Junkland (The Hoarding Book 1)

by Patrick Johns

  They had run out of the courtyard and into the city. The rain had lightened up, but their clothes were still wet. They zig-zagged down deserted roads and alleyways as the sound of fighting faded behind them.

  Hoarders were following close behind, though. Jahrys could hear their heavy footsteps against the cobblestone road. Captor blasts flew past their heads as they twisted and turned through the streets. Jahrys didn’t know where they were going. He was struggling to keep up. But he kept moving. He didn’t want to go back to the dungeon. He didn’t want to go back to that stage. He didn’t want to die.

  “This way! They went this way!” A Hoarder yelled out behind them when they ducked behind a corner to avoid more Captor blasts.

  It was difficult running in the streets; Junk blocks were scattered sporadically throughout the road. It reminded him of being back in the Junkland. Except now, he was running barefoot instead of wearing boots.

  His legs, already weak, were beginning to falter. He didn’t know how much farther he could run. He was lightheaded; he couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten. His breathing began to shorten, and his vision felt distant—almost cloudy.

  “Stop. I must stop,” he said with a low, hoarse voice.

  “We’re almost there, Jahrys. Stay with me!” Alana yelled back to him as she pulled his hand tighter.

  They finally lost the Hoarders around a sharp bend. Alana took him down another side street and burst into a house with the door barely on its hinges. She slammed the door shut behind them. Dust encompassed them inside the house.

  “Jahrys?” Alana called out. Her voice sounded like an angel’s, but it was so distant. “JAHRYS?”

  Jahrys felt his vision fade away and his legs give out beneath him as he fell to the floor.

  His eyes shot open. He was lying on the floor staring at a dark ceiling. His clothes were still damp, but drier than before. He slowly lifted his head. The entire room was dark, dusty, and worn down. The room had overturned furniture. The fabric was ripped on nearly all the couches and chairs. The glass on the table was shattered. The bannister of the staircase at the far end of the room was shattered, broken wood was on the floor. The place looked like it had been abandoned for years. He saw a large painting hanging on the wall across the room. It looked oddly familiar. I know this place, he thought as his eyes sweeped around the room.

  Jahrys shot a hand up to his chafed neck. The rope was gone. He looked over at what remained of it, now tangled in a mess on the floor.

  “Jahrys?” A woman spoke from the corner of the room. There was something peaceful about her voice. She walked out of the darkness, towards him. She was still wearing the dark cloak, and the hood still covered her face. “I was so—” she choked up. “I was so worried about you. I thought—They said terrible things. They told me you murdered my father…”

  “Alana…” he reached out to her. His voice raspy. “I was there when your father died. But I did not kill him. I was set up.”

  Alana pulled her hood back to reveal her face and bent down to grab Jahrys’s hand. She was tearing up. “I believe you, Jahrys. It was Nadia. Nadia set you up. I always knew.”

  “Thanks for believing.” Jahrys smiled. He still couldn’t believe it was her; it had been so long. “Am I dreaming?”

  Alana laughed and smiled through her tears. “No. I promise you, you aren’t dreaming. I’m really here.” She handed him a water skin with her other hand.

  Jahrys stared at her while he accepted the water. He took a long drink—nearly finishing the water skin. Her smile was the brightest thing Jahrys had seen since that night under the stars—before the Hoarding. Her long, brown hair glistened, even in the darkness. Her eyes were as blue as the Farrest Sea. He scanned her as if it was the first time he ever laid eyes upon her. She was beautiful.

  Jahrys didn’t know what to say.

  She grabbed his other hand and brought his hands close to her face. She began to softly sing.

  Trust me as I take your hands.

  And I will bring you to distant lands.

  Far beyond the lined horizon,

  Past the wall your mind’s in.

  “You remembered…” Jahrys gasped in surprise.

  Alana smiled, turning red.

  Jahrys smiled back. “It’s been so long. That night of the Hoarding—I shouldn’t have let you go—I should have held on.”

  Alana brushed the hair back from Jahrys’s forehead. “Forget the past. I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere this time.”

  Jahrys smiled. He dug his hand deep into the pocket of his pants and pulled out the necklace.

