Junkland (The Hoarding Book 1)

by Patrick Johns

  Jahrys let out a disappointed sigh as he finished wrapping Kevrin’s arm. Nothing was the same.

  “If we walk to Seaport, I’m sure we can find a boat to take us upstream. We should make it there in four days if we hurry,” Kevrin said.

  Jahrys agreed. They gathered their things, said their final goodbyes to Elyara, and headed south towards Seaport.

  They would have made it back to the Retrieval Stations in four days, but another storm rolled through. Jahrys and Kevrin had to deal with high winds and decided to pass the storm on land, which added an extra night to their journey. Overall, the journey had left both Jahrys and Kevrin sore and tired. The boat ride had been mostly silent. Kevrin didn’t want to talk about Elyara.

  Jahrys couldn’t wait to get back to The Arcalane. He could taste the ale in his mouth and the feel of dry, clean clothes. He desperately needed a shower and a good night’s sleep.

  After they had docked the boat at the boathouse, they had continued the rest of their journey by foot, heading back into Palor. They had walked by the closed Western Gate—which mocked Jahrys and Kevrin—and headed north to Riago’s Retrieval Station.

  They walked up the creaking steps, and stepped inside the dark cramped room. Jahrys rang the bell.

  “Hey Riago. We’re back with the diary. Hey? Riago!” Jahrys continued to ring the bell.

  “Will you stop ringing that damn bell? You woke old Riago up from his nap.” The window shot open and Riago came into view. “Who goes there?” His bald head shined in the candle light. He smiled when he saw their faces. “Hargh, hargh. Old Riago thought you all were dead by now.” He chuckled to himself and then paused. “Where’s the pretty girl?”

  “Elyara didn’t make it back,” Kevrin said, a tear escaping his eye. “She’s dead.”

  Jahrys hung his head in silence.

  “Ah. Riago’s sorry to hear that. She was a fine lady, she was. May Zalus show her peace beyond the Western Mountains.” Riago hung his head while he mumbled a little prayer.

  Jahrys took out the diary, which was still damp from the water. “Here you go, the diary that was requested.” He handed it to Riago.

  Riago took the diary from Jahrys’s hands. He flipped through the pages, taking quick glances. His face turned sullen. “Aye what is this? It’s soggy straight through! And the words are all smudged!”

  “We got you the diary, Riago,” Kevrin said. “That’s what you asked for.”

  “Yea, but a readable diary. Not a soggy one!” He looked at Kevrin and Jahrys and sighed. “Tell ya what, I’ll give you five loafs of bread for this. Riago feels for your loss of the pretty girl and the trouble you guys have gone through.”

  “Five loafs of bread?” Jahrys was aghast. “You told us we would be rewarded highly for this job!”

  “Aye that I did. That I did. But this is not even worth one loaf of bread. I’m sorry, boys. Riago has a reputation to keep. This is what I’m offering.” Riago crossed his large arms across his chest.

  Kevrin put his hand on Jahrys’s undamaged shoulder. “Come on, let’s go,” he said. “Elyara’s life is worth more than five loafs of bread. We’ll dry off the diary and find someone else tomorrow that will pay us more for this.”

  “So be it. Don’t be coming back to old Riago with anymore job requests.” He slammed the window shut and left Kevrin and Jahrys in the silent, darkness of the small room.

  Jahrys was speechless. He couldn’t believe it. Would they ever not be the laughing stock of The Arcalane?

  They walked out of the dark Retrieval Station into the road. They followed a junk wall until they reached a clear opening that took them two streets over. The Arcalane appeared, half embedded into a junk wall, which helped to keep it hidden. The inn looked like it was about to fall apart with the slightest touch. The marble stone covered as much as the roof as it could, but it looked weak.

  One more bad storm will take it down, Jahrys thought.

  As they approached the unstable steps to the inn, Jahrys caught a glimpse of something black sitting on top of the overhang above the steps. A crow was sitting calmly, staring at both Kevrin and Jahrys as they walked inside.

