Marysvale

by Jared Southwick

  Evenly spaced torches burned along the top of the wall, and dim candlelight streamed out of the tower. I could make out the occupants still waiting for my return. Huffing and puffing, I arrived at the rope. I tied the two packs to the end, and gave it a tug to signal they were ready to be pulled up. As soon as the bags rose off the ground, I turned back into the night.

  Repeating the process, I tied the remaining sacks together, heaved them up, and then paused. I debated with myself whether I should bring all of them back. Finally, deciding it may serve us better on our return journey if something were left behind, I cut a bag loose, tossed it aside, and returned to the tower. I secured the remaining food to the line and gave it a tug. Up it went, disappearing into the tower.

  Patiently, I waited for the rope to lower again so I could climb up…and I waited…and still, I waited. This is taking far too long, I thought. I was about to call up, just as the end of the rope tumbled down and hit my head.

  “Ouch,” I muttered.

  I grabbed the line and slowly transferred my weight to it until I felt satisfied that those on the other end had a sufficient hold and weren’t going to drop me. I climbed up quickly and, in no time, scurried over the edge and collapsed onto the floor, panting from the expended effort.

  “For a moment, I thought you were going to leave me down there,” I said heavily between breaths.

  “For a moment, they were,” exploded Jane, shaking with anger.

  “Really?” I said curiously. “So why didn’t you?

  “Incredible!” exclaimed Hannah. “They were going to leave you down there. And you’re more curious as to why they didn’t than you are angry that they even thought about it.”

  “Oh.” Then, mustering the fiercest look I could, I glared at Captain Smith and angrily said, “Well, sir? I demand an explanation of your actions and an apology!”

  He actually looked ashamed.

  Pleased by my accomplishment, I looked to Hannah for approval. She just rolled her eyes and sighed.

  Smith didn’t notice. “We weren’t really going to.…”

  “You were so!” snapped Jane with such passion and authority that all three men flinched.

  Quickly, I scanned their souls and laughed.

  “What’s so funny?” demanded Hannah.

  “I think they’re chastised sufficiently. They weren’t really going to leave me down there. Sims here was just floating an idea.”

  All three men, and Hannah, looked stunned.

  Instantly, I felt sick and cursed silently. John, you fool!

  “How’d you know?” asked Captain Smith.

  “I…overheard your conversation,” I lied.

  “That’s some hearing.”

  I shrugged as if it was nothing new.

  “And how’d you know my name?” asked Sims in a wary voice.

  Jane came to the rescue. “I whispered it to him as he was about to go down.”

  They eyed me suspiciously; but after a moment’s hesitation, they seemed to accept the explanation. Of course their decision may have been aided by the presence of the food, as all three men now focused longingly on the packs. Hannah, however, wasn’t fooled, but said nothing. She gave me a look that I’m sure meant, “You’re going to explain this when we’re done here.”

  “’Ow we goin’ to devide it?” asked the other man slowly. His name was, simply, Stick. It was likely a nickname; but since we hadn’t been introduced, I wasn’t going to ask.

  “Tell me if this is agreeable,” I suggested. “Two packs to split between the three of you, however you see fit, and we’ll take the third.”

  Hannah started to protest, but caught herself and fell silent.

  Good girl, I thought. You’re learning.

  Stick brightened, ready to jump at the more than fair offer. It was obviously better than he’d planned on, and without having to haggle, no less. Sims, however, dampened his enthusiasm.

  “I wanna see it first. After all, how da we know he ain’t pullin’ a fast one?”

  Captain Smith took one of the sacks over to the table, unfastened the leather tie, and dumped the contents out.

  I could almost see their mouths watering at the sight of the dried meat piled on the table. Stick reached for a piece, but Captain Smith swatted his hand away. The other packs containing dried fruits and vegetables were also added to the pile. Some of the food, being more than the table could handle, spilled onto the floor.

  “As you can plainly see, we will fulfill our part of the bargain and are not trying to, as you put it, pull a fast one,” said Jane pointedly. Her meaning was not lost on Captain Smith.

  Sims, who probably always tried to get as much as he could, wanted to dicker. “Yer offer’s a good startin’ point,” he said greedily.

  Hannah and Jane were both fuming; and Hannah looked about ready to leap across the room and strangle Sims.

  Captain Smith put an end to it before it could escalate. “That’s enough, Sims; it’s more than fair.”

  “But we can git more,” argued Sims. “There’s nottin’ they can do ‘bout it.”

  “We are not them!” growled Captain Smith, his face growing red with anger. “Don’t make me regret letting you in on this!”

  Sims shrank away, holding his hands up defensively. “Aw right, aw right, no ‘arm in check’n.”

  The Captain filled one of the bags full of food and handed it to Hannah. Using the other packs, and the bag the rope came in, he divided the remainder of the food equally into threes. Addressing the two men, he ordered them back to their posts and told them they could retrieve their share when they had completed their watch.

  After the men had departed, I asked, “Are you sure you can trust them?”

  “Sims may be a greedy little bugger, but he’s loyal to me and he’ll keep his mouth shut.”

