Leeli rode high like a queen on a royal horse, her face in a perpetual smile. She had her family and her dog, and she no longer needed a crutch as long as Nugget was around. His furry paws were as big as platters, but they made little sound as he padded along.
Nia’s arm was around Tink, whose skinny, quick frame was showing signs of fatigue. He leaned into his mother and rested his head on her side.
Janner looked back toward Glipwood, but he could see nothing of the town. They passed a few abandoned farmsteads but otherwise saw no sign of either human or Fang. He thought about their cottage, about Slarb’s grisly end with the thwaps, and Podo’s swift sword. He shuddered to think how close he and Tink had come to dying at the hands of that mad creature. But they hadn’t died. Even with an ocean of Fangs in pursuit, they had somehow, thank the Maker, stayed alive and whole.
But not everyone had survived. The last Janner had seen of Oskar, he was lying on the floor of his dear bookstore, urging the Igibys to run. He had tried to save them with his dying breath. It was Oskar who had made their refuge beneath Anklejelly Manor, who had lost his life trying to protect Leeli and Nia. But why did Oskar hide the weapons? Janner wondered. And how did he come by them? Janner remembered that Oskar had spent many years since the war traveling about Skree, gathering books and curiosities. But weapons? Had he actually been searching for the Jewels of Anniera? Could that be what Podo was carrying in the bundle on his shoulder? Why did his grandfather despise Peet the Sock Man so? And the biggest question of all: Why would the Igibys have something that Gnag the Nameless would so relentlessly want to find?
Janner was consumed with so many questions, he almost didn’t hear Peet’s announcement.
“Here we are.” Peet had stopped in front of the biggest oak tree in sight.
The oak protruded from the line of the forest and spread its thick, sagging arms above and around them, like a mother hen protecting her young. “Rugget will be safe here,” Peet said as he swung himself into the lower branches and reached out to help Nia up. Far above them, barely visible through the leaves, was one of Peet’s rope-and-plank bridges, dangling between the trees.
“Up we go,” he said, still not looking at Podo. He pulled up everyone except for the old man, nor did he offer to help, but turned from Podo and threaded his way up through the branches to the bridge.
Podo passed the bundle up to Janner and scrambled much less gracefully into the tree.
Janner felt a spatter of rain and looked up.
The sky had grown dark, and the rope bridges began to rock in the winds of a burgeoning storm.
Peet, Podo, and the Igibys hurried along the bridges as the storm unleashed its stinging rain, and they were soaked through as they climbed up through the trapdoor and gratefully entered Peet’s castle.
To Janner, with the storm blowing outside, the tree house was the finest accommodation in all the land. He helped Peet light three lanterns quickly, and relished the comforting yellow and orange light they cast on the walls and ceiling. Peet snapped the door shut and the howl of the wind was all but gone. Leeli found a spot and sat with her back against the wall, a dry blanket tucked under her chin. Peet pointed out a stack of old quilts beside her.
“Lots of dry blankets for you. It gets very cold here in the winter, see, see.”
“Mister Peet, what about the fire?”
“Eh? Ah, the fire. I’ve been here long enough that the hounded horns leave me be, Jangiby. Besides, the most of the beasts can’t climb. Ceet’s pastle is safe.”
“Hrmph,” Podo said, inspecting the tree house and trying very hard not to be impressed.
Nia elbowed him. “Peet, this is lovely. Can I help you with anything?”
Peet was glowing. He busied himself with pots and pans, rummaging through sacks of grain and dried meats and vegetables, tiny bottles of spices and herbs. While Peet prepared the meal, the others each found a nook and a quilt and made themselves comfortable. Podo refused a blanket and hunched against a wall, staring at his hands.
The rain beat on the windows and sides of the house, but Peet had sealed the structure well. Not a drop of water leaked in. The tree house swayed and creaked in its perch, and the smell of stew filled their noses. Janner, like the other Igibys, drifted off to sleep, thanking the Maker they were safe and dry in Peet’s castle.
Even Podo.
49
The Jewels of Anniera
Janner woke long before his eyes opened. He lay beneath a warm blanket, feeling the rocking motion of the tree house, listening to the murmur of soft conversation and the rain on the windows. He didn’t want to wake up just yet. The wail of the wind and the rumble of thunder intensified his gladness there in the shelter.
Nia noticed him stirring and kissed his cheek.
“Hello, dear Janner,” she said.
He smiled, stretched, and forced himself to sit up. Tink and Leeli were awake and grinning at him. The trapdoor flipped open and Podo climbed into the room, his clothes soaked through.
“Ol’ Nugget’s got dry quarters now,” he said cheerily.