  “I think you dropped this.” Jahrys handed her the necklace.

  Alana took it and looked down at her hand, studying it. Her mouth fell open. “You held onto it all this time?” She stared at the blue gem in wonder.

  “It was the only thing I had that reminded me of you,” Jahrys admitted.

  Alana began to cry and tightened her grip around the gem and his other hand. She looked at Jahrys with happy, tearful eyes. She bent over him, and suddenly her lips were on his. It felt like a spark hitting his lips and sent a shiver running down his spine, which quickly spread throughout his body. He forgot about his blistering feet, his aching stomach, and his painful cuts from the rope. It felt like every pain and ache in his body was suddenly healed. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer. He never wanted to break away. He would be happy if he stayed in this moment for the rest of his life.

  Alana broke away. “I’m sorry I lied to you. I thought—I thought if you knew, you would have treated me differently.” She hung her head in disappointment. “I was going to tell you that night. I tried, but—”

  Jahrys lifted her chin. “I will always treat you like Lily Bellsworth.”

  Alana couldn’t help but smile. She kissed him again.

  When they broke apart, Jahrys stared deep into her eyes. She smiled back at him. He knew this was the moment to say it, what he had been wanting to say to her for three years. He opened his mouth.

  “Alana, I—”

  There were voices outside. Alana quickly broke her gaze and turned towards the door. She stood up and helped Jahrys to his feet.

  “We have to leave. We can’t stay here.” She whispered.

  Jahrys felt embarrassed, hoping Alana didn’t realize what he was about to say. “But where do we go? The whole castle is out looking for us. Nadia will find us both eventually.” Jahrys was lost without a plan.

  “We must stop her.” Alana said, seriously.

  “Stop Nadia? Are you out of your mind?” he waved his hands in disbelief. “Have you seen what she did with that staff of hers? She has some crazy plan that involves me bringing a king back…And what’s up with that crow…she’s mad!”

  “I don’t know what she’s up to. But if we don’t stop her, more innocent people will be killed. The castle will become exactly like the Junkland.” She stared back at Jahrys with glassy eyes. “We must stop her!”

  Jahrys sighed. “But we have no army, no weapons, and no leader.”

  Alana smiled. “Luckily, I know where to find all three.”

  “Where—”

  “Don’t move!”

  Jahrys’s heart fell. He knew that voice. A Hoarder appeared from around the staircase at the far corner of the room. He was pointing his Captor at the back of Alana’s head. How did he get in? Was he hiding upstairs this entire time?

  “Jahrys, who is it?” asked Alana nervously. She began to shake.

  “Stay still,” Jahrys said, trying to comfort her. “It will be all right.”

  “You”—the Hoarder motioned to Alana—“turn around and face me. Both of you put your hands behind your head. Down on your knees. Now!” He kept his Captor pointed at Alana.

  They did as he commanded. Jahrys looked at the Hoarder. He was alone. He had a sword hanging in a scabbard on his left hip. His Captor was attached to his Captor Pack on his back. It glowed yellow.

  “Who a
re you?” Jahrys asked, keeping his hands raised.

  The Hoarder took a few steps closer to Jahrys and Alana, now only a few feet away. He used his other hand to unclip his helmet and took it off, his other hand still pointing his Captor at them.

  Jahrys couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

  “Kevrin?” Jahrys’s mind was racing.

  “You know him?” asked Alana, her hands still above her head.

  “Yes, he is—was my friend.” Jahrys began to lower his hands.

  Kevrin dropped his helmet. He placed both hands on his Captor and pointed it at Jahrys’s chest. “Keep your hands raised!”

  Jahrys put his hands back in the air. “You disappeared…What happened?”

  Kevrin’s hair was thinner and his eyes were yellow. He looked like he had aged thirty years.

  “She came to me that night,” Kevrin began.

  “Who came to you?” Jahrys was confused.

  “Nadia.”

  “Nadia? How did she get out of the castle?”

  “She has powers, Jahrys. Powers beyond any of us. Powers beyond you.”

  “Me?” Jahrys shook his head. “I don’t understand. I don’t have any powers!”

