Junkland (The Hoarding Book 1)

by Patrick Johns

  Piller could only imagine what outdated stories he was telling her.

  Martellus was twirling Sheila around with one hand and Nayna with the other. His footing was excessively better than his partners. He’s so different from his brother, thought Piller, laughing to himself.

  Suddenly, the crowd began to back away from the center as a man stumbled from a tent onto the dance floor. It was Landerin Raneir, the old Captain of the Poolesguard; he was better known as Old Lan these days.

  Old Lan spun drunkenly around, his arms swinging above his head like a mad man. His mug was still half-full in his right hand, and he showered the crowd around him with ale. The women shrieked and yelled as beer rained down on their clothing. Old Lan was trying to sing along with the band, but he was failing profusely. His moment of fame ended quickly when he tripped over a woman’s foot. He went down face first and made no sort of effort of rising back up. Two of his friends dragged him off the dance floor.

  Piller felt pity for the old knight. He had lost his entire family in The Sickness. Piller felt especially bad because it was mainly his fault for Landerin’s forced resignment as captain a year ago. Landerin was now a common guard at the Western Gate. Piller had thought he was doing Landerin a favor when he had turned him in for being drunk on duty. But now he wasn’t so sure.

  When the band ended their song, the singer spoke to the crowd. “All right, all right. It seems things are getting a little rowdy out there. We’re going to bring it down a notch. Here’s an old classic.”

  The band started their next song. It was slower—more romantic. Men grabbed their women and pulled them to the dance floor, dancing slowly to the peaceful melody.

  Under this mountain and starry sky,

  Is where I leave you and say goodbye.

  Do not cry, for I shall be back soon,

  Love will bring me back to Astenpoole…

  Piller’s heart dropped. He knew this song. It was the song his mother sang to him when he was a young boy. She would sing it to him after she told the story of Palor A’kal and Princess Melaine; it was the song Palor sung to Princess Melaine when he said goodbye to her beneath the mountains.

  It was also the song Piller’s mother sang right before she died.

  Piller rose from the table. “Please excuse me,” he said to the three remaining brothers.

  “Are you okay, Cap’?” asked Krist, looking worried.

  “Yes…I’m fine. Just going to go for a walk. I’ll catch up with you all later.” He turned and walked away from the festivities.

  He left the Village and walked down King’s Road. He passed the magnificent architecture of the Great Hall on his left, and the armory on his right, before leaving the Castle Keep underneath the King’s Gate. He followed a path that wrapped around the north part of the wall, passing through Northside and bringing him to the Eastern Village. The streets were deserted. Everyone was either celebrating inside the Castle Keep or out in the Western Village at the bars on Pooles Road.

  It was silent on the eastern side of the castle. It was as if all the noise had been sucked away. It was also dark, save for the faint candlelight glowing in the graveyard on a hill not too far away. Piller followed the path towards the rusty gate of the graveyard.

  Not many people came to this side of the castle anymore, not since King Leoné had permanently shut the Eastern Gate four years ago to prevent Carriers from entering the castle. It was a shame, really. Piller had always enjoyed the eastern side of Astenpoole, with its peaceful courtyards, its view of the Seaport River, and the talk of sailors from the Farrest Sea.

  Piller walked up to the gate of the graveyard, opening it with a loud creak. It slammed shut behind him. He followed the path straight up, taking a right that wrapped around the hill. The tombstones resembled a tiny city. He had to step off the grass to get to his destination. Three gravestones were before him. He knelt down in front of the stones.

  The first stone read:

  Cladus Lorne

  848 A.Z.–890 A.Z.

  May you find peace with Zalus

  Beyond the Western Mountains.

  The stone to the right read:

  Malah Lorne

  849 A.Z.–901 A.Z.

  May you heal and find rest

  With your love, Cladus,

  Beyond the Western Mountains.

