Shara and the Haunted Village: Illustrated Edition (Bryanae Series Book 1)

by Jeffrey Getzin

  “Da ta-da,” she mumbled. “Da da da-da.”

  D'Arbignal watched her closely, and now Gianelli was joining him. Both stared at her expectantly, excitement rising even in Gianelli's otherwise dead eyes.

  “Da ta-da!” She said the words urgently now. “Da da-da. Da da da-da! I've got something something.”

  She turned in a slow circle. “Come on, pipsqueak. Don't sit around all day. Da ta-da. I've got to something.”

  Da ta-da.

  She glanced behind her and then it struck her: turn around! Da ta-da, turn around. Da ta-da. Turn around.

  “Turn around,” she said. “I've got to wee!”

  D'Arbignal grinned, but held his tongue.

  She pointed at where Gil had stood. “I had sat back against the tree and Gil was making fun of me. I needed to relieve myself, so I told him to turn around.”

  Obediently, D'Arbignal moved to the spot where Gil had stood and turned away.

  “No,” Shara said. “Not there. There.”

  What, again? You pee every minute it seems.

  He had walked about, his hands animated as he mocked her. She had pointed.

  Go over there, she had said.

  “Go over there,” she said to D'Arbignal, pointing to where Gil had gone to avert his eyes. D'Arbignal did as he was told. “Now look away and cover your eyes.”

  Gil would turn around, she had thought, and he would see her squatting and he would have laughed at her. She would have had to walk a distance to escape those teasing eyes.

  Shara began to walk slowly down the road back towards town, leaving D'Arbignal and Gianelli behind. Was it here? No. Too close. Now? No, still too close.

  Wait, there was a bend in the road ahead. If she had gone past that point, Gil wouldn't have been able to see her.

  She picked up her pace, began to run. Behind her, D'Arbignal and Gianelli remained frozen, unwilling to break the spell.

  “Go over there,” she muttered. “Don't look while I wee. I'm not going to look. Yes, you are. I'm going to go over there. You stay here.”

  She reached the bend, slowly kept going until she could no longer see D'Arbignal. Here.

  She went to the thickets at the side of the road now, tried to see through them to what lay beyond. There? No. There? No … no, wait!

  She saw the earth slope down beyond one bush. She couldn't be certain, but it seemed to coincide with her memory of the place. In fact, the more she looked, the more certain she became.

  “It's here,” she muttered, awed. It had seemed like a dream to her, but it was real. “It's here!”

  Chapter 9

  Gianelli withdrew a hand axe from under his mantle, and moved towards the thicket. Shara stared at the axe in amazement. He had had that on him all the time, even when Gil had reached for his billy club. She shivered.

  “Hold a moment,” D'Arbignal said, a hand raised. He scrutinized the brush that Gianelli had been about to hack at. He indicated first one bent branch, then another, and then another. “I think somebody's been here first.”

  Gianelli rounded on Shara, his face red with fury. “Who else did you guide here? Who? Think you can con me, do you?!”

  Shara shrunk before the unexpected onslaught. “Nobody! I swear it!”

  “Gianelli…” D'Arbignal said.

  “Liar! Nobody would have found this spot without you … you or your ally back in town. You led someone else here first, and now you're trying to double-dip!” He brandished his axe at her. In the space of moments, time seemed to distend for Shara, and in her terror, she became acutely aware of the numerous notches and stains along the edge of that axe. It had seen a lot of use, and in a moment, it would be used again.

  “Calm yourself!” D'Arbignal said, his thin sword whisking from its sheath.

  But Gianelli's rage did not abate. He gesticulated at her with the axe. “You filthy strumpet! If you've betrayed me, I swear I'll sup on your innards before this day is done!”

  Shara wrestled with blinding fear, but fear had been her sole companion for so long that she knew all its tricks. Yesterday, she had been on the brink of starvation. Today, it was just a different type of mortal peril. Her life was cursed anyway, so what did it matter which precise circumstance eventually claimed her life? Might as well die quickly, by the axe, than slowly from starvation.