  Kevrin stepped closer to them. “She told me you have the power to bring Elyara back.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Jahrys couldn’t help but laugh. He stopped when he noticed Kevrin’s stern face. “You know that’s ridiculous, right?”

  “That’s what I thought…until she showed me the prophecy.”

  “The prophecy? What prophecy?”

  “The prophecy that involves you. That’s why Nadia is here. She has been using her army to collect enough energy so she can finally use your powers. The powers that formed inside of you when your eighteenth full moon passed over the sky. Powers that can bring back my father and bring back Elyara.”

  “Your father?” Jahrys said, shocked. “What happened to your father?”

  Kevrin said nothing.

  “I don’t believe this,” Jahrys continued to shake his head in disbelief.

  “I know you believe it, Jahrys. I know you felt it on top of that stage; the energy within Nadia’s sphere. Your parents, all our friends at The Arcalane, King Leoné”—Jahrys felt Alana tense up next to him—“They’ve done their part in helping bring back my father and soon, Elyara.”

  Jahrys’s face hardened. “You killed King Leoné.” It wasn’t a question.

  “You’re a murderer!” Alana yelled, tears filling her eyes.

  “No. That was you, Jahrys. I only helped. Nadia gave me the wine bottle that night with the poison. She told me to hand it to you during our job—that you would give it to the king. And once he was finally out of the picture, and the gates were open, she would be able to gather enough energy to bring back my father and Elyara.”

  “Who is your father?” Jahrys was growing impatient. His head was on fire.

  “Carthel Danell. The King Beyond the Mountains. The rightful King of Bellow Hill. He will return to stop the Red Sorceress, who has destroyed his—our home. She’ll come again to claim this castle and to use your powers. But my father will save Astenpoole and protect the people when she comes. We need him.”

  “So Nadia is…is…”

  “My mother.”

  Jahrys couldn’t believe this. He had known Kevrin his entire life, but now it felt like he didn’t know him at all.

  Alana was trembling, afraid of what she was hearing.

  “Please, Kevrin. Don’t do this.” Jahrys had to make him see reason.

  “I have to,” he said. “I need Elyara back. I need my father. You know what it’s like to lose the ones you love.”

  Jahrys couldn’t disagree with that.

  “On your feet, both of you.” Kevrin signaled with his Captor for both of them to rise. “I have to take you to her.”

  Jahrys shook his head in disbelief, but he listened. He rose to his feet. Alana followed as she tried to hold back tears.

  “She won’t kill you, Jahrys,” Kevrin said. “She needs you. And if you cooperate…she will let Alana li—”

  There was an explosion outside, distracting Kevrin. Jahrys didn’t hesitate. He dove forward, pushing the Captor to the side, and tackled Kevrin to the ground, causing him to accidentally pull the top trigger. A yellow blast shot out from the Captor. It exploded into the painting across the room, sending smoke and debris into the air. Jahrys coughed, but kept his focus on Kevrin. They rolled around on the floor, scrambling at each other. Jahrys punched him hard in the face, his knuckles screaming with pain. Kevrin went limp.

  Jahrys grabbed the Captor and pointed it at Kevrin. He rolled Kevrin onto his stomach and unclipped his Captor Pack.

  “Keep this pointed at him. If he moves…shoot him with the top trigger.” Jahrys handed the Captor over to Alana, placing her hand around the handle and two fingers over the trigger.

  Jahrys began to strip Kevrin’s suit.

  “What are you doing?” Kevrin moaned.

  “I’m taking this.” Jahrys couldn’t look Kevrin in the eye as he took the suit off his old friend. Jahrys then grabbed the rope lying on the floor and cut it in two with Alana’s knife. He tied Kevrin’s wrists together and then his ankles.

  “You’re making a mistake!” Kevrin yelled.

  “I think you’re the one who made a mistake. You betrayed your family.” Jahrys began putting Kevrin’s suit on his own body.

  “Can you help me with the Captor Pack?” Jahrys asked Alana, who had lowered her Captor since Kevrin was tied up.

  “The what?” Alana looked at him as if he had two heads.

