Within

by Aaron Bunce

  “Hey, watch it!” one of the women complained. Dennah nodded apologetically and ducked down behind her as Bull and Banus walked by.

  “What a fool…no one talks to me like that. Who is he to order me around?” Bull raged, while Banus leaned in, whispering poisons to wind him up.

  “Well it’s his problem now. Tell the others to get the wagons ready! We will leave tomorrow at first light,” Bull said as they walked away.

  Dennah’s greatest fear had come true. She knew her time in Bardstown would eventually come to an end, but this was far sooner than she anticipated.

  How can I leave Roman right now, in his condition?

  An idea struck Dennah mid-stride. She remembered Captain Teague mentioning to Frenin that a cleric was traveling with them.

  “The healing touch,” she said.

  There was a chance the cleric could help him. She just had to convince them first. His situation was dire - she knew that much. Bull would do whatever he could to implicate Roman in the murders, and if he couldn’t speak out in his own defense, then there was little else anyone else could do.

  Dennah couldn’t suppress a swell of panic, knowing that his fate likely rode on her next move. She took a step towards the group of mounted men but stopped. The cleric still sat atop their horse outside Frenin’s house. She dared not approach them while they were still surrounded by so many men.

  Dennah mounted the porch to the herbalist’s shop as a short balding man busied himself in the window, hanging sprigs of dried herbs from a rack. He stopped and waved at her energetically. Dennah forced a smile and halfheartedly waved back.

  Dennah watched, pacing nervously as she waited for the group to disperse. Frenin stood at Teague’s horse, talking animatedly to the group as a whole.

  “Let’s go, move,” she whispered, quietly willing the group forward.

  She paced back to the window of the shop and turned around just as the group broke apart. Two groups of six men rode off in opposite directions, one east and the other west.

  She saw Teague, Frenin, and the cleric now talking outside the elder’s house, and a moment later, Frenin walked away, leading the cleric down the sodden roadway.

  This is my chance, Dennah thought, gripping the railing of the small herbalist shop, waiting for the two to walk past.

  “Wait! I will come with you. I would like to see for myself,” Teague yelled, walking up to join them. Dennah instantly started to rethink her approach.

  “Quite gruesome, quite gruesome indeed…I have never seen anything like it. And not a cut on any of them,” Frenin said to the cleric and Teague.

  Frenin threw Dennah a wink as they walked by, continuing on in their conversation. Dennah stepped down onto the roadway, but stepped back, repeating the process several times before she could muster the nerve.

  Dennah trumped after the three, squelchy mud slipping and sliding underfoot. She followed them to the barn used to store the bodies and paused by a tree as they stepped inside.

  Dennah felt a pang of anxiety grip her stomach as approached the rickety wood door, and allowed only a heartbeat’s pause before pushing through.

  The murky weather left the barn dark inside. Walls of hay bales rose up on either side of the door, blocking any view of the building’s interior. Dennah made her way quietly down row and when she turned, she came face to face with the others. Frenin and Captain Teague stood several paces back, holding torches for light.

  The cleric knelt at their feet, examining the desiccated bodies Roman found at the orchard. Frenin and Teague looked up as soon as Dennah rounded the corner while the cleric gave her only a passing glance before resuming her examination.

  “Is there something you need?” Teague asked.

  Dennah looked between Frenin’s watery eyes and the Captain’s cold, calculating gaze.

  “I…well, I needed to…” Dennah started to say, but her constitution died away, and her face grew hot.

  “Spit it out girl I haven’t all day. Did your Captain send you, what does he need now? You can tell him that if the caravan’s business here is done, then he should depart this place. These food goods are needed north and the Earl will not wait forever,” Captain Teague said impatiently.

  Teague held his plumed helm in the crook of his arm, so Dennah could see his face for the first time. He looked a great deal younger than she had envisioned. His hair was closely cropped and sprinkled with a fair dose of silver. His eyes were like blue crystals and sparkled with vigor and strength. His beard was trimmed down just above his jawline. His facial hair was dark save for a small, solitary clump of white hair around one corner of his mouth. She could tell that he took great pains to keep himself well groomed.

