Junkland (The Hoarding Book 1)

by Patrick Johns

  “What is it, Your Grace?” Piller asked. “Who’s attacking us?”

  “I don’t know, Piller. They’ve come from the mountains. In all the history of Astenpoole, nothing has ever come down from those damn mountains.” He turned his gaze west to the yellow night sky.

  “Should we summon our Army? Should we fight, Your Grace?” Piller asked.

  “No. They are using weapons that are beyond us. We cannot fight.”

  “What kind of weapons?” asked Hollow.

  “We don’t know. Some yellow light,” Leoné’s eyes were wide with fear.

  “Yellow light?” Devan chuckled as if it was a joke. “Have you gone mad, Your Grace? Let’s fight and show them what Astenpoole has to offer.”

  “No! We will not fight!” yelled Leoné.

  “But, Your Grace, we need to do something,” said Arnold in desperation.

  “Close the gates,” Leoné demanded.

  “What?” all four of the brothers gasped.

  “You heard me.” Leoné turned to Piller. “I need you to ride down to the Western Gate and tell them to close it immediately. We cannot have them breach the castle.”

  “We’re just going to hide inside the walls? What about the people outside?” Piller raised his voice. “They’ll die!”

  “I’d rather have a few people die than all of Astenpoole.” King Leoné looked at each brother in the eye before continuing, “It’s a hard decision, I know, but it has to be done. We need to save as many people as we can. If we let them enter through our gates…well…there won’t be an Astenpoole any longer.”

  The brothers exchanged nervous glances.

  There was a shout from across the yard behind them. “Your Grace! Your Grace!” Benjamin was sprinting towards them.

  “What is it, Benjamin?” Leoné asked the knight.

  “Your Grace. The princess, your daughter…she’s gone!” he was leaning over with his hands on his knees.

  “By Zalus,” Leoné cursed. “How many times do I have to teach that girl to stay put? Arnold, come with me. You will help me and Benjamin look for my daughter.” The king turned to Piller. “Piller. You have the command. Get those gates shut!”

  “As you command, Your Grace,” Piller knelt down again. Close the gates? How can they close the gates and desert all those people?

  He rose to his feet and turned to Hollow and Devan. “Let’s move.”

  The brothers received their horses from the stables and hurried through the King’s Gate and down Pooles Road. People were screaming left and right, running as fast as they could from the Western Gate. Piller could tell who came from the outskirts due to the ragged clothing.

  These poor folk, he thought, as he kicked his horse to go faster. He galloped down the road with his two brothers following close behind, the wind rushing in his face.

  When they arrived at the gate, Piller only saw chaos. A crowd of people were pushing their way through the gate, while knights tried to keep them from piling in. Old Lan was in the center of the knights, holding the crowd back.

  “Step back!” he heard Old Lan yell at the frightened crowd.

  The ground suddenly began to shake beneath their feet. Piller’s horse spooked, sending him flying to the ground. He hit the hard cobblestone road, and a shooting pain spread across his back. Piller let out a groan.

  Hollow and Devan jumped off their own horses to help Piller up.

  “What was that?” Hollow asked.

  There was a deep, low hum that echoed off the walls.

  The sound was moving closer. The panicked crowd grew even more unruly. Everyone charged forward, knocking down the knights as if they were as light as feathers.

  “Cap’? Captain?” yelled Devan, but Piller didn’t seem to hear him. “Piller!” he yelled again over the screams.

  The earth shook again beneath their feet.

  Piller turned to his two brothers.

  “What are the orders, Captain?” asked Devan, fear prominent in his eyes.

  “We close the gates.” It was as if someone else was speaking for him.

  “What?” asked Hollow over the noise.

  “WE CLOSE THE GATES!” Piller looked up the wall. “Follow me.”

  They pushed their way through the gatehouse tower and climbed the stairs to the top. Piller used all his force to open the door and stormed inside. “CLOSE THE GATES!” he yelled.