  “That…” Jahrys pointed to the pack the Captor was attached to. “Just clip it on to the back of my suit.” Jahrys turned to show her.

  Alana lifted the Captor Pack and lined it up with the clips on the back of Jahrys’s suit. There was a click and a pop. The lights on his suit and Captor lit up. The suit now glowed blue. Jahrys turned around to take the Captor from Alana.

  “Thank y—”

  The voices outside cut him off. They were getting louder and closer.

  “We have to go,” Alana urged Jahrys to hurry.

  Jahrys grabbed Kevrin’s helmet and followed Alana over to the secret passageway that was now exposed. The painting had been blown off.

  “I’m sorry! Jahrys, I’m sorry…” Kevrin’s voice grew fainter and fainter as Jahrys and Alana climbed down the ladder to the secret passageways below.

  Chapter 35

  Nadia

  PLEASE, YOUR GRACE. Mercy!” The man was on his knees, pleading to Nadia. His head was hanging down. His lips trembled like a baby. He tried repeatedly to look up, but he was too afraid.

  And so he should be, thought Nadia. She sat high above the man on the Wave. She clutched her staff tightly in her right hand, her veins clearly visible. She had used too much energy during the riots. How could she have been so ignorant? She thought the people would listen. She thought they would understand.

  But none of that mattered now that the boy escaped. After all these years of waiting and finally having the boy in her grasp, he had gotten away from her. It was that damn Princess’s fault. Nadia had known Alana would give her trouble.

  Now she needed to regain the energy she had lost, and fast, before they recaptured the boy. She was going through all of the prisoners from the dungeons. The ones that were disloyal to her, the ones that didn’t see her cause, they were the ones she had to sacrifice. She was questioning them, seeing who would serve her and who was trustworthy. She was a generous queen.

  She repeated the words she had been reciting all afternoon. “Do you pledge to serve under me and cause no treasonous acts against your queen?”

  “I d-do, Your Grace,” the man stuttered. “Anything f-for you.” The man was shaking from head to toe. He looked as if he was going to wet himself.

  Nadia motioned to her guards. They had been standing behind the man with their Captors raised towards the back of his head. “Ta
ke him away,” she ordered.

  “Thank you, Your Grace. Thank you!” The man said, as the two Hoarders dragged him back down to the dungeon.

  After they left, two more guards entered, carrying yet another prisoner.

  As she waited for them to cross the room, Nadia turned her eyes to a window above the balcony. She noticed the sunlight fading and night gradually taking its place. Where are they? She thought. Carthel or Kevrin has to have found him by now. It’s been too long!

  Her son, Kevrin, had been out with her men searching for the boy and the princess ever since they had escaped that morning. Carthel was flying around the city. But Nadia was getting worried, since neither of them had updated her since the search began.

  The guards forced the next prisoner down to his knees in front of her. This one was much larger than the last. He was old and bald, but there was no fear behind his eyes.

  This one will give me trouble. “Do you pledge to serve under me and cause no treasonous acts against your queen?” Nadia asked, projecting her voice over the empty hall.

  “Aye, good old Riago prefers to serve on top of you, Your Grace.” He gave a sly, mocking grin.

  “You dare mock the queen in the presence of death?” The guard to the right of Riago yelled. He butted the man across the face with his Captor.

  “Agh!” Riago fell to the marble floor. He slowly rose back up to his knees, wiping the blood from his cracked bottom lip with the back of his hand.

  Nadia walked down the steps, carefully, so not to trip over her trailing black gown. Her shoes and staff made a tip-tap sound as Nadia made her descent down the stairs.

  Tip-Tap, Tip-Tap, Tip-Tap.

  The old man eyed her cautiously as she descended.

  She stood over the man kneeling on the floor. He was smirking at her. She didn’t like that. The key to control was fear. “Would you rather die than serve me?” she asked calmly.

  She wanted to kick him in the face, to wipe that stupid smile away. How could he sit there and not take the situation at hand seriously? He hadn’t the faintest idea of what she had gone through to get here—what she had sacrificed. He had no idea what was coming for him. Nadia kept her composure.