Jaclyn and the Beanstalk

by Mary Ting

  “What happened when you were captured?” I asked.

  William shook his head and looked off into the distance. “So many things you do not know, and what I’m about to say will not make sense to you. But there are monsters, Jaclyn. The kind of monsters you only dream of in nightmares. We were only supposed to observe, but Aldwin rushed out. He got scared when he saw their size and their deadly amber eyes. He stabbed one with his sword, over and over, as if the devil took hold of him. Blood flowed everywhere. We fought for our lives, and they killed Aldwin and Peter. Then darkness covered our minds like night. And here we are. We cannot fight back. Our swords are missing.”

  Blood flowed everywhere.

  “Jaclyn.”

  Father captured my attention.

  “You must leave.”

  I did not reply. Instead, I ran to the table, gathered food, and ran back to the cell. Then I shoved food through the spaces between the poles. They thanked me and took it graciously.

  As they ate the cheese, bread, and meat, I went back to grab the cup and filled it by the stream. After making sure it was drinkable, I took the cup to my father and his friends. I had to figure out how to get them out, but for the time, I would help satisfy their necessities.

  Taking out my dagger, I tried to cut through the wooden pole, but it was too thick. There had to be another way besides needing a key.

  “Where did the people come from?” I asked.

  They stopped chewing, gazing at me.

  “What people?” Father wiped his lips with the back of his hand. He finished the apple down to the core.

  “People that live here,” I answered hesitantly.

  “Why would these people live with the monsters? Did you try to talk to them?” Father asked, eyeing the dagger peeking from my boot.

  I froze. Did Father recognize it? If so, he didn’t say. I opened my mouth to answer his question, but stopped. How could I explain what I’d seen?

  “They’re ... I don’t think I can talk to them. They don’t speak. You must see for yourself.”

  “Give me the other dagger,” Father said.

  When I did, he tried to cut a pole. He strained and then began whittling, slicing away bits like you’d peel a fruit. The sturdy pole seemed unbreakable. Then William stopped Father with a hand on his shoulder.

  “Listen.” William’s eyes grew wide with alarm. “Do you hear? Someone is coming.”

  While they went back to the positions they had been in before, I scurried away into the shadows. I hid behind the curve of the cave, hidden away with my dagger clutched in front of me.

  The same man I’d seen earlier, the one who had been eating alone, approached the prison. I caught a glimpse of his brown hair under the torchlight, and when he turned in my direction, I froze. Even though he could not see me, his thick, long scar showed—the same scar I’d seen when I’d touched the lance and just before I’d fallen off the mountain.

  Turning his attention back to the prison, he sniffed again like a wolf smelling prey. Then he angled his body in my direction. I stiffened and held my breath. My heart hammered faster the longer he remained there.

  I jumped back when he rattled the wooden pole.

  “Rise!”

  His voice—hoarse and deep—how I imagined the devil’s voice would sound.

  Father and his friends held still. Father waited for the man to open the cell, and when he did, Father would use the dagger he had taken from me to make his escape. But the man only shouted, never attempting to go in. Finally, his nose tilted to the ceiling as if catching a scent, and he walked away with a smirk.

  When the path cleared, I placed my dagger inside my boot. Then a hand covered my mouth, and another seized my waist. My heart soared with fear. The scarred man captured me?

  He moves with demonic speed.

  “Shhh. Be still,” he whispered, pressing his chest against my back. “I’ll not hurt you. I am going to release you, so quiet yourself.”

  I cursed myself for shoving my dagger inside my boot and for being a stupid fool. Frightened, I nodded to comply, but I did not plan to listen. Despite a small waist and dainty bones, I had loads of strength and wit.

  My father’s defense training served me well. Tightening my muscles, I bent my elbow and jabbed him in the ribs. Then I hooked his ankle forward with my foot, causing him to fall back. I assumed he did not see that coming, especially from a girl, and I went for my dagger.