  “What? Close them?” the gatekeeper stood motionless and confused.

  “By the king’s orders I need you to close this gate,” Piller repeated himself.

  “All right, all right. Old Riago don’t be wanting any trouble. What the king wants is what the king gets.”

  Riago ran over to the wheel and began rotating it.

  The brothers stepped outside onto the wall. They watched below as the gates began to slowly rotate together, pushing both the knights and the chaotic crowd outside of the castle.

  Confused screams and shouts came from below as the gates continued to come together. Piller raised his eyes towards the city of Palor. The sky was illuminated with a yellow glow. In the distance, houses were on fire and people screamed.

  VHRUUUUMMMM.

  The earth shook. Beams of yellow light shot across the streets below.

  Piller watched as the people, including the Astenpoole knights, fought for the small space remaining between the gates.

  Old Lan was banging on the gates, yelling for them to re-open. Old Lan looked up the wall and found Piller’s eyes. The old Captain of the Poolesguard gave Piller a look so cold, it sent a chill running through his bones.

  By the palms of Zalus, was all Piller could think as he watched the gates shut. What have I done?

  Chapter 12

  Jahrys

  JAHRYS HOPPED HIS back fence and ran through the vineyard. His lungs felt like they were about to cave in. Sweat soaked his clothing. He had no idea what was happening. He had just watched Frayel’s body disappear from thin air, he had just let the girl of his dreams slip away, and he had just watched the king abandon his people.

  By Zalus, what is going on? Jahrys wondered as he ran up his back steps. He would not let his parents suffer too.

  He stopped abruptly at his back door, as he heard shouting from inside. He quietly opened the back door to the kitchen. Miller came flying out. Jahrys was about to yell out for him when a voice caught him by surprise.

  “Where is he?” the deep voice asked. It was coming from the living room.

  Jahrys heard his father reply. “I told you already. We don’t know.” There was fear in his voice. Jahrys had never heard his father sound this way before. “If you just let us go, we can go out and look for h—”

  “Do you take me for a fool?” the deep voice threatened.

  Jahrys silently crept to the other side of the kitchen. He peered into the living room. He saw two large men standing over his parents, who were restrained. His mother had a dazed look on her face, and blood ran down the side of her head. His father was crying.

  The two men were wearing suits of armor Jahrys had never seen before. They were made of a metal he didn’t recognize, and the lights on the suits gave them a yellow glow. Their helmets also glowed yellow. There was a breathing vent where their mouths were and dark holes where their eyes should be. They both wore boots and carried giant packs on their backs. A large circular yellow light encompassed most of the pack. A long tube ran from the pack to a device that Jahrys imagined was a weapon, but it was none he recognized.

  The man closest to his father had two black stripes running down his helmet and was pointing the weapon at his father’s head.

  “I don’t take you for a fool,” his father said. “I just…I don’t know where—”

  “Hit her again.”

  “No! Please!” his father pleaded. “I’m telling you the truth! Take it out on me, just leave her out of it.”

  The other man marched over to his mother. He took his weapon and slammed it against the side of his mother’s head.
She fell hard to the ground. More blood began to ooze out of her head.

  His father let out a wail.

  “By the palms of Zalus, I beg you!” his father cried. “Please, leave her out of this!”

  Jahrys couldn’t take it any longer. He stepped forward.

  “Fa—”

  A hand flew over his mouth before he could finish what he was saying.

  “Shh,” a voice whispered in his ear.

  Jahrys saw the man with the black striped helmet give a slight nod to the other. The man standing over Jahrys’s mother lifted his weapon high into the air and brought it down hard on his mother’s head one, two, three times. Each time the crunch of the weapon on her skull was louder.

  “No! STOP!” Jahrys’s father screamed.

  His father struggled to his feet. He reached out for the man who was hitting his beloved wife, but before he could even touch him, the man with the black striped helmet pressed his finger down on the top trigger of his weapon.

  A yellow blast shot out, hitting his father in the stomach. His father collapsed to the ground.

