Junkland (The Hoarding Book 1)

by Patrick Johns

  Jahrys concentrated hard. He tried to relax. He could feel something inside of him, something that was trying to break free. He felt his breath begin to deepen. He pulled himself out of his mind and took his focus down to every muscle in his body, every fiber. He felt his toes and then his legs. He traveled up to his stomach, his chest, and his arms. He felt life return to his body. He felt himself regaining control.

  Jahrys stepped forward, stumbling. He had broken free. He regained himself and lunged at Kevrin.

  “No!” Nadia yelled.

  He collided into Kevrin, pushing the Captor away from Alana. There was a deep, low hum.

  VHRUUUUMMMM.

  A yellow beam shot out towards Nadia. She deflected it with her staff and the beam was sent flying towards a pillar that was holding up an archway on the second floor. The beam hit the pillar with a loud crash, and absorbed a large chunk.

  Kevrin butted Jahrys across the face with his Captor.

  Jahrys’s head spun as he fell to the floor. His Captor went flying from his hands. He regained himself and unsheathed his sword, wiping blood from his face with his other hand. He dove forward and sliced the tube that connected Kevrin’s Captor. Yellow smoke formed a cloud around Kevrin, blinding him as he coughed. Jahrys kicked the Captor from his hands.

  Nadia raised her staff and wind blew around the room, clearing the smoke.

  “Kevrin,” she yelled out to him as she continued to raise her staff. “Take this!”

  A sword began to form in midair in front of Kevrin. He grabbed it and leaped forward. His sword flew down on Jahrys. Jahrys raised his sword to meet Kevrin’s. Sparks sprayed as the two blades met. The vibration from the sword handle stung Jahrys’s hands. His legs wobbled beneath him as he tried to stand his ground. He was already so tired…Briefly his mind went back to their last sword fight. So long ago…

  Hoarder and Retriever swung their swords back and forth, back and forth, as they danced around the throne room. They were both panting and sweating, their muscles straining, their hearts were hurting, but the two old friends, now foes, continued to fight.

  Kevrin swung his sword at Jahrys’s head. Jahrys ducked and dove his body into Kevrin’s stomach. They both crashed to the floor.

  Jahrys’s calf was on fire, the cut seemed to have open. He could feel the blood oozing out, but he ignored it as he rolled on top of Kevrin, pinning his old friend down. If she can manipulate him, I can bring him back, he thought.

  Kevrin let out a groan.

  “Listen to me,” Jahrys yelled. “Elyara cannot come back. She’s gone. You must accept that!”

  Kevrin shook his head in denial.

  “She wouldn’t want to see you like this!” Jahrys tried to make him see reason. “Nadia is using you for herself. Do not listen to her. There was a reason you saved me the night of the Hoarding. There was a reason you kept me hidden from her all those years. You are my—”

  Kevrin head butted Jahrys and pushed him off. He was back on his feet. He lashed out at Jahrys with his sword, but Jahrys rose to one knee and blocked it.

  “Kevrin—you must listen to me!” Jahrys pushed all his weight into his sword as he rose to both feet, his calf screaming in pain. “Nadia has manipulated you. This isn’t who you are! You are my friend…my brother!”

  Kevrin let out a yell as he released his weight, swinging his sword at Jahrys’s head. Jahrys ducked and kicked Kevrin’s legs out from underneath him. Kevrin flipped back to the floor.

  Jahrys pointed his sword at Kevrin’s throat. He heard the clicks from the Hoarders readying their Captors around him.

  “Don’t shoot!” Nadia yelled to her Hoarders. “We need him alive.”

  “You see? She doesn’t care what happens to you,” Jahrys said. “She only cares about herself.”

  “Don’t listen to him!” Nadia yelled out. “We will bring back Elyara, I promise you.”

  “She isn’t coming back,” Jahrys said honestly. “You need to—”

  CRACK.

  Jahrys turned, eyes wide. The pillar that had been hit by the beam had been wobbling all this time, and was now falling upon him.

  Something hard collided into Jahrys’s side, taking his breath away as he was flung to the floor.

  The pillar collapsed with a thunderous roar as it shook the throne room, sending a large cloud of dust and stone into the air.

