Water From the First Well

*Please, do NOT read this unless you have completed The Wingfeather Saga by Andrew Peterson. This is how I imagined the ending of the Saga (and beyond) through the eyes of another character, and it contains MAJOR spoilers. I really do not want to spoil such a great series for anyone. Thank you.*

- Auriel

I stood at the prow of the Enramere, letting the brisk wind whip through my hair. It felt good to be sailing; even better to be sailing towards the hazy mass on the horizon: Anniera. We’d seen that form all day now, but I still never tired of watching it.

I thought a lot when I stood there watching it, too. I wondered what Anniera would be like. I supposed it wasn’t much like I’d heard in all the bedtime tales I was told. After all, it had been burning for nine years. And Janner… no, not Janner: Tink would be the king if I remembered correctly. I laughed a little bit when I thought of that. Tink wasn’t much like a king, at least, not how I remembered him.

Janner. How I longed to see him again. I remembered practically thanking that storm behind us. I’d been seasick; so had most of the orphans, but it sped us on. We were crossing the Dark Sea in record time.

Aware of Artham’s presence beside me now, I turned and looked into his eyes. “Will we be there today?”

“Yes, Sara, I think we will,” he responded.

I nodded, a broad smile crossing my face. I expected Artham to show the same excitement but he suddenly turned restless. A flicker of worry crossed his face, and without explanation, he abruptly leaped off the deck and his powerful wings carried him towards Anniera.

I knew he would be there long before we would. But why would he need to be? Sure, it was his boyhood home and all that, but the look on his face had been anything but excitement. It worried me.

Something was happening in Anniera, I could feel it. And I was powerless to stop it. I didn’t even know what. I just had to stand here on the Enramere and wait, while Artham was doing who knows what. Something was happening, and from the way I felt, I didn’t think it was something good.

Instead of enthusiasm, I now felt dread. And somehow I was drawn to it, as one who knows something bad has happened but can not rest until they know exactly what. If I had known how to swim and had had the strength to make it the rest of the way there, I would have. At least if I were too late, I would have been trying to amend that myself. Now, I had to rely on the ship and the wind.

And the Maker. That thought was like the cool breeze: refreshing under the scorching sun. I could rely on the Maker. He could get me there in time.

In time for what?

More to take my mind off my unease than anything else, I went back to the ship and played with the younger orphans. No one seemed to notice my restlessness and nobody seemed to miss Artham either. At least, none of the children did.

The sun had begun to set by the time we reached Anniera. I stepped slowly off the Enramere, leading the orphans towards the people. All of them were building or planting or rebuilding the castle Rysen. Everyone seemed happy, especially Armulyn.

“The stories are true!” He told me, more than once. But I was hardly listening. I had to find Janner amongst all this happiness. Surely he would be in the middle of it, I thought.

Until I saw Artham. He was standing beside a woman, a girl with a crutch, and a boy. At first, I didn’t recognize them. Then out of my distant memories, a scene flicked through my mind.

I was almost eleven years old. Walking closely behind my mother, we pressed through the crowded streets of the usually uneventful Glipwood. I was so excited! Papa had told me often of the Dragon Day Festival, and I was finally getting to see it.

As we walked towards the games, I noticed a girl with a crutch. She looked about eight or nine years old. She was scratching the most adorable dog I had ever seen behind the ears. Standing beside her were a woman and two boys. They were the Igiby family: Nia, Janner, Tink, and Leeli with her little dog Nugget.

And now I recognized the people before me. Nia Igib—Wingfeather, Tink, and Leeli. None of them seemed half as happy as the rest of the multitude.

“But where is Janner?” I didn’t realize I had spoken aloud. At the word Janner, everyone’s faces changed. Queen Nia started crying. I felt uncomfortable, and it took me a moment to realize I felt the same dread I had felt on the Enramere.

Only it was worse.

Artham looked at the others, but nobody seemed inclined to give me an explanation. So at last, Artham told me.

Janner was dead. He had given his life to make all these people whole. They had once been Fangs or Cloven. This morning, they had awakened broken creatures. Now they were once again human. But at a price. And that price was the life of a boy.

My heart sank with unbearable grief. Janner! But—It’s not fair! I thought. Think of all Janner’s been through. He’s been to the Fork Factory and countless other dangers besides. He’s been nearly killed by Fangs several times, and likely more since I’ve last seen him. Why did it have to be him?

I was angry. Angry at the Maker for making things happen this way. Angry at the Fangs for changing people into broken things that needed mending. And I was sad; heartbroken. I didn’t know what to feel or to say. My head swam, even still trying to fully comprehend what Artham had just told me.

What had Nia been through, I wondered. She was his mother after all. But I didn’t even want to think about that. Janner was dead. Gone forever. Nothing could change that.

I cried for what seemed like hours. At last, I dried my tears and realized that Artham was holding me. But even though I dried my tears and shed no more, I still wept inwardly.