  “Roman didn’t kill these people. It was something else. You have to believe me!” Dennah blurted out, and even the cleric looked up.

  Teague started back silently, his gaze piercing. She might as well have been standing naked before the group.

  “He is not well. Our healer has been with him night and day for a spell and his condition only worsens. I have seen red fever in my day, and I can say that this is not it,” Frenin said, breaking the silence.

  “I have to take every possibility seriously. Our laws grant this young man the right to speak for himself, but if he cannot, then there is little I can do for him. If people speak out against him, and he cannot refute…well. You both appear to know him, and can speak for his character, but believe me when I say that in this world even the gentlest person is capable of horrific acts, if the need presents itself. I have seen what men are capable of doing when survival is at stake. When you strip away all that makes him civilized, he becomes no better than a beast. But I admit I have never seen a man do that…” he said, pointing to the bodies at their feet, “Tilith what say you?”

  Teague’s words didn’t seem overly dire, but it didn’t sound overly optimistic either. She understood the position he was in, and the pressure that was inherently his. But their conversation did little to dispel her growing sense of doom, and she continued to feel helpless to affect Roman’s situation for the better.

  Tilith wiped her hands together, her lips pulling into a frown. “Commander, I have never seen anything like this, nothing. These bodies look as if they had been touched by death long ago.”

  “How long, Tilith? How long can you reckon these bodies have been cold?” Teague asked. He removed his gloves and started to pull at his beard.

  Tilith paced around the bodies, a single lock of curly brown hair falling over her face. “A season, maybe longer, but they say these people were alive, just yester as the sun rises. I have seen many strange and wondrous things, both good and bad, and some truly horrible. But this…” Tilith said shaking her head, and paused for a moment to brush the strand of curly brown hair out of her face.

  “There are no wounds…cuts, stab wounds, or marks from crushing weapons. I can find no trace of healing magic to hide any either. But I did find this,” she said, kneeling down and holding her torch close to the nearest corpse. “It looks like someone gripped them like this. You can see the indentation of the fingers, and that impression was then burned into their flesh and muscle, searing them like a brand. It even scored the bone.”

  “Could it be a wraith or ghoul of some kind?” Teague asked, kneeling down next to the cleric and leaning in.

  Dennah watched, but as the cleric manipulated the corpse its flesh crackled like dry tree bark and her gut squirmed unpleasantly. There was also something about how they smelled that did wrong by her nose. It was sour, sweet almost, but in all the wrong ways.

  “A witch may have been responsible, given enough power. Their dark magic can bend the body in any number of wretched and perverse ways,” Tilith said, standing.

  “Do you think this young man…this Roman, saw what did this?” Teague asked, turning to Frenin and Dennah.

  Dennah knew she had a choice to make. She could be honest, and tell him that she didn’t know. On the other hand, she could l
ie, and try to convince them to help heal Roman. She felt uncomfortable either way.

  “He told me he saw something in the orchard where he found the bodies, but he did not say what. It scared him, that much I do know,” Dennah said, and decided to go no further.

  “It is possible that this young man is indeed responsible for these deaths, but it is just as likely that he was merely an innocent in the wrong place at the wrong time. In any case, he still has the right to answer to any charge brought against him. Tilith, if you are willing?” Teague said, deferring to his clerical counterpart.

  “I need rest, but I will do as much for him as I can,” Tilith said.

  Dennah felt a dam of emotion break within her, and very nearly started to cry. She fell into step behind Frenin and followed them eagerly back towards the White Crowe.

  * * * *

  Dennah walked through the door to Roman’s room, instantly settling in the back and out of the way. Frenin walked over to the small bed where Lucilla sat hunched over and sleeping. She sat up abruptly as Frenin patted her on the shoulder and instantly started to fumble with a cup on the spindly table next to her.

  “Oh, my…you startled me. I didn’t expect anyone,” she said, hastily stuffing several small bags of herbal components into the pocket of her apron. Then, after spilling the liquid from her glass, she tried to stand.

