Chapter 2 - Ten Silver Coins - Book 1
Jill escapes to the Forest as her city burns; a mysterious letter is a key to her safety
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Chapter Two: The Forest
When Jill opened her eyes the night had passed and the sun was shining across the meadow. Sunbeams met with the mist on the border of the Forest and created patterns of rainbows in midair. It only took a few moments for Jill to reorient herself and remember where she was. She looked around, startled, as she recalled the hurried flight from the city the evening before, angry at herself for falling asleep so close to the edge of the meadow where she might be visible to the Watchmen.
The events of the last hours were still a blur in her mind. Jill tried to replay all the details, but couldn’t make sense of them. It was like any other day. She had gone to school and through all her normal daily rituals of classes and study. As usual she waited in the park for her caretaker to meet her and accompany her for the rest of the long walk to his home. Unlike most other children, Jill was not allowed to walk on her own through Vendor. Nor was she allowed to cover her face like most other citizens. Wherever she went in the city, her face was exposed and uncovered, visible to all citizens, a Daughter of Disgrace.
Jill waited for nearly an hour, enjoying her time on a bench under a poplar tree, sketching in her notebook as unseen birds chirped in the solitude of the park. Her caretaker never arrived, the first time since he became her caretaker that he was late, a fact in itself unusual and alarming. When the curfew alarm started to howl, Jill felt her first sensation of anxiety.
Watchmen descended on the streets in their yellow and green uniforms and started to usher people to their homes. Men wearing dark red masks with no features other than slits for the eyes and mouths, frantically rushed along the street murmuring to women covered with dark blue veils a rumour: the Council had learned of another group of citizens harbouring escaped workers from one of the labour camps outside the city. The Council was going to search entire neighbourhoods to find the culprits.
Jill could feel the tension of panicked citizens on the streets as they ran to their houses while the curfew siren wailed. In the last few weeks the Council started aggressively interrogating and imprisoning people when a story emerged that a citizen made contact with someone in the Forest.
The story unsettled people who for years had been told by the Council that the Forest was no longer inhabited, people who had learned to avoid the Council’s attention at all costs, especially any suspicion of disloyalty. The report about inhabitants in the Forest raised doubts about the Council. Doubts the Council tried to erase through clear action: strict punishment, like banishment to the labour camps.
Upon hearing the rumour from where she sat inside the school park, Jill started to panic: how would she get to her foster home? Her caretaker was nowhere to be seen, and the Council enforced the strict law with a harsh public caning for any Shameface, a Daughter or Son of Disgrace, young or old, who was found alone on the street, unaccompanied by a caretaker.
Jill felt sick to her stomach when she remembered the Watchman’s words, they startled her: “Daughter of Disgrace, what are you doing out here alone? You are ordered to your home!” He wore a green uniform, but the mask on his face was orange, a junior officer.
“Sir,” Jill replied nervously, almost unable to find her voice, “my caretaker hasn’t arrived, I’ve been waiting for him for hours.”
“Is your caretaker always so careless? Perhaps I should report him to the Council.”
“No sir, he’s never been late.”
“Never?”
“No sir.”
“You have never waited long, perhaps until dark, then walked the streets alone?” The Watchman squinted at Jill through the slits in his mask. “What is his rank?”
“He’s an Original, sir, he wears the white veil of the Council.”
“An Original!” the guard breathed in surprise. “A Councilman as a caretaker? I’ve never heard of such a thing.” The Watchman was quiet for some time. “There must be a reason; the Council is wise and good and all shall honour it.” Then, abruptly, he said, “His absence can only be explained by the pressing crisis the Council faces. He is busy at work on behalf of the city, defending it against the threat of –” the guard took a step toward Jill and yanked her to her feet by her arm, “people like your parents who no doubt abandoned you for foolish things and covered you with their shame.”
“Where are you taking me?” Jill asked, alarmed as he dragged her beyond the school gate and out of the park.
“To your home, and quickly! You will tell me the way. You know you can’t walk the streets on your own. Your caretaker has taught well that you are a reminder to all the people of Vendor’s shame, its past full of superstition, of stories, black magic. What grade are you in, girl?”
Jill frowned and looked up at the Watchman.
“What grade are you in?” he repeated slowly, as though Jill had not understood.
“Five.”
“Then you are young, of the youngest, perhaps one of the last in the Council’s program. When you are old and die, maybe then Vendor will be purged of indignity, of all those former things.” The officer spat on the ground. A trail of saliva dripped from the edge of his mask, Jill watched it stretch until it touched her arm just above where the Watchman gripped her.
