Marysvale (39 page)

“
There,” said Lyman with
smug satisfaction. “Now you see the true nature of this worthless
mongrel. He betrayed you for a mere few sacks of corn.”

“
No,” said Mr. Wolfe. “They
never told me who you were. Believe me, I would have gone with you
if there had been any real plan of escape; but I never honestly
believed there was. After you left last night, I went to Lord
Wright and pleaded with him on your behalf. He said you would be
unharmed and possibly even put in a favorable position.” Then
sorrowfully, he added, “I should have known better. I should never
have trusted them to keep their word.”

“
You stupid fool,” sneered
Lyman. “We will keep our word. Hannah and Jane will be perfectly
safe and well cared for in the garrison.” A twisted smile crept
across his face. “I’ll personally see to it.”

Mr. Wolfe glared at him. Conjuring up a
mouthful of saliva, he spat it across the room and onto Lyman’s
face. Shaking with anger, Lyman drew the pistol up and, without
hesitation, shot Mr. Wolfe.

He tumbled backwards, with his wounded
leg stretched out in front of him, and the other bent behind. His
arms fell by his side. A dark stain appeared on his chest and grew
as his life quickly slipped away. Staring off into space and time,
Mr. Wolfe took a few gurgling breaths…and then, for him, the pain
of this world ended.

Lyman gloated, but I ignored him and
watched as Mr. Wolfe’s spirit separated from his temporal body and
rose to his feet. He peered curiously at the body lying on the
floor and then at me.

He looked at me and asked, “Can you see
me?”

I nodded the best I could under Lyman’s
knee.

“
Please forgive
me.”

“
There’s nothing to
forgive,” I said.

Lyman looked down at me with a confused
expression.

“
Don’t tell my daughters
what I’ve done. I don’t know if they would understand my
intentions.”

“
I won’t,” I
promised.

“
And please take care of
them for me?”

“
With my life.”

Lyman laughed, “He’s gone mad; just
listen to him babble.”

I became aware of another spirit
materializing beside Mr. Wolfe. As the apparition coalesced, I
could see a woman filled with and enshrouded in a white glow. Mr.
Wolfe noticed her, too. He turned and gazed at a beautiful, younger
woman with green eyes and dark hair. Recognition dawned, and a look
of sheer delight crossed his face. “Abby!” he exclaimed excitedly.
Then, throwing his arms around his wife, they embraced lovingly.
“Oh, how I’ve missed you,” he said.

“
And I you, Michael,” she
replied in a musically tender voice.

Her radiance flowed over and onto him
like a warm blanket, filling his soul with light. And as it did, he
too grew younger until their ages met.

E
NOUGH
lunacy,” said Lyman abruptly. He ordered the
soldiers off and then stood up, yanking me up by my hair and
pulling some out in the process.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mr.
and Mrs. Wolfe, still locked in their embrace, fade like sand blown
away by the wind, to go to that place beyond the reach of even my
sight. Before disappearing completely, Mrs. Wolfe looked at me,
with a smile that reminded me so much of Jane, and gave me a small
wink of recognition. And then they were gone.

A strange feeling of peace fell over
me. Was it acceptance of my fate? I wondered if it was the same
calmness that had descended upon Mr. Wolfe at the end. My mind
cleared of the trauma and raw emotion plaguing it. Instead, it
filled with numbness and a strange clarity of thought.

Lyman saw the change and mistook it for
submission, or perhaps despair.

“
Ah, I can see we made some
progress today. Well worth the sacrifice of one insignificant fool,
wouldn’t you say?”

I remained silent.

“
Oh, come now. You aren’t
seriously distraught with the loss of that miserable life are you?
It was hardly worth the price of the ball and powder to end his
existence.”

His comments should have enraged me,
and perhaps, after the numbness wore off, they would; at present, I
simply wanted to get out of the house. More importantly, I wanted
to get Lyman out, to stop him from desecrating the now hallowed
ground. Without a word, I turned my back on him and strode out of
that sorrowful place and into the street.

Lyman, predictably, chased after me,
followed by his men.

“
Don’t you turn your back on
me,” he snarled.

Grabbing my shoulder with one hand, he
twisted me around and threw a fist into my gut.

I was ready for him. His blow was met
with hard, tensed muscles. He would have to be a lot quicker than
that to catch me off guard. It was almost laughable to watch his
expression, as the punch landed harmlessly with a dull thud. For a
moment, I debated if I should take a page out of Jane’s book and
kick him hard enough between the legs as to permanently end his
accursed bloodline. However, after a brief internal debate, I
decided against it, knowing that the satisfaction of crippling him
wouldn’t outweigh the obvious retribution that would
follow.

Angrily, he grabbed a musket from a
nearby soldier and slammed the butt into my stomach. It was much
more effective than his fist. I doubled over in pain. If I had any
food in my stomach, it would have come up. Still, it didn’t have
his desired effect and, raising the weapon, he hammered it down
onto my hunched back.

The force flattened me to the pavement
and mated the pain in my gut to the newly acquired one in my back.
An unpreventable moan escaped my lips, and this seemed to satisfy
him.

He looked down and said, “Despite the
enormous amount of pleasure this brings me, we really do need to be
on our way.” He sighed, “Sadly, my father still wants you alive for
the time being. Although, picking up this conversation later does
give us something to look forward to.”