  Chapter 19

  Jahrys

  IT WAS NIGHTTIME when Jahrys and Kevrin returned to The Arcalane, and most of the Retrievers had already returned from their jobs. They were both shocked at the amount of noise that hit them when they walked through the door. The room was lively and loud with celebration. There was a large group of Retrievers in the corner at a booth playing Pooles and Palms. In the other corner, a band was playing and people were dancing to the music. The bar was packed with people trying to get a drink. Miller was weaving in and out of people’s stomping feet, pecking at loose crumbs on the floor.

  “Boys! Welcome back,” yelled Innkeeper Willem over the loud talking and music that filled the air. He was shouting from behind the bar. He motioned to the serving girl, Ebanie, to take over while he walked over to them.

  However, Kevrin pushed right past Willem towards Rallick standing at the bar.

  Oh no, Jahrys thought, watching Kevrin’s hands ball up into fists as he approached Rallick.

  Kevrin tapped Rallick on the shoulder while he was laughing up a storm with two ladies.

  Rallick turned.

  Kevrin swung his fist and hit Rallick in the mouth so hard that Rallick went spinning into the bar. The two ladies gaped in horror.

  Stade and Taygar, who had been at a table close by, rushed over and grabbed Kevrin to constrain him.

  Rallick stood up, wiping blood from his mouth.

  “YOU KILLED HER!” Kevrin yelled, struggling to get free from Stade and Taygar’s grasp. The whole bar was watching; the band stopped playing—everyone was silent.

  Rallick spat blood on the floor. “I didn’t kill anyone. But I wouldn’t mind killing you right now.”

  Rallick raised his fist and swung it towards Kevrin’s face.

  Willem stepped forward and caught Rallick’s fist midair. “I will not be having this fighting inside my inn. How many times do I have to tell you both?” He looked angrily at Rallick and then at Kevrin. “Today is the Coming of Zalus and I demand respect inside my inn. Let go of him.” He yelled, looking at Stade and Taygar.

  Stade and Taygar freed Kevrin from their grasp.

  “Now, standard procedures. You three—” Willem stopped when he noticed Elyara wasn’t there. “Where’s Elyara?” he asked, caressing his large mustache. “She didn’t make it back,” Jahrys said, as he met Willem and Kevrin by the bar.

  Willem hung his head, understanding dawning. After a pause, he murmured, “May Zalus find her peace and clarity. She was one of a kind, that one.” He placed an arm around Kevrin’s shoulder as they walked around the bar to the back of the inn. “Let’s get you washed up and get you a drink.”

  The tension died, and the music started up again. People returned to their conversations, drinks, and games.

  Willem guided them to the back room. Jahrys and Kevrin stripped down and hopped into the bathing area, rinsing the Junkland off themselves. Willem tossed their suits into a tub and scrubbed them down.

  After the rinsing, and after they were scolded by Willem for losing their equipment, Willem rubbed some herbs on their wounds and wrapped them up. “You guys are lucky you weren’t out there so long with these wounds,” he told them. “These should heal up just fine.”

  He handed them both sand colored tunics and a pair of light pants. “Now how many times do I have to tell you guys there will be no fighting in The Arcalane? Especially with Rallick and his gang.”

  “I’m sorry, Willem,” Kevrin hung his head in shame. “I won’t do it again. I promise.”

  “It’s okay, son. I know you’re hurting over your loss. Elyara was one of a kind: tough, funny, smart, and beautiful. She’ll always be remembered.

  “But let us not hang our heads. She wouldn’t have wanted that. We need to celebrate as a family and enjoy the time we have with each other. It’s no
t every day that it’s the Coming of Zalus.” Willem gave them both a pat on the back.

  Jahrys had forgotten about the Coming of Zalus. The day Zalus came down from the Western Mountains nine hundred and sixteen years ago. When he raised his hands high towards the sky and life poured out of his palms. He created life…or so people like to believe.

  The Coming of Zalus always took place on the single full moon of the year, and the day before Jahrys’s birthday. But these days, it was impossible to see the moon and Jahrys had lost track of the days. I can’t believe I’ll be eighteen tomorrow. He always hated how anticlimactic his birthday was, following the most sacred day of the year.

  “I think I’m going to go upstairs,” Kevrin said. “I just want to go to bed.”

  Jahrys didn’t blame him. Kevrin was pale and looked worn out. Jahrys had not seen Kevrin like this since the day they were supposed to practice sword fighting before the Hoarding.

