Within

by Aaron Bunce

  Chapter 39

  Close calls

  The wintery blast his Roman’s face like a million sharp pins as he emerged from the White Crowe, the door banging shut behind him. He turned in place several times, trying to rationalize his surroundings. He remembered the orchard…but also the rain and the cool air cool.

  But snow…ice? He thought confusedly. The sky was also so dark he couldn’t tell if it was night or day. It was incredibly disorienting.

  Ice damns hung from buildings as thick around as his waist. Even the trees, many of which still clung to their leaves, were now held fast in a frozen encasement.

  Tusk was all business. He ran his nose through the snow, searching for his scent. Roman moved slowly down the steps of the inn, using Frenin’s cane for support. Only a few snorts later and Tusk was off, hot on a familiar trail. Roman followed as quickly as his wobbly legs would carry him, but Tusk was in his element, and in a moment, he had rounded the building and disappeared.

  Roman followed blindly, the harsh wind and snow pelting his eyes. The gusts buffeted him in relentless drafts, and with each staggering step forward his heart accelerated until it was a thundering storm in his chest. Roman rounded the back of the White Crowe. He leaned against the building for support, his feet slipping beneath him.

  The snow was powdery and light, an ankle high mass of white hiding a sheet of pure ice underneath. Frenin’s cane shot out in front of him, and his arms pinwheeled in the air just as a gust of wind bowled him over.

  Roman rolled over onto his hands, the wind roiling over him with tremendous power. His cloak billowed up over his head, leaving his shirt and trousers as the only protection from the elements.

  Roman wasn’t stung by the cold. Instead he felt the heat radiating throughout his feverish body build until he was warm again. His hands, which were buried deep in the powdery snow, began to pulse with warmth. So much warmth that the snow around them started to melt and the ice beneath his palms grew slippery and wet.

  His hand wrapped around the cane and managed to stand, moving carefully over the exposed ice. He didn’t bother cinching the cloak back down. Instead, he let the heat radiating throughout his body ward off the wintry air.

  Once he moved away from the shelter of the buildings, the storm intensified twofold. He could hear Tusk bark somewhere off in the darkness, but it was impossible to identify which direction it came from.

  Roman took a tentative step forward, and then another. His anxiety grew the further he moved into the blinding storm. He forced his eyes open wide, thinking he could follow the dog’s prints in the snow, but the wind and snow had already washed them away.

  The storm swallowed up the buildings, leaving him with no sense of direction, and Tusk’s occasional bark as a floundering beacon for the dog’s location. Without the dog’s nose to guide him, Roman knew he had no chance of finding his way in the storm, and if he got lost, he knew he wouldn’t last long.

  “Tusk!” Roman yelled out, but the wind gripped his voice in its cold clutches as soon as it left his mouth and smuggled it away.

  He tried to whistle, but he was too weak and his lips too dry. Fearful of remaining still, Roman plodded forward, hoping and praying to stumble that he was stumbling in the right direction.

  He heard Tusk bark again. The noise swirled in the churning wind, but it sounded stronger and closer. Roman licked his lips and whistled, followed by a second, and he heard the dog again, this time much closer.

  “Tusk!” Roman yelled, narrowing his eyes and shielding them with his hand.

  Tusk bounded out of the churn, almost bowling him over. He had become so caked with the blowing snow that he looked like a moving snowball. Judging from the direction that Tusk approached Roman knew he was headed in the wrong direction.

  Tusk paced around him once, stopping only to shake. He gave a loud bark and took off again into the storm. This time, the dog ran only a short distance before dropping his nose to the ground and circling. By the time Roman caught up, Tusk took off again, bounding along with relative ease.

  Roman struggled, but managed to keep Tusk in sight, and finally a cluster of buildings materialized before him. Tusk ran up through a small cluster of trees and stopped before the door to the largest of the three buildings. Roman knew the buildings well. They sat a distance south of the mill, on the last hill, overlooking the last bend in the river.

  The buildings were stout, and used to store sacks of potatoes, carrots, grains, and dried herbs during the winter months. Max and the city guard regularly patrolled the buildings, or they used to.

