Within

by Aaron Bunce

  Dennah watched in horror. She could feel her face grow hot as the laughing man turned back to her.

  “Ah, why are you sitting here off by yousef girly? You ain’t too good to sit wit the refst of us?” the drunken guard droned. His pungent odor preceded him as he walked around the tree behind her.

  It was a nauseating mix of alcohol and sour body odor, made all the more intense by the sun’s warmth. Dennah stifled a gag as he slid down the tree and sat, smashed up against her.

  “Me, I’m Banus. Course you probably already know that, seeing how I practically run dis outfit,” he said, leaning in and talking quietly in her ear. Dennah turned her head and faked a cough to hide her revulsion.

  Banus walked his dirty fingers up her arm. “You know girl, I been watching you since Jorgenhald. Pretty little fing like you is gonna need some lookin after. Yous need someone to take care of you?” he asked, his breath hot against her neck.

  Dennah needed to escape. She wasn’t sure how she could reject his advances without flaring his notorious temper. That much about him she did know.

  “I thank you for your concern, Banus, but I don’t need anyone to take care of me,” she said dryly and leaned a little farther away.

  Banus laughed, not taking the subtle hint. He followed her as she leaned away, and this time put his arm around her shoulder to crush her closer to him. Dennah couldn’t take it anymore. She wrenched her shoulders free and tried to stand, the thought of being near him any longer was too much to handle.

  Banus’ hand clamped down on her arm, and he pulled her forcefully back to the ground. His coy smile had disappeared. He bared his yellow teeth in an angry growl.

  Dennah couldn’t stifle a cry as he squeezed his calloused hands around her wrists. His eyes flashed towards Bull and the other guards, but they were distracted by their card game.

  Dennah watched their backs and silently begged for one of them to turn, for someone to notice and help her. She held her breath in vain. They were too engrossed in their wineskins, jokes, and their game to pay anything else any heed. Her heart sank.

  Banus’ whispered something into her ear, but she couldn’t hear what he said.

  “You listening to me, you snotty little bitch?” Dennah cringed as Banus smashed his greasy face against her cheek. “Ladies are drawn to me see! Everywhere I go they line up to be at me side. I had loads of em beg me to take care of em. I know what I like, and I always get what I want, you see?”

  Dennah was at a loss for words. Her eyes watered from his breath and her wrists ached from his crushing grip. His hands released and moved slowly onto her leg. Banus’ tongue crept lazily out of his mouth as he chuckled, squeezing her thigh and then in a flurry, tried to worm his hand past her belt and into her trousers.

  “Get your hands off of me,” Dennah growled. She wouldn’t be molested. She still had her virtue, and she wouldn’t let him cheapen her.

  “Hey, Girlie thought you might want to try some of my famous savories…” Tadd came ambling around the tree, carrying a heavily worn bowl and stopped short as he noticed Banus.

  Banus’ eased away a bit as he regarded the weather-beaten old man. Tadd’s good eye flashed from Banus back to Dennah. He seemed to register her panic.

  “We’re a bit busy, d'you mind?” Banus hissed.

  “Oh, apologies,” he said and started to turn, but quickly caught himself and spun around.

  “I found that horn-wart and pickleweed compote I ground for the young lady,” Tadd said, holding up the bowl in his hands.

  “Wart…weed. What?” Banus stammered, looking between Dennah and Tadd.

  “Oh yes, I dabble in remedial poultices and such. When the young miss here told me she picked up a case of blood fleas…vicious little bastards. They’ll gnaw you to the bone if you’re not quick to kill em. Heck, I’m surprised she can sit at all,” Tadd rambled.

  “Blood fleas,” Banus stammered with a sour look. As disgusted as Dennah was at the moment, she had to fight hard to hold back laughter.

  “Yes, terribly contagious little vermin. I’m surprised the young miss here can sit on her horse at all…well considering where the little creepers like to nest that is,” Tadd said with a tug on his heavy trousers.

  Banus pulled the hand back from her beltline and pushed away. He stood so fast he almost fell over and gave both Dennah and Tadd one last disgusted look before ambling away.

