Marysvale

by Jared Southwick

  “I can’t think of what that would be,” I said, searching my mind. “There’s still a lot I don’t remember.”

  “You said, that day in the forest, that you had a secret and that people would get hurt if you told. We think that may have had something to do with the attacks.”

  Vague images floated back to me, but nothing solid.

  “Do you remember something?” she asked, reading the expression on my face.

  “Not much, only some obscured figures. It’s hard to tell what’s dream and what’s reality now, they seem to blend.”

  “Tell me about what you think you remember,” she prompted. “Perhaps I can help.”

  “There were cloaked people. They had a Brean with them.” I shook my head and rubbed my temples, as if that would help coax the memories back to life.

  Jane looked eager. “Is there anything more?”

  “It’s all so vague, I’m not even sure about that. I can’t remember, Jane. I’m sorry.”

  She sighed and patted my hand. “There’s nothing to be sorry about.”

  Sitting side by side, we stared at the burnt-out cabin. A soft, crisp autumn breeze began to stir through the trees, rustling drying leaves and swaying tall, slender pines, which creaked and moaned, disrupting our silence.

  I took Jane’s hand in mine and our fingers intertwined. She looked at me and I leaned toward her a little. She didn’t pull away, and, almost imperceptibly, leaned ever so slightly towards me. Those green, wide eyes magically beckoned me forward. I resisted the temptation to throw all caution to the wind and snatch her up into a tight hug and smother her with passionate kisses, but just barely. We drew closer, mere inches from one another. My eyes closed, heart racing, and my breathing slowed. Time stood still—even the woods seemed to collectively hold its breath.

  A crash came from behind us. Jane jumped from the noise. I grabbed a branch and leapt to my feet, just in time to see Hannah emerging from the underbrush, leading the three horses.

  I silently cursed Hannah. When I wanted her awake, she sleeps; and now that I wanted her to stay asleep, she wakes.

  “Brilliant timing,” I muttered.

  Jane heard and she looked at me through the corners of her eyes. A sly, mischievous grin spread across her beautiful face.

  “Phew, it took me forever to find you! I woke up and you were gone. So, I packed the horses and followed your tracks.”

  “You mean you followed the big arrow I drew in the ground for you,” said Jane.

  “Oh, is that what that was,” she said dismissively. “It’s cold. Can we start a fire?”

  “No,” said Jane.

  “Why not?”

  She sighed, “Because the smell of a campfire can be carried for some distance. Besides, it’s time we get moving.”

  “Can we at least eat?”

  Jane agreed to that.

  Hannah, noticing the cabin for the first time, asked, “What is this place?”

  Jane replied quickly, before I could, “We don’t know; it’s just a burned-out cabin.”

  “Oh.”

  “Why don’t you find us something to eat, Hannah?” suggested Jane.

  Hannah looked suspicious, but said, “All right.”

  She went over to the packhorse and started fishing around, but she kept an eye on us and probably both ears.

  Jane whispered in my ear, “Don’t tell her anything.”

  “Why?”

  “She doesn’t know about you, and it’s safer for her to remain that way.”

  “What are you saying?” demanded Hannah.

  “Nothing,” replied Jane.

  “Yes, you are. Whenever you say nothing, it’s something.”

  “You’re right,” I said. “It is something; but we’re still not going to tell you.” I took my hand and slid it subtly into Jane’s.

  The movement wasn’t lost on Hannah. She furrowed her brow and eyed us for a moment. Then she giggled, blushed, and went back to her task. We ate, packed up, and were on our way.

  ***

  “Why is camping outside Marysvale suicide?” I asked.

  Jane looked confused by the question. “Excuse me?”

  “It’s something Sarah said before we left—she said it would be suicide to camp outside Marysvale. Why is that?”

  “Oh, that.” She pondered for a moment. “I suppose for her, it’s doubly dangerous. For one, the closer we get to Marysvale, the more Brean there are. The beasts are drawn to the town.”

  “And the other reason?”

  “These days, people go missing if they disagree with the town leadership. I think they would like to be rid of her for good, if given the opportunity.”

  “Why didn’t they do it to begin with?”

  “She had too much support. If she went missing then, it would have solidified the town against Wright and, at that time, he didn’t have total control like he does now.”

  “You would think the Brean would avoid the town with its securities. Aren’t they in danger being so close?”

  Jane laughed a bitter laugh. “They should be; but they’re not.”

  I was taken aback. “What about the guards?”

  “They won’t harm them! We even have a law against it.”

  I was incredulous. “You have a law against harming them?”

  She nodded. “The town guards can repel the assault only if the city is attacked directly—and then, only after getting orders to do so. They are afraid that if we instigate something, it will bring down the sevenfold curse of Cain.”

  “How often do the Brean invade the city?”

  “Never…Well, at least it’s been years since it’s happened; only once or twice that I can remember. The Brean aren’t stupid; they’ve learned that as long as they don’t directly attack the city, they’ll be left alone.”

  “What happens if you retaliate without permission?”

  “Normally, you get chained to the outside walls and left for the Brean to do what they will. The belief is that your sacrifice will appease their anger.”