  Tusk pawed at the door as Roman approached. There were no fresh prints leading up to it, but judging from the fury of the storm, he knew that didn’t really mean anything.

  He rested his hand tentatively on the iron handle, his heart, which had already been laboring harder than usual, jumped up into his throat. Something felt wrong, and not a heartbeat later, his skin went cold for the first time since waking.

  His stomach pinched angrily, and he doubled over. He felt the angry knot in his belly grow tight. The tighter it became, the colder he felt. Tusk growled low at his side, his snow covered hackles bristling.

  Roman spit into the snow. A sour, burnt taste crept into his mouth and filled his nose with the smell of smoke. Roman straightened painfully, and as he did a strange fluttering noise filled his ears.

  Roman didn’t know why he knew, or even how he knew. He only knew that he had to open the door as hard and fast as he could. He dropped the latch on the handle and leaned back, then with all of the strength and momentum he could muster Roman slammed his body into the door.

  The heavy portal swung inwards, aided by the wind, Roman stumbling in after it. He felt the door strike something, and someone cried out. A sharp crack resounded from inside the building.

  The person behind the door recovered and shoved the door back, knocking Roman out of the way. He raised the cane above his head like a club, preparing to strike as the person appeared, but someone grabbed him by the back of his cloak and pulled.

  The neck of the heavy cloak pulled tight around his neck, his feet almost sliding free from the ground. Then he was toppling forward and sprawled face down on the ground.

  “Look at what we found,” a man chuckled behind him in a low, grumbling voice.

  Roman fought to extricate himself from the voluminous cloak, the straw from the floor sticking to his hands and face. A large man appeared from behind the door, not bothering to shut it as he stalked towards him.

  Roman rolled onto his side and lifted the cane, readying the stick for a strike at the man’s legs, but before he could lash out, Tusk exploded through the doorway in a cloud of snow. The large dog tore into the man’s backside, nearly making him fall on Roman as he howled in pain.

  “Ouch…my arse, get it off o’ me. It’s killing me…get it off, Tark, get it off!” he cried as Tusk took ample chunks of his flesh in his jaws and shook his head.

  The second man came forward and tried to pull Tusk free. Roman threw his legs under him and performed a rather cumbersome roll as he tried to get to his feet. As uncoordinated as he felt, he did manage to stand.

  Woozy and dizzy, Roman stumbled back several paces and almost fell again, but just managed to steady himself. He backed away, preparing to defend himself against the two men and glanced back into the barn. What he couldn’t see before, thanks to stacked hay bales by the doors, brought his blood to a boil.

  Banus stood atop a wooden crate, his bunched up trousers clutched in one hand. The greasy little man clutched a thick leather belt high over his head. And at his feet, stripped bare and lashed in heavy ropes was Dennah. Her face was red and streaked with tears. A wadded up rag hung out of her mouth.

  Roman’s knuckles went white around the cane, and all thoughts of Tusk and the men behind him were lost. Angry red cuts and purple welts covered Dennah’s body from where Banus struck her. The sight of his friend in such a state jabbed into him like a metal stake. Some
thing terrible shifted within his gut.

  “You got bad timing, old man,” Banus said, bringing the belt down onto Dennah’s bare rear with a stinging crack.

  Roman never felt purer rage. It made his hands shake, and his vision start to tunnel. For the first time in his life, Roman felt an uncontrollable need to hurt someone, and as Banus stalked over Dennah triumphantly, like a hunter with his felled game, Roman felt murderous.

  Hands trembling, Roman reached up and fumbled with the leather cord holding the cloak around his shoulders. He ripped the knot apart and let the heavy garment slide free. The large cowl fell free, and Roman felt the cool air on his face. He wouldn’t look away, or blink, not even when the sweat ran down and stung his eyes. Banus squinted for a moment and then took a step back, a look of shock on his face.

  “W…w…wait, how?” he stammered.

  “Surprise!” Roman muttered menacingly.

