by Aaron Bunce
Roman wanted to curl up in a ball, but Dennah wouldn’t let him go. He drifted off, sinking into a dark, scary place as she started to drag him away from the mill.
Chapter 26
Losing the handle
Dennah struggled to pull Roman along, and despite the cool air was already starting to sweat. He hung limp in her arms, his boots dragging behind them like leaden anchors.
“Hold on, Roman. We’ll find help,” Dennah whispered, even though he probably couldn’t hear her.
She had to stop and readjust her grip. Her hands were sweaty from the heat radiating off of his body. It felt like she was dragging a bag of smoldering coals, not her ailing friend.
Chaos quickly spread through town, and before Dennah could make it far a group of men appeared on the road. Half ran past, while the rest circled her. Bull walked forward, a grim look upon his face.
“What are you doing?” he demanded. “Why are you helping him?”
“His skin burns! I think he is ill, or hurt…” Dennah started to say, but the large man came forward and with a quick punch sent Roman toppling to the ground.
“What the!?” Dennah growled angrily, her fists clenching before her. Bull wouldn’t back down however. He towered over her, his jaw set angrily.
“Take him,” Bull spat, and two men stepped forward to pick Roman up off of the ground.
“They said the city guard was killed. They said everyone that went out this morning is dead, and only he,” Bull motioned with his head, “came back. What if he killed them?”
“Roman didn’t kill anyone. He went there to help…they were offering…” Her objection faded under Bull’s glare. She realized that she had never even considered the possibility that Roman wasn’t being truthful with her.
“What are you going to do with him?” she asked, suddenly fearful of the answer.
“It is for the Elder to decide,” Bull said, and walked away.
Dennah wandered up the road, unsure of where to go or what to do. But after only a few short, aimless moments a wagon rolled up the roadway. Tadd sat white-faced, the reins locked in his hands. He stared straight ahead as he passed her by, as if staring off into another place and time.
Dennah had only heard about the body they brought back from the farm before they burned it. They told her the smell was beyond putrid. She covered her mouth and nose as the wagon rolled past.
Not long after the wagon returned, a rider was dispatched to Fort Falksgraad for help. Dennah knew the fort was half a day’s hard ride south, which meant they were in limbo for at least a day, perhaps two.
The day grew dark unusually early, and with the night came an eerie calm. Dennah found herself strolling down the narrow streets, alone in the dark, torch in hand, and a large clump of angry butterflies tumbling around in her belly.
Her orders were simple. She was to patrol the town, and under no circumstances was she to return to the comforts of the inn. It was quite simple. Dennah knew she was being punished.
The night watchmen refused to leave their homes to light the fires, so the town became unusually dark. Growing up in Yarborough, Dennah spent much of her life in the forest. Its mysteries did not scare her, nor did its impenetrable night times, but this felt different.
Dennah struggled to keep her imagination from spinning out of control. Aided only by the meager light of her torch, she started lingering in the small pools of light that settled mercurially under the shuttered windows. After a time, even those went dark, leaving Dennah clutching desperately to her torch, feeling quite small and alone.
Dennah tried to keep her mind occupied, filling it with familiar thoughts of home and family. As hard as she tried though, she couldn’t keep dark thoughts from creeping back in.
Shriveled feet, she thought, remembering how they had stuck out the back of the wagon. They were so withered that their boots had already fallen off.
Thinking of the bodies reminded Dennah of Bull’s argument with Frenin. The old man refused to let Bull burn them. He insisted they stash them in a barn instead, until a traveling cleric or priest could bless and prepare them properly. The idea that they were sitting in a building not far away unnerved her.
A spell or curse. What could do that to a person? She thought, letting her superstitious side take over.
Dennah brushed her fingers reassuringly over the pommel of her sword. Although a part of her wondered if the evil haunting the town could even be harmed by such a weapon.
Occasionally, the moon, shrouded by a halo of glowing clouds, would emerge from hiding. But it was never for long, and when it slid back into the clouds, the oppressive gloom once again fell over the town. She made her way past the camp, which was dark and completely deserted.
