Storm Town By Patrick Black
Black
clouds were on the horizon, the townsfolk bustled around in preparation of the
winter days ahead. A thatcher finished the final touches on a roof, a merchant
traded his last pelt, and boys brought bundles of sticks into their homes. The
town of Belkarie was a small, slow moving place but farmer and butcher alike
called it home. The town was fairly isolated from the outside world; once in a
while the townspeople would hear distant rumors of the kingdom. Belkarie was
located just 5 miles from the king’s palace but rumor was all Belkarie heard of
the outside world. They didn’t care much for the problems of others; they only
worried about how much food they had, where they slept, or how to survive. In
this town two boys grew up together named Fern and Jack.
They both
were around the same age and both lived on the outskirts of town. Fern was
married to a young woman named Jorie.
Fern put
two logs on the warm fire and stood back rubbing his hands to bring the chill
out. Jorie walked up and leaned her head on his shoulder. Fern intertwined his
fingers in hers, looking down on her, she smiled. Then he spoke “I could barely walk while I was at the
market, it was packed, and people are getting nervous about this storm.” Jorie merely sighed and stepped closer to the heat
of the flickering flames. Inside their house bleak grey walls stood up holding
up the thatched roof with their wooden arms. A few sticks of furniture sat like
an island on the stone floor. A crooked bed-frame with a pile of blankets and a clean
cot which made a bed sat opposite the fireplace. The fire now burned a warm
orange color and smoke wandered up through the clay chimney into a darkening
sky. Slowly the streets of Belkarie emptied, the sun sank behind the mountains
and shown its last golden rays onto the stone roads. Specks of light appeared
one by one in the heavens while the moon rose up to shine its ghostly light
onto the sleeping town.
The red
sunrise spilt its bloody color on the landscape as it rose above the sleepy
town. Farmers were up milking, merchants sat sleepily at their booths, and
various townsfolk were up doing their daily chores. Jack woke and absent
mindedly dressed himself. Eating a few crumbs of bread he hurried of to attend
his own work. He was greeted with the whinny of his horse as he dumped hay into
its stall. After filling his fire wood he put on a warm cloak and wandered into
town. The market was already bustling with the many colors of the villagers. Inns
opened their doors and windows and were serving their guests breakfast. Several
people greeted Jack warmly so he waved back and smiled. Suddenly a horn sounded
as the thunderous roar of galloping horses sped past. Riders all in black
crested with the royal capital stopped in the street and dismounted while white
steamy breath came from the flaring nostrils of the horses. After one last horn
blast the commander spoke “By the order
of King Crecious III all families of Belkarie must give up half their supplies...”
The crowd’s chaotic screaming and shouting drowned his voice. One of the
soldiers beat down an over eager member of the crowd and it became silent once
again. The commander spoke again louder this time “Families must also give quarters to any soldier if needed, all horses
will be taken for military use, cooperation is greatly appreciated and any
resistance will be dealt with harshly, this is all for your protection.”
Jack
clenched his fists in frustration, he knew how much supplies were needed
especially with the storm approaching. He spotted the blonde mess of Fern’s
hair and made his way toward him. As he pushed through the crowd he saw
wagonloads of soldiers being pulled into town. When he reached Fern he was
crossing his arms and frowning. His jaw muscles were tensed and his gaze was
drawn to the commander who was remounting his horse. Fern still frowning turned
to Jack and said “Jack I don’t like this,
something doesn’t seem right go tell my wife all that has happened wait for me
at my house I need to find something out.” Jack replied “I agree something’s up; I’ll wait for you at your house.” With that he started walking towards the edge
of town. Fern’s grey eyes still followed the commander as he walked his horse
behind the wagons. Fern moved to the opposite side of the street and followed
the group of men until they stopped at one of the town’s small mansion. The
building was a wide two story, white trimmed house with many glass windows.
After one soldier pounded on the thick oak door the commander shouted “By the law of King Crecious III, I commander
Graslvich confiscate this house for the use of the Imperial Army.” An angry
aristocrat came to the door and frowned while his wife came and started yelling
and spitting at the soldiers and attempted to close the thick door. With a
quick motion from the black gloved hand of Commander Graslvich several soldiers
pushed the closing door open forcefully. The soldiers swarmed in the mansion
like ants swarm a carcass. Screams came from the house as servants ran out in
fear. Commander Graslvich strode in and to the upstairs portion of the
building. Fern saw through a window the woman and husband being beaten with a riding
whip by the commander. The woman screamed as their harsh punishment was dealt,
out soon her screams were cut short when her neck snapped and her body hung
limply next to her husbands out the window for all to see. Later a sign was
hung on their body’s which named them blasphemers to the king, and traitors to
the royal court.