  He still gripped my cape tightly, and I fell on top of him. Our bodies parted on impact. When I rolled to my back, he was on top of me. Pinning my arms over my head, he gave me a sweet, roguish smirk I’d seen before, though I could not remember from whom.

  My lips parted to scream, but I would have called attention. I tried to kick, but he straddled my legs. He knew what to do, like a trained fighter. When I got a closer view, I realized no scar marked his smooth face. And his beautiful eyes shone like emeralds, glinting in the lamplight.

  I eased the urgent tension just a tiny but, but my muscles stayed guarded, ready to pounce.

  He mesmerized me with his handsome, genteel face—sparkling green eyes, lovely but manly cheekbones, his strong jaw, and his supple lips. I longed to kiss him when he bestowed a grin upon me, making my senses reel. And I liked the way he looked at me with such admiration, as if he saw beyond my dirty face.

  What in the Lord’s name is the matter with me?

  My head seemed to float, an intense sensation I never felt before burned through me until I realized I had no idea who the man was.

  He got up and offered his hand, but I did not take it. Instead I dusted my clothes to slap away the heated feeling from his closeness.

  I backed away. With no words to say, I studied him.

  He stood over six feet tall, with broad shoulders, a deep chest, and thick arms. His hips were lean, and his breeches hugged strong thighs.

  I’d seen the way Father exercised his muscles in the barn by pulling himself up on a rafter. Perhaps this man did the same. But I was not pleased with myself. He inspired unseemly lust and passion in me. When he studied me boldly, assessing me, something warm sizzled through my veins. He wasn’t trying to hide his gaze, and I did not reprimand him when I did the same.

  “What do you want?” I asked fiercely, keeping my voice low. “Do you not have better manners than to sneak up on a girl in the dark?”

  My will forsook me, and my eyes roamed over his body again.

  Stop staring, you dolt. Stop. Stop. Stop.

  “Jaclyn.” My name rolled off his tongue as if we had been longtime friends. “I know you like what you see, but we must move.”

  Rude and arrogant.

  I crossed my arms. “I will not. First, who says I liked what I saw? And who are you?”

  The man raised his brows, like I should have known. “First, you just admitted you were looking at me. And second, it’s been years, Jacky. ’Tis me, Jack.”

  He raised his arms wide, greeting me warmly and inviting my stare.

  I gasped. The Jack I knew was shorter than me, skinnier than a stick, and looked more child than man. From what I recalled, Jack could charm his way into anything. Girls surrounded him, hoping to get his attention, but I found him annoying.

  Untrue. He had been my childhood secret crush.

  I’d often wondered what had happened to him. I would not be surprised if he were wed with children. Mayhap he had many wives in many towns. That would not surprise me either.

  Brushing my hair away from my face, I studied him boldly. Aye, ’twas Jack after so long. No other soul called me Jacky. Then I was no longer sixteen, but the little girl who had a secret crush on him and the one who was always mad at him for some stupid reason.

  With my hands on my hips, I stood my ground. I would not allow him to belittle me and call me such stupid names as if we were still children.

  I slowly curled my lips at my wicked thought. “I see you finally grew some balls.”

  My parents would have demanded I
wash my mouth with soap if they had heard me say such a word.

  He smiled, a mocking curl of the lip, twisting not to laugh as his eyebrows lifted. “I did not know you cared so much about them. I will give you a peek, if you’d like.”

  My face flushed hotter than the summer sun. I didn’t know what he would say, but certainly not that. I would not admit defeat.

  “Nay, thank you. I am sure they are smaller than a weasel’s.”

  He laughed.

  “Why did you come here?” I crossed my arms.

  He took a step closer, his forehead creasing. “Why have I come? The question is, why have you? You are a blockhead, aren’t you?”

  “Do not call me a blockhead, and I’m not a little girl.” The words gritted through my teeth.

  I’m not a little girl? Had I just said that? I wanted to smack myself.

  “I have eyes. I can see. You are a woman in every way.” His brows twitched playfully, and he tilted his head. “Except perhaps in dress.”

