by J. E. Klimov
“Be quiet,” Bence muttered.
“Can you stop being so grumpy? Don’t forget, I’m doing you a favor. Even after you beat the lights out of one of my patrons.”
Bence spun the carcass around, now ready to gut his kill. “I didn’t ask you to come, did I?”
Biting her cheek, she plopped on the ground and stared back. Feeling her gaze bore into the back of his neck, Bence moved faster. Warm blood soaked his forearms as his hands maneuvered around the cluster of organs. Ten minutes of silence, punctured by croaking frogs, passed, and he heaved his carved prize over his shoulder. “Let’s go,” he said triumphantly.
Brushing past him, Ami didn’t reply, and instead, resumed humming. Bence sighed and followed her through the twenty minute trek back to camp. Long, pale green grass brushed his knees, undulating to the rhythm of the breeze. Tendrils of vines wrapped around thick tree trunks. Despite the forest’s peace offering, Bence could not help but worry about what dangers lurked nearby–if it was as treacherous as Ami had made it sound. He had encountered bears, mountain lions, and the reviled Kana in Deran. While confident he could slay any threat, Bence wondered if he’d have to face any new species.
When they arrived at a clearing surrounded by boulders in a horseshoe shape, Ami placed the eggs on a pile of her clothes and turned her attention to the surrounding trees. She broke off branches nearest to her. “You’re a big boy. Help me gather firewood.”
He pulled at his hair in frustration, but he kept to himself as he collected wood. Along a rotting fallen tree, a smattering of tan mushrooms grew. Pleased, Bence knelt and collected as many of them as possible. A rainstorm last night must have created perfect conditions for mushrooms to flourish. He despised their rubbery taste, but in the thick of the woods, there was no guarantee of food. More mushrooms hugged the thick trunks of aging trees. Some of the caps glistened in the light, standing out like ink blots against the tall grass.
When his satchel was filled to the brim, Bence returned to Ami. He dumped the wood from his one arm and swung his pack toward her with the other. “Check out what I found.”
Ami caught it with one hand and eyed him suspiciously. She lifted the flap and gasped.
“Not a bad haul, right? We can cook it with the meat. And dry the rest. We should be set for food for at least a few days. And how many more days until we reach the northern city? About three?”
“Bence.” Rolling up her sleeves, Ami clucked her tongue. “You mixed the poisonous mushrooms with the good ones.”
His shoulders arched. “What are you talking about? They all look the same. The caps are round and full, the stalks are healthy and have no skirts around them─”
“But you don’t live in Camilla. The mushrooms where you’re from are different. The ones with the sheen? They are called Ever-Shadows! They turn your skin gray as the poison eats away at your flesh. All that’ll be left of you will be bones.”
Bence opened his mouth, paused, then shook his head. Instead, he worked on preparing the venison. Know-it-all.
“You’re lucky I came with you. Admit it.”
“Just shut up and throw the batch away. Get the fire going,” he grunted.
Irritation pricked his skin like static shocks. His shaky hands cut the meat unevenly. She knew nothing about his capabilities. He gripped the blade’s handle until his knuckles turned white.
“You’re hopeless.” Ami sighed. She rummaged through his satchel, then placed it on the ground. “And the word is ‘please.’ It won’t kill you to say it.”
“I’ll kill you if you keep it up.” He twitched each time Ami struck the flint. A crackle finally interrupted the quiet. Heat warmed his back. When Ami didn’t say anything, Bence relaxed. His grip on the dagger loosened. He scanned the ground, trying to form an apology, knowing full well his words were too harsh. Threats used to flow from his mouth like a raging river, but that was old Bence. “Ami…”
A twig snapped. Shadows superimposed on Bence’s, causing tension to string his body like an arrow stringing a bow. Slowly, he rotated. A dozen men dressed in rags armed with knives and sickles surrounded the camp. Firelight danced along the silvery patches of scales of the man with his hand across Ami’s mouth, muffling her cries.
“Release my travel mate,” Bence snarled. Their poor postures and casual grip on their weapons screamed inexperience. If Bence had to guess, they were simple thieves, and he refused to let them harm Ami, especially after his empty, yet cruel, threat.