  Dennah squirmed helplessly, like a worm on a fisherman’s hook, the heavy, chaffing ropes binding her completely. Roman only managed two steps towards Banus before a tremendous weight fell upon him. Strong arms wrapped around him, pinning him in a suffocating embrace. He swung the cane around and managed to strike the man on the side of his face but there was no power behind it, and he only laughed.

  Banus cackled horribly and proceeded to flog Dennah with the thick belt, filling the air with the sharp crack of leather against flesh. Roman surged forward, desperate to close his fingers around Banus’ swollen neck, but Blaine was too strong.

  “See bitch…your little murderer boyfriend wants to join you,” Banus said, bending down mockingly in Dennah’s face, “it’s good I decided to save the real fun. Now he can watch, and you won’t be alone when I start to cut you.”

  “You will not touch her!” Roman growled.

  Banus straightened and smiled, which only piqued Roman’s anger and hatred even more.

  The toadish man sauntered over. “This is perfect, I can take care of you myself now, boy, I can do it how it shoulda been done from the start. Quick and easy. Not all that fussing around. See I know what I’m doing, I’ve had practice.” Banus bent down low and plucked a dagger from his boot.

  Tarkus appeared from around wall of hay, Tusk’s head pinned in his vice-like arms. The large brown dog struggled, and whined, but otherwise couldn’t move. Tarkus was in worse shape, however. His fingers and hands were bloodied, covered in nicks and cuts from Tusk’s teeth.

  “And to think, I might have even felt a little guilty fer offing the old man. You see, it wouldn’t take much to smother that old crone really, no fun in that. And everybody would just think the geezer wandered out into the snow and keeled over. Ah, poor old bastard, died in the storm, and nobody was around to hear his cries for help. But you…and her,” Banus said, pointing the dagger back towards Dennah with a wide, yellow-toothed smile, “I can kill you and nobody is gonna care, hell…they’ll thank me. Good ole Banus, snuffing out the murderer boy, and the little thief that done helped him.” He stalked towards Roman, menacingly thrusting the tip of the dagger at belly level.

  Roman struggled, watching helplessly as the blade grew closer and closer. This wasn’t the slow-minded, booze-drawling troublemaker Dennah described him as. No, he seemed infinitely more dangerous.

  “You get to watch me kill him…and you get to watch me do all the horrible things to her first. Doesn’t she look young and sweet? So soft and pretty? I’ll bet she’s moaning my name for a good long time. And the other boys…well, they’ll have a go at her too,” Banus said silkily, turning back to Dennah one last time.

  “You aren’t…” Roman growled, but Banus cut him off.

  “Hold him tight Blaine,” Banus said, pulling a lock of human hair from the sweat-stained collar of his shirt. He rubbed it against his cheek, and then under his nose, shivering and moaning until finally stashing it back in his shirt.

  “Get to add to my collection today. It’s been a while! But that happens at the end, after I’ve made you bleed, made you hurt. You see, I like hurting people, it makes me feel…alive,” Banus finished with a crooked grin.

  Roman ground his teeth in anger. Occasionally he would wiggle his arms against Blaine’s tight embrace, but he was too weak to buy any leverage, and the larger man was more than his match.

  His strain and anger seemed to awaken the pain in his belly. It twisted and bunched up, every muscle in his gut taking on a life of its own until a searing pain erupted deep within him. It felt like a hole at his center was on the verge of tearing apart.

  The strange flutter filled his ears again. His thoughts scattered, but as quickly as it had come, it was gone. The pain in his gut increased tenfold before growing incredibly hot. It felt like someone thrust a scalding hot poker into his guts and teased it back and forth. The excruciating heat and pain made him sink towards the floor, but Blain held him tight, leaving his legs to kick and flail about.

  An amused look wrinkled Banus’ face as he glanced from Blaine and then back down to his dagger. “I haven’t even poked him yet, and he’s already screaming,” he said as the three men started to laugh.

  Roman closed his eyes involuntarily from the pain. He knew that there were no words that could change his fate, so his fear quickly slipped away, metastasizing into indifference. The white face from the orchard floated unbidden in his thoughts, so strangely familiar, yet frustratingly foreign.

