Junkland (The Hoarding Book 1)

by Patrick Johns

  Jahrys looked away, embarrassed. “I—uh—only one time. And she kissed me.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re still holding on to that Lily girl?” Gabe shook his head in disappointment.

  Jahrys instantly took his hand away from the necklace in his pocket. “I saw her being taken into the castle. She’s still—”

  Gabe flung his hands up in disgust. “Come on, Jahrys. It’s been three years.” He held up three fingers in front of Jahrys’s face. “Three years!”

  Jahrys brushed his fingers away.

  “And for some reason”—Gabe threw his hands in Ebanie’s direction—“this girl’s obsessed with you. Every guy in this inn would give their left hand to be in your position.”

  “By every guy, do you mean yourself?” Kat spat, shooting him a dirty look.

  “You know what I mean,” Gabe spat back.

  “He’s right, Jahrys,” Tarl said. “You have to move on. Lily’s gone. And even if she did make it inside the castle, there’s no way for you to get to her. Give Ebanie a chance. She likes you! And, she’s here.”

  Jahrys glanced over at the bar and saw Ebanie looking over, smiling. But as much as her smile was enchanting, her hair enticing, and her accent exotic, his heart was still with Lily Bellsworth. Ebanie’s kiss would never replace Lily’s, and he wasn’t even remotely interested in checking.

  Jahrys shook his head. “You guys don’t know what you’re talking about. Lily is still alive and I’ll find her!”

  Gabe shook his head in disgust, but gave up.

  “Well, I think it’s cute,” Kat smiled at Jahrys.

  Ebanie returned with his drink. “Here ya go. Drink slow, I don’t want you to pass out and miss the night!” She gave Jahrys a wet kiss on his cheek before she walked away.

  “I’ll keep my mouth shut,” Gabe said, taking a sip from his mug.

  They all laughed.

  Jahrys felt another pain in his foot and bent down to see Miller staring up at him, clearly looking for attention.

  “Guys, I think Miller’s jealous,” Jahrys pointed out.

  They all looked under the table. Miller turned his head in every direction, frantically looking at all the faces. Eventually he got scared and scurried away.

  They laughed even harder.

  The band, which was made up of recovered instruments from the Junkland, was preparing for their next tune. The drummer was setting up the beat while the singer prepared the band for the upcoming song. The guitarist, bassist, and horn players all waited for their cue.

  “So, to get the night moving and to honor Zalus, as well as the memory of Elyara and Havrick, how about ‘Drunken Day at the Arcalane’?” the singer, Felix, asked the crowd.

  The crowd answered with applause. The people loved ‘Drunken Day at the Arcalane’.

  “Start it up!” he yelled back to the band.

  The band began the song. The horn player blasted the introduction while the guitarist strummed away. The bassist bobbed his head back and forth, keeping in time with the fast beat of the drummer. The singer smiled at the crowd as he snapped his fingers to the rhythm.

  Tarl grabbed Kat and they both climbed on top of the table, kicking and dancing. A young woman named Fallon took Gabe by his good hand.

  “Ah! Watch the nub, watch the nub!” Gabe yelled as he was dragged to the dance floor.

  “Care to dance?” it was Ebanie. She was leaning on the table, staring at Jahrys with innocent eyes.

  “Don’t you need to work?” Jahrys asked her nervously.

  “I won’t tell if you don’t.” Her eyes looked dangerous. “Besides, you owe me for that kiss…”

  “I—” but before he could say no, she grabbed his hands and brought him out towards the dance floor.

  The singer started to sing. Everyone in The Arcalane joined Felix, drowning out the singer’s voice.

  Cheers, cheers to all the girls in here,

  We toast to you with all our beer,

  We chug and chug until we’re done,

  Now fill us up again, my dear.

  The band played while everyone danced and sang along. Innkeeper Willem was even up on the bar dancing and kicking his legs.

  Cheers, cheers to all the girls in here,

  We hope you stay so close and near,

  We chug and chug with you for fun,

  Now fill us up again, my dear.

  The song repeated again and again, growing louder and faster each time. The rhythm of the band got faster and faster, and people were getting drunker and drunker. As the song repeated for the tenth time, the lyrics had completely fallen apart.

  Cheers, cheers…girls here,

  We toast you…with our beer,

  We chug…chug…til…we’re done,

  Another…dear!