  My fists tightened to punch him in the face, but he was right. Like me, he wore dark pants, a long-sleeved brown tunic, and a black cape. I opened my mouth to say something, but Father called my name in a loud whisper. Because I’d hidden behind a boulder, he couldn’t have seen my tussle with Jack. I should have answered, but instead I explained about the capture.

  “My father, your father, and John went to lure the monsters from hiding, and now they have been taken by the monsters, and I—”

  “Came alone?” His eyes judged me. “You want to die?”

  He had no right to look at me with disdain and to scold me like a father would a child.

  “Nay, I’m not stupid, Jack. But someone had to come. How did you know to come here?”

  “Your mother came to our town. While my brothers gathered men to rescue our father, I left on my own for Black Mountain. I doubted anyone would step forward to help. People can be selfish. People expect help from their neighbors, but when some seek their aid in turn, they have some excuse. They forget all the good others have done for them. I do not wish to be a coward. Lucky for you, our town is closer to the mountain than your house, or you would be alone right now. Besides, I had a feeling something wasn’t right when my father didn’t come back as promised. I am not one to wait.” He took a step back, gawking at me again. “You’ve grown up, Jacky. You’re brave. I give you credit for that. But you shouldn’t have come alone.”

  “But you did.”

  “I’m stupid too. I had no choice.”

  I wrung my fingers on my cloak, anger spiking my pulse. “Neither did I.”

  His words goaded me to anger. Intending to prove my fighting skills, I grabbed his cape. Instead of mockery, warmth and concern filled his eyes. I loosened my grip.

  The heat I felt toward him overwhelmed me, and I stepped away hastily. We needed to save the men first.

  “Did you grab me because you want a kiss?” He smirked.

  I pushed him away, feeling peevish. For heaven’s sake, we had no time for pleasant banter. Our fathers waited to be saved, mere feet away.

  “You’re impossible. I would not kiss you even if my life depended on it.”

  “Really?” He raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. “Why not? You haven’t kissed me yet. It might not be so bad. You can try and see if you like it.”

  I shook my head and clucked my tongue. “You were following me, weren’t you?”

  I recalled hearing footsteps. I’d thought I’d lost my mind. He must have climbed up the beanstalk or caught a ride as it grew. The mountain was impossible to climb.

  “Someone had to. Besides, you need my help, and I need to rescue my father, your father, and John. We can do it together.”

  I pulled out the dagger from my boot and pressed it against his neck in one swift move. “I’m doing well on my own. Get in my way and I won’t think twice about stabbing you right through the heart.”

  My words were a bit fierce, but I meant them. I stepped back and headed to Father.

  “Through the heart?” Jack followed me. “So harsh.”

  I snickered under my breath, hiding my smile. He had far too much pride and did not need to know I found him charming.

  Chapter Thirteen

  This Man

  Father saw me come out of the shadows. He gazed beyond me to Jack as he stood beside me.

  “Jack.” William sat up. He looked happy and then worried, reaching through the bars to touch Jack’s shoulder. He gave a proud smile, but then his expression changed. “Where are the others?”

  Jack shook his head. “I came first. The others lagged, and I grew impatient. Men are gathering. I’m sure of that, but you know it takes time.”

  William frowned and his eyes filled with sorrow. “I know.” Looking up with conviction, he said, “Take Jaclyn and go.”

  John scrambled to his feet. “Have you lost your mind? What are you saying?” He looked at Jack. “Go find the key, boy.”

  William grabbed John by his cape and slammed him against the poles. “This is my boy, not yours. I’m going to forgive you, for you don’t have children. You don’t understand. He’s my flesh and blood, you hear? He’s everything to me. I die before he does. I know Richard feels the same.”

  He shoved John out of the way.

  John flattened his back against the wall and kept quiet. Father looked at William and nodded. They had an unspoken understanding.

  “Go, Jaclyn. Go with Jack.” Father’s eyes softened, begging.

