Marysvale

by Jared Southwick

  Their gowns looked like they had seen better days and the clothes they changed from were in much better shape. However, I felt positive that saying so would be the wrong answer, no matter how true. I wished desperately to break into her thoughts and find out what I was supposed to say. Finally, I decided on, “Beautiful.”

  She grinned. “Beautiful is a little strong for our old frocks,” she said, confident that she had caught me in a trap.

  “I wasn’t referring to the gowns,” I replied.

  This time it was her turn to blush. Hannah simply nodded in agreement.

  Late afternoon set in. Every time I checked, there had been no change…until evening. Out of the four Brean that I could see, two had changed positions. How odd, I thought. They haven’t moved all day. Why now? A few moments later, I saw why. Quietly, and quickly, without any exchanges, two different Brean came and replaced the remaining two.

  This behavior stunned and confused me. I knew they were coordinated, however, this level of organization required not only coordination, but planning; they had to work out a rotation schedule. Even more troubling was the fact that they were smart enough to guess that we were coming here. That must have been why we weren’t pursued in the forest. They simply set up a watch and waited for us to come to them.

  I broke the bad news to the girls. “The Brean aren’t leaving.”

  I described what I had seen.

  “See,” exclaimed Hannah. “I knew someone is controlling them; I told you so at Sarah’s cabin.”

  “How do you know it’s a person and not the monsters themselves?” I asked.

  “I just do.”

  Jane agreed with Hannah. “I think she’s right. If not, why would they be so concerned with us?”

  “Mmm…But how does anyone know we’re coming?”

  “Maybe they warned whoever is controlling them,” suggested Hannah.

  “So they can speak?” I asked doubtfully.

  “I don’t know; I haven’t bothered to ask them yet,” came her sarcastic reply.

  “Look at it this way,” reasoned Jane. “Everything that has happened has benefited Mr. Wright and his friends. Now they control everything and live like kings. Don’t you think the timing and the way things unfolded so long ago are suspicious?”

  “Perhaps.”

  I thought about Mr. Martin and Governor Potts. Potts had been a public figurehead, but he wasn’t the real power—that belonged to Mr. Martin.

  I continued, “Then you think Mr. Wright controls them? No one else comes to mind?”

  “What do you mean?” asked Jane.

  I briefly explained how Martin had controlled Syre and how Potts was simply an expendable puppet.

  “Should the necessity arise, Potts could easily be replaced, leaving the true leaders protected from any scandal or bad decision.”

  Jane frowned. “I haven’t thought of that.”

  She looked at Hannah and both silently searched their minds for possible matches.

  “I can think of some who are extremely rich now because of what happened; but it’s hard to think of anyone, other than Mr. Wright, who is controlling the town,” said Jane.

  “Besides,” added Hannah. “However it happened in the beginning, he controls everything now. I don’t think anyone can get rid of him at this point, even if they wanted to.”

  I could tell I’d planted a seed of doubt. Neither one sounded totally convinced that Wright was the only true power.

  “Oh no,” I gasped.

  A wide-eyed Hannah asked, “What is it?”

  “They’re moving.”

  “Why?” she asked, in a high, fearful voice.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Are they leaving?” asked Jane hopefully.

  “No, they’re coming this way,” I said, with only a hint of panic.

  Turning pale, she asked, “All of them?”

  I nodded solemnly.

  Chapter Eleven: Behind the Gate

  LEAVING their hiding places, the Brean slowly advanced forward, thoroughly checking for any sights, sounds, or smells.

  “I think they’ve figured out that we should have been here by now,” I said.

  As they moved outward, gaps appeared in their net, but they weren’t wide enough yet to run through.

  “Follow me,” I said. “I believe if we move back far enough, there may be an opening, and we can pass through. We’ll be detected, but it will give us enough of a lead to beat them to the gates.”

  I loosened my rifle, just in case it would be needed.