  Old Lan was on his feet and singing the loudest. “Girls! Here! Cheers and beer! Done! DEAR!” He was stumbling all over the dance floor, waving his mug sporadically in the air, raining beer.

  People pointed and laughed at the drunken old knight. I guess he got a good sleep, thought Jahrys as he watched Old Lan stumble all the way over to the center table where Tarl and Kat were dancing. Old Lan got his foot caught on a fallen stool and fell face first into their table. The music stopped along with everyone’s hearts. Tarl fell backwards and Kat went flying into the air. She must have went at least ten feet high before she landed safely into Rallick’s arms. The entire room exploded with applause and cheers. The music and dancing instantly started up. Kat smiled up at Rallick, and he carried her straight up the stairs, to the right of the bar, and disappeared.

  Jahrys scowled. It’s like everything the guy wants falls directly into his arms, thought Jahrys, as Ebanie swung her curvy hips into his, trying to refocus his attention.

  Tarl got up and brushed himself off, looking around for Kat. Not seeing her, he scratched his head in confusion. Old Lan laid motionless on the floor, his legs tangled awkwardly in a knot as he snored, asleep once again. People ignored him as they stepped over his sleeping body and continued to dance.

  Jahrys eventually broke away from Ebanie. He left her with her hands on her hips, pouting. He walked back over to the bar and sat down, waving down Willem for another round. As he waited, he overheard Stade and Taygar bragging about Rallick. “…You should see the guy out there. He’s a legend. He knows exactly where to find things in the Junkland…”

  Jahrys turned back around and found his new ale waiting for him. He took a sip. He spat it back out when he felt a hand land on his hurt shoulder. He winced at the sudden sting from the wound. Stade took a seat next to Jahrys. He was nothing like Rallick. Stade was as thin as a stick, short, and looked young for his age of nineteen. Taygar was breathing heavily behind him.

  “Saw you looking over at us, Jahrhead,” said Stade. “Are you lonely since you lost your little friend?”

  “Don’t talk about Elyara.” Jahrys felt the heat growing inside of his chest. He just wanted to be alone.

  “How about we talk about another failed job by the great O’Jahrys Grent and his sidekick Kevrin?” Stade was getting close to Jahrys’s face…too close.

  “Huh,” yelled Taygar.

  “We wouldn’t have failed if it wasn’t for you and wheezy behind you.”

  Taygar narrowed his large eyes.

  “Are you guys wishing you fell into Rallick’s arms and he carried you upstairs instead of Kat?” Jahrys smirked.

  Taygar pushed past Stade and grabbed Jahrys by his tunic. Jahrys’s mug splattered to the floor as the big oaf lifted Jahrys up out of his seat, his feet dangling in midair. Taygar was grimacing up at him, and Jahrys could see where Taygar’s tongue had been cut out.

  “Boys! Please. Take this outside. We don’t need that in here. It’s the Coming of Zalus,” yelled Willem from behind the bar.

  Taygar dropped Jahrys back on his seat.

  Stade leaned towards Jahrys’s right ear and whispered, “You watch yourself O’Jahrys. You watch yourself out there in the Junkl
and. One day you might just accidentally disappear.”

  Taygar grunted.

  They both walked away, back into the crowd.

  “You okay, O’Jahrys?” Willem asked, looking over at him in concern.

  “Fine, just fine,” he answered, wincing at the sound of his name.

  Willem poured Jahrys a new mug of beer. Jahrys grabbed it and took it through the crowd to the other side of the room to sit down by himself at a booth. Miller hurried over and jumped up next to him on the bench. Jahrys petted him.

  The band was finally finishing their song—What number was this? The thirteenth time through? Jahrys wondered. The singing was louder than ever.

  Just a drunken day at The Arcalane,

  A drunken daaaaaay at The Arcalaaaaaane.

  After the singing broke off and the band stopped, the crowd started to simmer down as they retired to their beds upstairs. Jahrys sat staring at his mug recalling the sailing trip he took up the river to Zalus’s Tears with Lily. How they were so close to each other, shoulders touching, as they pointed up at the stars, asking which one they would want to travel to. ‘It looks like a place I could run away to and no one would ever find me.’ Jahrys recalled her words.

  He would find her. He was sure of it.

