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The Warden and the Wolf King
(Wingfeather Series 4)
Andrew Peterson
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eBook - ePub
The Warden and the Wolf King
(Wingfeather Series 4)
Andrew Peterson
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About This Book
All winter long, people in the Green Hollows have prepared for a final battle with Gnag the Nameless and the Fangs of Dang. Janner, Kalmar, and Leeli are ready and willing to fight alongside the Hollowsfolk. But when the Fangs make the first move and invade Ban Rona, the children are separated. Janner is alone and lost in the hills; Leeli is fighting the Fangs from the rooftops of the city; and Kalmar, who carries a terrible secret, is on a course for the Deeps of Throg. Monsters and Fangs and villains lie between the children and their only hope of victory in the epic conclusion of The Wingfeather Saga.
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Theology & ReligionSubtopic
ChristianityPart One:
The Green Hollows
1
The Slog of War
What happens next?ā Kalmar asked.
āHow am I supposed to know? Iāve never been in a war,ā Janner said.
āBut weāve been here for three hours at least. And we havenāt eaten a thing.ā
āLook, all I know is weāre supposed to sit here and be quiet until the tribes are finished pledgingāor whatever itās called. And weāre all hungry, but at least you donāt get cold.ā
āHow many tribes are left?ā
āYou can count.ā
āWait, how many tribes did we start with?ā
āKal, can you just find some way to be interested in whatās going on? Mama said this hasnāt happened in decades. And theyāre here for you, after all. The least you can do is show some interest. Shh! Here comes a tribesman.ā
Janner and Kalmar sat on a wooden platform overlooking the Field of Finley, now covered with snow. These were the fields, Janner remembered, where many years ago Podo Helmer had won the heart of Wendolyn Igiby by competing in the games of the Banick Durga against the roughest and rowdiest of the Hollowsfolk. But there were no games today. Today was about war. Which meant boredom.
That morning, Nia had woken the brothers in their bedroom at Chimney Hill with the reminder that the day of tribute had come, and that as High King and Throne Warden of Anniera, their presence was required. After a quick breakfast prepared by Podo and Freva, Nia presented the brothers and their sister, Leeli, with formal attire.
Leeli got a white dress lined with burble fur and a gray-speckled coat that fell about her like a blanket. It was held around her shoulders by a silver brooch in the shape of a beaming star. When Leeli emerged from her bedroom with the dress and robe on, her hair draped over one shoulder and her cheeks burning with the hope of her own beauty, the boys were speechless. Podo, who was wearing an apron and clopping one-legged around the table collecting dirty dishes, looked up and whispered, āMother moonlight, sheās pretty.ā
The brothers got no such compliments, but they felt handsome in their royal clothes. Kalmar needed no coat since he was already covered with silvery brown fur. Instead he wore a black leather vest lined with bloodred fabric, fastened down the front with shiny silver buttons, each of which bore the Annieran dragonāthe same insignia Janner had seen on Uncle Arthamās journals back in Glipwood. Nia draped a black cloak over his shoulders and fastened it at the neck with a silver sun. She tried to put a crown on Kalās head, not an official Annieran crown, she told them, but something she had commissioned from a smith in Ban Rona, a circlet that would at least make him look kingly enough for the ceremony. But after several failed attempts to secure it over his wolf ears, which constantly twitched, Nia decided to forgo the crown, much to Kalmarās relief.
Finally, Janner was given a black coat of polished leather, with boots and gloves to match. When he pulled the gloves on and wiggled his fingers, he noticed on the back of each hand the same Annieran dragon stitched into the leather with crimson thread.
āHere,ā Nia said as she draped a black cloak over Jannerās shoulders. He noticed when she drew near to fasten his broochāwhich was in the shape of a crescent moonāthat instead of looking up at her, they were eye to eye. āWhen did you get so tall?ā Nia asked quietly. She adjusted his cloak and her hands lingered on his shoulders. āYou look like a Throne Warden. Tall and handsome and humble. Keep an eye on Kalmar today. This ceremony is exactly the kind of thing he loathes.ā
Janner glanced at Kal, who was hunched over the table, brushing crumbs from breakfast into a little pile, then licking them up.
āKalmar!ā Nia snapped, and he jerked upright and wiped his hands on his cloak. āKalmar!ā Nia said again, and he grabbed a napkin from the table and cleaned his hands and cloak with a nervous laugh. āKalmar!ā Nia said, snatching the napkin from him. He hadnāt noticed that it was soiled with sweetberry jamājam that was now smeared all over his new cloak and his hands, which he absentmindedly wiped on his vest.