  Once Banus was out of sight, Dennah released a pent-up. Tadd walked over and helped her to stand, his lips wrinkling into a crooked smile. They walked back around the tree and amongst the grazing horses.

  “Blood fleas?” Dennah finally asked. Tadd chuckled and shrugged his shoulders.

  “You’re lucky old Tadd is a light sleeper. I thought you might need a bit of help,” Tadd said, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

  Dennah choked as she looked into the wagon driver’s heavily wrinkled face, and they shared a healthy laugh. She wiped her eyes a few moments later. But before their laughter had died away she was ducking around the large horses, peeking to see if Banus was coming back.

  “Thank you,” she said, turning and gently slapping the older man on the back.

  “No need, Girlie. I have worked this caravan route for more winter thaws than I can count. Ole Banus has been a part of many of those. He is the worst of the worst. If I were you, well a pretty young thing like yerself at least, I’d stay clear o him e’ry chance I get.”

  Dennah smiled and nodded. But her smile faded as she considered going about that task.

  “How indeed?” she mumbled, considering the prospect of dodging Banus and his foul advances day in and day out. It seemed a truly daunting task.

  She mulled it over while Tadd talked to one of the large horses. Her hand fell subconsciously to the pommel of her sword. She thought of home, and the six older brothers that harassed her non-stop, and managed a half-smile.

  I held my own growing up. I can handle this, she reasoned, and together they walked the horses back towards the wagons.

  Chapter 11

  Falling together

  Roman thrashed, flapping like a lame duck. He fought to keep his legs underneath him, but his momentum was wrong, and he hit the ground almost flat on his back.

  The ground felt as hard as stone. The impact knocked the air out of his lungs and stars showered his vision. He rolled about, clutching his midsection. He gagged and choked, trying to coax air back into his lungs.

  Roman lay in the dirt, even after his breath returned, trying to clear the cobwebs from his mind. Alina stood in the open loft door, staring down at him. She looked like a wild animal, motionless and ready to run at the slightest noise or movement.

  “Alina, where is your father?” he asked softly. The sound of his voice visibly startled her. She jumped and looked around, and then seemed to finally recognize him. The crazed look in her eyes softened, and the pitchfork fell to the floor with a clatter.

  Tusk came trotting out of the barn and proceeded to pace around him, whining. The large dog jumped on him and tried to lick his face. Roman pushed him away irritably and rolled over to stand.

  He groaned, struggling just to get his feet beneath him. Every inch of his body ached, and to make matters worse, he was bleeding through his shirt and the lip of his trousers. He swayed for a moment before the ground steadied beneath him.

  Roman staggered through the barn, reluctantly mounting the ladder once again. Tusk jumped frantically onto the ladder next to him, barking loudly.

  “Shush. You sit and be quiet,” Roman scolded the dog. Tusk growled, slumping down to lie impatiently in the dirt.

  Each rung felt like ten. Every joint in his body hurt, and he had to take his hand away from his throbbing side to climb. He hefted himself up to the loft, where Alina had collapsed into a heap, sobbing quietly into her hands. Roman approached slowly and crouched down several paces away. He made sure the pitchfork was no longer within reach.

  “Alina, where is your father?” Roman asked
softly, his voice trembling. His ailing ribs made it hard to draw breath.

  Alina wouldn’t respond, or, she couldn’t. Whatever mania had driven her to attack Roman apparently had drained away. She hunched over, drooping like a wilting plant.

  Images of Greta flooded back, forcing Roman to wonder what horrors the girl had witnessed. He wanted to give her time. To hold her as a proper brother would. After all, the death of her mother seemed an insurmountable thing. But Roman could not afford her time. Something foul drifted on the air. It made his skin crawl. He would give her all the time she needed once they got somewhere safe.

  Alina didn’t register him when he touched her. Her shoulders bobbed occasionally. But other than that was still. Her hair fell like a tangled curtain, obscuring her face.

  Roman grabbed her gently under the arms and hefted her to her feet. Thankfully, she stood when he let go. Roman knelt before her with a pained groan and moved to pick her up. Alina crushed herself to him, her arms locking around his neck with almost suffocating strength.