  Jahrys wondered if this was how Palor A’kal had felt when he was torn away from Princess Melaine. Did he think about her every single night of his banishment while he was lying on the cold ground of the mountains? Did he wish he could hold her? Or did his heart move on to someone new? Jahrys refused to believe that their story simply ended.

  He took a sip from his mug, trying to escape his thoughts.

  A cat suddenly leapt onto the table.

  Jahrys’s hand twitched, and his face was splashed with ale.

  Miller hopped onto the table, squawking at the black cat.

  “Miller—”

  The cat hissed and bared its teeth at the chicken.

  “Mr. Squibbles! Mr. Squibbles, get down from there this instant. Get down!” A wooden staff smacked the table and swept the cat away. The black cat screeched and jumped onto the opposite bench. The cat glared at Miller with menacing eyes, continuing to hiss.

  Jahrys placed his half-emptied mug on the table and wiped his face with his tunic. “Is this your cat?” Jahrys was grumpy. The last thing he wanted was to be covered in ale.

  “I am sorry, my dear. So sorry. Sometimes my cat can forget his manners.”

  Jahrys finished wiping his face and looked up. He was startled when he saw a hunched old lady standing at the end of the table. She was covered in a gray, wool cloak and was wearing a hood that covered most of her face. Jahrys could tell the features underneath were not pleasant. She held a wooden cane she used to hold her weight, even though there wasn’t much weight to her.

  The old lady inched her way towards the opposite side of the table and sat down. She tucked her staff onto her lap and began to stroke the head of her cat, making him purr.

  Miller took a few steps forward across the table and cocked a curious eye towards her.

  “Don’t mind him. He won’t hurt you. He’s just curious.” Jahrys assured the old lady, who was staring at Miller suspiciously.

  “Curiousity is the key to many doors.” The old lady took her hand from her cat and began to pet Miller’s tiny head lightly with her fingers.

  The cat hissed in the corner.

  Miller squawked in terror and backed away until he fell into Jahrys’s arms.

  The old lady smacked the cat on the head. “Pipe down! You are frightening our new friends.”

  The cat gave the old lady an angry look, but he stopped hissing.

  Jahrys placed Miller on the bench next to him. “Who are you? I haven’t seen you around here before.” Jahrys glanced over at the black cat. “And I haven’t seen him around here either.”

  The old lady looked at him. “I am just an old lady who has lost her youth along the way. But, I think the real question here is…who are you?”

  Jahrys hesitated. “Erh. I’m Jahrys Grent.”

  The old lady chuckled. The wrinkles on her face were pulled in all directions. “Are you sure? You don’t seem so confident.”

  “I am Jahrys Grent!”

  “Meow.”

  The old lady glanced at her cat and nodded in agreement. “Yes, Mr. Squibbers. Yes. It seems we have found the right person.”

  What is this lady talking about? “Right person?” Jahrys was confused. “For what?”

  “The right person for a job.” The old lady smiled, her teeth were yellow and crooked.

  “A job? From the castle? I thought all jobs had to come through the Retrieval Stations?”

  “Yes, yes. But this isn’t any ordinary job. No! This job came from King Leoné himself.”

  “The king? You came from the castle?” Jahrys could feel his head spinning. He couldn’t tell if it was from the alcohol or from the confusion. “How did you get outside the walls?”

  “There are always ways in, and there are always ways out,” the old lady said in a scratchy voice.

  “But how did you survive out in the Junkland in just…that.” Jahrys motioned his hands towards the old lady’s outfit.

  “Meow.”

  The old lady cleared her throat. “Rude indeed, Mr. Squibbers.” The old lady shook her head.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to affend you. It’s just—it’s dangerous out there.”

  The old lady pulled the sleeve of her cloak back up to her shoulder and stretched down a flab of skin at her triceps. “This skin may look old and wrinkly, but it’s as thick as armor, I tell you! Isn’t that right, Mr. Squibbers?”

  “Meow,” the cat agreed.

  This lady is crazy. Jahrys looked around to see if anyone was noticing their conversation. The bar was mostly dead, except for Tarl and Gabe who were talking by a table, Willem who was cleaning some glasses, Ebanie who was rubbing down the tables, and Old Lan who was still passed out on the floor. Jahrys turned his attention back to the old lady. “What’s this job the king is offering?”

