Junkland (The Hoarding Book 1)

by Patrick Johns

  After her eyes were tired of examining the pillars and recalling the stories, she stared past the grand marble staircase to the black and white marble floor that lay before her like an ocean. The design of the floor was a mixture of squares and circles, either in black or white. It could send the head spinning if one stared at it for a long period. The center of the floor was colored white. It formed a path that continued all the way from the marble staircase to the entrance door across the throne room.

  She got bored of that quickly and glanced up at the high ceiling. There was a painting of Zalus on his knees before the Western Mountains. His palms were raised to the sky, light shining out of them.

  Nadia laughed to herself. She found the belief in the Wetsern God rather humorous.

  The silence was starting to disturb her. She let her left hand fall onto the armrest. She started tapping her fingers against the small wave.

  Tap, Tap, Tap.

  The sunlight from the windows around the room was making her sweat through her long, silky black dress.

  When she assigns the job to the boy, he will die. Carthel’s words rang through her head; it was supposed to happen today. And she was to wait patiently in the throne room so no one would accuse her.

  Once Leoné was out of the picture, she would finally be able to open the gates. She would finally be able to collect the energy she needed to save Carthel and together, take over Astenpoole to prepare themselves for Emilia.

  She glanced over at the sphere. It was glowing a bright yellow. Nadia couldn’t remember the last time it glowed that bright; it must have been before Emilia destroyed the temple.

  It still wasn’t enough energy, however. She needed more for her plan to work. She had never tried anything like this before, and she had waited far too long for this to fail.

  Nadia let her mind wander back in time as she waited. She couldn’t believe how long it had been. Eighteen years. Eighteen years since the battle at Bellow Hill, when Emilia had attacked the castle and ruined everything. She remembered it perfectly, as if it had happened yesterday. Nadia had been waiting patiently in the throne room during the battle. Just like she was doing right now. Except she hadn’t been alone then. No. She had had her son with her, her beautiful boy who was only a few months old. She remembered comforting him, rubbing his thin, black hair on his little head. He smiled up at her with gums as pink as lilies.

  Her mother had been there with her, too.

  Far off explosions from the battle shook the throne room. She could tell they were losing as the explosions grew louder and louder as the night carried on. She remembered crying. She had been afraid of losing Carthel, of losing her only child, of losing her life and family.

  They were fighting Emilia and her army. Emilia was too dangerous—she couldn’t control her powers. But Carthel believed he could help her.

  As the battle continued and the hours flew by, Nadia had seen something glowing in the corner of her eye. She had lifted her head from her smiling baby and looked over at her staff, which was leaning against the armrest of the chair. The glass sphere on top of her staff had been glowing, but it wasn’t glowing yellow like it normally did—no, it was glowing black. Nadia had never seen it glow black before.

  Giving her baby to her mother, Nadia had reached over for her staff and held it in front of her. She had looked deep into the glass. She remembered the energy she had felt. It was nothing she had ever felt before. She saw images inside the glass. A baby’s face covered the sphere. He was smiling up towards the ceiling. But as the image inside the glass zoomed out, she saw a man and a woman staring down happily at the baby in the woman’s arms. Partha. She remembered how far her heart had dropped when she realized who they were. The image had faded. A crow had appeared in the glass now, lying helplessly on the ground. The crow had faded into darkness and words had suddenly appeared across the glass—a prophecy. She remembered the words perfectly as if they were engraved inside her—

  CRASH.

  The door to the throne room slammed open. Nadia came back to reality. Her head shot up. Four knights walked towards her. Their footsteps tapped against the marble flooring. Their armor glistened off the sunlight from the window. They knelt before her.

  “Sir Piller, Sir Hollow, Sir Arnold, and Sir Devan. What do I owe this pleasant acquaintance?” Nadia asked, trying to sound surprised. But she already knew why they had come.

  “Your Grace,” Piller stood up. The others followed him. “I have grave news.” The scar across his face moved like a wave as he talked.