The Watchman escorted Jill home at a fast pace, holding her by the arm firmly. They weaved through the city streets from the school toward an edge of town. When she got to the foster home her arm was sore, bruised.
“There you are,” the Junior Watchman announced, pushing her onto the cement step. “I’ve spared you from a caning tonight, though I’m sure you deserve it for something. You will tell your caretaker that Junior Watchman Spake has done this.”
“Yes sir.”
“Now I leave.” The Watchman put his hand over his heart. “For the Council alone.”
Jill put her hand to her heart and mumbled back, “For the Council alone,” and the officer was off.
Jill quietly walked up the steps and through the door. Her caretaker had a small house. It was unassuming, like all the others on the street, tucked away in the old neighbourhood behind large trees. When visiting members of the Council dined with her caretaker, they often commented on its smallness. Most members of the Council lived in mansions in the centre of the town or on streets where original but Shameless city members lived. The Council seemed to have no problem with old wealth, though it despised most other old things.
“Daughter, where have you been?” a worried voice met her as she entered the house. It was Salma, the old servant who kept the caretaker’s house.
“Salma,” Jill replied, “he didn’t come. I waited in the park for hours until it was dark. An orange Watchmen brought me home.”
Salma shuddered. “Those cruel, evil men.”
Salma was old, wrinkled, and hunched. She walked with a limp, but her age and manner were deceiving. She was sharp and feisty, and unafraid to speak critically of the Council, even in front of Jill’s caretaker. She was forbidden to wear a veil, but Jill guessed even if she was permitted, she would refuse to cover her face.
Salma had watched over Jill ever since she was moved into the foster home. Jill’s caretaker knew Salma before the Council came to power in Vendor, before enforced curfews, before the mines and the masks. She is the best help available in the city. She might be disgraced, but she is unmatched in her skill with an iron, and a wash basin, and a skillet, Jill had heard her caretaker say when he defended his decision to let a Shameface manage his household. But then the visiting Council member would sit down to eat, and all his or her reservations about Salma would be lost in the delicious enjoyment of her food.
Sometimes when they were alone, when it was safe to risk it, Salma whispered Jill old stories of different times and far off places, stories with magic in them. These were Jill’s favourite moments, but they were very few.
“Child, I was sick with worry. I thought they’d found you. I thought they had finally figured it out and taken you away.”
Jill scrunched her nose. “Who did you think found me?”
“Terrible, horrible men. Men who have been searching for you for a very long time.” Jill stopped unbuttoning her coat and looked up at Salma. “Jill, there is very little time. It is not my story to tell. Take off that jacket and put this on.”
Salma reached into the closet and pulled out a red wool jacket that had shiny golden buttons. Jill’s jaw dropped. Salma returned to the closet, found a white box, and pulled out a thick gold veil.
“And this.”
“Salma, where did you get these things? You know only Town Daughters can wear the red coat and the golden veil, and I’m not one of them.”
“Jill, put them on.”
“But if I’m caught, they’ll –”
“You can’t let them catch you. They will not. He will protect you.”
“Who?”
Salma stopped, winked at Jill, then finally relaxed and smiled. “He who guards us all.”
“How will he protect me?”
“You’ll walk into that understanding when the time is right. No more questions, child, there is no time.”
“No time for what?”
“You must walk away from here, away from Vendor, and not return. Leave the house. You can’t be seen with your caretaker. Take Derby Road until it connects with Centre Street. You’ll find a street in the North called Ashlea. Speak with no one, for Town Daughters do not speak. There is a home on Ashlea Street that belongs to a member of the Council. She’s on our side.”
Our side.
“You will recognize it by its red gate. Go there. It’s on the edge of town. From there you will be told what to do.”
***
Though the sun was out, Jill shivered. Dew from the leaves and grass where she had fallen asleep soaked her pants and shoes. Her jacket, however, kept the moisture away from her body and kept her quite warm all through the night. Jill looked at her surroundings. She had imagined the Forest a number of times, and now she stood inside of it.
Mossy beards hung from the trunks of trees that stood like giants frozen in time, their branches extended like arms in every direction so high into the air that the sun’s light at midday would be blocked below them. Although she was only a few steps into the Forest, Jill noticed it was unnaturally dark and cool.
Though darker than the sunlit meadow, the Forest was a colourful place, and Jill found its sounds and smells startling. It had a permanent smell of spring rain, a smell that reminded Jill of water and earth and freshness. The mist from the night before remained and not only bordered the tree line of the Forest, but curled and moved along the path and disappeared into the darkness and underbrush of the trees. When Jill looked down she could no longer see the path or her feet.