  She squared her shoulders. She was no less afraid, but was tired of living in fear just the same.

  “I'm not a strumpet!” she shouted back at Gianelli. “And I didn't show anybody this path. I only now just found it, and before that, I hadn't so much as thought about it in years. And if you want to kill me, then kill me and get it over with, but good luck finding the village on your own if you do!”

  Gianelli's face had been smoldering dark red, and her remarks seemed to set his eyes aflame. He roared and raised the axe above his head and then struck at her. She tried to keep her eyes open, to face her death head-on, but she couldn't help it: she closed them tightly.

  She heard a whistle, a clank, and then a small thud. When she opened her eyes, everything seemed precisely as before, with D'Arbignal and Gianelli in apparently the same exact positions. Only there was no axe in Gianelli's hand. He stared at his empty hand in confusion. A single drop of blood rolled down his knuckle, and then dropped to the dirt.

  “I'm sorry, my friend,” D'Arbignal was saying, and there was blood on the tip of his sword, too, “but you're acting like a madman. Shara says that she has shown no one this path, and I believe her. And even if she were lying, which she is not, then what good would hurting her accomplish other than another bounty on your head?”

  Another bounty?!

  “You…!” seethed Gianelli, rounding on D'Arbignal.

  D'Arbignal brought the point of his sword in line and raised an eyebrow.

  “Not one of your better ideas, Gianelli,” he said. “And besides, do you not remember that the Rat said he knew a mage?”

  Gianelli held on to his rage through visible exertion. As he began to calm down, his eyes lost that unfocused look they'd held before.

  “Yes,” he said, as though trying the thought on for size. “The Rat… of course. And yes, he does know a mage. That wasn't a lie.”

  “So is it not conceivable that he overheard us discussing the village and decided to do a little treasure-hunting for himself?”

  Gianelli seemed to mull the thought over. Shara was only now starting to understand that she wasn't dead. She waited for the relief to flood through her, but it didn't happen. Instead, she felt a resigned sadness. For a moment, it had seemed as if her arduous journey had ended, but now she knew that it was only a waypoint and that she had countless miles to go. Worse, a cold dampness chilled her legs and she realized that in her fear, she had wet herself. She turned to head down the road, trying to be surreptitious as possible.

  “Wait,” Gianelli said to her, his voice calm now. “I … apologize. My accusation was unfounded. So was my anger.”

  She didn't turn to face him, didn't want him to see what she had done. “It's all right.”

  D'Arbignal caught up to her, placed a hand on her shoulder.

  “He's trying to make amends, Shara,” he said. “You really ought”—then he saw her covering her groin with her hands, but he reacted without breaking stride—“to leave Gianelli and me alone for a few minutes. Just until he's calmed down.”

  Shara felt the heat of shame in her cheeks, but D'Arbignal smiled and winked. He patted her on the shoulder. “He didn't mean any harm.”

  She nodded and shuffled away down the road.

  He hadn't meant any harm? He had tried to split her head in half!

  Chapter 10

  When she returned, it was as though nothing had happened. Gianelli's face was as expressionless as before, as was D'Arbignal's chipper manner. He hummed a tune as she approached, and when she neared him, he sang:

  Milady doth arriveth now,

  Praise be to beauty's crown!

  Her aspect sweet, t
o eyes a treat,

  What rags she wears a queenly gown,

  And atop her head, beauty's crown!

  A mighty heart afraid of naught,

  Praise be to beauty's crown!

  Her gift to sew, all must know,

  The vanished path she hath found.

  And atop her head rests beauty's crown!

  An anemic smile had almost made it to her face before Gianelli cut it short. “I thought I said no more singing.”

  D'Arbignal's own smile faltered for just a moment but then returned as strong as ever.

  “You are right, my friend,” he said. “No lyrics could ever do justice to such a prize.”

  Now there was no smile left in her. D'Arbignal was mocking her of course. Why else would he mention her “rags” in his song, or compare her to a queen if not to disparage her poverty. But she had no pride left to offend, so she took it in stride.

  “You came back,” Gianelli said to her, his face a cipher.