  “What is it, Sir Piller? Tell me.”

  “The king, your husband, is dead, Your Grace.” Piller was looking up into her eyes. “He was murdered.”

  The other three knights hung their heads in sadness.

  Dead, thought Nadia. He’s dead! Leoné is finally dead!

  As these joyous words rang through her head, she kept her composure. She had to use these knights as her pawns. She needed them to trust her.

  “My husband? Murdered? Is this some sick joke?” She jumped out of the Wave. She grabbed her staff that she had placed against the armrest of the chair. She walked down the grand steps, her staff echoing against the marble floor. She stood before Piller and the knights.

  “I’m sorry to inform you of this treacherous news, Your Grace. But it is not a joke. We have captured the one responsible. A boy, Your Grace. It was just a boy.” Piller lowered his head. “He poisoned the king’s wine,” he handed a bottle to her. “We’ve placed him in a cell, but have not begun to question him yet. We wanted to speak with you first, Your Grace.”

  Nadia already knew who the boy was. She took the bottle and examined it. The label on it read: Palor Red. The wine of Astenpoole. Grapes harvested fresh from the backyard of the Grent family.

  “Who was supposed to be guarding him?” She was proud at how angry she sounded. She thrust the bottle back to Piller.

  “It was me, Your Grace.” Devan stepped forward. “I have failed you. I have failed my king.” He hung his head in shame. “The boy found a secret passageway into the king’s chamber, Your Grace.”

  “A secret passageway?” she tried her best to sound confused. But she already knew about the passageways. Carthel had informed her of it previously.

  “Yes, Your Grace,” Piller spoke now. “We have men searching them as we speak. We’ve gone through his bag, and it seems that the boy had a map of the castle.”

  She pretended to think this over for a few seconds. “A map, you say?” She already knew about the map. “This was beyond you, Sir Devan. I do not hold you accountable for this.” She put a hand on his shoulder.

  “Thank you, Your Grace. You are most kind.” He smiled, but it looked foolish against his sad, red eyes.

  She looked at the knights. She needed them dispersed for what was about to happen. “Sir Devan.”

  “Yes, Your Grace?”

  “I need you to stand guard outside the boy’s cell. No one speaks to him unless I know about it first. Is that clear?” That should keep him busy.

  Devan smiled at this. He seemed to find honor in this job. “Yes, Your Grace. As you command.”

  “Good,” She turned to Piller and his squires. “I need you three to go find Alana. She needs to be sent to her bedchamber at once, and remain there. Her life could be in danger, and she will be miserable once she finds out about her father. She won’t be fit to rule—especially with what’s going on. I will act as queen until all this chaos has passed and Alana is older.”

  The knights looked at each other, surprise showing on their faces.

  Nadia continued. “Tell Sir Benjamin I want him outside of Alana’s door day and night. No one enters or leaves her room without informing me. She speaks to no one. Is that clear?”

  The princess was her only threat. She couldn’t have Alana ruin her plans. “Make sure she does not escape this time.”

  “Yes, Your Grace.” They all said.

  “Please leave me so I can mourn my husband in pe
ace. Now.” She looked at each of the knights, her gaze steady.

  The knights turned to walk out of the throne room.

  “Sir Piller,” she called out. “One moment please.”

  Piller told his knights he would catch up with them outside. He walked back up to her. “Yes, Your Grace?”

  “I need a favor from you,” she stated.

  “Of course, Your Grace. I am yours to command.” He took honor in that. Nadia respected him.

  She walked back up to the Wave and took a seat. She rubbed her hand on the sphere as if petting it. She wanted to feel the energy within it. “There will come a time, not too far from now, when we’ll need to open the gates.”

  “The gates, Your Grace?” he repeated, sounding idiotic.

  “Yes, the gates. We have to investigate the attack outside the Western Gate. If there are any survivors, we need to save them. To help them.”

