Jaclyn and the Beanstalk

by Mary Ting

  “What are you waiting for?” Aldwin shouted. “Kill the beasts.”

  “No, Aldwin,” Father said.

  “We can’t fight giants, Richard.”

  “May God have mercy.”

  The angered monsters’ cries reverberated within the forest, loud enough to be heard for miles. When lightning struck again, shock slammed into me and my breath hitched, for I got a glimpse of the monsters towering over the men.

  Their elongated arms possessed claws the size and shape of swords. To my horror, the beasts looked like the creatures in my vision when I’d touched the lance.

  They are real ... real ... real. Taller than life. Claws like a beast. Teeth as sharp as knives. Phantom demons incarnate.

  “Run,” William shouted, and then human screams followed.

  My vision cleared as the rain eased. Looking from left to right, I tried to follow the movement of bodies through the dark. A man flew across the space and collided with a tree. Other men ran, but there was no escape as trees crashed to the ground under the monsters’ blows.

  Father’s men were only supposed to observe. What had gone wrong? Panic seized my heart when I saw only four lanterns.

  “The devil killed Aldwin,” John yelled.

  “Retreat,” Father hollered. “Peter, keep safe.”

  More human shrieks echoed in the night, and only three lanterns were left, along with two sets of glowing amber lights. What had become of the other pair of eyes?

  “It’s got William,” John groaned.

  “Run, John,” Father bellowed.

  Roars terrorized me.

  One lantern swung alone.

  “Richard!” John screeched.

  Monstrous footsteps shook the ground, fading as they moved away.

  Then everything went still.

  No sound came but the soft patter of rain. But to me, it was the sound of death. My heart hammered, and all my blood drained to my feet. Paralyzing fear for my father and his fellow men enveloped me, and I bit my bottom lip as I wrapped my fingers around my dagger.

  “Father.” A whimper rose from my throat.

  Shaking and weak at the knees, I forced myself to climb out of the wagon and take cautious steps, holding my dagger in front of me. The squelch of my boots on the muddy ground sounded so loud in the quiet night. The tilted lantern one of the men had dropped gave off a glimmer of light, guiding me, and the rain dying off to a soft wind gave me a better view.

  Picking up the blood-spattered lantern in my trembling hand, I tried to calm my breathing as I searched for any sound of life. I even looked for the sheep, but only ropes stained with blood remained tied to the tree.

  “Father,” I called louder, my voice shaky, and my knees unsteady.

  Father did not answer.

  My boot hit something sticky. I placed the lantern closer to the ground and gasped aloud to see pools of red liquid. When I raised the lantern a little bit higher, I saw I was surrounded by puddles of crimson.

  So much blood ... I had never seen so much blood.

  Then the light revealed Aldwin’s mauled body. His guts had spilled out, and his legs had been ripped off.

  Grace of God. Such horror.

  My stomach coiled and I fought the urge to vomit. I stumbled back, and the light revealed another body with no head. Moving away from the gruesome sight, I searched for the others, but found no one.

  But so much blood ... so much blood ... everywhere I stepped. How was it possible if only two men had been slaughtered?

  Where was Father? My imagination drove me mad, showing me Father’s body torn apart.

  Oh, please, do not let this be.

  When I could not find Father, I felt a bit of relief that he might still be alive. Good news. But then, what had happened to my father, William, and John?

  I lifted the lantern higher to get a better view. Larger-than-life footprints marked the ground and the trees were knocked down along the monsters’ path. The lantern’s light picked out three long ruts gouged in the muddied road and I could no longer see the direction they’d taken in the deep darkness.

  I imagined their bodies being dragged all the way to Black Mountain and then carried into Hell.

  Chapter Nine

  Brave Mother

  I ran.

  Father and his friends had been taken. Clambering into the front of the wagon with the lantern, I picked up the reins and whistled for Daniel to get moving, but he would not budge.

  He knew. He’d heard the beasts. He smelled the blood. He knew Father was not in the wagon with me.