  “Aye, let me give a toast to Elyara before you go up. I would like you to hear it,” Willem pleaded.

  Kevrin nodded.

  “Willem, we found the whereabouts of Havrick,” Jahrys had forgot to mention it.

  Willem’s ears perked up. “You found him? He’s alive?”

  “No. He didn’t make it,” Jahrys said. “We found him out by the Manor. His leg was caught in a trap set by the Hoarders. When we were attacked, a Hoarder took his body. I’m sorry.”

  Willem’s eyes started to water, and a single tear leaked out. “Thank you, Jahrys, Kevrin. You two are brave boys.” He wiped the tear from his eye. “Let’s get back to the celebrations so I can make a toast.”

  Before they left the room, Jahrys dug the blue-gemmed necklace out from his bag and slipped it into the pocket of his tunic. He then followed Willem and Kevrin out of the room. Willem returned behind the bar and Jahrys and Kevrin hung out at the end of the counter. Willem picked up a glass and a knife, hitting them together over his head.

  Cling, Cling, Cling.

  The music and talking stopped immediately.

  “Happy Coming of Zalus, everyone,” Willem’s head rotated around the room, locking eyes with all the surprised faces. “Today is a special day, but also a sad one. Today we lost two members of our family. Elyara M’ava, a smart and beautiful girl from Kaluk, and Havrick Overhill, a hard worker and a great friend. Both have been with us before the start of the Hoarding. They were family. Just like everyone here is family. Elyara was brave, adventurous, and tried her hardest to provide for us at The Arcalane. She helped us survive out here in the Junkland. Havrick worked hard inside this inn with me for nearly twenty years. He was a good man, a great friend.”

  Willem poured himself a drink and raised it towards the ceiling. The whole bar was silent, staring at Willem with sad, wet eyes. “Tonight we celebrate Zalus! The birth of life! And the memory of Elyara and Havrick. They will never be forgotten and will always have a place inside our hearts and this inn.” He raised his glass and drank.

  The crowd followed.

  Willem wasn’t done speaking, however. He slammed his glass onto the table. He hoisted himself on top of the bar and stared out at all the curious eyes. “But the time has come, my brothers and sisters. We’ve been here long enough, serving King Leoné behind his closed wall. He has yet to open the gates and save his people. Instead, he’s leaving us to rot out here with these damn Hoarders.”

  The crowd murmured in agreement, as they stared up at Willem with hopeful eyes.

  Willem continued. “We need to get through this next year, collecting as many supplies, food, and weapons as we can. Then we can leave Astenpoole behind forever.”

  Heads turned in confusion.

  “Leave?” a woman shouted out from the crowd. “But where’ll we go?”

  Willem smiled down at the woman. “Wherever we want.” He shot out a hand to the ceiling. “We’ll travel north along the farmlands of Danor to grow as many crops as our hearts desire. We’ll travel south to build our homes high up in the forests of Kaluk, where we’ll be safe from anyone on foot. We’ll travel east across the Farrest Sea, living out on the water with the sea breeze runnin’ through our hair. Or we’ll travel west, across the Western Mountains, to discover what no man, knight, or King of Astenpoole has yet to do.

  “But wherever we end up, we’ll start a new home, a new life, and a new beginning. It’s just like the stories of how the Four Cities formed back in the days of King Gabriel. When there was no room left inside the castle, King Gabriel closed the gates and abanonded his people, forcing them to live outside the castle walls. But our ancestors came together, and formed the Four Cities. We learned to live together and to fight for ourselves without the help of any king. Times are no different, because now this king will not help us. We’ll come together as Retrievers, as a family, and survive together, just like our ancestors have done before us! Because when the darkness rises, my friends, the ones who matter will be there next to you in the end.”

  With that, the whole bar erupted in applause. The band started back up and people clinked their glasses and mugs together in celebration. The group in the corner continued their card game. And Miller happily squawked around the room.

  “Wow. What a spee—” Jahrys turned to Kevrin, but he was gone. He must have gone upstairs, thought Jahrys, feeling his friend’s pain of losing a loved one.

  Jahrys bent down to pick up Miller who had just skittered by. “How’re you doing, Mill? Keeping The Arcalane safe, I hope?”