  The disheveled healer looked exhausted. The simple act of sitting upright in her chair appeared to tax her extremely. Tilith insisted that the woman retire for some rest, but she wouldn’t hear it, even threatening violence in return if they tried to force her from the room.

  Roman looked gaunt. The color had receded from his skin, and it was many moments before he finally moved. Dennah couldn’t pry her eyes away, even though she wanted desperately to look away.

  Tilith tied her hair back and leaned over Roman, pulling open one of his eyes and examining him as best she could. Roman showed no signs that he knew any of them were there.

  “He is cold. I thought he burned from red fever?” the cleric asked Lucilla.

  “Aye…for a time he did. He was so hot you could barely bear to touch him. But then just hours ago he grew cold. I thought the life had left him surely,” Lucilla said.

  “There is not much life left in him, I’m afraid. I am not sure how much I can do,” Tilith said, and for a dreadful moment, Dennah thought that would be the end of it. However, after a moment she turned back to the bed and tried to shoo Tusk away.

  The large dog, curled up at Roman’s feet, refused to move. Tilith took a stand, and with a stern enough command, Tusk moved. He growled irritably and jumped to the floor, retreating under the bed.

  “White Lady, hear my plea, chosen of J’ohaven, Lord of life and death,” Tilith started. Dennah hovered in a moment of rapt awe, amazed that she was about to see her friend mended, but also to witness the cleric’s rare magic.

  Tilith continued on quietly, the words of her prayer manifesting into a tongue far beyond anything Dennah had ever heard before, or could ever understand. The words slipped from her with divine weight and power, flowing into the air around them as naturally as the blood coursing in her veins.

  Tilith’s prayer took on the cadence of a chant, and the backs of her hands started to glow. The fiery hue of her skin was stark against Roman’s ghostly pallor. The glow increased, and Dennah noticed a faint noise growing in the room. At first it was just buzzing, no more than a fly’s wing, but as it grew louder, Dennah thought it sounded like singing.

  Roman groaned, his face contorting in agony. Tilith continued, the flow of magic filling the room with a warm radiance. Lucilla lurched from her seat and tried to hold Roman still, but he kicked and thrashed, knocking her to the floor.

  “I think you should stop!” Lucilla squawked from the floor.

  Tusk appeared from beneath the bed and slunk over to the door. He paced back and forth next to Dennah, his ears laid flat and his tail between his legs.

  Dennah hesitated for a moment, unsure if she should interfere, or if the scene unfolding before her was normal. Lucilla looked up at her before pushing off the ground. Her expression told her that something was very wrong.

  Dennah came forward and helped Lucilla hold Roman still, a host of doubts and questions piling up in her head. She glanced back at Teague. The seasoned soldier stood behind Tilith, his sword already pulled loose from its scabbard.

  Roman cried out in a sudden and violent fit, and with a surge almost lifted Dennah off the ground. She looked up and stifled a cry. His head flopped from side to side, his eyes bulging horrifically in the sockets.

  Tilith didn’t move to pull away, nor did she appear aware of anything going on. She appeared to be locked in the spell. Teague came forward and tried to pull Lucilla back, but she fought him.

  “Get back, woman,” he growled, grasping her by the dress and flinging her back against the wall.

  Dennah heard her crumple to the floor, and her muffled curses as she tried to get back up. Teague stepped up behind Tilith, grasping her under the arms as he tried to pull her away. But she would not move. Dennah watched in shock, rooted in place and unable to move or speak.

  “Help me…look at me! Help me!” Teague yelled.

  Dennah snapped to, realizing that he was yelling at her. She grabbed one of Tilith’s hands and tried to pull it free, but it stuck fast as surely as if it had been nailed in place.

  Dennah continued to pull on Tilith but looked to Teague as a strange, growling noise filled the room. Roman’s skin grew suddenly hot, a crimson color washing over his skin.