Fern
quickly made his way home feeling sick from all he had witnessed. When he
reached his home Jack was still there just as he had requested and Jorie had
made dinner. They ate in silence; Fern slowly ate cabbage stew and bread
looking only at the table. It seemed to Jack and Jorie that the watery food and
dry bread was his only vice. They did not ask any questions but finished their
meals. When the dishes were cleared Jorie went to bed so Fern and Jack brought
their chairs onto the porch and closed the door behind them.
Fern and Jack sat silent for a few seconds then Fern
told Jack of all that he had seen. When he had finished telling about the sign
and the bodies he stopped. Jack leaned forward in his chair and sadness and
anger filled his face. After a few moments of thought he spoke quietly “What do they want? We don’t need
protection!! We are completely isolated to start with!! Do you really think
they work for the king?” Fern’s brow was furrowed and he answered “I can’t answer those things friend, but I
think we just need to mind our own business and maybe these soldiers will be a
help.” But this was not enough for Jack he stood and said “Fern! These men are going to take our food!
And our horses….My horse!!! All for some protection that we don’t need! I can’t
just mind my own business this is a problem!” Fern shook his head and
replied “Jack you are too hot blooded,
things will work out, you’ll see.” Jack shrugged and walked off into the
night to his own house saying “good night.” That
night the dark clouds poured water from their billowing bodies. Thunder boomed
as the torrent of rain came down onto the earth. Bone chilling wind whipped
around the town gnashing its icy teeth over the thatched roofs of the
villagers. The parched earth gratefully swallowed the winter rain.
When
morning came only a light drizzle of rain painted the land. Little streams
flowed down the roads and puddles formed miniature lakes on walkways. Cold wind
swayed the trees in a rhythmic creaking and bending. The people sat in their
homes next to warm fires hiding from the cold fingers of winter. Blankets and
warm drinks did not go unwelcome on this cold day. A few Imperial soldiers
traveled around town collecting half of every homes food, wood, and money and
threw it into their cart. This continued for a few hours until the cart finally
was pulled away with its wobbly wooden wheels from the last home of Belkarie.
Fog and smoke floated low in the town trapped under the cold leaving thick smog
and discouraging anyone who wished to be out and about.
Fern and
Jorie lay in front of their fire playing cards to pass the time. Jack filled his
firewood stack for the nth time that day while the rain had paused. He looked sadly toward his empty stable
feeling resentful towards the soldiers who took him just hours before. Then he
thought of the man and woman that Fern had said were murdered. He thought how
unfair it was for the soldiers to come into their calm and peaceful little town
and demand and take things unlawfully. He threw down his fire wood and stormed
into town trying to take his mind off the soldiers. He didn’t know where he was
going but he was going. He walked towards the butchers store to possibly buy
some meat if he had enough money. When he reached the store his heart sank, the
door was wide open, which it never was, and three soldiers stood laughing as
they stole good meat. One soldier was holding the butcher while the others
taunted him saying “oooh I bet this one
would be a good seller…fresh too” and he threw it in the mud and took more
meat and stuffed it in a sack. The laughing soldiers walked out to face Jack
glaring at them with hatred. The soldiers snickered at him and shouldered him
roughly. They kept walking and Jack just watched. A young woman walked into the
street from her house and the soldiers shouted and whistled with glee. They all
rushed around her and one grabbed her and pulled her down. Jack had to intervene.
He ran at the men and tackled the first. They all jumped on him and Jack
viciously kicked, bit and punched all around. Finally a soldier untangled
himself from the brawl and unsheathed his sword he grabbed Jack from the ground
and pummeled him the hilt of his sword. Before Jack was beat to death the
menacing voice of Commander Graslvich shouted “ENOUGH!”
