Beyond Scarfold [discontinued]

(1) Milborrow's Demise

Copyright © 2012 Emily Jonatan

All Rights Reserved 

Cover by Jenny20.

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Chapter One ~ Milborrow's Demise

Sometimes you can hear the screams.

Only at night of course, for that is the only time they come out. The poor souls who wander too close to Scarfold Forest; there is no hope for them.

They say it pulls at your conscience by showing your greatest desires, your sweetest memories. It lulls you in with a sentimental song from your childhood, or bathes you in reminders of those that are gone. And once you take just one step within its boundaries, you're lost. Forever. That is, until the beasts get you. When the darkness of night stretches across the forest, they leave their dens and prowl the growth, looking for wanderers.

Of course, that's not all they say. They also spread rumors that the butcher's son has been doing certain "favors" around the city for a gold piece, or that the king has lately obtained quite a few objects of value that the citizens have lost.

You can never be sure their words are of complete honesty.

But news of Scarfold Forest isn't new. In fact, the stories have grown over the centuries; told by mothers to their children to keep them in line, or just discussed for the plunging sensation of fear in the gut.

You simply can't live in Aranel without hearing the horrible stories of the forest that borders our walls.

I say 'stories' and not 'rumors' for good reason. They're true, and anyone in the city would agree. The reasonable sentence for major crimes is death. That has been true for as long as Aranel has stood. Long ago, one of the earliest kings was faced with a man whose crimes outmatched any other in their complete savageness. He decided that a clean beheading or hanging would not do him justice, and so he left him at the edge of Scarfold the night of his execution.

The criminal wandered into the woods under close watch of the king and his advisors. They didn't have to wait for long. Within the hour screams echoed from the forest, and when they were abruptly cut off, they knew the criminal was dead.

Since then, any criminals with a death sentence were sent into the woods, and children would hide under their covers as they listened to the blood-curdling screams that shook their eardrums that night.

~§~

I tucked my hands into my pockets and wandered down the cobblestone road in silence, drawing my coat around myself. The nights were getting longer and colder - we would soon get snow fall.

I breathed deeply, enjoying watching the steam billow from my cold lips. I kept my eyes down, the uneven street having tripped me enough over the years for me to have learned my lesson. Kicking a pebble along, I headed for my favorite inn.

Its name was The Drunken Bear, but that was a complete misnomer. The innkeeper, a good friend of mine, refused to serve anyone any alcohol after midnight. The reason, he once told me, was that by the end of the day he had spent all his patience on his wife and had none left to deal with "intoxicated bastards."

The innkeeper, whom everyone called Jones, was a hearty man, and always managed to make me laugh. And though he would always act as if his wife was the most tiring woman the gods could ever bestow upon him, I knew they loved each other very much. But old Jones wasn't the only reason this particular inn was my favorite of the lot. I came for the stories.

Of course, Jones also allowed me some alcohol now and then, which none of the other inns did for my being a young girl. That was always nice, too.

I turned a corner and walked towards the inn, the sweet smell of freshly baked raisin bread filling my nose. Walking inside, I smiled over to Jones. He waved me over to the back of the inn.