  “Daniel, you mustn’t be afraid,” I beseeched him. “Father is gone. I will not forsake him. I swear we’ll get him back, but I must get help.”

  Speaking the words brought me to my senses. Shock had so numbed me, and the truth hadn’t had time to fully register. When reality finally settled in the dark with only Daniel, I felt alone, terrified. Terror and rage had anchored me frozen in a vise-like grip.

  Father is gone. What if the monsters came back?

  “Daniel. Go.” I reached over and gave him a shove on the rear, and he started moving slowly. I understood his hesitation.

  He was just as frightened.

  Gut-wrenching pain racked me the farther I moved from the horror. I felt in leaving Father, I had assured his death. Tears burned my eyes, and fear for my father ate a hole in my heart. I wept so hard the road blurred until I ran out of tears.

  Darkness still covered the sky, but Daniel knew the way home. It would be easier now. Though the rain had stopped, my wet clothes stole my warmth. I did not care.

  After hours, I passed the town called Hampton, and I fought to keep my eyes open while I slumped like a beaten rag. Light came from behind the clouds, bringing warmth to the land, and from the position of the sun, I knew it was late afternoon.

  Though the bitter wind chilled me, the heat felt good on my face. The fabric of my clothes stuck to my skin and some parts had dried stiff, but they did not bother me. I had no right to complain. Monsters had taken Father.

  He had to be alive. I would not rest until he was found.

  I did not know how much time had passed, but I had collapsed to the side on the wagon seat. Exhausted and weak, I had passed out like a drunk. When I heard Mother’s faint voice, I thought I’d lost my senses, but when it came again I blinked my eyes open.

  “Jaclyn,” she called again. “For the love of God ... ah, lass.”

  Daniel had brought me home.

  Good boy, Daniel.

  All kinds of emotions burst in the pit of my stomach. Tears distorted my vision until I wiped them away. Mother in white, like an angel, ran toward me. I shook the reins to urge Daniel to go faster. It did not take long to reach Mother.

  “Jaclyn,” she said, out of breath. Covering her mouth with her hands, liquid pooled her eyes.

  “Mother,” I cried out and dropped, almost collapsing on the ground.

  I felt like I’d run all day. I hadn’t eaten, and my dry throat scratched like I had swallowed sand. How was I to tell her about Father? I got as far as parting my lips when Mother embraced me tightly enough to crush me, and then battered me with questions.

  “Jaclyn, my heart has been in despair. I’ve been mad with worry. What will your father say?” She stopped and froze. Her eyes fell on Daniel, and then the wagon. “Where is your father?” she asked hesitantly. “Why the tears?” Shivering, she clasped her hands together.

  “Pray, be not angry with me, Mother. The monsters—” My lips trembled, and I pointed a shaking hand behind me, as if I could see all the way to Black Mountain. “I hid in the wagon last night and traveled with Father. He did not know. He protects townspeople,” I rambled, unsure if I made sense. “They sought monsters from Black Mountain.” Tears fell from my cheeks. I gasped for air. The image of ripped-apart bodies flashed through my mind. “The monsters killed Father’s friends and they took Father, William, and John.”

  Mother wiped my tears with trembling hands. As she d
ried them, her own flowed. “Jaclyn ... monsters? Black Mountain?” Her fear was palpable.

  I shook my head feverishly, wishing she could see what I’d seen. My gasping and choking on tears made it harder to explain. Mother wrapped her arm around me and patted Daniel’s head with the other hand.

  Mother wove her fingers through my hair, caressed my face and my arms, as if she needed to know I was well. “Let us go inside and get you out of these clothes. You’ll catch fever.” Then she unhitched Daniel, guided him to the house, and tied him close to the door. “Bless you for bringing Jaclyn home.”

  Warmth from the fire engulfed me and my tears subsided. The aroma of something delicious sent a jolt of hunger pangs to my stomach. But eating a meal did not seem fair when Father was in the hands of the monsters.

  Mother went to my chamber and returned. She peeled off my clothes and helped me into the fresh ones. Then she handed me some hot cider. One sip spread heat through my body, easing my muscles.