  Piller wiped a tear from his eye, laying a finger over the smooth bump from his scar. He was grateful he didn’t have to burn his parent’s bodies and that he could still be with them here. His mother had died before King Leoné passed the law that all victims of The Sickness were to be burned after death; he was thankful for that at least. His father was murdered when Piller was only eleven years old. He had failed to save them both.

  “I’m sorry, Father.” His head sank down to his chest. “I’m sorry for not being strong enough to save you. I’m sorry, Mother. For not being able to protect you. I have failed you both.” Piller lifted his head. “I wish you were here with me tonight. To see me as Captain of the Poolesguard.” He took in a deep breath. “I’ll make you proud…I promise.” He lifted his gaze towards their graves. “Dammit, I will make you proud,” he whispered.

  After Piller was finished, he stood up and looked at the third tombstone next to his mother’s. His heart hurt as he thought back to his first night on duty and to that little girl. “I hope you are resting peacefully beyond the Western Mountains, little one.” He bent down and kissed the tombstone and whispered, “I’m sorry.”

  The little girl everyone thought he had saved…she’d be a young woman now, he thought.

  AHWOOO. AHWOOO. AHWOOO.

  Piller turned his head back to the Castle Keep. The King’s Horn, Piller thought. Something is wrong! The King’s Horn was only blown in time of great need within the Castle Keep. Piller sprinted as fast as he could to get back to the festivities.

  When he arrived back at the festivities, he had to weeve through worried people until he found King Leoné.

  “Piller, where have you been?” King Leoné demanded, looking worried.

  “Forgive me, Your Grace. The King’s Horn—What has happened?” Piller asked.

  “It’s Alana,” Leoné said in a worried voice. “She is missing!”

  Chapter 7

  Alana

  SHE WAS FREE! Alana breathed in the fresh air as she walked away from the castle. Each step she took made her feel a hundred times happier, and the pain in her head from when she fell was completely forgotten. The Western Mountains looked larger than ever as she gazed up at the white peaks that faded into the clouds. The sun was high above her head, warming her body.

  Alana had been taken back to her bedchamber after she had fainted during her father’s wedding. Galla the Healer came to her with bottles of herbs that she forced Alana to take and an ice cloth to place on her head.

  After Galla and Sir Benjamin left her to rest, and everyone was out enjoying the festivities, Alana escaped through the hidden door behind her bookcase in her bedchamber. She had finally used the secret passageway she had found to escape Astenpoole. She needed to be free and as far away as possible from her father—and from Nadia.

  Alana took in another deep, flowing breath. She breathed out, forgetting everything about the wedding, her father, Nadia, Mother Claraine and her handmaids, and Galla’s disgusting herbs.

  She had on black woolen trousers underneath an old green long-sleeved dress, with a dark cloak over both. She had tried to wash herself off a bit in the Seaport River before she crossed the bridge that had taken her into Palor, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to get all the dirt and dust off of her face and clothes from the tunnel. She hid her face under the hood of her dark cloak.

  The streets were filled with people drinking ale and wine, talking about good times, singing and dancing by the stages, and playing card games. People scurried around like ants, weaving in and out of all the shops that populated the road.

  “Good evening, my lady,” a large man tipped his hat to he
r. He was pulling a donkey.

  “Good evening,” she replied, giving him a nice smile.

  “Hello, my dear,” a plump old lady said to her while passing. She was holding a basket of vegetables pressed against her bosom.

  Alana smiled at her. They don’t recognize me, she thought as she cautiously pulled her hood off her head.

  She twirled around the streets of Palor, her bag flying over her shoulder. Alana continued down the road as the lemon colored sun gradually turned orange, sinking deeper behind the Western Mountains.

  The middle of the cobblestone road eventually became too crowded. Alana pushed herself out to the side so she was able to breathe. She popped out through the wall of people into the entrance of a market square. Tents and shops lined the square with women, men, and children appearing and disappearing from all the entrances and exits. There was a statue of Palor A’kal in the center; it wasn’t as large as the statue inside the Castle Keep, but Alana liked this one more because of its simplicity. Kids were skipping on the lawn next to the statue as their mothers kept a weary eye on them.

