Within

by Aaron Bunce

  “What’s got you walking all ginger?” he asked Roman absently.

  “I’m just a little sore. Lifted too many hay bales today,” Roman said dismissively, another wave of pain settling in. Tadd nodded, still looking off into the distance.

  Dennah hopped over a log and dropped a chunk of bread in Roman’s lap. She threw him a goofy smile and sat next to Tadd. Roman listened to Dennah tell a story about her first night in town, and the strange procession of animals she saw walk from the forest.

  “One of the wolves jumped up onto the wagon. It watched me, its eyes glowing like yellow saucers in the night. I think it wanted me to follow it,” Dennah said.

  “Yeah, probably to get you away from the others, and eat you,” Folkvar said with a chuckle.

  Roman listened to the others talk, but despite the warmth of the fire he continued to shiver. Dennah’s story triggered certain memories he’d rather have forgotten. He remembered the preternatural calm of the woods surrounding Garon’s house, and the dead animals strewn over the field.

  “Ro, tell us one of your hunting stories,” Folkvar asked once Dennah had finished.

  Roman smiled, but as he shifted before the fire to get comfortable, the pain ignited within him like never before. He held his breath and waited for it to pass, but he couldn’t hide it any longer. Roman excused himself, the pain making it difficult to stand upright.

  He pulled Tusk away from his comfortable spot before the fire and made the trek home. The pain chased Roman to bed, where he fell into a troubled sleep filled with more nightmares.

  * * * *

  Roman awoke the following morning to a violent looking sky. Clouds churned ominously, the occasional rain droplet spattering the roof. He had difficulty rousing Tusk. The old dog, sleeping under the spindly-legged table, growled at him several times before finally crawling out. Roman dressed slowly, wincing painfully from the effort and decided against food.

  The cold, wet weather felt heavy, and even the smoke from the town’s chimneys hung in the air, drifting aimlessly against its weight. General snorted and shook his head as they approached the caravan’s camp.

  The camp appeared empty. He remembered something Tadd mentioned the night before, that most of the caravan workers were preparing to move to the White Crowe. Roman couldn’t blame them as he considered the damp chill of the air.

  Tadd’s wagon was gone from its usual spot, so he continued. The town was lethargic and quiet. The streets were empty, while windows and doors remained shuttered. Roman stopped at the mill, taking his time to dismount and then walked gingerly to the door.

  Unlike the streets outside, the mill was bustling with activity. People huddled around the massive grinding wheel as it made its lazy path around and around.

  Roman had never seen so many people working in the mill at one time before. They bumped into each other, fumbling in their efforts to all perform the same tasks. Another group of people stood huddled around an iron furnace in the corner, either waiting for a turn or sharing in some company.

  “Roman, you look dreadful. Are you feeling okay?” someone asked. Roman turned to find Dennah standing in the doorway behind him, a heavy cloak pulled tight around her shoulders.

  “I’ve never seen so many people crammed in here before,” he said, gesturing to the crowd.

  “Well, after last night I can’t blame them,” Dennah said, lowering her voice. And she nodded, motioning for him to follow her outside.

  “I saw you ride up.” Dennah closed the door behind him, her face grim.

  “What happened last night?” Roman asked.

  “People went missing. Just up and gone from their homes in the middle of the night. Many refuse to leave town. Most have locked themselves in their homes,” Dennah said, breathing into her cupped hands to ward away the chill.

  “Missing? Do they know…who?” Roman asked and bent low as a wave of pain wracked his insides.

  “Hey, are you alright?” Dennah asked, coming forward.

  “I’m fine,” Roman lied, straightening up. “Are they looking for the missing people? Do they think it’s…the same person from, you know?”

  “You would think, but no. A man came in here earlier, offering coin for workers to fill his wagons with apples. But no one would go. They said it wasn’t safe. They think the forests around the town are cursed.” she said, cracking open the door and gesturing to the large group standing around the furnace.

  “Did he go out there by himself?” Roman asked.