  “BUCUUUUUUCK!” The chicken replied, his big, round eyes twitching in all directions.

  Jahrys laughed, petting his little, round head. He set him back down on the floor and watched Miller run away, looking for crumbs.

  Jahrys walked up to the bar and asked Willem for a drink. Willem slid Jahrys a mug across the table.

  “Did Kevrin go up?” Willem asked.

  “Yea, he wasn’t feeling well.” Jahrys took a sip from the mug. The warm ale tingled his throat.

  “Ah, poor lad. He loved that girl. He would have died for her.” Willem said, as he returned from helping another Retriever on the other side of the counter.

  And he almost did, thought Jahrys.

  Old Lan stumbled up to the bar next to Jahrys, putting an arm around him.

  “Sorry…bout your loss, laddy.” His breath reeked of alcohol and his graying beard was wet with foam.

  “Thanks Lan. I appreciate it.” Jahrys raised his mug. Lan attempted to raise his, but as he moved his mug forward towards Jahrys’s, he fell backwards onto the floor, bringing down a chair with him. Jahrys shook his head as he bent down to help him up, but Old Lan was lying peacefully on the floor, already snoring, so Jahrys left him there.

  Jahrys walked over to a table towards the center of The Arcalane. “Tarl, Kat, Gabe,” he nodded and smiled to all three.

  “Jahrys!” they all yelled in unison, welcoming him to their table. Kat moved herself over so Jahrys could grab a chair and squeeze in.

  “Sorry to hear about Elyara. We all loved her, too.” Tarl said, as he gave Jahrys his condolences.

  “I can’t believe she’s gone,” Kat wiped the tears from her eyes. “She was one of my best friends.”

  They all hung their heads, sadness creeping over them.

  “To Elyara.” Gabe raised his mug with his good hand.

  “To Elyara!” They all said, raising their mugs together and drinking.

  “Thanks guys,” Jahrys said as he lowered his mug. He turned to Gabe, looking at his wrapped arm. “How’s your hand doing?”

  “What hand?” Gabe laughed, holding his wrapped arm up to show him his nub. “Willem has me rubbing some herbs on it every night. The skin is healing up, but my hand obviously won’t grow back.” He looked down at his nub and then back up at Jahrys. “But I should be back out there with my team in about a week or so. I can’t hold a Captor, but I can still help out.”

  “Not like we’ll miss carrying around your ass,” Tarl said, hiding his face behind his mug.


  “You mean me carrying around both of your asses!” Kat chimed in.

  “I saved the two of you from that ambush half a year past,” Tarl argued.

  “Yea, but who was the one who pulled both of you out of the Seaport River and saved you from drowning?” Kat retorted, giving them both a sassy look.

  “Fair enough. Fair enough,” said Tarl, nodding in agreement. “To Kat! For saving both our asses.” They all clinked their beers together. Jahrys joined them again.

  Foam spilled down the sides of the mugs when they brought them back down to the table.

  “Ah, you got my wrapping wet! Now I’m going to have to ask Willem to re-do it,” Gabe moaned.

  “A little alcohol will be good for it,” Tarl chuckled.

  “Can I get you all anything else?” Ebanie, the same serving girl from before, asked. She was holding a round plate above her shoulder with empty glasses. Ebanie had skin as white as her teeth and beautiful, straight blonde hair. Her Danorian accent only added to her beauty.

  “No, I think we’re all good here,” Kat replied sharply, giving her an irritable glance.

  “I’ll take another, actually,” Jahrys said, handing her his empty mug. He shuffled his feet up and down to ward off Miller, who had started to peck continuously at him under the table.

  “Going a little hard tonight are we, Jahrys?” Ebanie gave him a flirty smile; her teeth were the brightest thing in the room.

  “The Coming of Zalus happens only once a year. I might as well enjoy myself a bit,” he said, trying to hide his blush.

  “Well if you want to enjoy yourself a little more”—Ebanie gave his arm a little squeeze—“you know where to find me.” She gave him a dangerous smile as she walked away.

  “Woah!” Gabe leaned excitedly. “That Ebanie has always had a thing for you. Have you kissed her yet?”

  Kat rolled her eyes and took a sip from her mug.