  Jahrys coughed. His lungs were filled with dust from the pillar and his eyes stung.

  “Are you okay?” It was Kevrin who had saved him.

  “Kevrin…what—”

  “I cannot see another friend die.” Kevrin stood up, holding out a hand, his eyes asking for forgiveness and understanding.

  Jahrys hesitated, but then smiled and reached up for his friend’s outstretched hand. Kevrin began to lift him to his feet.

  “AH!” Kevrin screamed.

  Jahrys fell backwards. Kevrin had let go of his hand. The floor came up hard against his back. Something hot flew past his face. He heard Nadia screaming from the side.

  Jahrys looked up.

  Kevrin was clutching a hole the size of a fist in the center of his stomach. He let out a low groan.

  “Jahr…” His eyes glistened for forgiveness as his life ended. He collapsed to the floor.

  Behind where Kevrin had stood, Sir Piller was on his knees, holding a steaming Captor with his right hand. He was clutching a bleeding wound at his stomach with the other.

  Jahrys was too shocked for words. He could only look at the wounded knight, who smiled painfully as his hand slowly dropped the Captor, and his body collapsed to the floor.

  “MY SON!” Nadia charged forward through the fading smoke, raising her staff. “YOU KILLED MY SON! I WILL—”

  The oak doors suddenly slammed open down the hall. The sound of marching echoed into the throne room. Jahrys was afraid to see what was to come through that hall. Had the Hoarders defeated his army? Was he the last to stand against the sorceress?

  He slowly rose to his feet and grabbed his sword while Nadia was distracted.

  The throne room door slammed open and men piled into the hall. “FOR ASTENPOOLE!” They screamed.

  They were led by Krist and Martellus.

  The men opened fire at the army of Hoarders with their own Captors.

  “No…” Nadia took a step back. “This cannot be.”

  The Hoarders reciprocated against the oncoming army. The throne room came to life as blasts exploded into pillars and walls, people screamed and yelled, and swords and arrows met flesh.

  Nadia whipped around to face Jahrys. “You will not take this from me.” She raised her staff straight up to the high ceiling and brought the end of it down hard onto the floor—cracking the marble. The floor around Nadia rippled like a wave. The wave sent Jahrys flying backwards, his sword leaving his hand.

  Nadia pointed her staff at Jahrys and a yellow blast fired out. Jahrys rolled to the side as the blast hit the floor and exploded. Pieces of marble scattered the air, bruising his skin.

  Nadia was quickly on him. She shoved the glass sphere into his chest, pinning him down. “I have waited years for this and you will not take it from me. You’re the key. I’ll be far more powerful than her. I—

  “Ahhh!” Nadia screamed. The pressure lightened against Jahrys’s chest. “Get off of me!”

  Jahrys looked up. Nadia was swatting the air.

  “What are you doing?” Her hands were protecting her face.

  A crow was flapping its black wings repetitively as it dug its talons into Nadia’s face.

  Jahrys reached for his Captor, but his hands only gripped the air. Jahrys looked around and saw his sword lying behind him. He crawled towards it. After dodging two sporadic blasts, he gripped the hilt and rose to his feet, his injured leg aching.

  He turned to face Nadia, who was still fighting off the crow. She lifted her staff into the air, swinging it dangerously around and around. She finally made contact with the crow. The crow was sent flying, hitting a pillar
on top of the balcony on the floor above. The crow fell hard to the floor.

  Jahrys drowned out the sound of the battle as he focused on the wounded sorceress. Her face was unrecognizable from all of the scratches and blood that covered it.

  She turned to face him. “You don’t understand what you’re doing! You need me. Emilia will come for you! For the same reason I came for you. It will never end! But I’ll be generous. I will not hurt you. We can bring back Alana. I—”

  Jahrys closed the distance, raising his sword and swinging it down on Nadia. But Nadia blocked him with her staff. Jahrys swung again, this time on her left, but she was too fast. Again and again Jahrys swung. He swung for his mother, for his father, for all of his friends who had died in the Hoarding. He swung for Alana. But Jahrys could not make contact with Nadia’s flesh.

  Nadia ducked under his sword and jammed the butt of her staff into Jahrys’s chest.