  Alana crossed into the market square.

  “Get your fresh stew here! Fresh stew,” a man with a large beard yelled off to the side.

  “Diamonds and pearls! I have diamonds and pearls,” a woman shouted.

  “Fresh roots, my lady?” an older woman asked, resembling Galla the Healer. She held out a root that looked like it was just plucked from the ground. Dirt was crumbling off it and small roots, like tiny hairs, were poking from the sides.

  “No, thanks,” Alana smiled and continued walking.

  “Squirrels and rabbits. I got squirrels and rabbits right here,” a man banged on a cage filled with shaking rodents as he yelled.

  Alana walked down the market, peaking inside all the tents and trying her best to avoid all the hagglers.

  “My lady, you would look lovely in this dress,” an extremely large woman said, approaching her, holding a beautiful plum colored sundress in front of Alana’s body. “You must try it on.”

  Alana almost said no, but caught herself. Why else did I come out here if not to enjoy myself? “Sure! I’ll try it on.”

  “Come, come, come.” The lady placed a gentle hand on Alana’s back as she guided her inside. Clothes hung on racks that filled the tent. Women of all ages were browsing the racks.

  The lady showed Alana to a dressing room. “This one right here, my sweet.”

  “Thank you,” Alana said politely as she took the dress from the lady’s hands and stepped into the dressing room.

  Alana tossed her bag to the floor and stripped down to her undergarments, tossing the cloak and her clothes onto her bag in the corner. She slid into the sundress, untucking her hair which had got caught behind the dress. She turned to look at herself in the full-length mirror. The dress had a beautiful pattern of marigold yellow flowers over a background of plum purple. There were pockets on the side seams. The length was just above her knees, something that would be considered inappropriate inside the castle, but with her calves bare, she felt free. She gave herself a little twirl before exiting the dressing room.

  “Ah, my sweet,” the large lady said, putting a fat hand over her mouth. “You look absolutely marvelous!”

  I need to replace Mother Claraine with this lady. “Thank you. How much is this dress?”

  “Well, originally, it was a hundred pooles, but since you look just absolutely stunning in it…I only ask for fifty.”

  Alana fumbled inside her bag, searching for her money purse. She took out a few coins. “Here is fifty pooles for the dress…another fifty pooles for your service…and another twenty to wish you the best.”

  “My sweet—I—thank you! By the palms of Zalus, I thank you!” The lady squeezed Alana so tight that she thought her insides were going to burst. Her face was crushed into the lady’s large bosom as she struggled to breathe. “May the palms of Zalus shine light on you and your family.”

  Except for Nadia, thought Alana, as she broke free from the embrace. Alana went back to the dressing room to put her old clothes into her bag. She exited the room, waved goodbye, and walked back out into the market in her new dress.

  A band began to play in the center. There was a man with a lute, a few horns, and a drummer. The melody they played was gorgeous. Children were dancing in front of the band while mothers applauded and laughed. It reminded Alana of the times her mother took her to the Western Village to listen to the music on the street.

  The music followed her around the market as she continued to curiously look into all the shops.

  When the sun had finally begun to fade behind the mountains and the shops began to close, Alana started her way back. She didn’t want someone realizing she was gone. She walked back towards the main road. She knew she would have to face her fears inside the castle eventually. She couldn’t stay away forever.

  The main road was almost upon her as she passed the last tent in the market square. Curiousity tempted her to look inside.

  Alana stopped in her tracks. Something shiny had caught her eye. She made a detour into the tent and walked over to a small table that displayed the most peculiar necklace Alana had ever seen. The necklace had a blue pendant, but she could not make out the type of stone. It wasn’t sapphire, nor was it a blue diamond. She picked it up to get a closer look at the gemstone—it was round, a perfect circle, like a full moon on the nights of the Coming of Zalus. It was an even darker blue than she first thought, like the water of the Farrest Sea, or better yet, like the eyes of her mother’s. Is that what it reminds me of? Her eyes? She thought as she stared into it.