  The man shot at his father a second time, and his father’s legs flew into the air.

  The person constraining Jahrys slowly guided him to the back door.

  There were two deep, low hums as the two men pointed their weapons at Jahrys’s parents, who were motionless on the living room floor.

  The kitchen came to life, knives clattered onto the counter, chairs vibrated across the room and toppled over, plates slid out of cabinets and shattered on the floor.

  VHRUUUUMMMM.

  The light that filled the kitchen blinded Jahrys. He felt himself being pushed through the back door, his feet stumbling down the steps. He tripped and landed hard on the ground. He still couldn’t see. He felt someone pull his arm, guiding him away from his house. He yanked away.

  “Jahrys, we need to go…now!” a familiar voice called out.

  “Kevrin?” Jahrys couldn’t believe it, his vision clearing. He shook his head. “No! I have to save them.” Jahrys struggled to his feet and ran for his home.

  But Kevrin was faster. He grabbed Jahrys’s arm and pulled him back. “Your parents are dead.”

  The words didn’t seem real. Dead? How could his parents be dead? It just wasn’t possible. Jahrys looked back at his home. Mother…Father…

  “Come on,” Kevrin gave Jahrys a nudge towards the yard.

  Jahrys wiped the tears from his eyes and followed.

  Before he left the yard, Jahrys took one more look at his home. It was completely dark inside now. The home that once brought Jahrys happy memories was now a melting pot for his burning heart.

  Jahrys was about to turn back around to follow Kevrin, when something black caught his eye. A crow was sitting on top of the ledge over his back door, and it was watching him.

  Chapter 13

  Piller

  HER WORDS ECHOED violently inside his head.

  “Gone,” she had whispered.

  “Who is gone? What happened?” Piller had asked the frightened girl, who was shaking on a bed inside the Clinic. There were others there, too, all survivors from the attack. The injured were taken to the Clinic and the numbers continued to grow.

  “All gone,” the girl’s eyes were bouncing right to left, right to left, as she stared up blankly at the ceiling. Sweat soaked the sheets from the bed she was resting on, and her dark hair was a tangled mess.

  King Leoné had commanded Piller to find out all he could about the attack. Piller had thought the Clinic would be a good place to start. After a stressful talk with Galla the Healer, he eventually was able to persuade her to let him talk to her patients, but he was only allowed an hour.

  Most of the patients were not in any state of mind to talk, and many of the others simply couldn’t recall what had happened. But, he had found one who was helpful. The little girl was in the corner of the Clinic, and she was perfectly coherent, perhaps too coherent.

  “Who is gone?” Piller had asked the girl again. He leaned in a bit closer. The girl began to mumble. Her eyes were as wide as the Farrest Sea. “Who is—”

  The young girl’s tiny arms shot out at Piller’s tunic. He was shocked at how tight her grip was. Her fragile arms were shaking.

  “They were right behind me. I saw them. They were there! I heard them, I tell you! I am not crazy!” The girl’s eyes were large with fear as she dragged Piller closer to her face.

  “I never said you were cr—”

  The girl interrupted him. “I turned around and they were there before I started running. Oh! Yes they were. But we heard a blast and…and…”

  “And what?” Piller tried to sound calm, but his rough voice made that difficult.

  “We were on the road, heading back home. There was shaking and…and…a humming. Loud humming. I was ahead of my father, mother, and my brother…little Jax. Everyone began to scream and told me to run. So I ran. But then I heard a noise and when I looked behind me they were…they were…” The dark haired girl choked up.

  “What’s your name, little one?” asked Piller, feeling sympathy for the girl.

  “My name is Dally,” the girl said, choking on each word.

  “What happened to your family, Dally?” Piller had wiped away the girl’s tears that were running down her cheeks.

  The way she had looked at him, the way she was talking, it was almost ghost-like. “They disappeared,” the girl had simply said.