  “Yes,” she said. Where else had she to go? She knew that Gianelli would hunt her to the corners of the globe to recover his gold coin if she failed to lead him to the village, and without that coin, she would starve.

  “I told you she would,” D'Arbignal said, smug satisfaction in his voice.

  The unrelenting attention from these two larger-than-life men was wearing away at her endurance. At length, she broke down and asked, “So what happens now?”

  D'Arbignal indicated skyward with a glance. “What happens now is that we set up camp for the night. It'll be dark soon, and it'd be—”

  “No,” Gianelli said.

  D'Arbignal seemed genuinely at a loss. “No?”

  “Not if the Rat has gotten here first. The longer we wait here, the more time he has to find it before we do.”

  Shara wasn't certain, but it sounded like the “it” to which Gianelli referred was something other than the village.

  “Be reasonable, Gianelli! We can't go traipsing through the woods in the middle of the night. Even if we don't stumble off a cliff, we're certain to lose our way. A few hours won't make—”

  “No,” Gianelli said again. “We go onward now.”

  D'Arbignal arched his eyebrows and shrugged, as if to say to Shara, oh well, what can be done? He grabbed a handful of the shrub blocking the path. “After you, milady?”

  Chapter 11

  “I don't understand,” Shara was saying. “It should be here.”

  In the gathering darkness, the forest continued unmarked by any sign of the village that once had been there. She looked about, revisiting her memory, and did her best to reconcile what she had expected to see with what actually lay before her.

  There, ahead of them, was the ravine, and across it lay the fallen tree that had been there when she and Gil were children. Much of the wood had turned to rot since then, but it was unmistakably the same tree. It had to be the same tree!

  “If you've lied to us …” Gianelli began, but D'Arbignal cut him off with an exasperated sigh.

  “Not that again,” he groaned. “I still say she's been straight with us. We must have taken a wrong turn in the darkness.”

  Shara shook her head. It was impossible. This had to be the right place. She and Gil had played on that very tree within sight of the village, pretending it was the drawbridge leading to an enormous gleaming castle. But that castle, the village, was nowhere to be seen. The trees seemed to go on forever, with not so much as a foot trail in sight.

  She walked down into the ravine. It was the same ravine. It had to be. It had been dry back then, too, but they had imagined a moat filled with eels and sea monsters, ready to eat them whole should they slip from the bridge. She looked in vain along the ravine floor for some sign that she had once been there. Nothing.

  She looked helplessly back at D'Arbignal. In the darkness, she could only see his shadowy outline and that ridiculous white plume on his hat.

  “I don't … understand,” she said feebly.

  Neither D'Arbignal nor Gianelli said anything. Their dark figures stood impassively above her.

  “It was here. I'm telling the truth!”

  Their silence frightened her. She was all alone in the middle of the deep, dark woods with two strangers, one of whom had tried to split her head with an ax but a few hours ago.

  She climbed to the other side of the ravine and stared off into the distance, willing the village to appear. Still nothing. Despair gnawed at her.

  “And you didn't just take a wrong turn?” It was D'Arbignal's voice, and it was gently insistent. “You can tell us. We won't be angry.”

  She squinted back, now having trouble making out even their outlines in the dark.

  “I'm not lying!” she protested.

  “I didn't say you were.”

  “I did,” Gianelli said, and the menace in his voice was palpable. She could barely see him, but she felt nearly certain that his hand grasped the handle of that notched and bloodied axe of his.

  “Easy, my friend. Why don't we rest for the night and continue when daylight has returned?”

  “I'm not lying,” she said.

  “No, we continue tonight,” Gianelli said, “or the girl gives me back my money.”

  Something told her that was not all she'd have to give up if Gianelli felt she had lied to him. But it didn't matter. She had left the coin with Gil. She couldn't give it back to Gianelli now if she wanted to, which at the moment, she very much did.

  “I …” She steeled her nerve. “I don't have it.”

  “What?”

  She heard in that voice the thunder that heralded the storm of Gianelli's rage. Quickly, she stammered, “I m-mean I l-left it back in t-town. With G-G-G-” She couldn't get the word out. “Gil.”