  “But, the Hoarders—”

  “Isn’t this what you’ve wanted?” she smiled at him. “King Leoné has trapped us inside here for far too long. It’s time to take action and help the survivors outside the wall, along with the people trapped inside!”

  Piller hesitated for a second, as if there was actually something to consider. He then looked up at her. “Yes. I agree. We must save the kingdom.”

  “We will save the kingdom, Sir Piller. But we’ll first need to open the gates to investigate the attack that occurred just outside the wall.” She knew Piller would like that plan.

  “As you say, Your Grace.” He continued to look at her. “But what about the Hoarders?” he asked again.

  “I’ll take care of the Hoarders,” she responded, giving him a trusting smile.

  “As you say, Your Grace.”

  “That is all.” She waved him away.

  After he left, she let out a long, happy sigh. She sat back onto the large wave of the chair, relaxing. It was all happening perfectly. Soon the gate would be opened, she would get enough energy to save Carthel, and finally find a use for the boy. She had been waiting for him to come of age all these years. Just as part of the prophecy had said…the energy will flow within his palms of light, when his eighteenth moon rises full in the night. She and Carthel would rule Astenpoole, and when Emilia came for them again, there would be nothing she could do to stop them.

  A yellow light caught her attention; her sphere was glowing again. She smiled as new energy flowed within the glass.

  Suddenly, she heard a gust of wind from a window to her far right. Something landed on the armchair next to her.

  “It’s done, Nadia. The king is dead and the boy has been captured. We’ll soon have enough energy so we can be together again.”

  “It’s been too long, Carthel. Too many years have passed where I’ve not felt the touch of your lips.” She stroked Carthel’s feathery head as he looked up at her with those black, beady eyes. “I will have my king back soon.”

  Chapter 28

  Alana

  ALANA WAS IN the courtyard, sitting at her favorite spot near the fountain. The water was roaring out of Zalus’s palms, crashing down like a waterfall. The mist felt nice against her face. She watched the fish nibbling at the surface. She was alone with her thoughts about her mother, and the night with Jahrys under the stars.

  She wasn’t completely alone, though. Benjamin was not far off in the distance, watching her. She would have much rather been left alone, but she didn’t mind Benjamin. He was handsome and pleasant to talk with. Sometimes she even pitied him. While his brothers were doing knightly tasks, he was stuck babysitting a girl of seventeen.

  She knew Benjamin found enjoyment teaching her how to fight. Ever since her father had given her her new sword, her skills had improved tremendously.

  She was excited to practice with Benjamin again later that day.

  Alana rolled up the sleeves of her silk dress and twirled her right index finger in the glass-like water. The fish swam up to her finger with curious mouths, but they kept their distance. She wondered what they were thinking. If they suffered from pain like she did.

  “Princess Alana,” it was Sir Piller who crossed the yard towards her. He would have been a good-looking man if it wasn’t for the terrible scar that stared Alana in the face every time she looked at him. He was only thirty-seven, but the scar made him look much older. The young knights, Hollow and Arnold, followed close behind him as they approached her by the fountain. Benjamin walked over to join them. Piller’s face looked like he had just heard terrible news.

  Piller bent down on one knee. The two young knights followed like two school boys. “Princess Alana, we have some…” he paused and looked at his other two companions and then at Benjamin. “We have some rather upsetting news to inform you of.”

  Alana took her finger out of the water. She looked over at Piller, Hollow, Arnold, and Benjamin. Her heart was sinking deep into her stomach. She knew this couldn’t be good.

  “Sir Piller, Sir Hollow, Sir Arnold, what a pleasant surprise. What grave news have you brought me?” Alana did not like the look in their eyes. She saw sadness and pity, and, perhaps fear? What has happened?

  Piller took a step towards her. His armor glistened as he placed a hand on her shoulder. He didn’t smile. His eyes looked glassy. “My princess. Your father, is…” he was struggling to finish. He turned his head away from her.

  “My father is what, Sir Piller?” Alana could feel her stomach sink lower, but she did not let her eyes leave his face.