Her red coat with its gold shining buttons was visible, but her pants and walking shoes disappeared into the thick mist. In the daytime, Jill did not feel uneasy about being in the Forest. If anything she felt compelled to stay and explore, an overwhelming feeling so different from the night before, one she noticed but could not explain.
Jill saw that the Forest had many different types of trees. Trees with needles and trees with leaves. She imagined how thick the Forest floor would be with leaves in the autumn when Nature pulled them to the ground preparing the earth for snow. There were trees with dark brown bark that looked hard and strong as metal, and there were trees with white coloured bark that peeled at her touch, like snakes shedding skin.
All the leaves were green, but at certain times, out of the corner of her eye, they seemed to glisten gold, shine red in hue, glimmer like silver. When Jill saw such colour flash in the corner of her eye she would quickly turn, and as she did, the colours disappeared.
Further into the Forest, she could hear the sound of water. Soon she discovered a stream curving its way between rolling banks. At the sound of the water, Jill realized how thirsty she was. She tried to calculate how many hours it had been since she had a drink of anything. She knelt down at the water and awkwardly scooped it into her hand and drank from her palm.
At the stream’s edge, the mist evaporated and Jill noticed small blue, white, and yellow flowers in its place. Purple heather was scattered and growing all about. Great, thick mosses coloured green and orange grew over fallen trees and all along the stream’s banks, forming what to Jill looked like giant but soft beds. She longed to run and throw herself onto them, but continued to walk along the path.
Jill found some wild raspberries growing along the path and stopped to snack on them. They were overripe. The red berries were easy to miss, well hidden under large green leaves. The berries stained Jill’s fingertips and tongue; they were sweet, and revealed to Jill how hungry she was. Jill rummaged through her pockets in hopes of finding some leftover snacks from what Salma had scrounged up from her caretaker’s cupboards the night before. Jill found nothing but a single stick of chewing gum in her left outside pocket. She popped it into her mouth and then pulled out the letter she was given at the house with the red gate, after her nervous walk through the city, unaccompanied and veiled.
She had not been stopped or hindered in her illegal walk to Ashlea Street, though every step she feared a Watchman or a citizen would confront her, pull off her veil and reveal her shame. The green-veiled woman, a member of the Council with a large house, met her at the door. All the lights were off in her home, and she ushered Jill through the house to a back room where, to her surprise, her caretaker was busy at a table piled with papers.
The caretaker was leafing through the piled papers, selecting certain documents, and throwing them into a burning fire. But he stopped his urgent work, came to Jill’s side, and for the first time since they had met, leaned down and hugged her to his chest.
Jill had never seen her caretaker’s face, but she imagined that it was kind, that it was a strong and gentle face, noble like his eyes. In that moment she longed to see it, even for a moment, but she did not. Before he spoke with her, before he told her to run with all speed to the Forest, he handed her a letter and told her to open it only when she was in the safety of the trees. Then he kissed her on the cheek.
If they catch you before you reach the Forest, destroy the letter. It cannot fall into their hands. If you do not make it to the Forest, Jill, more lives than your own will be lost. They cannot know he still has contact with people inside the city.
***
Jill held a neat white envelope, sealed with a thick, blue wax seal in her hands. The envelope looked like it came from somewhere important. There was no return address or stamp, but had her proper address on the front, written in plain, neat letters:
Jill Strong
14 Sunrise Lane
Vendor, T4P 1J5
Jill looked up at the green canopy of leaves above her, so different from the wooden roof under which she was given the letter the night before. Her mind buzzed. She turned the envelope over and studied the wax seal. Upon closer examination, she saw that it was imprinted with the profile of a horse’s face. Jill picked a small twig off the path, slipped it under the seal and broke it. When Jill pulled the letter from the envelope, shivers rushed up and down her spine.
Jill unfolded the letter and noticed that it was dated 7 February. It was more than nine months old! Jill read the crisp, cursive letters. From the look of the handwriting, Jill guessed that the writer wrote hurriedly. The letter read:
Dear Jill,
Peace! If you are reading this letter, then I rejoice. You are alive and well and your time to enter the Great Forest has come. Your caretaker has been trustworthy and has kept you from the terrible influence of the Council. It is he who has decided the timing upon which you were entrusted with our correspondence.
Doubtless you have many questions and fears. These questions I cannot now address, though I know circumstances in Vendor are grim. I can only assure you that while you are in the Forest, you are safe.