Then, contorting his face in rage, he
hauled back a foot and kicked me hard in the side. Spidery
tentacles of pain shot through my body. I grit my teeth to keep
from crying out.

As if addressing a small child, he
asked, “Now, are you going to behave and ride like a good little
boy; or do I have to tie your feet and carry you like
saddlebags?”

“
Ride,” I moaned.

“
Good.” Then, to no one in
particular, he ordered, “Get him on his horse.”

If only that were true…but Smoke wasn’t
anywhere to be seen.

With my hands tied behind my back, it
took a few awkward maneuvers to get me up and onto my nondescript
mount. Finally, we set off through the streets of Marysvale, with
Lyman proudly taking up the lead. The soldier, whose arm I had
broken, brought up the rear and glared at me, while bearing his
affliction stoically. I wondered if he planned on just throwing
visual daggers at me the whole ride, or if he would get to take his
revenge later.

We worked our way through the streets
and the townsfolk scurried out of our way. Where possible, they
fled up alleys and into buildings and homes. Those who had nowhere
to go got as far out of the way as they could and avoided looking
directly at the soldiers; though their curiosity often got the best
of them, and they watched me as I passed. Their faces were gaunt
and sad, with worry lines beyond their years. Most looked scared,
and a few even clasped their hands together and offered up silent
prayers—probably on my behalf.

Leisurely, we ascended the
hill.

As much as I loathed to even speak to
Lyman, a question burned in my mind, so I finally asked, “How did
you know I was coming?”

He craned around to get a better look
at me, a bemused look on his face.

“
You still have not figured
that out?”

I shook my head.

He threw his head back and chortled,
“How delightful! Well then, we mustn’t spoil the surprise. Where
would the fun be in that?” He laughed again and turned away,
obviously with no intent of telling me.

We traveled the remainder of the way in
silence.

The stone walls of the fortress loomed
before us, as we clattered our way up the cobblestone path to the
massive black doors. After a heavy clunk, they parted in the middle
and glided silently back, revealing the courtyard
beyond.

Our party passed safely through, and
the doors, propelled by a few soldiers, again slid silently
closed.

I twisted around in my saddle and
watched a thick wooden bar lower into place, again sealing the
doors shut. A couple of soldiers on the ground ran toward two huge,
ornately carved timbers that jutted straight up into the air,
located about 15 feet behind each of the wall doors. The base of
each timber was fastened with iron hinges to massive, perfectly
square stones buried deep in the earth. A little over midway up,
chains were attached to each of the timbers with an iron band. From
there, the chains ran back at an angle and down into separate
boxes, which were also embedded in the ground. Out of each box
protruded a lever. The soldiers each grabbed a lever and pulled
back. With a loud clanking sound, the chain slid out of the ground,
and the tops of the timbers slowly lowered until they buttressed up
against each door, effectively making them impossible to force
open.

I didn’t think my hope of escape could
sink any lower, but after seeing this, it plummeted. I had even
less of a chance to open these doors than the main ones leading out
of the town. There was no way out.

A jagged flash of light caught my
attention. In the distance, dark clouds were building, as lightning
danced through black puffy masses, followed moments later by the
sound of rolling thunder. The air sat heavy and still, as if
holding its breath in baited anticipation for the pending
storm.

On the air, a sound floated by—a whinny
that I’d recognize anywhere.

Smoke
.

My eyes darted around the courtyard,
noticing my surroundings for the first time. There were six large
buildings, more like castles, of various shapes and sizes. They
were all made of the same smooth stone; and evenly laid out in a
manner that made it possible to see every building at once.
Cobblestone pathways ran between them through groomed, lush green
grass. Goats grazed on the grass, thereby keeping it short. Large
trees were judiciously placed, giving it a balanced look and
feel.

Situated near the walls, much like in
the town, were other various wooden structures. However, unlike the
town, they were uniform in appearance and neatly maintained. Among
them, I identified a blacksmith and a gunsmith, lumber and grist
mills, a butcher shop, and corrals full of livestock. Soldiers
drilled and practiced maneuvers on the grounds. Men trained horses.
Women and children walked the paths, going about their daily
business. Everyone here was well fed and clothed.

I didn’t linger long on most of the
buildings; I searched for one in particular and finally found it
situated amongst the other wooden buildings…stables. Parked in
front sat the coach that had carried Jane and Hannah away. Again,
Smoke’s whinny drifted on the wind, like he was calling me. I
longed to ride him and felt that if I could just get on his back,
everything would be all right. I couldn’t see him, but perhaps he
could see or smell me; or maybe it was just that special sense that
some animals seem to possess.

The soldier with the broken arm studied
me. I forced my eyes away from where Smoke was and back onto the
cobblestone path.

Curiously, the back wall of the
fortress rose to only about chest high. It wasn’t nearly tall
enough to keep anything out, except perhaps the smallest of forest
creatures. How strange, when considering the impenetrable front
wall. It ran up to, but not around, the sides of the last and
largest of the castles, which appeared to be our
destination.

We drew up in front of a stone
stairway, which led to massive double wooden doors where two
soldiers stood guard.

“
You,” barked Lyman to one
of the guards. “Let his lordship know that I have arrived with his
guest.”