āOut!ā Nia ordered.
Janner bustled Kalmar and Leeli through the door, where Oskar N. Reteep waited with the sled hitched and ready. Kal bounded into the wagon.
āIn the words of Chancho Phanor, āYou three look magnificent!ā Is that sweetberry jam?ā Oskar pointed at Kalmarās cloak.
Somehow, even though his face was covered in fur, Kalās cheeks seemed to flush as he reached down and lifted Leeli in behind him. Janner clambered up the other side.
āItās going to be a fine day, Jewels!ā Oskar clicked the horse into motion and pulled his scarf over his mouth. He was already a big fellow, but the many layers of coats, cloaks, and blankets made him look enormous. All Janner could see of the old man was his bright red nose and spectacles peeking out from between the scarf and his cowl; the rest of him was a mountainous pile of blankets.
After an hour of riding through the snow, they crested the hill and saw what seemed to be the entire population of the Green Hollows gathered around the perimeter of the Field of Finley. Out of the silence of the long ride came the sudden racket of the multitude, the whinnies of horses, and the snapping of many flags in the wind. The aroma of campfires mingled with that of meat roasting on spits and the odor of horse manure. Each tribe had erected its own main tent and surrounded it with smaller ones, between which were wagons, horses, and campfires. Thousands of Hollowsfolk stood in groups around the fires. Others had struck up games and were rolling in the snow or chasing one another out beyond the tents.
But the center of the Field of Finley was immaculate, a smooth circular blanket of white as long and wide as an arrowshot. Not a single footprint marred the snow, though the path around it was muddied with traffic. At the section of the field nearest the road, a platform had been erected, and a man standing beside it raised a hand in greeting when he saw the Wingfeathers. Even at a distance, Janner recognized the tall, bearded figure of Rudric, the Keeper of the Hollows.
Janner felt a tug of grief. Rudric hadnāt meant to kill his father, Janner knew that, but it didnāt make the pain or the awkwardness disappearāfor either Janner or Rudric, who had scarcely been seen at Chimney Hill in the months since Esbenās death. Rudric was a good man, and Janner liked him, but he had become an emblem of his fatherās absence. Janner couldnāt imagine how Nia must feelāNia, who had been in love with Rudric up to the very day that Esben returned.
Oskar grunted. āRight. Well, as some author surely said somewhere, āWeād better get on with it.āā He drove the sled down to the platform and greeted Rudric.
āOskar, good to see you,ā Rudric said. He extended a hand to Leeli, who took it after a slight hesitation and allowed him to lift her out of the wagon and lower her gently to the ground. Then Rudric nodded a greeting to Janner and Kal, though he met their eyes for only a moment. āThis way, Wingfeathers. Itās going to be a long day, but this is important if weāre going to be an army worthy of battle.ā
Next to the platform was a tent with two Durgan Guildsmen standing guard at the entrance. Their black hoods were pulled low over their faces and their arms were crossed. When Janner and his siblings followed Rudric inside, the guildsmen nodded a silent greeting first at Rudric, then at Janner and Leeli. It was hard to tell if it was his imagination, but Janner didnāt think they acknowledged his wolf brother.
He didnāt have time to think more about it because as soon as he entered the tent he saw twelve tribesmen and as many tribeswomen standing at attention. They were gathered around a long table beneath the iron branches of a chandelier aflicker with candles. Janner could tell it was meant to resemble the great tree of Ban Rona. He couldnāt help noticing the irony that only a few months ago Nia had declared turalay and put her bloody handprint on the tree in order to save Kalmar from the very people who were now pledging their allegiance to him.
Rudric took his place at the head of the table and gestured at three empty seats. āWelcome, clans of the Hollows.ā Rudric nodded at the children. āWelcome, Jewels of Anniera.ā
Then, at once, everyone in the room sat. The Wingfeather children looked around in confusion, then plopped into their seats.
The men at the table all looked like typical Hollows men: barrel chests, long moustaches and beards, faces and hands that bore knots and scars from years of hard work and harder play. And though their clothes differed in color and cut, they all wore a mixture of burly furs and leather that were well-groomed and threaded with patterns and emblems. The women, on the other hand, could not have looked more varied. Some of them were slim and feminine, like Nia, while others, somehow no less beautiful, hulked like the men. Some wore bright dresses and had swords slung over their backs, and others wore plain cloth but had their hair arranged in looping braids. Some were even burlier than the men, with whiskers and warts as ugly as Olumphia Groundwichās. They sat beside what Janner assumed to be their husbands and it seemed likely that they had administered the wounds that led to many of the menās scarsāyet most of the couples were, in fact, holding hands.