  He ignored the pain in his side as he stood. He shifted so he could support her legs, and then slowly, but surely, made his way down the ladder. Tusk sat, thumping his tail violently in the dirt, and followed him out of the barn.

  He had gone barely a hundred paces before his legs started to shake. Only his fear of lingering any longer kept him going. With a great effort, they left the farm behind, hidden away, like a dark secret in the trees.

  Tusk ran ahead, prowling through the brush, his nose hard at work. Walking with Alina’s rigid form clamped to him would have proven challenging on his best day. Unfortunately, Roman was not having one of his best days. He tripped and stumbled on a tree root, but managed to stay upright.

  His legs burned and sweat dripped from his nose and chin. His side continued to bleed, soaking through his shirt and the belt line of his pants and running down his leg. Having Alina’s legs clamped firmly around him didn’t help either. It felt like his shirt was rubbing the skin from his body.

  Finally, it became too taxing, and they had to stop. Roman dropped heavily to his knees. Alina released her grip only when Roman pried her hands apart. She slumped to the ground as Roman pulled his leather pack from his back and started to rifle through it. The fall from the barn had broken his water skin, his bow, and most of his arrows, so he tossed them into the weeds. The food he had packed was a smashed mess.

  He sat back in the shade, eating smashed bits of food. He tried to get Alina to eat and drink, but she had withdrawn. Tusk was more than happy to finish the mushy food he passed over. The dog’s mood changed, however. He didn’t whine, nor would he fetch sticks or bark. He knew something was wrong.

  Roman scratched Tusk behind the ears, allowing himself a few more moments of rest. He mulled over the scene at the farm, no matter how hard he tried to think of anything else. A score of questions plagued him.

  He watched Alina rocking gently and cradling her legs. A single thought inundated him. Something very bad had come to Bardstown.

  * * * *

  Dennah rode Freckles next to Tadd’s wagon. They had carried on for the bulk of the afternoon. Tadd did the majority of talking. He finally shared how he had earned the nickname “Tadd.” Evidently, he had spent much of his youth being “a tad bit unlucky.”

  He spun story after story about his travels. Dennah listened raptly, soaking up every detail. The old man had been “almost everywhere roads could take you”, or so he claimed.

  “Townie’s always waiting for us, escorts us the rest of the way. Nice folks,” Tadd blurted after a short silence, a twinkle in his good eye.

  “The other towns don’t do that,” Dennah offered.

  “It’s a hospitality thing I reckon. Proud little town, Bardstown is. Nice little place in the southlands to visit,” he replied, wood pipe wedged between his gums.

  “You er’ been this far south before, young one?” he asked, puffing out a small cloud of pipe smoke.

  Dennah shook her head, “I grew up in the boroughs. I saw Shale and Darimar plenty, helping my father sell wool and fabric, but never any further. I was pledged last thaw and trained in Braakdell for a time. I plan on sending my folks whatever money I can. They work hard, too hard really,” Dennah said, staring off into the distance. She drifted towards home every time she spoke of her parents.

  “And now you’re here with ole Tadd braving the road, seeing the sights, and fighting off brigands and scoundrels,” Tadd finished with a smile and nod towards Banus. Dennah chuckled but stifled it quickly.

  She thanked Mani for Tadd and Folkvar. Their companionship had already eased some of the sickness she felt for home.

  “Ah, southlands are nice and quiet, but nothing like the coast,” Tadd said with sudden flare.

  She glanced his way, the intrigue sparkling in her eyes. He smiled and shifted on his seat, taking an unnecessarily long time to adjust his pipe.

  Dennah turned in her saddle, better to face the old man. “What is it like out west?” she asked after he didn’t continue right away.

  “Oh, well. I don’t want to bore you,” he said with a wink.

  “I love stories. How far have you been west? Have you seen the Citadel? Or been to the Black Mountains, or seen Ban Turin and the Ridart Wall before?” The questions tumbled out of her mouth.

  Tad removed the pipe from his mouth and tapped it against the bench, emptying it. “Oh, I been about as far west as a smart man reckons he ought to go.”