Jill, you must find your way along the path to the Great Hall, the home in the Forest that is under my charge. It is of utmost importance that you come quickly and come alone. Do not delay. I write this letter in haste, for there is trouble in some of the other lands under my charge that are beyond Vendor and the Forest. I must leave soon, I cannot tarry much longer. And when I leave on this journey I will be gone for some time.
Be of good courage, Jill. It is no coincidence you were born into the Strong family and bear that name. You come from a family of strength. Do not fear entrance to the Forest. In a little while, we will meet, and I will no longer be a name without a face. I look forward to that day.
Until we meet, perhaps to know each other by different names,
The Keeper of the Great Forest
Jill ran her finger over the name again. The Keeper of the Great Forest. The name seemed vaguely familiar. She tried to remember if she had ever heard Salma tell a story about him, but the effort was like trying to remember details from a long ago dream from the night.
Jill often found that real life seemed less exciting than the things she could imagine. In fact real life often left her disappointed. As she stood in the Forest, holding the letter, something inside told her that everything was about to change. She couldn’t say why she felt that way; it was just something she all of a sudden knew. The same way she knew there would be a surprise quiz awaiting her at school, or that her poem would be the selected the prize-winner in the War Veteran’s Poetry Contest before she even entered it in the competition. No one had told her these things, but by some odd chance, without trying to, she had thought them before they happened. And when they turned out to be true her heart beat a little faster, and she could only wonder if she had been touched by some invisible magic. As Jill walked the Forest’s path toward the mysterious Great Hall, her heart beat with that feeling.
Eventually Jill came to a point where the path intersected with the stream and she could go no further. The stream widened where it met the path so that it was too wide for Jill to jump across. Jill went to the water’s edge and saw that the water was rather deep. She could not simply walk through it and hope only to get her shoes wet. Jill looked about for a log or some other thing she could use as a bridge to cross the stream but could find nothing.
She turned back to the stream to test just how deep it was, and when she did, she stopped motionless in her tracks. In front of Jill was a tall creature, two or three times her own height wearing a dark black robe. The creature’s face was hidden under a black hood. Jill could see only grey and black shadows instead of a face, like she was peering into a cave. She might have screamed, if the creature did not speak first, before she was able to think.
“What are you doing in the Forest alone?” The creature tilted its head to the side. “I can tell from the look of your dress you come from Vendor. But Town Daughters are usually veiled, are they not?”
Jill put her hands to her face; they went cold. She had discarded the veil when she awoke, unaccustomed and uncomfortable with its heat and limited visibility.
“You know that citizens from Vendor are not supposed to be inside the Forest.”
Jill stared blankly at the creature for a moment. It was taller than a Watchman and cloaked differently. It was frightening to look at, but its voice was calm, if not kind. Jill was frozen, but found her bearings and remembered the letter. She fumbled with the button that closed her inside jacket pocket and pulled out the letter.
“See, it’s written to me.” Jill stared at the creature then held out her hand, offering the letter. Jill gasped when the creature pulled back its hood, took the letter from her, and started to read it for itself.
The creature looked like a man, a very tall man, but had dark blue skin. Purple markings in patterns like a tattoo traced all along the bridge of the creature’s nose, parted at its forehead, and covered the creature’s bald head along each temple down its neck. How far the purple pattern went, Jill could only guess, the rest of its body was shrouded in black cloth. The creature’s eyes were most astonishing; dark brown irises, darker than the bark of the trees in the Forest, were surrounded not by white, but by gold. They were the most extraordinary eyes Jill had ever seen.
Realizing she had been staring at the creature for some time, Jill blushed and looked at the ground, muttering a self-conscious “sorry.” The creature slowly nodded its head and suppressed a smile. Then, it returned to the letter.
“Why didn’t you say you know the Keeper,” it said, folding the paper into the envelope and handing it back to Jill.
“I don’t. At least we’ve never met,” Jill replied. “But it sounds like he knows me,” she added quickly, more to herself than to the creature.
“You come at a strange time, under strange circumstances. Town Daughters do not carry such things.”
Jill looked at the ground again and mumbled, “I am not a Town Daughter. I’m a Daughter of Disgrace.”
“Such a letter has not been seen in this forest for quite some time.”
“Why not?” Jill asked.
“Because the Keeper is no longer here.”
“Where is he?”
“No one knows,” said the creature with a sigh. “But the Keeper of the Forest is mysterious, has always been, and has many other lands under his care.”