  I felt ill at the thought.

  “The townsfolk tolerate that?”

  “The townsfolk no longer have a choice. There isn’t anything anyone can do or say in opposition. Wright has his personal army now who are loyal to him and not the town. Slowly, one by one, those who opposed him were silenced, or had an unfortunate accident. There are a lucky few who got out while the consolidation of power was happening and joined Mr. Shepherd’s group.”

  “And you want to go back to that?” I asked dubiously.

  “No, but I won’t leave without my father.”

  ***

  A cool crispness saturated the air, not cold enough to chill, but enough to bring on the dread of an impending sunset. When the sun went down, we would plunge into a frigid, dark night. I wasn’t ready for it—not enough time had passed since my last cold, rain-soaked adventure. But then, I didn’t think enough time could ever pass. I shivered at the thought and pulled my cloak tightly around me.

  Hannah saved me from dwelling on the topic any further.

  “How far are we from Marysvale?”

  “We’ve made good time. We’ll probably reach it by morning.”

  “Oh.” She slumped against Jane’s back, closed her eyes, and soon fell asleep.

  Watching her sleep reminded me of my dreams. They bothered me on many fronts. Most nagging now were the memories floating just below the surface of my consciousness; they were there, so close, on the tip of my mind. It was like reaching for an object that had fallen through a crack, barely out of reach—the tips of my fingers could touch it, but were unable to grasp it and pull it in. I felt extremely frustrated. Still, dwelling on it did me no good; they were beyond me, and may as well have been a thousand miles away.

  I noticed Jane looking at me curiously.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “Nothing, you just looked deep in thought.”

  “I was…trying to dredge up memories that have b
een lost on a shelf for way too long.”

  “Too much dust on them?” she asked.

  I nodded. “A nice thick layer of it. And I seem to have misplaced the shelf, too.”

  “Give it time; they will come.”

  “Hmm, but will it be too late? Ever since uncovering that fragmented bit from my past, I feel like there is something out of place with everything I’ve learned—like my memory is telling me not to trust what I’ve been told; but it won’t give up the explanation as to why.”

  “I haven’t misled you or told you anything that isn’t true,” she said defensively.

  “No, it’s not that,” I replied quickly. “I didn’t mean it like that. Think of it like a rock wall where the masonry work is straight and the grass and shrubs growing by it are cut and well groomed. You find the wall and describe it to me. But something is telling me that there is more to it that we don’t know—that we haven’t been privy to see. On the other side of the wall, the workmanship is poor and sloppy, with dry weeds and thorns. The frustrating part is that I think I’ve seen the backside of the wall, but my mind won’t let me remember what I saw. Does that make sense?”

  “I think so,” she said. “Do you think we’ve been deceived?”

  “No, I don’t think we were ever supposed to have found that figurative wall in the first place; but just in case someone stumbled by, it was built to hide whatever’s on the other side.”

  Jane thought about this for a moment, and then asked, “When you saw the people in the forest, what do you suppose their intentions were with the Brean?”

  “I think they were going to do something to it. There was chanting or dancing—at least they were waving their arms. I wish I could remember!”

  “Something wicked I should think,” she said. “I wonder if that is what caused the Brean to attack our homes—retribution for whatever happened back then. Can’t you remember anything else?”

  “I heard names. One was more important than the others, I think. I want to say he is the leader, or a leader of some kind, but I can’t be sure about anything. They said his name a lot.”

  “What was it?”

  I looked at her hopefully and said, “Something like, Neighbor?”

  “Mmm, doesn’t mean anything to me.”

  “Sleigh?”

  She shook her head, “No.”

  “Well, it was something like that,” I mumbled, and we lapsed back into silence.

  As the day wore on, a few clouds darkened the sky and small animals scampered here and there. I caught Jane occasionally stealing a glance at me, and I made a more conscious effort to sit a little straighter in the saddle and to appear a little more heroic than I felt.

  We tried to avoid any paths, but that remained difficult to do in some of the thicker parts of the forest. As we drew closer to Marysvale, we occasionally passed within sight of an abandoned farm or cabin. Some still looked salvageable. I wondered about the people who had lived there and what had happened to them. They weren’t pleasant thoughts, since most of the people who had survived the attacks were riding right next to me. I wondered if their bones still lay inside, or if they had died in their overgrown fields, where nature had long since claimed them back.

  “Naehume,” I blurted.

  Hannah stirred, but amazingly enough, still slept. It looked like she had trained her arms to hang on, no matter if she was awake or asleep.

  “What was that?” asked Jane with a bewildered expression.

  “The name! I remember it,” I said excitedly, though still softly enough to keep Hannah asleep.

  Jane furrowed her brow and shook her head. “I still don’t recognize it.”

  Convinced I was right, I kept prodding, “Maybe it isn’t a given name, perhaps a title or a former name.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I can’t think of anyone by that name.”

  “I’m sure that’s it,” I said slightly frustrated. “I think if we can find out who he is, then we’ll know who is behind all of this.”

  “I still think Lord Wright is behind it; he gained the most.”