Dennah lingered in the middle of the roadway as she walked her circuit, paranoia and fear keeping her from drifting toward the woods. Occasionally she would pass another guard, but few of them had been posted as sentries, and most of them had ducked away by now.
She made another pass down Main Street, humming quietly to herself. She passed the White Crowe on her left. It was the only building aglow in the darkness. The old inn stood out like a shining beacon in the night. Every window glowed with warm lantern light, teasing her as she shivered against the cold wind. She shook away the thoughts of a warm hearth and hot food, but also of a solid roof and door with a lock. She knew she had to stay alert.
The darkness was downright unsettling, especially when she considered that horrible things likely lingered just beyond her torchlight. It made her skin tingle, and she knew with absolute certainty that she didn’t want to come face to face with whatever had killed the people in the orchard. She turned down a dark street, picking up her tune once again as the White Crowe disappeared at her back.
At least it’s not snowing, she thought in a feeble attempt to stay cheery, but only a moment later the wind started to howl once again, even colder than before.
Dennah cut between two buildings. One was a home while the other was little more than a shack. She had just passed the shack when something lurched out of the darkness to her side. She registered it a heartbeat before rough hands latched onto her, leaving her no time to react.
Her torch fell away, landing several paces away in the grass. The person swung her around, muscling her painfully into the side of the smaller building and knocking her breath away. Dennah couldn’t make out their face in the dark, but as the breeze blew by, she was left with little doubt.
“Been ignoring me? I hates it when people ignore me,” Banus drawled, his mouth brushing her ear.
“I haven’t …” Dennah started to deny, but her heart wasn’t in it. In truth, she had been doing everything in her power to do just that.
“Don’t think I ain’t been watching. I seen you shacked up with that boy from town. Is he yer little boyfriend now?” Banus asked, but before Dennah could say a word, the smaller man punched the clapboard next to her head and drove his nose into her cheek.
“You disrespected me! No woman disrespects me!” he growled.
His jagged, untrimmed fingernails dug painfully into her skin as he squeezed her arms. Banus held some strange power over her. She didn’t know why, but he made her feel helpless and insignificant.
Behind Banus another man cleared his throat. His voice, Dennah noted, was high pitched, bordering on whiny. Her torch flickered for a moment on the ground. Its meager light set Banus’ lopsided facial features into wicked contrast.
“They took him, ya know? Bull is gonna hold yer little boyfriend, and we’re gonna make him talk. Fact is, he’s the only one that walked away from that farm. He’s the only one that knows what happened. And you know that woman they found? Turns out she took him in when his own kin died. Took him in like her own son, even when her old man told her no. I hear they roughed him up good, that little boyfriend of yours, pushed him around proper. You see it yet? Understand it yet? No one can find them boy’s bodies, nor the old man…”
“Yeah, didn’t
he tell you?” Banus continued triumphantly when Dennah remained quiet. “Oh yeah, elder told Bull all about it! It sounds like the wrinkled old fart has quite a soft spot for him. So, Bull is thinking it ain't coincidence that now six more die, and guess who finds them?”
“Roman wouldn’t kill anyone. Something else did that to those people. He found her like that,” Dennah argued, her voice quavering with anger and frustration.
“We’ll see…” Banus said and leaned in to whisper in her ear. “You see, me…I think he’s cracked. Bull tried ta talk to him, got a little rough with him too I think. He kept ranting on about the pale face meadow, the monsters in the grass, over and over again…crazy. We couldn’t stop laughing!”
Banus laughed as he leaned back, his voice blending in with the laughter of the man behind him. Dennah knew he was trying to get under her skin, knew he was using the situation to make her squirm. After the day she had, she was in no mood to play his games.
“Let me go. Let me go right now!” Dennah demanded, pushing back against Banus, but the shorter man was stronger than he looked. With a growl, Banus shoved her back against the clapboard.