  “He tried, but Frenin wouldn’t let him. He forbade it. It was scary, Roman. The man got screaming mad when no one would take his gold to help. He rode off, alone. They sent the city guard after him. Roman, they sent all of them,” Dennah said darkly.

  “Did they bring him back?” Roman asked.

  Dennah shook her head and then turned to look out past the mill. He could see the anxiety easily enough on her face. Without another thought, Roman walked over to General and pulled himself into the saddle. Dennah turned as he gathered up the reins, her eyes going wide.

  “Wait! You’re not going out there, are you? Roman, it could be dangerous,” she said, walking up beside General and grabbing his bridle.

  “I know him. His name is Argus Kettleborn. He is well-known for his apple wine as far north as the lakes. People pay handsomely for a bottle. He pays well…in gold,” Roman said, offering a crooked smile.

  “Don’t go, please. You don’t have to pay me back anything, Roman. Just stay here,” Dennah said anxiously.

  Roman took Dennah’s hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze, “I’ll be fine. If the city guard is there, then it is plenty safe.” He spurred General forward before Dennah could argue.

  Roman looked back as he rounded the bend. Dennah’s face scrunched up in a frown. She looked scared, but also angry. He knew Argus Kettleborn well enough by reputation. He knew that people paid well for his wine. Some even went as far as to travel great distances to acquire it. Argus had also grown slightly mad in his old age. He rarely slept and became exceedingly paranoid. He hoarded over his recipe and allowed no one into his home, where he fermented his prized drink.

  Roman tried to picture the look on the old man’s face when he rode up, the only person in town willing to help. He hoped that would translate into Argus’ generosity.

  General plodded down the road, each bounce jarring the ache deep inside. A roll of thunder growled overhead, and a moment later a flash of lightning split the murky soup of cloud cover. General nickered and tossed his head nervously.

  “Easy boy,” Roman said, patting him on the neck.

  He steered General off the dirt roadway and into the crunchy prairie grass. Tusk appeared next to him, bouncing on his hind legs to see over the tall chutes. Roman dropped gingerly to the ground and looped the reins over a low hanging branch. The horse nickered at him once before dropping his head to graze.

  Argus Kettleborn’s orchard had become overgrown, tangled, and wild. People in town harassed him about the grove’s messy nature, but he argued that even the slightest change to branch or stem would ruin the apple’s flavor.

  Roman ducked into the trees, the foliage sheltering him from the surging wind. He stepped on a solitary twig, the sharp noise sending a host of angry black birds scattering in every direction. Tusk bounded by, almost knocking him over as he jumped up, snapping at the birds.

  Roman wove his way through the trees. Sounds echoed strangely all around him. The clucking and irritated cackle of birds filled the air, drifting eerily throughout the branches.

  Roman pushed through a curtain of fruit-burdened branches, and the wagon came into view. Several bushels sat in the back. They were filled to the brim with cherry-red apples. More baskets lay empty, haphazardly scattered in the tall grass. The small glade appeared to be abandoned, so Roman ducked by the wagon and pressed through.

  The reeds and grasses were so long and thick they obscured the ground, and as the moist breeze whistled through the trees they swayed and
shook, washing over his legs like dampened fingers. The ground squelched beneath his feet, the cold water quickly working its way into his boots.

  He took an awkward step, but the ground wasn’t what he expected it to be. The weeds tangled around his ankle, so he gave a quick jerk to pull free, but his other foot suddenly sank deeper into the mud.

  Roman tumbled face-first through the scratchy branches of the tree before him. He tried to push himself up, but his hands sunk deep into the squelchy mud. He crawled forward, but his hand struck something solid, something hidden beneath the tangled mass of trampled grass. He fought to extricate himself from the mess, but the grass pulled away, revealing the gray, cold skin of a withered face.

  Roman recoiled, but the ground refused to let him go. He finally managed to roll free of the mud and crawled forward, blind and gagging. A branch scraped across his face, panic tightening his chest until he was gasping for breath. His fingers curled around the edge of the wagon and managed to pull himself upright.