Jack could barely see the
commander’s feet through his swollen eye as he walked towards him. The soldier
s pushed Jack to his knees, stepped back, and Graslvich addressed the gathering
crowd “Look! Look at this fool who is
drunk with wine and thinks he can fight my soldiers, this is what
happens….” Although the truth was
not told the truth was not needed to make an example of him. The commander raised
his leather whip and struck Jack with six metal studded tongues of leather. He
smiled with every stroke but Jack was barely conscious. When blood pooled all
around Jack he finally blacked out. Graslvich sneered with disgust and kicked
Jacks body over and let him fall in his own blood and walked away. No one
helped Jack, fearing a similar fate. The rain washed away the pain and blood
from his body as Jack lay on the stone. He didn’t move or wake but lay
unconscious. Fern arrived and ran to
Jack’s still body. He rolled him over and asked “Jack!! Jack, can you get up?”
Jack sat slowly up and groaned in pain. His shirt was ripped and stained
with blood; his cloak had been torn off in the fight and lay trampled and muddy
in the street somewhere. Fern knelt by
him and said “what happened? Why are you
hurt?” While he asked this he took a
ripped piece of Jack’s shirt and dabbed it at his shoulders and face. Jack
answered “Ouch! Well I walked into town
to visit the…Ouch! butcher and when I got there three soldiers…Ouch
careful…were stealing his meat then…. Ouch!!.... Then they went for some poor
girl so I stopped them, that…Ouch!... Graslvich did this to me and said that I
was drunk!” Fern stopped cleaning jacks cuts and sighed. Jack continued “Fern they have to be stopped!” Fern looked up into Jacks green eyes and
answered “Well you can’t do it alone…”
That night
the rain continued to pour and lightning crackled along the sky. Light spilled
from the cracks of the stable walls. On the inside noise and chaos filled the
building, Fern sat quiet at the large fire and Jack stood on a chair trying to
quiet everybody down. All the men of Belkarie gathered inside the stable, all
who called Belkarie home, and all who wished to protect it stood with clubs,
torches, knives, and pitchforks. Finally Jack got every ones attention and the
room quieted down and Jack spoke “Men
tonight we exterminate a pest that has infested our peaceful town, these
soldiers have come into our simple lives and nothing has been the same…” He was interrupted by a man who yelled “They murdered the Arvin’s!!” and another said “They robbed my store” The
crowd all shouted with agreement. Fern stood and spoke “Then let no more words be wasted while our enemy’s sleep.” A man
shouted “LETS GET THEM!!!” The stable shook with the shouts and running
feet of the villagers as they stampeded toward the mansion. Fern and Jack were
at the head of the mob holding clubs. The mob raced through town holding their
torches high to light the way. When they reached the house, where the soldiers
were sleeping, they broke down the door. Surprised and sleepy soldiers had no
time to reach for their weapons but had their heads bashed in by Fern, Jack,
and the rest of the mob. They killed all the soldiers on the ground floor and
stormed upstairs. By the time they reached the top floor the soldiers had drawn
their weapons, the mob rushed at them. Most of the villagers in the front line
were cut down by the blades of the soldiers. The rest trampled the soldiers
down and stabbed them to death with knives and pitch forks. The soldiers pushed
the mob back down part way the stairs. The fight was at a standstill, bodies
were thick on the floor and dark blood made the wood slick.
Commander Graslvich
stepped forward holding a villager by his hair by one hand and a long sword in
the other and said “This is what happens to those who oppose the
Imperial Army!” He drug the blade of
his sword slowly across the man’s neck and then deeper and quicker away. The
man clutched his throat and crimson blood squirted through his fingers and
poured from his mouth. “Burn you pig!”
Fern spat out and threw his torch. The torch spun through the air several times
before finding its target, the lit end stuck strait into Graslvich’s eye. He
screamed in pain and stumbled backwards. His body fell back onto a barrel of
torch oil and suddenly it exploded. The whole back wall of the mansion was
almost gone or on fire and the floor was cracked and broken. The floor suddenly
lurched and collapsed with the live and dead soldiers. The mob ran back down
the stairs and barely avoided being crushed. Many of the men had been badly
wounded from the explosion and been trampled on the way down on the stairs.
Soon most of the house was ablaze and the mob stampeded out the door into the
mud. When they looked back sweating and covered in battle gore they saw the
house collapse in a flurry of smoke and flame. The rain slowly put out the fire
and sizzled on the hot coals of the mansion. No one spoke as they watched the
rain turn what once was a house into rubble. No one spoke as they watched the
embers and heat consume the charred bodies of both their companions and the
soldiers they slaughtered. No one spoke as the sunrise broke through the clouds
and revealed the new day.
THE END