  “No!” exclaimed Jane. “If you shoot one, the guards will take you prisoner. It’s best to leave it here. Besides, they will confiscate it for the protection of the town.”

  We didn’t have time to argue, so I propped it against a tree and memorized where it was.

  The girls mounted up on Smoke, and I noticed, when they straddled, that I could see their pants underneath their gowns.

  Jane, seeing my expression, explained before I could ask.

  “If something happens, and we have to ride far, we don’t want to be rubbed raw.”

  I shrugged, turned the mare around, and instantly felt sick. I thought that it couldn’t get any worse; but again I was wrong.

  Advancing toward us were more Brean. Only a few, and easy to bypass, but we would be detected. I leapt off my mount and frantically transferred the packs over to Smoke and my horse.

  “What are you doing?” asked Jane.

  “Freeing up the packhorse,” I answered.

  The remaining, unnecessary items were quickly secured to it.

  “This is too much weight!” exclaimed Jane.

  “We don’t have to go far. If you have to, cut it loose,” I said curtly.

  I aimed the packhorse in the direction I wanted it to go.

  “What are you doing?” asked Hannah, in a voice that told me that she knew perfectly well what I was doing.

  “I don’t want to do this anymore than you do, Hannah, but either he dies alone, and possibly saves our lives, or he dies with us all. If you have a better plan, now would be the time to share it.”

  With no reply for an answer, I picked up a long branch and tied it to his tail. With another stick, I whipped him hard, while at the same time letting the branch fall down around his legs. He bolted. I leapt back on my horse, watched him run, and waited.

  Please let this work, I prayed silently.

  To my chagrin, the fleeing bay started to slow, already tiring. I feared it would just give up and stop. Fortunately, if you can call it that, the sound of the packhorse crashing through the undergrowth reached the Brean. For a moment, they strained their senses, trying to determine what it was. Finally, one of them emitted a howl that rent the air. In unison, their heads snapped up, and they gave chase. The scared packhorse, perhaps sensing its demise, renewed its speed and fled valiantly, but the Brean came at it from all sides. It had served its purpose. A large gap opened, giving us a clear path to the gate. Using the distraction of the packhorse, we kicked our mounts into action and ran.

  Tree branches whipped out at us, snagging clothes and scratching at exposed skin. I hunched low in the saddle, trying to avoid what I could.

  We burst into a field where the trees had been cleared all the way around the town and long grass grew in the space. The massive stone wall surrounding the town, about 20 feet in height, loomed up before us. A guard tower had been placed every hundred yards or so. We aimed for a dark wooden gate, reinforced with long, horizontal iron strips.

  A high-pitched cry came from somewhere off to our side. Our ruse was up; we had been spotted. Angry roars erupted from too many Brean to count.

  The chase was on.

  Dark, hairy forms tore through the foliage and into the clearing. They came at us from both sides. Their long legs quickly propelled them, narrowing the distance. They ran hunched, their arms swinging furiously.

  The growling and snarls drew closer.

  Despite the weight, Smoke�
��s strength and heart shone through and the distance between me and the girls grew significantly. My mare, though better than most horses, struggled and already started to slow.

  Jane, approaching the wall, yelled at the top of her lungs, “OPEN THE GATE! OPEN THE GATE!” over and over. Hannah joined in the frantic call.

  Guards, watching the scene unfold below them, scurried along the top of the wall to and fro, but the gate remained closed.

  Jane looked as if she had no intention of slowing or turning. I wondered if Smoke would suddenly stop and throw them, or obediently charge into the solid doors.

  Still, they remained closed.

  I pulled a knife, ready to cut the packs loose—not that it would do much good. The mare’s strength was spent and there was nowhere to go anyway. We were surrounded by wall and monsters.

  A protesting groan came from the rusty iron hinges. A crack appeared between the two wooden doors and grew as the gate creaked inward, at a painfully slow pace.

  It opened in time for Smoke and the girls to fly through, but there was still some distance before I’d reach it.