Then Artham introduced me to the family, and I was amazed that Nia remembered me. Even more astonishing was her offer to raise me as her own daughter. I thought I saw Leeli’s face light up at that, but I couldn’t be sure. I was too overwhelmed by her offer and the elation that came with the possibility of a family. I don’t remember how it happened, but I accepted her offer.

Then Artham left to walk the castle grounds with a lady: Arundelle I think they called her. While he was gone we shared stories. I particularly loved telling about Maraly and Gammon—or Shadowblade and the Florid Sword—in Dugtown.

Then, later in the night, Artham placed Janner’s body upon a bier in the castle courtyard. He was wearing his Durgan cloak and, despite being nothing more than skin and bones, looked peaceful. He looks like a king, I thought.

Leeli played on her whistleharp a beautiful and sad melody. I almost cried again, barely restraining my tears.

Not long afterward, weary and sorrowful, we went to the cellar of the castle. It felt good to sleep with a family, but the joy was marred that one member of the family—the one I wished for most—was not there.

And never would be. I cried myself to sleep that night.

Tink—Kalmar woke us all up at dawn, He smiled at us, and I thought I saw a mischievous glint in his eyes. He wore a cloak similar to the one Janner now wore. He lead us from the castle, where we found before us three dragons. On one sat a rather fat man with very round spectacles. As he spoke to Leeli, I couldn't help wondering if he might fall off the dragon. As I let my gaze travel to the other dragons, I saw Janner’s body strapped to a green dragon, no longer on the bier. Kalmar started explaining something about a well lost in the Blackwood.

As he finished, Leeli climbed easily on to the red dragon, the one they called Hulwen, hugging its neck and inviting me to sit with her. My mouth dropped open. I wasn't asleep at all anymore, only confused. Artham lifted me up behind Leeli as he further explained the significance of the well. Kalmar and Nia mounted the other dragon and then we were ready.

As the dragons rose above Anniera, I couldn’t help feeling that something very wonderful and magical was about to happen. I prayed to the Maker that it would work.

The dragons circled lower, and at last they landed among the trees of the Blackwood. Kalmar slid off his dragon and offered his hand to his mother. Oskar half slid, half fell off his. I slid off and gave a hand to Leeli. Artham picked up Janner’s lifeless body and we all followed Kalmar deeper into the forest until we came to a small pool surrounded by thriving green vegetation.

“The First Well,” Oskar said in astonishment. “In the words of Cleddyf Rhyfelwr, ‘I never thought I’d see it.’” Artham laid Janner’s body beside the well as we all gathered around. Leeli sat and placed her crutch on the ground beside her.

Slowly, Artham dipped his cupped hands into the pool and sprinkled the water over Janner’s lifeless body as we all watched expectantly.

It felt like we waited an eternity like that, staring motionless. Nothing happened. I exhaled, wondering if I’d held my breath.

Yet Artham didn’t seem perturbed. He simply dipped his hands full of the water, again sprinkling it over the body.

This time, after a few moments of waiting, I thought I saw Janner’s arm move. It was so slight—so insignificant, that I thought I was mistaken. But when I looked at the Wingfeathers, I changed my mind.

Leeli’s face was aglow with rapture. Nia’s hands were clasped at her breast. Artham’s eyes were wide and full of wonder. Kalmar leaned forward in anticipation. Oskar was motionless, enthralled by the hope I could see plainly written on his face. Then, as I turned back to Janner, I saw it.

The gentle rise and fall of his chest.

Janner was breathing. He was alive!

Never had such a single breath seemed so miraculous and magical. I was speechless with amazement and felt tears beginning to sting the corner of my eyes, but they were tears of joy.

Nia sank onto her knees beside Janner as his eyes blinked open. Tears were streaming down her face so that she could not speak. He slowly sat up and I saw that his eyes were full of wonder, as if he were startled to be alive. He saw Nia kneeling before him and rose into her embrace.

My heart swelled with wonder and the tears clouded my vision and rolled down my cheeks as Kalmar, Artham, Leeli, and Oskar moved in closer, hugging Janner over and over again and crying for joy. For once, it never crossed Oskar’s mind to quote some author.

Suddenly Leeli cried out—with delight or fear I could not tell. She was looking at the ground—no, she was looking at her crutch where it lay on the grass several feet away, where she had left it. Whether the water had splashed onto her leg or the vegetation around the well was so full of its healing powers that Leeli’s leg was healed, no one will ever know.

Janner’s eyes flitted over to the crutch on the ground, and that was when he caught sight of me.

“Sara? Sara!”

“Janner—you’re… alive!” I said.

There didn’t seem to be anything else to say, nor any other way to say it. Nor did I care if there was. I was living in the happy ending of a fairytale, and nothing could ever be better than that.

Praise the Maker!