“Thank you, Grandpa,” Leeli said, hugging her grandfather’s leg. She looked down the trapdoor at the makeshift shelter Podo had assembled from lumber and animal hides that Peet had lying about.
“Aye, lass. Yer dog’s as dry as a bone and content just to be nearby,” Podo said. “He sent a message for ye too.”
Leeli looked confused, and Podo swept her up to sniffle around her chin and shoulders like a dog. She squealed with delight and everyone joined in the laughter.
Peet cleared his throat and declared the stew ready.
High in the boughs of a glipwood oak in the middle of the fiercest storm Skree had seen in a thousand years, the Igibys, Podo Helmer, and Peet the Sock Man shared a meal together. Though Peet was silent and at times somber, there was much laughter and thanksgiving for the Maker’s provision and goodness while they ate and drank until their bellies were full.
Janner saw Podo’s bundle lying in the corner and decided that it was time for answers. He wasn’t the only one. Without a word, a feeling of gravity settled on them all, and they were silent while they chewed their food.
Finally, Janner set his empty bowl on the floor beside him. “The Jewels of Anniera,” he said, folding his arms. “Where are they?”
Nia and Podo looked at one another, then at Peet.
Tink and Leeli barely breathed, as eager as Janner to know the truth.
Nia nodded at Podo and laid a hand on Peet’s socked forearm as Podo retrieved his bundle from the door. The old pirate had a twinkle in his eye again, and crackling anticipation moved about like invisible sparks among the children. Podo paused, savoring the moment, then he said with bushy eyebrows raised, “To begin with, yer not asking the right question.”
His statement hung in the air for a moment.
Tink squinted at his grandfather. “Uh…what’s in the bundle?”
“Nope. The real question is…” Podo paused dramatically. “What are the Jewels of Anniera?”
Janner felt his arms tingle. There was something odd about the way the three adults watched them, smiling.
“The Jewels of Anniera,” Nia said, “have been sought by Gnag the Nameless since the Great War fell on the shores of the Shining Isle and overcame it. Gnag destroyed all that was good and beautiful in that place…except for the jewels. And he has sought them ever since. He has obsessed over them and ruined nations in his search because he believes that the Jewels of Anniera hold a hidden power. His hunt for the jewels is what’s led him to Skree. If he didn’t believe they had come here, I don’t think he would have bothered crossing the Dark Sea of Darkness at all.”
“But he came,” Podo said gravely.
“Did someone give them to you?” Tink blurted. “How did you end up with the jewels if they were from Anniera? Did you agree to hide them?”
Janner could feel his emotions rising again. “How could you do that when you knew it would put us—and al
l of Glipwood—in danger? Why would you give some of the jewels to Gnorm in the first place, if you knew they could lead Gnag here?”
“Janner, the jewels I gave Gnorm were worthless to me,” Nia said gently. “Once, they might have meant something, but they were kept hidden for such a time as that. Gnag couldn’t care less about those jewels. There must have been something I didn’t notice in them that identified them as Annieran.”
“Annieran?” Leeli said. “How did you get Annieran gold and jewelry?”
Nia paused. “Because I brought them here. From Anniera.”
The children’s confusion was so evident that Podo laughed. “Bitties, we came here from Anniera to escape Gnag and his army during the Great War.”
“But Grandpa, you’re from Glipwood! And so is Mama.” Leeli grew more and more puzzled.
“No, dear,” Nia said. “Your grandfather is from Glipwood. But I was born in the Green Hollows, far across the Dark Sea, where he met your grandmother. When I married your father, we all made our home in Anniera. But when the war came to us, we fled.”
“We had to protect the jewels, see,” Podo said.
“So where are they?” Tink demanded.
“I told you, lad. That’s the wrong question.”
“Fine. What are the Jewels of Anniera then?”
The question hung in the air like smoke or like motes of dust caught in a bright beam of light. The three adults sat and stared at the three children. The children stared back at the adults. Janner’s stomach turned a flip and his head went dizzy. He didn’t know what the answer was, but he felt in his bones that whatever it was would change everything.
Everything.
Peet the Sock Man cleared his throat and leaned forward. His big eyes bore less of their sorrow than Janner had ever seen, and he smiled into the Igiby children’s faces—first Janner’s, then Tink’s, then Leeli’s, and then Janner’s again.
“You,” he said. “You are.”
No one spoke. None of the children even breathed. Their hearts thrummed with the truth of what had been spoken. The air around Peet’s words would have shimmered if it were possible to see such a thing, and the children knew it to be true.
Janner swallowed hard.
“What…what do you mean?”
“Your father—” Nia said slowly, tears choking her sentence and brimming in her eyes. “Your father was the High King of the Shining Isle.”
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 w
ere 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.”
On the Edge of the Dark Sea of Darkness Page 24