  Piller turned back to her. “Your father is dead, Alana.” Piller’s eyes broke as they fell to the ground. “He has been murdered.”

  Alana felt like she was going to throw up. She placed a hand on her mouth and a hand over her chest. Her head spun as tears poured down her face. She couldn’t believe what she had just heard. No. Father cannot be dead. It isn’t possible. He’s the king and kings are strong and immortal! Just like all the stories. She could feel her hands start to tremble. I have no one now. My family is gone. She let her head fall into her hands as she sobbed.

  Piller got up from his knee and sat next to her on the fountain. He leaned her head onto his armor, trying to comfort her.

  “I’m sorry, Alana. Your father was a great man, and he loved you and your mother very much.” He took a deep breath. “We have caught the boy who did it.”

  Alana raised her head. Her eyes were red. She choked. “Who?” It was all she could manage to say through the pain of losing her father.

  “Devan and I are planning to question the boy once you are safe within your bedchamber. We will find out everything we need to know about him—I promise.”

  She stood up. “I must see him at once, Sir Piller,” she demanded. She had to see for herself who her father’s murderer was.

  “I’m sorry, but it’s my orders to take you straight to your bedchamber for your protection. We believe your life is in danger, as well.”

  “Orders? Whose orders are you following?”

  “Your mother’s orders, my lady.”

  “My mother? My mother is dead!”

  “Queen Nadia, my princess.”

  “SHE IS NOT MY MOTHER.” Alana screamed. Her voice echoed throughout the courtyard. “If my father is truly dead, then I am now Queen of Astenpoole. Nadia has no power over me—or you. She’s nothing but a dowager queen.”

  “That is true, my princess—I mean, Your Grace, but Nadia’s still your guardian, at least until your next birthday, and she does not seem to think you are ready to rule in this state of mind. You need rest. We’re unsure if the boy was working alone, or if there’s another murderer roaming around the castle. We must take precautions.”

  “I am not a baby, Sir Piller,” Alana had snapped. “I’m the Queen of Astenpoole. There have been younger rulers before! Isabella Danor was only sixteen when she became queen!” She never thought she would hear herself say those words. She never wanted to be queen. But she would not let Nadia keep a title that didn’t belong to her.

 
The knights glanced at each other. They weren’t sure what to do.

  “I didn’t mean to offend you,” Sir Piller said quietly. “But Nadia is right. She will act as the regent while you rest in your bedchamber.”

  “As a prisoner? For how long!”

  “Please, Alana, don’t make this harder than it must. Your life is in danger. I need to bring you to your bedchamber to know you’re safe. Please…” Piller stood up and had offered his hand to her.

  She looked to Benjamin for help, but he was speechless. She was furious. I’m the true Queen of Astenpoole! But she didn’t see any other choice. They were not going to listen to her. Alana let her head fall, but before taking Sir Piller’s hand, said, “The people will not like this. I’m the true heir to the throne.” She grabbed Sir Piller’s hand tightly, but there was a dark look in her eyes.

  “You’re making the right choice,” Piller assured her. But there was doubt in his eyes. “Benjamin, see that Alana gets back to her bedchamber safely. Guard her door and do not let anyone in or out without running it by me first. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, Captain.” Benjamin had turned to Alana. “Come with me, my princess. I will keep you safe.” Benjamin had offered his right arm to Alana.

  “You mean queen.” She muttered before taking his arm.

  Benjamin guided her across the courtyard, through the Village, and up the spiral staircase to her bedchamber at the top of the tower. He opened the door for her and laid out his arm for her to walk inside.

  Alana turned to face Benjamin. “We’ll sneak away like we always do, right Benjamin? We’ll still continue to practice?” She just wanted to forget the pain.

  Benjamin shook his head in disappointment. “I’m sorry, my lady, but not this time. Things are serious now.”

  Alana tried to hold back angry tears as her lips trembled. She began to sob. “Nadia is keeping me a prisoner! Can’t you see that? Please…I don’t want to be left alone.”