  The Brean drew closer. Their panting and growls grew louder.

  Horrifically, the gate stopped opening and reversed course. My heart leapt in my chest. They’re going to lock me out, I thought in a panic.

  I cut the packs loose, and they fell into the long grass.

  Frantically, I coaxed the mare to run faster. Perhaps, sensing that her choice was either make the gate or face the monsters, she responded immediately and gave me more speed. The portal shrunk narrower and narrower. As we approached the entrance, I lifted my legs, afraid they would hit the closing doors. It was a good move—the now empty stirrups caught the edge of the wood and violently whipped up behind me; I was glad my feet weren’t in them. Just barely, we squeezed through.

  On the other side of the wall, guards struggled to close the heavy doors. They were almost shut when the first of the Brean slammed into them in a fit of rage and pounding fists. Seconds later, more Brean joined in. With the momentum of the gate thwarted, a small war ensued between the Brean and the humans. I leapt down and added my weight to the struggle. If they didn’t get the entrance secured quickly, the guards would be overwhelmed within moments. Hannah and Jane enlisted their strength, as did every man within shouting distance. Slowly, behind a mass of bodies, the doors crept the last few inches and closed. Heavy timbers lowered into place with a loud, booming thud, barring out the snarling monsters.

  For a few moments, the Brean pounded the doors, shaking loose dust and rust from the wood and iron that made up the gate.

  Guards swarmed the wall, armed with muskets and all kinds of weapons, but they didn’t fire. From their vantage points, and this distance, they could have easily slaughtered the beasts, even with their thick skins. Still, they held their fire.

  The air was saturated with fear, despair, and tension.

  I eased over to Jane.

  “What are they waiting for?” I whispered.

  “Permission.”

  “Incredible,” I muttered, shaking my head.

  I found it hard to believe that under such circumstances, they still needed someone’s consent to defend the town against unprovoked aggression.

  Shortly, the pounding stopped and the tension melted away—but not the despair or the fear; they remained intact and unchanged.

  In this moment of relief, I got my first good look at Marysvale. It was much larger than I’d imagined. Close to the walls were stables and pens for livestock, most of which were empty. Beyond that, the majority of the town was built at the foot of a hill. Houses and shops were closely packed together; several even shared the same inside walls. They were built out of all kinds of materials. Some had walls of rock, others wood, a few had brick, and even more were made of all three. The streets were narrow and confusing, without a logical pattern. What looked to be the main streets were paved with cobblestones; the rest were dirt. As the town progressed up the hill, so did the opulence of the homes. At the top of the mount sat a fortress. A cluster of massive buildings, which looked like castles, were encased behind a second stone wall. The town didn’t appear to extend beyond the hill; in fact, it looked like the main walls of the town ran up the sides of the hill and connected to the second wall surrounding the castles. As far as I could tell, nothing was built on the far side of the hill. Strange, I thought, and made a mental reminder to ask Jane why the town didn’t surround the whole hill.

  My sightseeing was rudely interrupted.

  “Who are you?” barked a deep, gruff voice.

  Jane and Hannah jumped.

  “And what were you two doing outside the walls?” he demanded.

  The stranger stood slightly taller than me, by an inch or so, and a seemed little older. He had short, curly black hair and a scraggly black beard. His skin was tanned and weathered from long hours exposed to the sun and the elements. He should have been a bear of a man, but was gaunt and stringy. In fact, all the men looked malnourished—not sickly, but lighter than they should have been. His uniform, if you could call it that, looked worn, faded, and frayed at the edges. Small tears marked his clothing, but they had been neatly mended; no doubt the work of a woman, probably his wife.

  “John Casey,” I said in the friendliest tone I could manage. I thrust out my hand. “And you?”

  Doubtfully, he looked at it, then back at me, as if he didn’t know what to do. I didn’t withdraw it, but left it there until it became so awkward that he was forced to take it.