Silver Scales glanced at the other men with his yellowed eyes and cackled. His men joined in a cacophony of laughter.
Pointing his bloodied dagger at Silver Scales, Bence asked, “What’s so funny?”
“Well, mate, we outnumber you. And we kinda like ‘er and all that food you got. You have two options…”
He speaks so slowly. Bence’s mind raced. He had his bo staff as well as bow and arrows. Time was precious. It would take too long to drop the dagger and nock an arrow. He could manage both the bo staff and dagger together. Eyeing Silver Scales, Bence measured the precise direction and strength required to hurl the blade into his neck. But there was the factor of hitting Ami if Silver Scales moved, even just a little bit. The thought of her lifeless body lit a fire in his chest.
“You can either surrender your food, and we kill you nice and quick. Or you can resist and die slow.”
He couldn’t help but smirk. He doesn’t know me or where I came from.
“’Oy! What’re you so happy about?” A man with one eye pointed at him.
Bence pressed his finger into his sternum. “I’m sorry. I must introduce myself. I am Bence Brechenhad. And you are all going to die, not me.”
One-Eye guffawed, elbowing Silver Scales and another man besides him. They all gawked.
“What? No applause?” Bence swaggered in place, tickled with amusement at their befuddled faces.
“Brechenhad? Hey, Garesh, isn’t that the guy they’re offering the big reward for?”
Bence froze. A bounty?
A man almost seven feet tall lumbered up to Silver Scales. He rubbed his chin and smiled, exposing numerous missing teeth. “Bence Brechenhad. That’s the name. But he doesn’t fit the description. It said, ‘with hair the color of blood.’”
Ami jostled her limbs and tried to say something, but her voice was muffled.
“Blood red?” Bence said. “I’d say, with a touch of orange. Like the fire beside me.”
As both men glanced at one another in confusion, Bence ducked and swept his leg through the flames, kicking embers at his foes. Garesh yelped, clawing at his eyes. Silver Scales turned around, and as it rained onto his back, Ami slammed her foot into his instep and wrenched herself free. Once she was out of range, Bence hurled his dagger. The blade connected to the base of Silver Scale’s skull, and he collapsed.
Sprinting toward Garesh, Bence dove and rolled past a clumsy punch and pried his weapon free. With his other hand, he pulled out his staff and sent it whistling around, connecting with the back of Garesh’s knees. His opponent slammed onto the dirt, but before he could pull himself up, Bence whacked his head with the staff, twirled, and did the same to Silver Scales.
Massive hands yanked Bence backward, sending him flying in the air. Dirt and ash billowed around him as he collided with the earth. One-Eye towered over him, his weapon glistening in the sun. His sickle sliced through air, on a path straight to Bence’s head. Then, he went still with a grunt. Bence blinked at the spear protruding from the man’s abdomen. Ami’s hazel eyes shined through her muddied face as she freed Hero. Extending her hand, she pulled Bence up and they stood back to back as the marauders circled around them.
“I think you neglected to tell me something about yourself,” Ami muttered.
“Now is not the time.”
“Well, wanted man, I’m sure you have the skills for getting us out of this mess.”
“Absolutely.”
Slamming his staff on the ground, Bence somersaulted over
the circle of men. He twirled his weapon left and right, knocking two marauders onto their faces. Someone stepped on a twig to his right. Bence whirled around, slamming his boot onto the offender’s face, dislocating his jaw. In the corner of his eye, Ami backed into a boulder, spear in hand. She jabbed in the air, keeping her distance. Bence sprinted toward her and stabbed one man in the shoulder, and another in his ribcage. They dropped like flies as he zipped back and forth between his opponents, piercing flesh and tripping them with sweeping motions with his staff.
“Watch out!” Ami exclaimed.
He ducked as Ami hurled her spear. It grazed Bence’s hair, and a cry rang out. Whirling, he found the last man with Hero pinning his tunic to a tree, alive but unharmed.
“Nice aim. Although I would prefer it a little closer to here.” He tapped the center of the man’s chest.
The last marauder gasped, sweat beading along his forehead. His greasy hair stuck out in all directions as the stench of onions stung Bence’s nostrils. “Spare me,” he pleaded. “We’re just trying to survive out here.”