  Mother paced back and forth, seemingly deep in thought. After a while, she stopped and sat beside me.

  “Tell me everything.” She looked at me sternly, her eyes demanding the truth. “Don’t leave anything to the imagination.”

  So I did. She listened with no hysterics or crying. Mother proved to be a strong woman.

  “I need to go to town. I must find William’s sons. Their family needs to be told. I shall gather men and travel to Black Mountain.” She stood up. “First, let me feed you. You must be starving.”

  She brought me a bowl of soup and bread. I wanted to swallow it all in one gulp, but I remembered my manners. Then I dipped the bread into the soup and took a bite. Oh, it tasted heavenly.

  “While you eat, I’ll put the wagon back inside the barn and give Daniel a bucket of grain and brush him down. I’ll need to ride him to William’s town if he can make it. If you can recall, he has three sons. Jack is the youngest. You remember him?”

  “Aye.”

  Jack’s older brothers were muscular and tall, over six feet, while Jack had been scrawny and short, but scandalously bold with the girls. It had been at least a couple of years since I’d seen him last, but who was counting? Still, I would have rather kissed a pig than associate with him.

  “I shall come along, Mother.” I took another mouthful of soup.

  Mother placed her hand on my shoulder to stop me. “Nay. You need to rest and warm up. You’ve traveled far in this wretched condition. You’ll catch fever or worse.”

  I looked down at my shaky hand holding the bowl. Drops of the soup fell to the floor. I agreed, but only because I had a plan of my own.

  Mother went to her chamber, then returned wearing a man’s tunic and breeches, and with her hair tied back. With more layers of clothing and a cape around her, she looked warmer and less feminine.

  Women should not ride alone, especially at night. When the sun dipped lower, the ride would be dangerous. Hopefully it would be a lonely road, and no one would be around.

  After she grabbed a water skin and stashed bread inside a cloth, she gave me a kiss on the forehead.

  I reached out my hand to hers. “Are you certain? Father would not approve.”

  “Father is not here and he needs me. I may be a woman, but women have their own bravery. Stay by the fire. I fear to leave you alone. Father left his sword under the bed. I’ll be back by tomorrow’s sunset.”

  When she opened the door, the brisk wind almost blew out the fire. Mother had to bend low, fighting to pull the door shut. So brave. Courageous. I had never seen Mother with such resolve and fire in her heart. And I must follow her example.

  Father had left his sword behind?

  I recalled his special sword. He must have taken that one.

  I tossed a couple of pieces of wood into the fire and listened for the sound of Mother leaving. When I finished the last of my soup and bread, I went to my chamber to change into dark, wool breeches and a thick, long-sleeved tunic. Then I put on my cape and headed for the barn.

  Chapter Ten

  The Black Mountain

  One decision can change the course of fate.

  What if I hadn’t eavesdropped on Father at the barn? What if I hadn’t followed Father? Perhaps it would have taken the two days he’d said he would be gone, plus more, to figure out he had been missing.

  Maybe I would have never found out at all, if the men who remained told no one of their true mission. No one would dare travel to that road to seek answers.

  People would have assumed bandits had killed Father and his friends. Then I remembered the bloody bodies. Bless their souls for standing by my father and for their courage.

  Mother had told me to stay safe and keep warm, but I didn’t listen. Father needed me. Every precious second wasted determined his fate. I did not plan on waiting for a search party.

  I imagined their conversation. They would agree how dangerous it would be. They might argue about how to get to Black Mountain. It might take days for them to organize or make the decision to go.

  Father did not have time. I had to go forth. I had to be brave.

  I opened the secret hoard. Father’s sword was gone. So he did take it. I had already taken out the dagger I’d left in the wagon, so I retrieved the second dagger and placed it inside my boot.

  Would two daggers be enough?

  I’d thought about taking Father’s second sword, but Mother needed something with which to defend herself. The only thing left was the lance—too long to carry—and I liked it not.

  Twice I had seen a vision when I’d touched the sharp point. Did I dare do it again?