“Oh no no no no…you’re gonna stay here wit me. I’ll keep yous safe now, right here with me,” Banus said, rubbing his hands up and down her arms.
Dennah’s skin instantly started to crawl. His insinuations revolted her. But there was something about the look in his eye, and the way that he talked that downright scared her.
“Yous are never gonna talk to him again, if I hear yous so much as glance his way…” Banus hissed in her ear, his foul breath burning against her cheek.
Dennah turned her head away in disgust. She felt only white-hot pain, and then the coppery taste of blood as his hand flashed out, striking her hard in the mouth.
“I see how you look down at me, thinking you’re better. Like yer nose is cleaner. Well, let me tell you this. You ain’t nothing! And you ain’t gonna be nothing! The sooner you figure that out, the better,” Banus shouted in her face. Even in the faint light of her torch she could see the veins bulging behind the mottled skin of his neck. Banus rubbed his hands over his ruddy face and then back through his greasy hair. He grabbed her by the chin and forced her to look him in the eyes.
“You see, right now, ain't no one in town gonna help you. I’m gonna whip you, an then take you like a common whore. An when I’m done with you, I’m gonna stand over you and laugh, and you’ll know that you ain't so special. Women should know where they belong,” Banus said, his face contorting into an ugly mask.
Dennah snapped, and for a moment, her irrational fear of the foul little man broke apart. It was the voice of a brave, self-sufficient, trailblazing young woman, not the cowed, insecure little girl. It was the voice of a young woman raised by a brood of unruly older brothers. One who became so fierce in her independence that no boys in her town would court her once she turned of age.
She brought her leg up with all the power she could muster, driving her kneecap straight into Banus’ groin. She felt, with great satisfaction, his genitals smash beneath the force.
Banus’ eyes bulged, and he wheezed something intelligible. His hands clutched and clawed at her arms, but he crumpled towards the ground as Dennah broke his grip. Without her support, Banus keeled over, and as he went down Dennah brought up her fist in an uppercut that caught him square on the nose. Bone and cartilage popped with a satiating crack, and with a wet gurgle, Banus flopped in a heap to the ground.
As soon as Banus went down a dark figure lurched forward. Dennah ducked on instinct and the man’s fist slammed into the side of the building.
“Oh,” he cried as his knuckles smashed upon the cedar clapboard.
Tarkus Breener, hulking, strong as an ox, and one of Banus’ faithful, spun around, his face thrown into skeletal relief by the torch’s meager light. He came at Dennah, accidentally stepping on his groaning mate in the process. The big man stumbled towards her as he tripped, but caught his balance after only a single awkward step.
“You’re going to pay for that, bitch!” he spat, swinging his dinner plate sized fists.
Dennah danced back, using her balance and speed to dodge the large man’s haymakers. Tarkus was large, but Dennah was used to squaring off against her brothers, and although Tarkus was larger still, he was a much sloppier fighter.
Dennah ducked another off-balance swing and kicked out, catching Tarkus on the side of his planted leg. He dipped toward the ground, grunting loudly.
Spinning, Dennah drove hard at his head with her right fist, but he swatted her aside with a flick of a meaty palm. Tarkus sprang up from his knee, moving to smother her with his bulk, and subdue her.
Dennah slapped one of his hands away and tried to torque herself out of his grasp, but he was simply too strong. Tarkus cried out in triumph as he wrapped his hand around her wrist. Yet the hand locked onto her was the same one he had accidentally punched the building with, and his grip was weakened. Dennah managed to wrench free, but he was already too close, and his good hand closed over her arm before she could spin away.
Tarkus wrenched so hard her arm nearly popped loose. Dennah staggered but used his strength against him. Tarkus opened his arms to envelope her, but Dennah ducked her head low and used her momentum to break free.
His fist swung around and caught her in the back of the head. The blow knocked her sideways, and her legs wobbled dangerously, but she managed to keep her wits about her.