  “I’m not convinced,” I said doubtfully.

  “You said yourself that you can’t remember much. What if Naehume and Lord Wright are the same person? What if he used secret names to disguise himself from being found out?”

  “Maybe,” I conceded. Nevertheless, something inside me didn’t like that idea. It still felt like they were different people. Unable to remember anything else, I again let the subject drop.

  ***

  We rested at dusk, preparing ourselves for the seemingly endless night ahead. I had an uneasy feeling, more so than usual, and was concerned that we hadn’t seen any Brean. It was odd to worry about such a thing when it should have been considered good news; but somehow it felt like it had been too easy getting here. I expected something more.

  After a good rest, we continued on our journey.

  It was in the darkest, coldest hours, right before dawn, when my expectations were met. Cresting the top of a hill, I inhaled sharply and reined up.

  “What is it?” Jane whispered.

  Answering her own question, she said, “We aren’t alone, are we?”

  “No,” I said quietly.

  Two dark vortexes appeared on the edge of my extra-vision. It was growing easier to keep it open the more I used it, and my ability to see farther had amplified some. In the distance, beyond the range of my sight, lay Marysvale, visible only by the evenly spaced torches burning around the top of the wall that protected it.

  “I’d like to know how you can see anything in this darkness,” questioned Hannah quietly.

  “I’ll tell you later,” I said.

  “How about now?”

  “How about never?”

  She sighed, “You promise to tell me later?”

  “Yes.”

  Addressing Jane, I asked, “Can you see the town?”

  “Not very well. I can just make out the torchlights. Where are the Brean and how many are there?”

  “One is hiding in a tree and another in some vegetation about a quarter mile from the first.”

  Both were unmoving, waiting for the unsuspecting.

  “They’re about two miles away from us and maybe one from the town. Where’s the gate?”

  “There are two: one in the north wall and one in the south.”

  “Naturally,” I sighed. “They’ve positioned themselves directly in front of the south gate. We either have to go through them or try the north gate.”

  “Can’t we just go around them?” asked Hannah.

  “Perhaps, but I can only see these two; there may be more, farther away, out of sight.”

  “Let’s try the north side,” suggested Jane. “If these are the only two, we can double back when we have safely passed by them.”

  Quietly, or as quietly as the horses would allow, we made our way to the other gate.

  As we moved, a third Brean slid into my field of vision. It too was hiding, silently waiting. Then a fourth, and a fifth, and so on—all were unmoving and still, evenly spaced, and ringing around what I now presumed to be the entire town—creating a net that would be difficult at best, if not impossible, to sneak past undetected.”

  I described the scene to Jane and Hannah, and then asked, “Do they always do this?”

  “No,” was Jane’s reply. “It’s not uncommon to see one, perhaps even a small group, but never like this.”

  “Will the guards let us in if we are pursued?”

  “They will if they have enough time to close the gates behind us.”

  “What are we going to do?” asked Hannah.

  “I don’t know,” I said honestly. “I suppose we can try waiting. They’ll get tired sometime…won’t they?”

  “Perhaps. I really can’t say,” said Jane. “Do we have another choice?”

  “We can fight.”

  “That’s not much of a choice,” she said.

  “No,” I agreed.

&
nbsp; “And if they find out you’ve hurt one of the Brean, you may as well stay out of the city because they will most likely chain you to the outside wall.”

  I shuttered at the thought.

  Reading the expression on my face, Jane said, “Then it looks like we wait.”

  She slid off Smoke.

  The sun rose and the day wore on. It felt cold, though warm in the patches where the sunlight somehow managed to creep past the stingy foliage. Autumn progressed and so did the color of the changing leaves—green gave way quickly to orange, red, and yellow. Frequently, a leaf would give up and float to the ground, surrendering easily to the upcoming onslaught of winter. Jane walked over to the packhorse, pulled a leather bag, and said, “Come on Hannah. It’s time.”

  “Time for what?” I asked curiously.

  “Time to change. We can’t very well enter the city dressed like this. We need to slip our gowns back on.”

  I’d grown accustomed to seeing them in breeches and wondered what they would look like in dresses. I watched with interest as Jane pulled out two frocks from a pack.

  They walked over to the closest tree, then turned and glared at me, making me feel uncomfortable.

  “Well,” said Jane with a sigh of mock irritation.

  I was bewildered by what she meant, and it must have shown because she added, “I don’t know how they do things where you come from, John Casey, but here men tend to give women privacy when they need it.”

  “Oh,” I said, blushing furiously and feeling stupid. I turned the mare around so they could have their solitude.

  It didn’t take them long and Jane signaled when they were finished by saying, “Thank you.”

  I turned back around and stared at the transformation that had occurred.

  “Well?” said Jane again, this time a little self-conscious. “What do you think?”

  She wore a simple, worn and faded, blue linen gown that extended down to her elbows and all the way to her ankles. The top half was laced up in the front and her hair was pulled up under a white ruffled cap. Hannah dressed similarly, except her dress was brown. I nearly replied, “You look like a woman,” but reconsidered this response. Would she take it that she didn’t look beautiful before? She most certainly did.