Before Bence could speak, Ami stepped past him. “And that includes kidnapping women?” Her fists clenched. “I know your kind. You sail here but don’t assimilate into any of the communities because you’d rather pillage and destroy. You’re nothing but trouble. Tell me, how many of you are here–”
Bence slashed the man’s throat. He’d heard enough. Blood spurted from the man’s throat as his body went limp. Smiling with satisfaction, Bence wiped the blood on the marauder’s vest. They were all dead.
“What the hell was that?”
Casting Ami a sideways glance, Bence grunted. “I took care of him because you were too busy chatting.”
“I was gathering information! Camilla may be a free land to all, but thieves and murderers hide out in the central forest, preying on the innocent. He could’ve provided something significant.”
His stomach plummeted. Instead of expressing appreciation, Ami had the nerve to criticize him. Bence shook his finger at her. “I saved your life. These brutes, including this one…” He swallowed the expanding lump in his throat. “He… tried to take you.”
Her eyes flashed with anger. “You’re just as bad as them!” She ripped her spear from the tree, and the body crumpled into the ground. “No wonder someone has a bounty for your head. Something tells me, Mister Bence, that you’re no Deranian royal.”
“My past is none of your business.” Bence’s eyes roamed the area and found his staff splintered in half–much like his companionship with Ami. Rubbing the back of his neck, he said as softly as he could, “We’ve already built camp. I’ll remove the bodies and burn them so the wild animals don’t come sniffing around here. You hear me?”
Silence.
“You hear me?” Bence repeated.
“When you return, are you going to kill me, too?”
Her words stung his chest like a poisoned arrow. Memories of his past in Cehennem, his prison, and the Aeonian War, ebbed in and out of the back of his mind. Each time, the images sharpened. Bence slapped the palm of his hand against his head repeatedly, trying to shake them out. He managed to sputter, “Whatever,” before he bent over and grabbed Greasy-Hair’s ankle. He took another corpse’s ankle in his other hand and pulled. He trudged away from camp with a scowl.
The weight strained his arms, but Bence had carried more weight before. He curled his arms into an L-shape and forged ahead. The sun’s rays burned the back of his neck. His heavy steps flattened flowers. He focused on the sounds of the breeze and nearby river to keep his mind empty.
Purple and pink dominated the sky by the time Bence dragged the last body from camp. Ami spent the whole time picking through mushrooms and attending the fire. The aroma of cooked meat overpowered the metallic scent of blood that clung onto him. She hadn’t said a word the rest of afternoon. Bence kicked the ground, spraying dirt everywhere. Doesn’t she get it? I killed to save her life!
Bence heaved the body onto the heap of corpses. He gathered dry brush and tucked it around the circumference. He managed to create sparks with two rocks and backed away. The kindling transformed into roaring flames. Black smoke billowed into the air. He plugged his nose between his fingers when the stench of burning flesh expanded.
Déjà vu pricked his body. He recalled the day his brethren laid siege against Zeyland, the Dunyan city in Deran. The reptilian species, though large, were no match for them. Between his twin’s reckless behavior and his mother’s magic, even the mightiest Dunya burned in the flames of their hatred. Charred bodies scattered across their city and dumped into trenches. The stench of burnt flesh smelled as strong now as it did back then. As the memory dissipated, Bence made his way to the river and didn’t look back.
The smell faded and he took a deep breath. He knelt on the muddy shore and scrubbed his face and arms vigorously. Blood seeped into the water. Red faded into the black current. The icy water numbed his skin. Bence tore off his vest and tunic and plunged it into the river. He tried to wash the blood from the sleeves, but it remained a faint pink.
“This won’t do,” Bence said.
He scrubbed and scrubbed, staring until he fell into a trance. His arms tired, and his eyelids grew heavy.
* * *
It was if he was plucked into space. Bence floated in darkness, completely weightless. When gravity pulled him downward, voices whispered around him.
Traitor. Murderer. Matricidal beast.
Flailing helplessly, Bence caught his breath. “Who’s there?”
As he plummeted faster, the voices grew louder.
Patricidal worm.