  Dennah’s eyes ached. She hadn’t blinked in a while. Tadd drew it out, taking extra time and flourish to fetch his pipe bag and pack the wooden bowl with fresh leaf. He felt around in every pocket looking for something. He lit his pipe with a small stick from the lantern hanging on the front of the wagon and took several puffs before sitting back.

  “Now what was I saying? West, that’s right. Okay, so…many a thaw ago, when I had my teeth and the use of both eyes, I headed up a caravan out of Barden’s Reach. It’s a tough haul through the mountains, and lots of smarter folk stay clear of the route, but I was young and didn’t know no better. We headed up through the Reach Pass. Seems like it’s always snowing or raining up there, one or the other, but never anything else,“ Tadd drifted off, pausing in his retelling to relight his pipe. Then he straightened and pulled on it several times, deep in thought.

  “Where on the coast were you headed?” Dennah asked, trying to prod him on.

  “Tidesburg…” he said, jarred back from his reverie.

  “We were loaded for Tidesburg, and then on to Laniel after that. Big ports, lots of boats, constantly coming in and out, expensive goods from all over,” he continued, tugging on the reigns to center the team on the road.

  “Hmm, you’ll have to excuse me if I ramble. The road saps my thinking a little. So, we’re loaded for Tidesburg, pushing through the pass, and ‘bout the second day in the mountains we’re hit with the mother of all storms. It rained during the day, and as soon as the sun went down, it snowed. Ne’re been so soggy and miserable in me whole life. Well, my wagon was loaded with textiles, fine fabric, and wool, so we were pretty light. But the wagon behind me was overloaded with heavy goods, and such, and that thing buried down axle-deep in mud.

  “E’ry one of us put our backs to that wagon but wasn't no good. Figured we might have to leave it right there on the road. I tell you, would have been a sore time for us indeed, have to show up in Tidesburg missing a whole wagon full of goods.” He scrunched up his face at the thought.

  “But even worse would have been to stay too long, horses ain’t safe up there that long. Gnarls might be coming out during the black of the night and drag your beast off, or might’n be me with a gnarl’s teeth around me throat. And where there're gnarls, other nasties are sure’n to follow.” Tadd brushed some flies away from his face and subsequently knocked his pipe out in the process. He retrieved it and inspected it before continuing.

  “So as it goes, we start unloading as much from the stuck wagon as we
could and parsing it up on the others. The problem was, we were loaded full to the brim to start, so we would have left plenty a fine goods sitting there on the road for anyone to chance upon and take. We head out that evening before the ground could freeze and trap the rest of us, stuck for good. Well, I’m at the tail of the caravan, and as we’re rumbling away, I take one last look at our left behinds, an I swear I see people running out of the trees all around our wagon. I tell you this, Girlie, they didn’t move like no man I seen before, especially not these withered old bones neither! They moved more like mountain cats, graceful and quiet.

  “So I go hollerin to the others. I figure its road bandits, looking to pilfer our left behinds, to make some coin. That just won’t do, you see. Well, me and these other fellars jump off our wagons and make back for the wagon to give em a solid one fer, teach em a lesson and such. Well, I was younger back then, and could run pretty good, but by the time we got back to the wagon, they had already run off. We checked out the goods, and you know the funny thing, those strange fellars didn’t take one damn thing. The damndest thing…they pulled the wagon free from the mud. Rolled it onto solid ground, free and clear.

  “I’m waiting for them to bring the horse back and hitch to it, and I swear I see one of em standing in the trees watching me. Well it was dark, and snowing, kinda raining too, so I couldn’t see very good, but I swear they were covered in shiny scales of some sort. I think they spotted me too because he just melted into the trees. I still get the shivers thinking about it today,” Tadd finished, rubbing his arms as if to ward off a chill.

  “Who were they?” Dennah asked.

  “Don’t know,” Tadd snapped back, “but would take a giant’s strength to pull that wagon free. And there were only but a few of em.”

  “They pulled it out by themselves when all of you could not?” Dennah asked skeptically.