugged her a lot—and those hugs of his were exceptional—but this was a different kind of hug.

Maraly stood back and reached up and gently caressed Kal's chin, feeling the growing prickles of his beard.

A beard that to her, showed maturity and wholeness.

A worthy sign Kalmar was ready to be the High King of Anneira.

Kalmar closed his eyes, letting his feelings go. Maraly pulled back, afraid she had gone too far.

"Are you okay?" she whispered, drawing away her hand.

Kal gently took her hand and guided it back to his face. "I'm fine . . ." He looked at her with such tenderness in his heart that he felt he would burst. He drew her closer . . . and closer . . . their lips touched softly, ever so softly.

Maraly thought, I'm going to faint.

Kalmar thought, How was I such a fool not to realize she needed me?

They pulled apart and looked at each other, a smile shining in both faces.

A strangled gasp stopped all feelings of romance between the couple.

Kal looked up at the door hastily. Maraly had left it open!

Maraly looked startled. "Who was it?"

"I could have sworn that was Gayla's dress I saw her wearing at my birthday celebration yesterday."

"You don't think . . ." Maraly drifted off.

"Oh I am sure of it. A hundred percent sure. Let's go and announce our engagement and then set up a search party for Janner."

Kalmar put on his cloak and took Maraly's arm, looping it into his own. "Come."

A collective gasp went through the room as Kal walked in with Maraly on his arm.

Gammon angrily stood up halfway, but Artham pulled him down. "Let them be," he said with an amused smirk hiding in his eyes. Gammon sat down, but he clearly looked on the edge, ready to jump up and sock Kalmar. No matter if he was king or not.

Kal sat down at the breakfast table, seating Maraly by his side and serving her some fruit and pastry.

"Maraly and I have decided that we are going to get married," Kal announced, calmly forking a cut up plumyum.

Everyone went about their business, pretending not to have heard Kalmar. Gammon's brow darkened.

"Maraly and I have decided to get MARRIED," Kal said again in a louder and more punctuated voice.

Nia looked up from her plate. "That's nice." Kalmar noticed she looked distracted and lonely.

Maraly glanced at Kalmar and shrugged.

Kalmar got up and left the main table, continuing on down the numerous rows of tables that filled Castle Rysen's dining hall. Many guests supped there right then, mostly overnight guests from Kal's birthday celebration.

Kalmar stopped in front of Gayla's seat. She usually sat at the royal table, but today—for some reason—she sat at the furthest table away from the royal table.

Kalmar elbowed a boy who was sitting beside her away and sat down, helping himself to a plumyum from Gayla's plate.

"Your Majesty," Gayla murmured, sliding over to make room for the High King.

"It's quite all right, Gayla. I have plenty of room."

"Yes, Your Majesty," she murmured again, flushing.

"Would you excuse us for a moment?" Kal spoke to the guests gathered around the table, many of them Gayla's friends. Kalmar took Gayla's hand and pulled her out of her seat, guiding her over to a closed off linen closet.

Two benches lined the wall among the pressed napkins and tablecloths.

Kalmar guided Gayla to one of the benches and pulled up a chair across from her. He opened the window and then sat down, resting his elbows on his knees and taking Gayla's trembling cold hands into his own.

"What's troubling you, Gayla?" he asked, rubbing her hands to warm them up.

"Nothing, Your Majesty . . ." she said, averting her eyes from his searching gaze.

"Now that's not quite true. Gayla, you can be honest with me. Please."

"I said nothing was wrong, Your Majesty. And would you please let go of my hands? It's not appropriate for you to be holding my hands when engaged to another." Her words came out bitter and full of sorrow.

Kalmar immediately felt sick to the heart. He held Gayla's hands tight as she tried to pull away. "Gayla, my dear girl, is this what is troubling you?"

Gayla dropped her head, then nodded, barely.

"Why is it troubling you, Gayla?"

"I love . . . you . . ." she stammered. "I loved you."

"Why?"

"Because . . . you were kind to me. You were a former Fang. Our stories matched. We—I—felt a kinship. Together."

Kalmar leaned back, dropping Gayla's hands. He thoughtfully stroked his chin. "Well," he began softly, "I can't fix that, but I know who can. Just ask the Maker to heal your wounds. He will."

Kal patted Gayla gently on the back and left the room. He headed back to the main table and sat down beside Maraly. Sara was on his other side. She looked stressed, worry lines painting her forehead like Kal had never seen before. She had almost always been a carefree girl, laughing and smiling. Especially around Janner: the reason the worry lines were creased onto her forehead.