A black gelatinous substance wrapped around his wrists and ankles, slowing his fall. Bence jostled his body, but he remained stuck. Yellow eyes illuminated a dimly lit, cylindrical room. The pungent scent from webs of mildew made him gag. When the bindings loosened, Bence scrambled to his feet. Parched soil crunched beneath his boots.
“What’s going on? Where am I?”
Welcome to hell.
Bence shuddered. It was the sound of his own voice. Those were the words he said to Isabel when he’d first kidnapped her. When he blinked, the black matter dissipated, and he found himself in a prison cell within Cehennem. He ran toward the door and rattled the knob. It wouldn’t open. His heart thundered in his ribcage. Grasping the metal bars of the window, he pushed and pulled, but they didn’t budge.
“I demand to know what’s going on! Cehennem has been destroyed. You think you can fool me?” He reached for his belt, but his dagger was not there.
Faces materialized beyond the window. The first was his father, hair red as blood and face paler than the moon. A pebble-sized hole on his forehead where his amethyst of power once burrowed itself taunted Bence. He faded, and the image of his mother took his place. Blood streamed down her face, but her eyes stared unblinkingly into his. Before Bence could react, she disappeared as well. He then saw his twin brother, Farid, his other sisters and brothers, all of whom were dead.
Taking a step back, his foot sank into a puddle. Water rose around him from an unknown source. Panic seized Bence as he scanned the room for any signs of escape. He rushed to the door and kicked it relentlessly, but it didn’t budge. More faces flashed beyond the window: Tuuli, Foti, Kai, and Dunya he had cut down during the war.
Water lapped at his knees. Voices chanted in unison: “Murderer. Traitor.”
“I did what I thought was right. Damian? Echidna? You know your intentions were evil!”
“Guilty! Guilty!” the voices chanted.
“You slaughtered many innocent lives!” cried a singular male voice.
The water now reached his thighs. “But I’m trying to change my ways─”
“You betrayed your own blood!” his mother screeched.
“But what you were doing was wrong─” His voice was overpowered out by the roaring waters, now inching up his neck. “I don’t understand what’s going on!”
All the voices thundered,
splitting his eardrums. “Drown in your own guilt!”
A hand wrapped around his ankle and dragged him beneath the surface. He opened his mouth to scream, but only bubbles came out.
* * *
Snapping his eyes open, Bence rocketed to his feet and looked around. Crickets chirped, and a breeze rustled some leaves. As his heart rate settled, he raked a hand through his hair and sighed. It was only a dream. He shook his head, but its ominous remnants still haunted him from the edges of his consciousness. Bence snatched his stained tunic and ran.
When Bence arrived at camp, Ami was sleeping by the blood-speckled boulders, wrapped in a worn blanket. Adin hovered in the sky above them. Deva was probably not far behind. The night brought a chill. Wrapping his arms around his wet clothing, Bence approached the dying flames. He moved the burnt wood around with his boot. It crackled and hissed.
Satisfied, Bence hung his tunic and vest on the branches of the closest tree and cozied up to the fire. To his left were strips of cooked meat and mushrooms on a fan-like leaf. Beyond that, the Ever-Shadows had been thrown about into the thick of the woods. Bones lay scattered beside Ami, remnants of her solidarity meal.
Heaving a sigh of relief, he pulled the leaf toward him and bit into the venison. Tough and gamey and barely sweetened by the mushrooms, it still tamed his ravenous hunger. Bence chewed thoughtfully, staring into the flames. He imagined all the bodies he disposed of today and the guilt quickly tapered his appetite. Ami’s approach to things was different than his. Maybe having her around wasn’t such a bad idea. If she could influence him to be kinder and gentler, he could be free from his demons.
He wrapped the leftovers in the leaf and tied it up with some twine. Belly full, he leaned back on a rock, using the satchel to support his neck. He kicked off his boots and let the fire warm his feet. Beyond the flames, he stared at Ami.
She deserves to be around better company.
Discontent unsettled his spirit. The marauders had mentioned that someone put a price on his head. Bence racked his brain for the possible person. All his family was dead. No one in Deran knew he was alive… except Isabel. And Calder. His heart twisted, and he grew nauseous.