  She saw an enormous mass heading toward her with evil intent. She scrambled onto the fallen tree trunk that spanned the ravine, hoping to use it as some kind of shield or hiding place but of course, it was too insubstantial to offer much protection.

  “Gianelli,” D'Arbignal said. “Calm yourself.”

  She heard D'Arbignal's sword whisk from its sheath but Gianelli's pace did not falter.

  “Interfere, popinjay, and you'll regret it for the remaining few minutes of your life.” Gianelli stood in the ravine now, but his head was level with her hips. It would take no effort whatsoever for him to reach up with those massive hands of his and drag her from her precarious perch. “Get down from there.”

  “I swear,” she said, tears starting to well in her eyes. “I'm not lying!”

  “I said get down.”

  “It was there,” she said, pointing. “I swear that it was—”

  She froze, staring off in the direction to which she pointed.

  There, across the ravine, and no more than a ten-minute walk from where they stood, was the ghostly village, the outline of its buildings etched by an ethereal green fairy light.

  She brought her hand to her chest. Her heart pounded beneath. It was real. It was real.

  It was real!

  Then Gianelli's hand circled her ankle and she shrieked.

  “It's there!” she screamed. “I swear it.”

  “You've lied to us once too often, you disease-ridden slut!” He yanked at her leg and she fell to a single knee on the tree trunk, clinging desperately to its sides.

  The trunk vibrated rapidly from D'Arbignal's footsteps as he ran towards her. She saw the gleam of the ghost lights reflect off his naked sword.

  “No,” she begged. “Please.”

  With his left hand, he unclasped his brilliant blue cloak, swirled it around his head, and brought it down over Gianelli's head. Then he whacked Gianelli's hand with the flat of his sword. The giant yelped and relinquished his hold on her ankle.

  “Move!” D'Arbignal said to Shara. “Run!”

  For a moment, she couldn't, being so overwhelmed by terror and astonishment, but then D'Arbignal shoved her. She sprang into life, sprinting across the trunk toward the phantom village, but her eye
s kept returning to the fight.

  “You're dead, D'Arbignal!” roared Gianelli, trying to extricate himself from D'Arbignal's cloak. “I'm going to snap you in two like a twig.”

  “Good luck with that,” D'Arbignal said, and kicked at Gianelli's head under the cloak. Two kicks were merely glancing blows, but the third kick seemed to land solidly; the giant staggered.

  Instead of finishing Gianelli off, D'Arbignal ran across the bridge towards Shara but came up short. His eyes bulged as he stared past her at the village.

  “By all the gods ….” he said, voice almost a whisper. “You spoke the truth!”

  Chapter 12

  Gianelli's roars shattered the night air. Echoes of his howls reverberated off the glowing eldritch houses and shops that lay ahead of them.

  “He sounds very angry,” Shara said, her heart pounding while she ran.

  “I know!” D'Arbignal said, laughing.

  There was something disturbing in that laughter. It wasn't a malicious laugh, and it wasn't a fearful one, either. But it was manic, almost desperate, like the exaggerated gestures of a second-rate actor starved for applause.

  Gianelli's voice receded into the darkness as the village loomed ever closer. An unnatural stillness seemed to cover the village like a shroud.

  “So,” D'Arbignal said, winded, “the trick was the ‘bridge' over the ravine, then?”

  She could barely breathe. When she replied, it came out more as a gasp: “What?”

  “The way to see the village: it was the tree, right?”

  “How … how do I know? You're the mage!”

  Again, D'Arbignal laughed. “I can't really do magic, you know. Those were just tricks.”

  By now, she was too exhausted to care. They would be at the village any moment. She wasn't entirely sure she wanted to go in there, even to escape Gianelli. She stopped running and D'Arbignal stopped two paces after.

  “What's wrong?” he said.

  “What's … what's in the village?”

  D'Arbignal's eyes shone with delight. “You mean you don't know?”

  “Me? I've never been inside it. I thought you were the expert on the village.”