  Alana had never seen a necklace as beautiful as this before, even in the most expensive jewelry markets in the Village. I wonder how much this costs. Alana placed her bag on the ground and searched for a price tag.

  A hand suddenly shot out, catching her wrist.

  Her heart leaped in surprise.

  “Trying to steal from Hugo are we, little girl?” The man was huge and his eyes were wide with fury. His dark mustache was curled in anger. “I shall cut off this little hand of yours to teach you never to steal from Hugo’s shop again!”

  “But I was just looking for—” Alana began. She struggled to free her hand but his grip was too tight.

  “Silence, little girl!” He had taken out a long curved blade from his belt with his free hand and slammed her arm hard onto the table.

  “AHHH!” Alana winced from the pain. “Please! I was looking—HELP! Please…”

  Everyone in the market busily carried on, minding their own business, not paying her any attention.

  Alana saw the long blade rise high into the air. All the jewelry in the room reflected off the steel, blinding her. Everything seemed to move in slow motion. Alana’s heart was about to jump out of her chest, her mind was spinning, and her body was shaking. She was too scared to scream anymore. She watched as the blade hung in the air for what seemed an eternity before it came swinging down. She turned, looking the other way; she was too scared to look.

  Thump.

  Hugo groaned. “What the…”

  Alana spun around to see that her arm was still attached to her body. There was a rock lying on the table.

  Hugo was rubbing the back of his head, distracted as he looked around for the culprit.

  The grip loosened on her wrist.

  She wriggled free, but she felt a new hand grab her. She tried to break loose and was about to let out a cry when she heard a whisper in her ear.

  “Stay quiet…grab my hand.”

  Alana looked up. From the corner of her eye she saw a boy, and without thinking, she gave him her hand. He pulled her out of the tent and back out onto the road, leaving her bag behind.

  “Somebody stop them! Thieves!” she heard Hugo yelling.

  She saw a group of men, almost the same size as Hugo, chasing after them, each with long, curved blades. If they catch me…they will find out who I am!

  The boy’s rough
hand tightened around hers. She felt her heart racing inside her chest as the boy brought her down a maze of alleyways off the main road. The shouts from Hugo’s men were close behind.

  The boy tugged her to the right as they popped out into another market square, this one even more densely filled with people. The boy flung her up against a nearby wall and signaled her to be silent.

  Sweat dripped down Alana’s neck and her body was shaking. She felt the boy’s warm breath against her cheek; his chest was against hers. She could feel his heart beating. She realized he was just as nervous as she was.

  Hugo’s men broke out into the market. Alana and the boy looked away from the street, staring at each other. After a few long seconds, they both turned back and saw that Hugo and his men had run right past them.

  Alana let out the breath she felt like she had been holding in for hours. She turned to face the boy. He looked to be about her age, maybe a little older. He was handsome, his skin was tan, a perfect match against his brown, wavy hair. What really caught Alana’s attention was how blue his eyes were.

  “Uh, do you mind? I can’t feel my arm…” The boy broke the silence.

  Alana looked down and realized she was digging her fingernails into the boy’s skin. She quickly released him. “I’m sorry!” she turned away embarrassed. “I didn’t realize…”

  “No need for apologies, Miss…”

  “Bellsworth,” it was the first name that popped into her head. “Lily Bellsworth.”

  “Ah…Miss Bellsworth. I am guessing no one taught you to never steal from Hugo’s shop?” he said, teasingly.

  “I didn’t steal from him.” Alana’s voice rose as she defended herself.

  “Then what’s that…” The boy pointed at the necklace dangling out of her closed hand.

  Alana blushed as she looked down, opening her hand to reveal the necklace. “I didn’t realize I still had it…”