  They disappeared? No one just disappears. The girl must be awestruck, he recalled thinking.

  At that moment, Galla the Healer had noticed the girl’s discomfort and shooed Piller away.

  “Out. Be gone with you. And tell King Leoné to let these people rest.” She waved a hand at him.

  Piller stood up and smiled down at Dally. He brushed the hair from her face and gave her a little pat on the head. “Thank you, Dally,” he had said.

  He left before Galla the Healer could swat him with her hand.

  The last words the girl had said were haunting Piller as he sat in the council room.

  The council room was quiet. All the members of the Poolesguard sat around the round table in silence, waiting. It wasn’t a large room. It was already snug with the seven of them in there.

  There was a vent at the top of the ceiling letting in fresh, cool air. However, it was still hot and humid in the room.

  He could see the fear in their eyes. The two youngest members of the Poolesguard, Hollow and Arnold, sat next to each other across from him. I can’t imagine what they’re going through right now, thought Piller as he waited in silence.

  Piller turned his head to the left and stared at a large picture on the back wall. It was a beautiful painting of a sunset falling behind the Western Mountains; it was a sight Piller had only seen a few times from the castle walls. Most days it was hard to see the sunset behind the haze and the storms from all of the heat, especially during the stormy season.

  His gaze dropped to Martellus who sat underneath the picture. He was tapping his fingers in an awkward rhythm on the table.

  Tap, Tap Tap.

  Krist sat to his left. He was eyeing Martellus’s fingers obsessively as if he was ready to chop them off.

  Benjamin sat to the right of Martellus, not noticing the tapping or simply choosing not to care. He was staring down blankly at a wooden mug that he held cupped between his hands, probably thinking about the princess.

  Leoné had been furious when they had found her outside of the castle walls during the attacks. The king had found the secret passageway Alana had been using to escape her room and had it sealed up. There was tension building between the princess and her father, and Piller wasn’t sure what would happen between them.

  There was heavy breathing coming from Piller’s left. Devan sat in his chair, sleeping, with his beard rising and falling on his chest. Piller felt the droopiness in his own eyes. None of the knights had gotten much sleep the past few days.

  After what seemed li
ke ages, the thick wooden door bolted open, banging against the back wall.

  Devan jolted up right. “What? Who?” Once he realized what was happening, he fixed his composure.

  King Leoné rushed in, Zatum following him.

  Piller stood up to help Leoné into his chair. Zatum took the seat next to the king at the head of the table, and took out a piece of parchment, a quill, and some ink from his bag. He dabbed the quill twice into the ink bottle and waited patiently.

  Piller took his seat.

  Leoné looked around the table at all the knights. He looked like he had aged ten years since the attack a few days ago.

  He finally said, “This meeting has been called to discuss the matter of the attack that occurred three days prior.” As Leoné talked, Zatum’s hand glided back and forth across the parchment as his quill recorded the meeting. “Any news from the Clinic, Piller?” Leoné had turned to him.

  Piller paused for a second, considering whether he should tell him about the girl who saw her family disappear. “There was one girl, Your Grace.” Piller looked down at the table and then back at Leoné. “She saw her family disappear.”

  “Hmm. Disappear you say?” Leoné glanced over at Zatum’s notes to check if he caught that.

  “Yes, Your Grace. She said her family was walking behind her. There was shaking and humming. She heard screams and her family yelled at her to run. When the little girl turned to look behind her, her family wasn’t there. She was convinced they had vanished.”

  “Vanished.” The word hung in the air as Leoné looked down at the table. He ran his fingers through his beard, thinking. “Do you believe this girl, Piller?” Leoné asked him.

  “I do, Your Grace.”

  “How can you believe such folly?” Devan broke in. “Do you hear yourselves? Vanished? People do not simply vanish.”

  “I think I have to agree with Devan on this one,” said Krist, leaning his large arms across the table. “The girl must have been dazed from some of Galla’s herbs.”

  “She seemed to believe it,” Piller said, defending her.