  The old lady reached a wrinkly hand into the deep pocket of her cloak and pulled out a piece of crumpled paper. She stretched it out and held it up in front of her face.

  Both Jahrys and Miller raised their heads to get a better look.

  “It looks like a bottle of wine,” Jahrys said, after examining the picture.

  “Yes, a bottle of red, a bottle of white. But not just any bottle. No—look closer.” The old lady shoved the parchment into Jahrys’s face.

  Jahrys backed away in annoyance and focused his eyes on the description at the bottom. Jahrys read it: Palor Red. The wine of Astenpoole. Grapes harvested fresh from the backyard of the Grent family.

  “Grent Wine,” Jahrys repeated aloud.

  “Meow.”

  “Yes, Mr. Squibbers. The boy can read.” The old lady nodded in agreement.

  Jahrys tried to snatch the parchment from the old lady, but she pulled it back as if she had predicted his move. Jahrys sighed. “Why does the king want this wine?”

  “There has been a shortage of wine in the castle ever since the Hoarding.”

  “Meow.”

  “Yes, yes. The king does love Grent Wine. And he’s offering a hefty reward for this job.”

  “What kind of reward?” he asked curiously.

  “The person that completes this job will be granted access to the castle.” The old lady gave a smile, showing her yellow teeth. He noticed many were missing.

  Jahrys’s mouth dropped. “Inside the castle?”

  “Those without ears will never hear,” the old lady recited.

  “I have both my ears.” Jahrys touched both of them to prove his point.

  “Then you can hear.”

  “Meow.”

  The old lady nodded to her cat. “Yes, Mr. Squibbers. He is a stupid boy.”

  Jahrys couldn’t take these mind games much longer.

  “So…do you accept this job?” asked the old
lady.

  Jahrys thought it over. This could be his chance to finally get into the castle and find Lily Bellsworth. But none of this made any sense. Why would the king go through all this trouble just for a bottle of wine? And why is he granting this person into the castle?

  “How did you find me?” asked Jahrys.

  “All I had to do was look.”

  Jahrys shook his head, not wanting to be bothered with her ridiculous mind games. He took a sip of his half-filled beer. His head was starting to spin. He eventually shook his head and said, “Screw this job and screw the king. He left us out here to die and rot while he is camped in his castle, worrying about his thirst for wine. No, I do not accept this job.” Jahrys stood up and Miller flew off the side, squawking.

  Jahrys would find his own way inside the castle.

  “So be it,” the old lady showed no sign of disappointment or frustration. “But if fate changes your mind, bring the bottle of wine back to The Arcalane, a day from this hour, and I will be here.”

  Jahrys left the old lady and stumbled his way towards the stairs. Miller followed.

  “Goodnight, Jahrys. Happy Coming of Zalus,” said Willem, as he waved to Jahrys from behind the bar.

  “Goodnight, Jahrys.” Ebanie gave him a bright smile as he walked by her.

  He staggered his way up the staircase to the second floor, Miller hopping up behind him. He turned right and stumbled down the hall to his room at the end. Jahrys was furious now thinking about the king. How he had left them all to die and be constantly attacked by the Hoarders.

  “He wants wine. I’ll give him wine.” Jahrys was talking to himself while zig-zagging down the hallway with Miller.

  Jahrys flung open the door to his room and fell in. Miller sprinted across the hardwood floor and flew up to the bed, getting cozy into a pillow.

  “Dammit, Miller. That’s where I sleep,” he yelled. But Miller didn’t move.

  Jahrys noticed that his bag and belongings were lying on his nightstand. Kevrin must have put them there.

  He went into the bathroom on the far right of the room. He went over to the bucket filled with water and splashed some water on his face. He looked up in the mirror. He saw red scratches covering both sides of his cheeks and forehead. There was a nasty cut on his chin. His brown hair was a mess. He dunked his head forward into the bucket of cool water. When he rose for air, he pushed his wet hair back over his head. He realized his tunic was still on and was now soaking wet. He took it off and saw his hurt shoulder in the mirror. The burnt skin was oozing through the wrapping. He took a cloth from the rack on the side of the barrel and started to wash out the wound. He finished by wrapping it up with a thin layer of cloth. Jahrys looked at himself again in the mirror. His body looked worn down and scarred.