  Roman turned, swiping at his face as he tried to clear away the mud. The grass swayed in the breeze, exposing the gray face hidden beneath the bramble. It was completely unrecognizable. Eyelids and lips had shriveled, exposing dried eyeballs and rotten teeth.

  Images of Greta flashed through his mind and with them, a new wave of pain. The man buried in the grass looked just as like Greta did, withered and desiccated, decayed beyond any point natural.

  Roman stumbled away from the haunting face, and in the process almost stepped upon another body buried in the tall grass. He teetered awkwardly, dodging another, and then another. They were everywhere, tucked away like nesting fowl.

  Tusk appeared around the other side of the wagon, his ears perked and his hackles bristling. A wary growl reverberated out of his chest, but he wouldn’t come any closer. Slowly, Tusk backed away from Roman and the clearing, unwilling to turn his back, his teeth flashing in a snarl.

  His mouth started to water, and his hand reflexively clenched his stomach. The pain redoubled, nearly pitching him face first into the grass.

  I need to be away from here. Now!

  He picked his way slowly through the grass, fearful of what else would appear or spring forth from the ankle-high tangle. The crows broke from the trees overhead, flapping their black feathered wings and cawing loudly. Roman ducked and covered his head as they pounded the air and swooped, but as quickly as they had appeared, they were gone.

  Roman hobbled and tried to run, but doubled over from the ache. He didn’t want to think about what startled the crows from the roost in the trees. He didn’t want to consider that whatever had killed Argus and the others was still close by.

  He pushed through a wall of branches, turned towards the road, and inadvertently found the horse that had been pulling the wagon, or rather, what was left of it. The animal was not desiccated like the people. Instead, it looked like it had been eaten.

  Its entrails were strung across the grass and heaped in a pile. Flies swarmed the stinking pile of guts, their wings suddenly very loud in the grove’s confines. The horse’s head was still intact, and was the only part of the animal still recognizable. The wind died down, and Roman had to cover his nose and mouth. He recognized the smell of an improperly gutted animal well enough.

  Roman refused to turn his back as he skirted the grizzly scene. He had nearly cleared it when something bounced off of his head. The boot hung at eye level. Roman stumbled, falling awkwardly on his butt when he realized what it was.

  The man hung amongst the leaves, swinging gently in the breeze. His head was lodged securely in the fork of the thick branch. Roman recognized his armor and the thick, bushy mustache perched on his lip. It was Max, the Captain of Bardstown’s city guard. He wasn’t withered and shrunken like the others, but he was hardly alive. His sword was still tucked away neatly in its scabbard at his hip.

  Roman ducked around Max’s feet, brushing and scratching at his hair and face. He broke into a run when he heard something moving in the trees behind him. Roman pushed through the wet tangles of grass as fast as he could, but he felt slow and cumbersome.

  The branches parted without warning and Roman ran out into the wet, snarling grasses. He doubled over as a hot wave ripped through his insides. The pain took his breath away, his legs giving out beneath him. Roman bit down on his knuckle as the pain doubled.

  Get up…must move, Roman thought, but this pain was not like before. It didn’t fade away. He knew that he had to move, that he had to get back to town and tell someone, but another wave of pain tore into him and he struggled just to breathe. Tusk barked from somewhere nearby. It was a sharp, angry noise.

  Roman rolled over and forced his eyes open, but everything was blurry. He moved and his gut wrenched tighter yet, binding like a rope threatening to tear itself apart. Tusk barked again. He sounded closer this time.

  Move…now! He grabbed the swaying grass and pulled himself to his feet. He took a step forward and a new wave of coiling, stinging muscles ignited. Two steps forward and he almost retched.

  Roman wiped the tears from his eyes to see, but it hardly helped. He stumbled forward as Tusk bounded up behind him. He barked and snapped at something Roman couldn’t see. It sounded like he was right on top of him.

  “Tusk!” Roman croaked. It felt like the pain was strangling him from the inside.

  Roman could hear things moving in the grass all around him. More than one, he thought. Just the wind, it’s just the wind! Tusk barked again, but now he sounded far away.