“I – ” Jill stuttered, bewildered. “Somehow I think I knew that.”
“It says so here, in the letter.”
“I know,” Jill said, “but that’s not what I mean. Suddenly I have a faint memory of this forest, like I’ve been here before. A memory of stories – ”
“From who?”
Jill squinted her eyes and looked at the creature, trying to think, and after thinking, trying to decide whether she should say anything. As she looked at it, the creature exhaled loudly from its nostrils, let go of the envelope, and took a step back.
“Some from my caretaker’s house in Vendor, and,” Jill hesitated. “And, from my mother!” Jill breathed deeply. “My mother told me the stories when I was a little girl. They are the first stories I can remember. She had a – ”
Jill stopped and looked away from the creature. A tear swelled in her eye. “She had a book full of them,” Jill said, looking beyond the creature, far off into the woods across the stream.
“A book? What kind of book? Describe it to me, what did it look like?” the creature said hurriedly.
“It was big and heavy and old, with pictures. Maybe that’s where I’ve seen this forest. Oh, I can’t remember. The Council, Vendor, since I’ve lived there I’ve forgotten so many things. It’s like my memory of people, of places from before have been, have been erased. I’ve forgotten faces, names. But the book. The book is much older than this road, or the Forest and its trees. I remember that. It was sealed shut with a lock that can only be opened with one key. A key that cannot be found.”
Upon hearing Jill’s explanation, the creature bowed to one knee and put its hand over its heart.
“Dear child, speak no further, for I have heard the story of your mother and also of the key. What was done to your mother was evil. But child, you need to remember those stories. They are as real as anything you can feel or touch. They are truer than all these things,” the creature said, pointing to the trees around them, “and should not be forgotten.”
“It’s been so long since I heard them,” Jill confessed, “I can hardly remember them at all.”
“They are a part of you. They will be told again.”
Jill smiled, and quickly brushed away the tear. “Well,” Jill said, clearing her throat, “I need to go to the Great Hall. Only, I don’t know how to get there. The path I was told to follow runs into this stream, and it looks too wide and deep for me to cross alone.”
“If you will, I can lead you down the path, for I am one of the caretakers of his Forest, and know the path well.”
“Thank you, but I was asked to walk the path alone.”
“I understand,” said the creature, almost sadly. “Once you follow the stream, continue to follow the path, soon you will come to the house under the Keeper’s care.”
With that, the creature bowed once more then pulled the hood over its head. Once again Jill looked into the dark cave it created over the creature’s face. Jill was about to ask how the creature would help her cross the stream when she realized the Forest was completely silent. All the forest noises she had become used to–birds high in the trees, squirrels crawling about here and there, even the sound of the stream itself–were muted. Jill looked about and was shocked to realize that nothing in the Forest moved. There was no more breeze. The stream itself ceased to flow. A bird flying overhead froze in the air in mid-flight. Jill looked at the creature and it merely gestured with a move of its hand for Jill to cross the river.
Jill gave the creature a questioning look, and slowly walked to the water’s edge. She crouched down and timidly touched her hand against the water. It was hard and solid as ice. Jill pulled her hand back in surprise. She looked back at the creature and smiled bashfully.
The creature merely gestured again for her to cross. So, Jill slowly took a step onto the surface of the water, half fearing she might fall through, half disbelieving what she was about to do. When she put her weight on her foot she was relieved and amazed to see that she was standing on the stream. It was hard as ice, but still looked like liquid, only stopped or paused in time. Jill took a few more quick steps. The water was not slippery either. Jill made it to the other side of the stream and let out a whoop of laughter.
When she turned to thank the creature, it was gone. Jill looked back across a flowing stream and saw nothing but a stream bed. The breeze softly blew hair across her face. The bird, moments earlier stuck in mid air, flew up and perched on the branch of a nearby tree.
© 2024 Andrew Kooman. All rights reserved.
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About Andrew Kooman
Andrew Kooman is a Canadian writer of fiction, poetry, plays, and films. His work has been enjoyed by audiences around the world and translated into lots of different languages.
He’s the author of the children’s books Popcorn Helmet and Simple Christmas Spectacular, the first two books in the Ramsey P. Heaton, Future Billionaire series. Andrew likes to make people laugh in church. His popular plays and skits are performed across North America and can be purchased at SkitGuys.com.
Andrew founded UnveilTV with his brothers Matthew and Daniel, where you can watch content that inspires you. You can follow all of Andrew’s latest work on his weekly newsletter Things I Wrote Down and find him on X and Instagram.