  Fear filled her, but she fought the impulse to run. Instead, she curled her fingers inside the padded curves of Tilith’s armor and braced her foot upon the bed, then pulled with all of her might. Teague saw her and took the same approach. Tilith finally came free, sending them crumpling into a pile against the door.

  Chapter 33

  A storm brews

  The room fell into chaos.

  “I want more men in here now!” Teague shouted, fighting to extricate himself from their pile.

  Lucilla sprawled atop Roman, but even with the weight pressing down upon him he continued to thrash. Men came rushing through the door, stepping over Dennah and Tilith as they struggled to get out of the way.

  “There is something…there is something inside him. I could feel it, feel it trying to get out. It’s strong, so strong,” Tilith breathed, still trying to collect herself.

  “Inside him?” Dennah echoed, more than a little scared.

  Was I wrong about Roman? Is he the monster Bull claimed? The prospect terrified her. She had warmed to him so easily.

  Two men stomped through the doorway and almost knocked Dennah over. They dropped armloads of chains and shackles to the ground. Dennah watched as the men bound Roman in a cocoon of iron links and leather straps.

  Lucilla argued and fought against the treatment, but at Teague’s orders she was removed from the room. Dennah watched the entire surreal scene unfold, feeling more like she was observing a macabre stage performance. She looked at Roman’s gaunt, pale face and couldn’t help but feel betrayed.

  Dennah pulled Tilith to her feet and helped her out to the hall, and as she left, she noticed Tusk. The dog had been all but forgotten. He sat pathetically in the far corner of the room, looking between Roman and Dennah like he too was trying to make sense of it all. Teague waited for them in the hallway, and immediately made for Tilith.

  “I am sorry, sir. I tried to fight it, but it held me. As my healing energy went into the boy, I felt it come…alive. Whatever it is, it is too strong. I fear I just made it stronger yet,” Tilith said shivering.

  “There was no way for you to know, Tilith. I should have seen the truth of it, and I should never have let you take the risk,” Teague said, putting one of his large hands on the cleric’s shoulder.

  Dennah lingered, but it became clear from Captain Teague’s body language that she was neither needed nor wanted, so she turned and wal
ked slowly down the hall.

  “What of the boy, will you continue to investigate and patrol?” Dennah heard Tilith ask from behind her. She deliberately walked as slowly as she could, straining in the noise of the inn to hear his response.

  “I think the wolf was wearing a shearling’s coat this whole time. I can think of no better camouflage, can you?” she heard Teague say, but Tilith’s response was lost in din. She visualized the cleric nodding in agreement.

  “The elder will argue, for I hear he harbors much love for the young man. We will simply have to make him see the reason of the situation, and that the facts seem undeniable. You touched this thing, felt its presence. If you are confident that it was responsible, then your word is all I need,” Teague said as Dennah mounted the top stair and started to descend.

  Dennah navigated the old staircase, the creaking underfoot making it impossible to listen any further.

  It was responsible, she thought, letting Teague’s last words tumble around in her head. She started to realize how little she actually knew about what was going on. What was Roman?

  She walked out of the inn and into the gloom. The temperature had dropped significantly, making the damp haze hanging in the air feel like pins against her cheeks. Without a purpose or a goal, she started to walk. She didn’t know where she was going, but at that moment, it didn’t seem to matter.

  * * * *

  Dennah walked down the lane, passing groups of townsfolk with complete indifference. She walked around Marna’s tavern, a spot she had become very familiar with since arriving in town, and cut back through a horse pasture. She climbed over the fence at the edge of the pasture and continued into the woods.

  She walked for what felt like hours, and when the clouds grew hostile, and rain started to fall she continued to walk. Her boots became sodden, and her feet cold. She pulled herself up the backside of a hill, using the forearm-thick saplings for leverage against the steep grade.

  Dennah pushed through the burning in her legs and ducked under and around the close-knit tangle of larger trees. She didn’t flinch when the branches scraped her hands or shins and accepted the pain when a thin branch snapped back and caught her in the face. She let her thoughts flow naturally, allowing all the questions and doubts to bang around endlessly in her head.