  Roman stumbled forward almost completely blind. He heard General snorting angrily ahead of him. He blinked frantically, and the world around him came into slightly crisper focus. He could barely make out General. The horse was a rearing, stamping and circling brown blur.

  Several shapes circled the horse, moving like large fish in the sea of tall grasses. He could hear them too. It was a strange noise, unlike any person or animal he’d ever heard.

  One moment the large black horse was rearing up, kicking and bucking. And the next he was charging off, a spray of sod in his wake. The strange shapes followed the horse, diving above the surface of the grass, hanging suspended in the air for a moment before diving back beneath the surface of the grass.

  Roman fought for every step as he struggled towards the road. A creeping feeling ran down his back, like the orchard had eyes and watched him hungrily. Roman felt a strange presence. He didn’t know how, but it made his insides squirm.

  Stop running, he thought. It was a strange compulsion. It didn’t feel right.

  Roman slowed, but fought the urge to turn around until he finally stumbled out onto the road. Roman careened about, his legs wobbling clumsily as Tusk barked, appearing suddenly behind him. The dog erupted onto the road in a full gallop and bolted right by, never breaking stride.

  Roman moved to turn back towards town, but something in the grass caught his eye. It was a man, standing alone amidst the rain and gloom. He couldn’t make out any specific physical characteristics, only that he was very pale.

  The man watched him, only his dark hair moving as it whipped around in the breeze. Then he raised his hand and motioned for Roman to come to him. Roman felt a strange compulsion to walk back into the grass. He felt like he needed to move towards him, even though it was the last thing he wanted to do.

  Roman’s feet started to move. He took a clumsy step forward, and then another. It felt like he was stuck in a bad dream and lost control of his body. Different impulses pulled him in different directions. Every thought felt backward, every desire turned about. He wasn’t sure which way to go.

  Roman turned and ran, the pain stabbing into him finally breaking through his confusion. He wheezed and coughed, his breathing ragged and choked. He turned back toward the orchard out of fear. Fear of the lurking shapes that hard chased off his horse, but also of the strange, pale figure.

  He hobbled over a small hill and realized the man had not moved, but before he disappeared from sight, the ma
n sank into the tall grass as if sinking into deep water.

  Roman bowled through a small group of men standing outside the mill. He collided with a large man smoking a pipe, sending them both tumbling to the ground.

  “Hey…idiot, watch where you’re going,” the man cursed through his pipe.

  Roman rolled over gasping. He tried to push off from the ground, but his arms gave out. He could hear them talking and crowding around, but it was all just noise.

  Roman squirmed as another wave of pain coursed through him. He could feel the mud against his face and between his fingers. It felt gloriously warm against his skin.

  So cold. Why am I…so cold?

  Ignoring the chaos, Roman crawled forward trembling. He reached for the door to the mill, but it felt like it was a mile away.

  “What’s wrong with him?” someone asked.

  “Don’t touch him, what if he’s got sickness?” another cried out.

  Roman slumped to the ground as the door crashed open. He felt someone grab ahold of him. They propped him up, cradling his head as his thoughts scattered.

  “Roman…Roman.” He wasn’t sure how many times she said his name before he finally realized she was talking to him. His eyes focused on Dennah for a moment. She looked terrified.

  “Roman, you’re burning up. What happened…where is Argus?” she asked, and Roman felt a warm palm settle on his forehead.

  “Dead,” he mumbled, the word tumbling out of his mouth.

  Dennah changed. He felt her body go rigid, and everyone standing above them went quiet.

  “Dead, what do you mean, Roman? Dead, how?” she asked. “Where is the city guard?”

  “Dead, they’re all dead. Everyone is dead,” Roman mumbled acidly.

  “Did he say, dead?” someone above them asked, and then there was an explosion of noise. Shouts and cries filled the air as feet trampled all around them.

  Dennah pulled Roman in tight and tried to pull him to his feet, but he was too heavy and she slumped under his weight. A profound weariness took hold and he felt heavier with each passing moment. Even his eyelids became impossible to keep open.