  “It’s a rare man that can be both greedy and trustworthy,” I observed.

  “Sims has proven himself in the past, and it was my choice. What’s done is done.”

  “Very well,” I nodded. “Then I trust your judgment.”

  Chapter Twelve: The Mind and the Snake

  WE thanked Captain Smith for his help and stole down the steps into the dark, empty streets of Marysvale. Jane led the way. Staying in the shadows, we hugged the sides of buildings and homes, until we came to a back alley. We darted off and, turning this way and that, we continued to wind our way through the maze.

  The town itself intrigued me. Houses and buildings were sandwiched together and were in a decrepit state. Some were patched up the best they could with whatever materials the inhabitants could find: rocks, scraps of wood, even sticks. Other homes looked like any attempts of upkeep and repair had long been abandoned. Vacant structures were gutted for any usable material, leaving a well-scavenged carcass. In its layout and construction, the town looked to have been, at one point, modern and more advanced than most. Over time, however, any attempts of organization had been discarded. Streets ran in every direction and sometimes even appeared to go in circles.

  I felt thoroughly lost and my special vision was of little use. Occasionally, I could see people in homes and buildings, but unlike the completely alive and living forest, the town was made up of materials that had no soul to read.

  Halfway around a corner, Jane desperately sprung back and pressed herself against the building. She held her arm out to stop us from advancing.

  “What is it?” I whispered, while instinctively reaching for weapons that were not there.

  “Soldiers!”

  I crept up next to her and peeked around the corner of the building. Six soldiers marched our way.

  Ducking back, I asked, “Did they see you?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  I took another look.

  “Hurry, we can go another way,” offered Hannah urgently.

  “They’ve stopped in front of a house,” I stated curiously.

  One of the soldiers bellowed at the top of his lungs for the
occupants to open up. Not bothering to wait, the other men smashed the door open and stormed in.

  By now, Jane and Hannah were peeking around me to see what was going on.

  With my eyes on the remaining soldier, I asked, “What are they doing?”

  “Anything they want to,” replied Jane somberly.

  A moment later, screams and yells echoed from the house as the soldiers emerged, dragging a man out by his arms. He appeared to be in his late thirties and was still dressed in a worn nightshirt.

  A baby in the house started to cry.

  “What am I being charged with?” demanded the man.

  The soldier, who had stood outside, replied maliciously, “You’ll find out soon enough.”

  Without warning, he threw a punch into the prisoner’s gut. The man doubled over.

  His wife rushed out, clutched the soldier’s coat and begged for leniency on her husband’s behalf. The soldier slapped her across the face, and she fell back.

  “Get inside,” he demanded. “Unless you wish to share your miserable husband’s fate.”

  The man pleaded for her to go back in; but she remained on her knees, begging the soldiers for sympathy—panic and despair filling her voice, and tears streaming down her cheeks.

  Red faced and angry, the lead soldier unfastened his belt, withdrew it, and raised it over his head, ready to whip the woman.

  A girl rushed out of the home. “Please sir, spare her.”

  She wrapped her arms around her mother and looked up at the soldier, half bracing for his punishment to be administered.

  He paused, and lowered his belt. “Only because I’m feeling generous.” He shooed them away with his hand and added, “Remove her before my graciousness tires.”

  The girl dragged her still crying mother back into the house.

  At the same time, a very young boy ran out and handed a pair of shoes to his father.

  His father thanked him and tried to give a reassuring smile to his son.

  The leader of the soldiers slapped the shoes out of his hands and then barked an order for chains to be fastened to the man’s wrists. The small group set off into the cold night with the barefoot man wearing only his nightshirt.

  The small boy watched his father disappear before retrieving the scattered shoes. He hugged them tightly to his chest and slowly returned to the house.

  The door closed.

  “What will happen to him?” I asked, both horrified and fuming at what had just transpired. Though I didn’t know for sure, something told me that the man didn’t do anything to deserve that kind of treatment.

  Jane somberly replied, “I don’t know. It is extremely rare that one who is taken is ever seen again.”

  Barely audible, Hannah said, “I know the girl....Her name is Isabelle. I like her.”

  Though it was small consolation, I un-slung the pack of food, opened it, and withdrew a large portion of its contents. Wordlessly, I handed them to Hannah, who placed them on their threshold as we passed. She gave the wood a few raps, and we slipped unseen into the night, just as we heard the door creak cautiously open.

  ***

  Eventually, we came to a narrow road at the south end of the town.

  “Here we are,” whispered Jane.

  Their small home consisted of two levels. It looked better kept than most, yet still had a rundown appearance. Boards replaced broken windows, and the wood on the outside was weathered and rotting with mildew.

  Jane tried the door. It didn’t open.

  She knocked softly. No answer.

  She tried again. Still, no answer.

  It looked like it wouldn’t take much to force the door open, but the third try produced a hushed response. “Who is it?”

  “It’s us, Father,” whispered Jane.

  After a brief commotion behind the door, it swung open and their father embraced both his girls in a gigantic hug that he held for quite a long time. With tears streaming down his cheeks, he said, “Thank Heaven you’re back safely. I was worried sick.”