  I placed my hand over his on the pole as tears threatened to fall. My heart shattered to see Father, a strong man I admired, look overcome and weak. I would never be able to forgive myself if I let him die in a monster’s prison. I’d come too far.

  I shook my head. “I will not, Father. I shall return.”

  I quickened my step before Father could protest. When footsteps scraped on the floor behind me, I assumed Jack had followed.

  “Where do you think you’re going without me?” he asked.

  I spun around with my dagger lowered but ready. “Without you? I don’t need your permission or help. If you want to help them, fine, but don’t get in my way.”

  He chuckled, but it died in his throat. My heart skipped a beat in the most unpleasant way. I stood like a deer, poised for flight, but I dared not run.

  The scarred man stood in a ray of sunlight and glared at me.

  His blue eyes, cold as stone, pinned me still. His shoulders tightened, his fists rounded, and his lips pressed in a grim line. The open wounds on his face and chest had healed as if never there, but the scar remained. He looked like an ordinary man, but I knew he was not.

  Jack yanked me behind him. I understood he wanted to be chivalrous, but this only made me angrier.

  “Going somewhere?” The scarred man’s voice was calm but deadly.

  Cold slithered through my veins, as if a venomous snake had bitten me.

  Jack took his dagger from his belt and held it in front of him. “Who are you? Where are the monsters?”

  The scarred man’s eyebrows angled. Releasing a quick yawn, he looked at his nails, looking bored.

  “There are no monsters here. You seek what cannot be found.” Spreading his arms, he looked from left to right. “And who am I, you ask? ’Tis a mystery, is it not?” Then his eyes blazed in mystification. “How did you climb the mountain?”

  Jack scoffed and said with a wicked tone, “’Tis a mystery, is it not?”

  The man’s body hardened and his eyes drilled Jack with fury.

  I stepped out of Jack’s shadow and waved my own dagger. “Who are those people? Why are they hurt? What curse have you placed upon them?”

  Giving me a sideways glance, he spread his lips wide. I did not like his smile. I assumed he had something wicked in mind.

  “I did nothing to them.”

  He sounded sincere.

  “’Twas not I, but rather your God. I’d not hurt you. Put your daggers down and meet my people.”

 
Jack and I exchanged wary glances, silently asking each other what we should do. When I shrugged and started to follow the scarred man, Jack tailed behind me. I needed answers, and only the man could give them.

  Out in the open cavern, the sun’s rays shone like a spring day, but no warmth lay upon the people—only evil and darkness, I was sure of it. The men waited, watching us without a sound, while we stood at the higher end of the cave, so his people had a clear view of us.

  “Meet my family.” He offered a genuine smile and looked upon his people like a proud father to his children.

  As I glanced over the crowd, I saw no horrendous wounds. Whole and unharmed, these men—bare-chested with tattered breeches—looked content and healthy. But they did not speak.

  Horror tugged at my gut and eerie dread held me prisoner.

  Jack clapped his hands once hard, startling the scarred man. “Excellent. It was pleasant to meet your people. It was ... how should I say this? Not nice to meet you. It’s time for us to leave. How about you let our people go?”

  The scarred man’s eyes turned a shade darker. “I am not finished.” He growled and then softened his tone. “Come, sit and have a meal with me.” He proceeded to the table.

  “No,” I said. “You have ears to hear, my friend. We shall go.”

  “I do not take no for an answer, little girl. If you refuse to sit and eat with me, there shall be consequences. One of your people will lose an arm,” he said calmly, as if the words were not threatening.

  When he jerked his head sideways, a group of men gathered behind us. They outnumbered us ten to two. Having no choice, I pulled out the wooden worn chair and sat across from him.

  One of your people will lose an arm.

  What kind of monster was he? Warning chills pricked my nape, and every one of my senses told me to run. Run. Run. Run.

  A display of mouthwatering food spread over the table like the day before. The scarred man placed dirty wooden plates in front of us, the remains of someone else’s meal still clinging to them. He did not provide utensils.