  The heat continued to churn inside him, filling him like torrents of steaming water. He felt it swirl outwards, moving into his arms, legs, even his skin. He knew Blain felt it too. The large man adjusted his grip around him uncomfortably, and started to grouse.

  Roman looked from Banus’ ruddy face to Dennah as he approached. He felt the anguish and humiliation in her eyes. He cursed the abuse forced upon her.

  “Ouch! Stop biting me!” Tarkus cried out suddenly. Tusk snarled, snapping angrily before digging his claws into the man’s flesh and jumping.

  Tusk shot forward, covering the distance between Banus in the blink of an eye. The smaller man cursed and sputtered, collapsing under the dog’s weight.

  Roman struggled to break free of Blain’s crushing hold, managing to finally free one of his arms. He swung back at Blaine’s face, but the large man picked him up and squeezed with tremendous force. Roman felt the breath crushed from his lungs and the wound on his side twinge sharply.

  “Damn…stupid! Me hand! Ah, me hand!” Banus cried as Tusk mauled him.

  A dagger flashed, and Tusk cried out. The large brown dog flopped to the side, his high-pitched squeals splitting Roman in two.

  “Stupid mutt,” Banus spat as he pushed Tarkus aside, blood dripping off of his mangled hand. Tusk quivered at their feet, his teeth bared, the fur on his side matted with blood.

  “You bastard, he’s just protecting me. He’s just a dog,” Roman shouted as Banus stood, fuming over his ruined hand.

  Banus looked between Tusk and Dennah, and then glanced back to Roman. He wiped his bloody hand on his shirt and then placed a boot on Tusk’s quivering side, directly over the bleeding wound.

  “Little pup doesn’t look so good,” Banus said, pressing down with his boot. Tusk whined in pain but couldn’t fight back.

  “No, leave him alone!” Roman screamed, and in the process he felt the wound in his side tear anew. Roman hardly registered the pain.

  Tusk yelped again. It was a loud and sudden cry of pain that was followed by silence. Roman thrashed from side to side as Banus removed his boot and took a step closer.

  “You bastard, you didn’t have to do that! I’m gonna…” Roman screamed, his helplessness and anger bunching up inside like a horrible knot.

  Banus came forward quickly, driving his fist into Roman’s stomach, bending him low and staggering Blain behind him. As Roman slumped, the foul man bent in his face and squeezed his cheeks together with bloody hands.

  “Gonna do what exactly? Hmm?”

  Roman gagged and sputtered, his breath blown away. Banus didn�
�t wait for a response as he punched Roman again and again. The buzzing returned and filled Roman’s ears as the image of Tusk, bleeding and still on the ground burned into him like hot coals.

  “Ah, I never could have asked for this. All of us, we’re gonna have a good time,” Banus said huffing as he staggered away, winded from the exertion.

  Roman felt his face grow hot as he struggled to catch his breath. The buzzing in his ears grew louder, drowning out all other noise. He willed it away, and a moment later, it was gone.

  Roman gritted through the pain, choking for breath as Banus sauntered over to Dennah. He let the belt drop on her back as he bent down next to her, then reached out and delicately pulled the gag from her mouth.

  Roman watched the foul man lick the side of her face.

  “I’m gonna do what I shoulda done way back, and I’m gonna make you watch him die. I want you to think about me when I’m doing it, so you can remember how you turned yer nose up at me.”

  Dennah reared back and spat in his face, the curses flooding forth like an uncorked bottle. Banus stood up and wiped his face on his sleeve, an amused smile pulling at his lips. He started walking towards him slowly, tossing the dagger from his right hand to his left, the blade still covered in Tusk’s blood.

  He stopped a few paces short and tossed the dagger between hands once again, taunting him with the dirtied blade. And then he was so close Roman could smell him, smell the sour wine oozing out of his pores.

  * * * *

  Frenin hoped he was doing the right thing. He knew Roman and believed without a shred of doubt that he was honest and honorable. Neither of which he could claim about many of the people taking over his town.

  He knew that time wasn’t on his side, and as much as his body protested, he pushed himself to move faster. He piled the chain and shackles on the bed and covered them with the pillow, and then the blanket on top of that.