  He looked up and noticed me for the first time—fear crossed his face.

  “It’s all right, Father, you can trust him,” assured Jane. “This is John. He’s with us. Without his help, we wouldn’t be here.”

  Mr. Wolfe hesitated and then said, “Well, if Jane trusts you, then so do I.”

  He ushered us inside, and then looked up and down the street before closing the door. A moment later, Hannah had a candle lit, illuminating the meager surroundings of their modest home. The front room also doubled as the kitchen, with a small iron stove in one corner. A table, four chairs, and a few sparse shelves adorned the room. Mr. Wolfe invited me to sit down, and I did. Squinting through the dim yellow light, he studied me, while I did the same to him. He looked older than I had expected and had obviously fathered Jane and Hannah later in life. I wondered how old Mrs. Wolfe would be if she were still alive. I realized I had never asked Jane about her mother and wondered if I should have, or if it remained better left alone.

  Mr. Wolfe had a thick head of hair. In the dim light, it was difficult to make out the color; but it looked mostly black, with streaks of white. He wore a peppered, white beard and mustache that hid his wrinkles and gaunt features. He looked naturally tall, but now stooped from malnourishment, age, and worry.

  “Do I know you?” he asked, breaking my appraisal of him.

  I glanced at Jane, asking silent approval to reveal myself.

  Ever so subtly, she shook her head.

  I was beginning to wonder if all this secrecy was really a good thing. In the end, if they were questioned and didn’t know anything, would they be believed? I reminded myself to talk to Jane about it later. Whatever she decided, I would honor. For now, I simply said, “No, I don’t believe so.”

  He continued to look at me, trying to dust the cobwebs from his memory. Eventually, he gave up and observed, “You three must be hungry. I’m sorry, all I have is half a loaf of old bread; but you’re welcome to it.”

  Tears welled in Hannah’s eyes. “Father, we told you to eat the whole ration while we were gone. We didn’t want you saving anything for us.”

  “As you can see, I survived just fine. Besides, I had to. If you failed, there would be nothing for you when you returned tired and hungry.”

  “But we didn’t fail,” replied Hannah. She opened the sack to show him.

  He inspected it, closed his eyes, and said a silent prayer of gratitude.

  “We’re sorry there isn’t more,” said Jane. “Sarah really did send us with a lot.” She went on to explain how Lord Wright had confiscated their food and about the lost packs I had cut loose in my race to the gate. She also explained the deal made with Captain Smith in exchange for their help, and the man who had been taken from his family.

  When finished, he said, “Then let us be thankful you returned safely, and for the food we still have.”

  Jane got up and fetched three plates; she returned looking apologetically at me. “Sorry, we only have three.” Then added quickly, “You can have mine; I will eat off the table.”

  “No, you won’t,” I retorted. “I’m not that hungry.”

  “Nonsense,” said Mr. Wolfe. He pushed his plate to me, got up from the table, retrieved a clean cloth from a small shelf near the stove, and laid it out before him. “This will do,” he noted.

  Jane dished up small portions of the food and Hannah offered grace.

  After we began eating, Mr. Wolfe inquired, “Tell me about yourself, John. Where do you come from and how did you get here?”

  “There really isn’t much to relate,” I said. “My name is John Casey. I got lost trying to join a hunting party from Syre. I was attacked and chased by the Brean, and then ended up at Sarah’s.”

  He digested that for a moment, as if savoring the information. “And do you have any family?” he asked.

  I shook my head, “No, I don’t.” It wasn’t much of an explanation. I purposefully liked giving short answers. Few p
eople really cared about them anyway. They only asked out of politeness or curiosity, and rarely wanted more information than that.

  “No mother or father?”

  “No, both are dead.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. And how did they die, if I may ask?” His eyes shifted from his food to me.

  The way he asked made me suspicious that he already knew the answer; he wasn’t very good at acting like it was just another question. It is the subtle things that usually give one away. Unlike his other queries that came naturally while he kept on eating, when he asked this one, all his attention shifted to me. He reminded me of a parent asking a child a series of innocent questions, before getting to the important one. The trouble with this trick is that when they do get to this point of their interrogation, they try too hard to make the question look like any other, and their intention is all too obvious.

  I wasn’t fooled. Apparently Jane wasn’t either. She sighed and said, “All right Father, out with it. What do you suspect?”

  Replying as innocently as possible, he stretched his hands wide and said, “Nothing at all. It’s just that John, here, looks very similar to your young friend of so long ago.”

  Hannah’s interest was piqued and she put down the piece of dried meat that she was gnawing on.

  “You two have been hiding something from me haven’t you?” she accused. “I knew it in the woods at that old burnt cabin.” Then, remembering something else, she gasped, “Oh, does it have to do with how you can see so far in the dark? John, you promised that you’d tell me. You weren’t lying, were you?”

  I looked helplessly at Jane.

  “See? See that look he gave you? I can’t believe it, my own sister is keeping secrets from me!”

  Jane looked at her father sternly. “Now look at what you’ve done!”

  A small grin spread across his old face. “It’s not the end of the world,” he cajoled in a fatherly tone.