  “Captain Smith of the North Wall Regiment.”

  I pumped his hand vigorously. “Then it’s you I have to thank for letting us in.”

  He nodded and our eyes locked. Despite Sarah’s warning, I read his soul and dug deep. He was in a constant state of tension, sandwiched between the pressure of guarding the town and pleasing his superiors. Not one who particularly liked his job, but stayed in the position because he could feed his family and better protect those he cared about from the savagery of a superior officer. That bit of information intrigued me, and I wanted to find out more. I could tell my gaze was making him uncomfortable, but I held it a moment longer anyway. All in all, he appeared to be a good man and could be convinced to help a little, as long as it didn’t endanger his close friends or family. It was information that could be useful to me in the future.

  “Back to your posts,” he bellowed to the lingering guards. “Lest any of you miserable dogs want your food rations cut.”

  The men scurried back to their stations along the wall.

  “You two,” he said, addressing Jane and Hannah. “By all means, I should have left you out there.”

  “We’re glad you didn’t,” responded Jane sincerely.

  “Don’t thank me. If it weren’t for your new friend here, you’d still be out there…or what was left of you.”

  The girls cringed.

  “When they discovered you’d snuck away, they put me under orders not to let you back into the town without senior officer permission. The only reason we opened the gates is because of him.”He said, jabbing a thumb at me. “They never said I couldn’t let strangers in.”

  “Well, thank you, nonetheless,” said Jane.

  “Save it,” he said. “Letting you back in may not have been the most merciful choice.” He gestured up the street.

  A group of four soldiers, or who I assumed to be soldiers, strode purposefully toward us. They were immaculately dressed in white breeches with green stockings, a matching long green coat with gold buttons, and highly polished black shoes with gold buckles. Hats with large plumes sat atop heads adorned with white, powdered wigs. Each had an ornamental sword and pistol strapped to his waist. The lead one wore an additional jewel-encrusted dagger on his belt.

  A young, thin-faced man, with high cheek bones, and a prominently long nose, addressed us in an oily, condescending tone. “Ah, Captain Smith, are you the one we have to thank for nearly singlehandedly destroying our city? That is
a feat few men could accomplish on their own…something I am sure we will discuss later.”

  Captain Smith winced and replied respectfully, “Sir, citizens were outside the city walls.”

  “Really? And what fools would do that?” he replied condescendingly.

  Captain Smith nodded in our direction.

  He looked at Jane and Hannah, and then walked over to them.

  “I see. Miss Wolfe, how surprising.”

  He said it as if he were anything but surprised.

  “I am curious to hear how you will talk your way out of this one. I’m sure you have a good explanation?” he asked, with a raised eyebrow.

  “I suppose getting food for starving people isn’t a good enough reason,” spat Jane.

  He seemed to enjoy her irritation.

  “My, my, such temper,” he purred. “It may be perfectly acceptable for the common, less civilized among us,” gesturing to the remaining men watching the exchange. “But in the company of gentlemen…well now, someone may have to teach you some manners.”

  He eyed her lustfully, from top to bottom, and his companions laughed encouragingly. It made me sick.

  Through gritted teeth she replied, “When I see a gentleman, then I’ll oblige.”

  His demeanor hardened into what looked to be his more natural state of being. Anger burned in his eyes. He raised his arm, ready to back hand her across the face. I took a step forward, prepared to stop him if needed.

  The movement caught his attention, and he lowered his hand, trying to comprehend who had the audacity to disrupt him in his moment.

  “Well, well, what do we have here? A newcomer,” he sneered. “How splendid for us all.”

  “Looks and smells more like a mutt,” said one of his uniformed friends, theatrically pinching his nose to the delight and raucous laughter of the other two.

  “Now, now,” chided the man, with a leering grin, “we must be courteous to our new citizen here—no matter how true your statement may be, Matthew.” Then, addressing me, in what was meant to be an obvious insult, he said, “Tell me, boy, what is your name?”