She didn’t remember reaching for it, but her sword came free of its scabbard. Her movements were lithe, fluid, and exact. Tarkus’ eyes froze in the flickering torchlight, and he had no time to move, or even flinch before the tip of her blade pressed in against his throat.
She had to stop herself. The force of her willpower alone was almost not enough to prevent her blade from plunging deep into Tarkus’ flesh. Dennah’s shook, causing the tip of her sword to dance a threatening jig against Tarkus’ throat.
She saw red even in the darkness, and her heart thundered like a drum in her ears. She knew then with absolute certainty that she would kill him if she had to.
Tarkus held his chin up, trying to inch the delicate flesh of his neck away from the sharp edge of the weapon, but Dennah moved forward, intentionally keeping him off balance. Banus staggered off of the ground, blood and slobber running down his chin and onto his clothes, his ruined nose smashed against his face.
“You touch me again, and I’ll kill you, you foul pig. Do you understand that?” Dennah growled.
“You bloke ma nodse, you blidge,” Banus gargled, dribbling blood and spittle onto the ground. “Yer gonna regwet this!”
I’ll stand over you and laugh. Dennah’s mind raced as she replayed Banus’ words back in her mind.
“You and yer libble boyfriend are gonna pay,” he spat, his hand dropping to the sword on his hip.
“The soldiers will come, and they will deal with you,” Dennah said coolly.
She knew that if Roman had no way to prove his innocence they would likely drag him back to the fort in chains, and either be hung, or more likely, beheaded. Unless he mysteriously died before the caravan was able to leave.
Dennah knew she couldn’t afford to turn her back to Banus or any of his lot. He would use Roman against her, or eventually she would slip up, and then he would make his move. Either way, Banus was a problem.
She pushed her sword harder against Tarkus’ throat until the big man backed up, step by lumbering step, until his back hit the side of the building. She pulled the sword back and leveled it at Banus.
“Stay…away…from…me!” she growled, before turning and running off into the darkness.
* * * *
Roman slipped deeper and deeper into a painful fog. The stomach troubles he had learned to deal with through the thaws had become a new monster. It would not relent, and it would not subside. A horrible chill had taken to his body, yet his skin burned. Sweat worked its way through his shirt and soaked the sheets beneath him.
He maintained his focus for a while, allowing him to interact with the people around him. Lucilla stopped in several times, fussing around his bed, feeling his forehead and mumbling incoherently. But as his fever deepened, Roman started to lose track of who came or went, and eventually slipped into waking dreams. He could no longer differentiate when he was awake. The strange fevered-dreams melded together, accosting him like a tidal wave of his greatest horrors.
Occasionally he would awaken and catch splotches of conversation, but never anything more than words. He heard “red plague,” “black fever,” and “all dead.” But they didn’t help him understand his situation any better. Instead, they brought on more of the dreams.
Another cold compress fell upon his brow. It was cold and wet and felt like ice against his skin. There was a strange clicking noise on the floor next to his bed, but the wrenching pains in his abdomen kept him from rolling over to see.
A short time later, a cold wet nose pushed its way into his hand as Tusk appeared next to him. When Roman didn’t scratch him right away the large brown dog jumped onto the bed and curled up at his feet. Tusk thumped his tail against the bed and whined softly.
Lucilla pushed back through the door, and her brow wrinkled as she spotted the dog. Tusk cocked his head, his jowl catching on his tooth as he considered her.
“Down, you. I said down!” Lucilla said, trying to shoo Tusk off the bed.
“Well…fine then! You can be his nursemaid tonight, shaggy one,” she said, her frown softening.
Roman tried to sit up and tell her what he saw in the orchard. He felt a pressing need to explain what happened while he could still make sense of it all, but his tongue felt like a swollen slug in his mouth.
“Shhh, you rest now. No talking,” Lucilla whispered and turned over the compress on his forehead. “There will be lots of time for talk, once you’re on the mend.”
Roman felt the urgency swell. The pale face in the orchard meant something dire, something profound to everyone in town. Another wave of pain rolled through him.