  He fell to the floor, his sword flying out of his hands again. He was panting. When he looked up, he was face-to-face with Nadia’s glowing sphere; the light was growing brighter and brighter. Jahrys rolled to the side just in time as part of the marble flooring exploded next to him. He jumped up and ran for his sword, panting hard.

  Nadia continued to fire at him.

  Blasts rained around him. He was closing in on his sword, it was only a few feet away.

  “AHHH!” he yelled as he collapsed to the floor. There was a sharp pain in his already injured leg. He looked and saw that several inches of his calf were burnt and oozing.

  He didn’t make it to his sword.

  Nadia stood several feet away, her staff pointed at him.

  Jahrys struggled to one knee as he stared deeply into the glowing sphere at the end of her staff. The yellow cloud was swirling around in the glass.

  He was panting. His heart was racing faster than ever. His calf was on fire, and he could feel his world spinning from the pain of his wound.

  He watched as the sphere continued to grow brighter and brighter.

  “You chose unwisely, Jahrys.” Nadia said, firing once again.

  Jahrys raised his palms to shield his face—his last hope of survival.

  He felt the force of the blast as it dove into his hands. He felt the material of the suit melt away as the heat dug deeper down his arms, into his skin.

  But there was no pain.

  The blast subsided, and Jahrys stood standing—unharmed.

  Nadia was confused. She fired again and again.

  Jahrys engulfed each blast with his palms. He felt the blasts running through the veins of his arm and flowing through the rest of his body. The warmth flooded his heart and then subsided.

  The fighting had stopped. All eyes were upon them.

  Nadia stared at him in awe. She fired again.

  Jahrys rose to his feet and caught the blast with both of his palms. It was like sticking his hands out during a rush of wind during the stormy season. It felt like running his hands under Zalus’s Tears with the water thundering into his palms. He felt the energy flowing in every muscle in his body. He felt his mind focusing in on it. There was a faint blue, glowing deep in the center of his palms. He pushed it all out—all towards Nadia.

  A blue light fired out of both his palms, blinding everyone in the throne room. Jahrys was yelling. His voice echoed off the walls, powerful and strong.

  The blue light encompassed Nadia. She let out a high-pitched scream as her body slowly disintegrated into nothing.

  Jahrys’s arms collapsed to his sides, his palms scorching. He fell to his knees. The blue light was no longer visible in his palms, and his hands were now searing in pain.

  Nadia’s body was gone. All that remained of her presence was her staff, and the yellow sphere that glowed at the top.

  Chapter 46

  Jahrys

  THE FIGHTING HAD stopped. There was silence in the throne room. All eyes turned to Jahrys.

  He was on his knees, his suit dented and frayed. He was wheezing, trying to gasp for breath. His hands were numb; the skin on his palms was red and burning like he had just held a hot coal. What had he just done? Nadia was dead, and he had no idea how it had happened.

  “Is she dead?” a hoarse voice said behind him. It sounded like a man.

  Jahrys turned to see the crow crawling towards him. The crow’s beak was bent and bleeding, his stomach looked to be caved in, he was missing a few feathers, and one of his legs looked to be broken. He couldn’t believe the crow just spoke to him.

  “Yes…” Jahrys replied, not sure if he was going crazy answering a crow.

  “Good.” What seemed like a smile passed over the crow’s beak.

  Jahrys stood over the crow. “You’re Carthel? The King Beyond the Mountains? Kevrin’s father?”

  The crow nodded.

  “I saw you the night my parents died,” Jahrys said. “And the night of the Coming of Zalus, and the morning King Leoné was murdered.” Jahrys felt the anger running through his body as he remembered it all. He raised his voice. “I saw you on Nadia’s shoulder when I was standing helpless on that stage! Have you been watching me? Betraying me to Nadia all these years?”

  “I…I’m sorry…I didn’t—I was…blinded…selfish…” the crow wheezed. “Where…is…my son?”

  “Kevrin is dead.”

  It was as if a knife went through the crow’s heart, sadness filled his eyes.

  “You could have saved so many lives…my parents, Alana, Kevrin…” Jahrys turned away in disgust.

  “I…I’m sorry…” the crow said in disappointment. “I…didn’t mean—Jahrys…”

  Jahrys bent down over the crow and lifted him up. Jahrys looked into his beady, black eyes.