  Once more, curiosity held me strong. I had to know if another vision would appear. Instead of picking up the lance, I reached down to touch the sharp point—an image of a man sprang into my mind.

  I jumped back and gasped, not because I was scared, but because the man stared back at me intensely, as if angry I had seen him. Had he seen me? Ridiculous. But I had seen him. Strangely, he had left me with a feeling of sadness. For reasons unknown, I felt his emotions as if they were mine.

  His light brown hair danced with the wind and midnight blue eyes sparkled. With high, defined cheekbones and a strong nose, he looked like any ordinary man, except he had a scar on his left cheek, three inches long and thick. As before, the image lasted briefly, but stayed long enough to imbed in my mind.

  One minute, the desire to fight and take on a whole slew of monsters had filled me, and the next, my heart held a somber ache. How odd. Regardless, fighting monsters by myself was stupid. If I were not clever, I would become their dinner.

  I closed the compartment and walked to the next stall.

  “Good day, Angel.” I brushed her mane. “Ready? You must ride faster than the wind. Father needs you, you hear?”

  After I saddled her, I fetched a water skin and a cloth filled with bread, and found a place to stuff them inside the saddle pockets.

  I never looked back, never thought twice about my actions, only moved onward to find Father. Some might proclaim I’d set myself on a suicide quest.

  The result did not look hopeful, but remaining at home did not sit well with me. I refused to be afraid. It would only make me slower and weaker.

  Bless my Angel. She felt my desperation. She galloped in great strides. When I reached the split in the road, I veered to the left as the sun lowered to follow Father’s path.

  Every way I turned looked lifeless—not a single soul could be seen or heard. No birds sang, no squirrels scuttled along the tree trunks, and no leaves danced in the breeze.

  What was left of the forest appeared dead. Bare branches dropped, and the cracked trunks withered like wrinkles on aged skin. If death had a face, I had seen it.

  A haunting unease filled my senses the farther I moved along, causing me to question my sanity. Ghosts without faces and soft cries I knew not to be real possessed my mind. The self-created illusions followed in my wake, and my lungs squeezed as fear took hold of my muscles.

&nbs
p; Breathe. Breathe. They are not real. Lies and tricks the ancient forest sends to scare me away.

  No matter what I had told myself, the forest appeared to cave in and the sharp-tentacled branches seemed to claw at my flesh. I fought the urge to turn back and run at every step.

  Closing my eyes, I cradled closer to Angel and pulled the hood over my head, wanting to disappear into happier days, but the sounds ... Oh, the sounds. The haunting whispers pulled me back to their deadly intent. I did my best to shut them out.

  When I reached the area where I’d seen the dismembered bodies, I shielded my face, but it did little good. Peering between my fingers, I found bloodstained areas in the dirt, but no corpses. I dropped my hand and swept the grounds with my eyes, but still nothing.

  Only one explanation came to mind: wild animals had had their fill.

  Angel edged past the bloodstains and trotted farther into the forest. Weird shapes rose around me, covered in leafless, woody vines, but too large and angular to be natural. Houses had once stood there, and the forest had nearly reclaimed them.

  I shoved a fist to my mouth, stifling a scream. Sheltered by a mossy stone wall, a gaping skull stared at me from underneath a bramble bush. And a glimpse of pale bones seemed to taunt me from under the choking vines.

  After I struggled to pass the heap of fragmented trees, a murky swamp blocked my way, so I rode around its edges. Angel reared and whinnied when she had to step in it, and I shushed her too late. I worried we had attracted attention.

  When I reached the base of Black Mountain, I jumped off Angel and tied her to the closest tree, loosely in case she needed to run away from wild animals. I wanted to hide her, but nothing seemed big enough to cover her. I also left the lantern with her so I could spot her easily.

  During my journey, I had not doubted I would find Father, but as I tilted my head to survey what I was to climb—as black as midnight in the fading light—doubt crept in.

  Ridges, curves, and outcroppings of rock formed the giant edifice. But about halfway up, it was nothing but smooth, slanted surface, and clouds covered the peak. The mountain showed me no end.