āFor those of you who have not yet laid eyes on him,ā Rudric said, āI present to you Kalmar Wingfeather, High King of the Shining Isle.ā
Every eye in the room appraised Kalmar without a shred of sensitivity. Most of the faces wore their wariness and distaste plainly, though a few gave him sincere smiles and nods of greeting. Janner noted with pride that Kalmar sat up straight and met their eyes.
āHello,ā he said, clearing his throat. āIām not sure what to say except, uh, that Iām glad youāre here. I donāt know about you, but my life has been pretty messed up by Gnag the Nameless. Somebody has to stop him or heās going to basically take over all of Aerwiar and turn everybody into ā¦ into ā¦ā He glanced at his claws and furry hands. The tent fell painfully silent. Kalmar drew a deep breath and held his Fang hands out for all to see. āInto this. Somebody has to stop him. And it doesnāt seem like anyone but the people of the Green Hollows are brave enough to fight back. So like I said, Iām glad youāre here. Thatās all.ā He hid his hands under the table and slumped back in his chair. āOh, I forgot.ā Kalmar sat up again. āThis is my sister, Leeli. Sheās a Song Maiden. And my brother, Janner, is the Throne Warden. We donāt know what weāre supposed to do, but we want to help.ā
Leeli stared around the table at the Hollowsfolk as if daring them to speak against her brother. After a pause, the clan chiefs and chieftesses grunted their approval and banged on the table with heavy fists so long and loud that Janner thought the table would break.
Rudric quieted the assembly and explained the order of the day, which, as it turned out, would be unbearably boring for all three children. Beneath the twelve clans of the chieftains and chieftesses, there were many separate tribes, and the heads of each tribe, each in their turns, were to come before Kalmar and pledge allegiance to the Shining Isle and its boy king. One clan leader at a time, they marched before the platform on the field. They gave accounts of their clan histories, including tales of greatness in various battles over the centuries, going all the way back to the Second Epoch. Each leader took care to describe his or her clanās particular strengths and weaknesses. After an eternity of what amounted to boasts, tall tales, and bravado, the clan leader would bow, parade the clanās flag first before its chief, then before Kalmar, and then mount it beside the Annieran flag.
Oskar took copious notes. Leeli had brought her songbook and practiced whistleharp fingerings, Janner struggled valiantly to pay attention, and Kalmar did his best to stay awake.
The ceremony droned on for what seemed like an eternity until the head tribesman of Ban Soran swaggered before the platform. He was a wiry fellow who wore no shirt, despite the bitter cold. His chest and face were painted with crimson stripes, and he all but snarled when he spoke.
āMy name is Carnack, and I pledge nothing to a Fang of Dang.ā
2
Jannerās Pledge
Oy,ā said Rudric under his breath. āI was afraid this might happen.ā
āWhat happens if he wonāt pledge?ā Janner asked. Rudric didnāt hear him because he was whispering something to the chieftain of Ban Soran.
āWhatās going on?ā Kalmar asked with a yawn.
āDidnāt you hear what that guy said?ā
āI wasnāt listening.ā
Carnack still stood before the platform, with his fists on his hips and his nose in the air. Rudric stood and addressed him. āCarnack of Ban Soran! I havenāt seen you for a while. Your chieftain tells me youāve been patrolling the southern foothills of the Killridges. Is that true?ā
āIt is,ā he said with a snarl.
āThen you have seen Fangs, have you not? And you have fought them?ā
āAye. And theyāve killed my kinsmen. Evil they are, through and through, and Iāll not bow to one today or ever.ā
Rudric glanced at Kalmar, who was paying full attention for the first time. āThen what is your challenge, Carnack?ā Rudric asked.
āNo challenge, Keeper. Iāll fight in your war. I just donāt want to pledge my clanās blood and bone to a Fang of Dang. If I fight, I fight for the Hollows, not for a monster.ā
Janner saw the chieftains and chieftesses shifting uncomfortably. The whole point of the ceremony was to unite the clans under the Annieran flag. Carnack was a splinter in that unityāand a splinter could easily grow into a wedge. Carnackās chief, Horgan Flannery, addressed his tribesman.
āCarnack, ye fool! Seven tribes have pledged without incident. Why must you be the sore tooth? Do it in the name of the Shining Isle, if not its king. We have a long history with that kingdom, and I mean to preserve it.ā
āCome, Carnack.ā Rudric held out a hand. āFor the sake of our stre...