  “There’s…not much time,” the crow said. “Emilia…”

  “The Red Sorceress? Did she do this to you?” Jahrys asked. “Is she the one who changed you into a crow?”

  The crow let out a frightening cough. “She has—a good heart. She means…well. But—she is—dangerous.”

  “Dangerous?” Jahrys’s head was spinning. “More dangerous than Nadia?”

  The crow nodded and then tilted his head to the side. “The staff…”

  Jahrys followed the crow’s gaze to the staff lying on the floor where Nadia had once stood. Jahrys walked over and picked it up with his free hand, examining it. The yellow cloud swirled inside the glass.

  “Protect—” The crow’s beady eyes began to fade. “Protect—”

  “Protect what? What must I protect?” Jahrys asked, desperate for an answer.

  “…the sphere…”

  The life was slowly fading from the crow; he was gasping for air now. His eyes were lost in Jahrys’s face, spinning in all directions. The crow seemed to lose sense of his surroundings.

  “Please!” Jahrys yelled, knowing he was losing time. “Please, tell me what I am? What I did?”

  “Jahrys…” the crow whispered.

  Jahrys bent his head down to hear.

  “Your father…,” the crow’s head began to fall. His voice was distant, “…was a good man.”

  “You knew my father?” Jahrys couldn’t believe it. “You knew Alvys Grent?”

  The crow stopped breathing.

  “No…No! Please, I need to know!” Jahrys begged.

  But the life had faded from Carthel.

  Jahrys was left with a million questions running through his head. What do I protect the sphere from? What kind of sorcery is in it? What kind of sorcery is inside me? Why did Father never mention Carthel?

  “We did it, Jahrys! We won!” Krist slapped Jahrys hard on the back.

  “I don’t know what kind of tricks you’ve been hiding from us, but it worked. You put on quite a show.” Martellus placed a hand on Jahrys’s shoulder.

  The Retrievers had forced the Hoarders to their knees with their hands behind their heads. They had taken control of the throne room and had won the battle. But it didn’t feel like a victory to Jahrys. He looked at Sir Piller
and Kevrin. They were both motionless on the floor. He looked at Alana lying beneath the steps.

  “Take him,” Jahrys handed the crow over to Krist. Krist took him without question, though uncertainty was in his eyes.

  Jahrys handed the staff to Martellus. “Keep this safe.”

  Martellus looked at it with curious eyes as he grabbed it.

  Jahrys limped across the room to Alana, ignoring the pain in his calf. He collapsed to his knees before her dead body. Even in death, she was still beautiful.

  Jahrys recalled Alana’s words the night they sailed underneath the stars, when she gave him her reason for which star she would travel to. ‘It looks like a place I could run away to and no one would ever find me.’

  “I’ll find you,” Jahrys whispered as tears fell down his cheeks. “I will find you.” He kissed her cold lips. He reached down to hold Alana’s hand in his.

  As he did, something hard fell into Jahrys’s hand. It was the necklace—with the full moon shaped gem.

  Epilogue

  BLOOD DRIPPED FROM the wound in Partha’s right leg. But still she continued, half-limping, half-crawling. There was a light in the distance; it kept her moving, knowing her baby might be safe there. She held the baby safe in her left arm, cradled close to her body. It was so dark she could barely see, but she kept moving towards the light. Her right hand guided her and supported her. Her knees were cut up and bleeding, along with her forearms. Her entire body ached.

  One of the wolves had gotten too close and had torn deep into the flesh of her left leg. She had cried out, but, of course, no one had heard her. She was far away from home, so far…past the mountains. Her leg wouldn’t stop bleeding. Every minute she could feel herself fading away from the world around her. But she had to keep moving. She had to make sure her baby was safe.

  She had found a cloth and a rope in her bag, which she had used to tie around her wounds. The whiteness of the cloth didn’t last long, as the cloth turned a dark red, almost brown, shortly after. It did help with the pain, however.

  ‘Run. To the mountains.’ Partha recalled her husband’s last words. She was well beyond the mountains now and had not reconnected with Ren. She only hoped he had escaped. She refused to believe he was dead.