Kalmar stood up. There was no Janner to quiet the room. "Silence please!" he called out.

Nothing.

"SILENCE PLEASE!"

A few of his subjects looked his way.

"COULD I PLEASE HAVE SILENCE?!" Kal called out loudly over the room.

The room quieted and Kal looked around soberly. "Our beloved Throne Warden, Janner, is missing. Will you stand and watch your king's bodyguard being dragged out of sight?"

Dead silence.

"We will organize a search party. I will call out names for the leaders. I hope to have at least five groups spreading across Anneira and we WILL find Janner. I will not watch my beloved bodyguard being dragged out of sight!" he yelled.

"I will stand and FIGHT! I will not let anyone, whoever they may be, have Janner without a fight!THEY WILL HAVE TO FIGHT ME!" Kal roared, stepping up on the table.

"Will you STAND and FIGHT with your king?!"

The answer came as a unified roar; "YES! WE WILL."

"Clout!" Kalmar called out.

"Here!"

"You will take a party of men you see fit and comb the west side of Anneira."

"Yes, my king!"

"Nibbick Bunge! You take men and comb the east side of Anneira."

"Oy, your majesty!" Nibbick replied.

"Grigory Bunge! You take men and search out the harbors of Anneira."

"Yes, your majesty!" Grigory answered with a voice ready to tear Anneira apart to find Janner.

"Biggin O'Sally. Take houndricks and Leeli and search the south side of Anneira."

"Oy, real good, your majesty." Biggin grinned at Leeli.

"Kelvey O'Sally. You, Sara, Maraly, Uncle Artham, and Mama will come with me to search the north side of Anneira. Let's get geared up."

Sara slowly walked to her room and began getting out her walking clothes. A shorter sturdy skirt and a khaki blouse to match.

Knock knock.

"Come in," Sara answered, turning away so whoever came in the door wouldn't see her wet eyes.

Artham opened the door and peeked in. Sara stood with her back to him, hiding tears, Artham assumed. Artham turned and shut the door carefully. "My dear."

Sara turned quickly. "Oh Mister Artham! It's you!" She ran into his open arms and wept.

Artham smoothed her hair gently. "It's going to be fine, my dear Sara. No need to weep so."

"But what if he's hurt and dying . . ."

"I am one hundred percent sure nothing can kill Janner Wingfeather. It's been tried . . . and he always made it back to you." He patted her back. "Get dressed. We're leaving within the hour."

Sara clung to Artham for a second longer, whispering as she let go, "Thank you."

Artham left and went to Nia's room. He put his ear up to her door and all he heard were strangled sobs. "Nia?"

"Is that you, Artham?" came back Nia's soft voice.

Artham pushed the door open slowly. Nia was sitting up halfway on her bed, tears streaking her cheeks. He came and sat on the bed next to her. "You miss him, don't you?" he asked softly.

"So much more than I could say . . ."

"I'm sorry, Nia. I tried so hard, but when I saw him . . . the fur . . . I just couldn't . . . hold any longer."

"I know, Artham. I know. I have tried so hard to forget it, but I just can't."

"We'll be leaving within the hour, so get ready."

Artham left and continued on down to Leeli's room, then Kalmar's, giving them comfort at each stop.

At last, he came to his room and opened the door. Arundelle was standing there, waiting for him.

Artham sank down onto the bed and clasped Arundelle's hands tightly in his own. Arundelle leaned on his chest and placed her hand on his shoulder. "My dear."

"My darling," Artham responded, embracing her.

Arundelle sighed. "Tired?"

Artham patted Arundelle gently. "Not very. It just seems everything has gone awry in the last few days. I miss Esben and now Janner is missing; Kalmar is having doubts; Gayla is having conflicting thoughts about romance; Sara is seriously concerned about Janner; and I am the only one with the time to comfort them."

Arundelle rubbed Artham's back tenderly. "Yes, my husband, you are a rock. One I am very proud of and . . . one that gives great kisses." Arundelle kissed him softly on the cheek.

Artham hugged his wife tenderly and kissed her. Then he stood up and Arundelle assisted him in getting his clothes on.

"Do you want to come with us, my dear?" Artham asked Arundelle as he put on his boots.

"If only to be with you, darling," Arundelle responded, buttoning the buttons on Artham's shirt. "But . . ." she continued, "The High King did not ask me to come so I will stay at home and wait. Be careful, Artham." She became serious. "I mean it, darling. Please be careful and come back to me."

"My sweet wife, I'll do my best, but my life remains in the Maker's hands and nothing I can do can change that."