by Aaron Bunce
He pushed out through the door and into the cold. He felt his men behind him. It was a product of experience, living and fighting together. He scanned the snow as his men pooled behind him. They knew the drill, stay behind him until he said otherwise.
His eyes raked back and forth over the ground, tearing through the blanket of blowing snow. The ground cover appeared flawless, like a shimmering blanket of white. He moved slowly, hindered only by the limits the storm draped over his eyes. He saw no sign of tracks. He knew that with every moment that passed the storm worked against him, yet he resisted the impulse to move faster.
Then he saw it, even without the benefit of shadow. It was a subtle depression in the snow, barely visible anymore after the wind and snow filled it in. He moved forward, his eyes straining to find another. It was several steps, and he found another one, and then another.
The trail in the snow came alive to Teague. His eyes went slightly out of focus, and his instincts took over. He followed an arc around the inn that led out into the chaos of the storm, a near blinding soup of black and white. He motioned over his shoulder. He heard his men moving faster but didn’t dare take his eyes from the ground.
The wind picked up, rousing to a deafening crescendo. The prints at Teague’s feet followed a straight path, and the longer he pushed along, the deeper they became. He instinctively reached for the handle of his sword, but the blade refused to slide free.
“Damn cold!”
Teague didn’t even have time to tug on the blade a second time before a flash split the darkness. The fiery blast opened up the storm like blistering fingers prying open a box. Teague stumbled back, covering his eyes as a wave of heat rolled over him. A heartbeat later debris rained down all around, bouncing off of his armor and spattering the white snow.
Teague opened his eyes as a massive cloud of fire rolled into the air. The momentary glow illuminated a barn, half of its structure blasted away while the other half was engulfed in flames.
Teague headed towards the building as the storm swallowed it up again. He moved as quickly as he could, his legs burning almost instantly from the deep snow. His sword broke free of the scabbard right as he reached the burning debris.
Teague had to dodge around a large section of burning barn, his lungs burning from the cold. He took another labored step and his boots crunched on hard ground. The burning carcass of the barn loomed above him, but with every swirling surge of wind the light from the fire was lost, and he was pitched into darkness. As the wind died down the fire surged up again, brighter and hungrier than before.
“Over here! I found something,” one of his men cried out behind him.
Teague instantly spun and made for several of his men crouching not far away. He picked up a burning piece of timber off the ground and approached. They stood around a body, burned black by fire. The figure’s burned and mangled hands clutched to the handle of a sword. Its blade, still glowing from the fire, had been driven through his body, pinning him to the ground.
Teague dropped to a knee and passed the burning piece of wood up and down before him. The figure was completely charred. Clothes and hair were indistinguishable against its fused and blackened flesh.
He moved to stand but something around the burned figure’s neck caught the light. He leaned in closer and lifted the item toward him, and into the meager pool of firelight. Teague crushed the thick tuft of hair between his fingers, letting the light fall on the different colored clumps of hair in turn.
“And this is how you found him?” Teague asked, not looking away from the trophy.
“As you see him, sir,” Dannon replied, shouting through the roaring wind.
Teague dropped the locket of hair and brushed his gloves together.
Odd, he thought. The man’s body has been burned indistinguishable by fire, yet the small locket of hair remained untouched.
“I got footprints over here!” another of his men called from a tree-line not far away.
Teague stood and turned, the locket of hair continuing to trouble him. He followed the new set of tracks away from the barn. Unlike the tracks leading up to the barn, these were fresh. The idea that someone had walked away from the fire hastened his steps.
He pushed through the trees and into a small clearing, almost stumbling over a mound of snow. He dropped to his knees and started digging into the pile. He cleared away a few handfuls of snow and felt something beneath the surface. Another few handfuls and Teague’s fingers tangled in a mass of something soft. He scooped the remainder of the snow off using his hands like paddles. His heart started to race.
His eyes refused to focus in the distant glow of the burning barn, but Teague could just make out an outline in the snow. As he ran his hands over it, he realized that it was not a person. It wasn’t a person at all, but a dog.
“A dog?” Teague said, rocking back on his heels.
He looked around and took a single step towards the barn, and stopped. He remembered the dog that so faithfully remained by Roman’s side.
Teague’s thoughts inexplicably drifted back to the burnt figure in the snow. He knew he had all the pieces. He just had to put them together in the correct order.
He turned and looked out into the black of the storm, cursing the realization that they could be anywhere by now. He didn’t turn back towards the barn right away and stared into the chaos. Something moved in the trees to his left. Teague straightened and took a step.
The wind surged up, suppressing the blazing fire and throwing him into suffocating darkness. A moment later the wind shifted, and the fire surged brightly again.
Teague took several large steps towards the spot in the trees where he saw movement, but only found trees, swaying branches, and fresh tracks in the snow.
Chapter 47
Breaking through the storm
It moved like a dream, sweeping him along in a blur of memories, emotions, and wishes. Vivid details of his childhood flashed before him.
He felt the pain of a broken arm…the harsh scolding of a disappointed parent. He felt the pain, joy, and fear of each memory as if it were happening to him that very moment.
A single powerful emotion charged through the rest. It blasted through, dispelling the others like puffs of smoke. He felt it before it took shape, providing warmth that flooded over and around him, soaking through his skin and permeating deep inside. His heart throbbed and pulsed. He heard her voice.
Julian couldn’t see Tanea, but he felt her presence all around him. He felt the warmth of her skin and smelled her hair. The rush of her blood and beating of her heart became one with his as they became inexplicably tangled. In the swell of emotion, Julian lost track of where he ended, and she began. It didn’t matter how, all that mattered was they were together.
His world was dark, save for a solitary point of light off in the distance. Through sheer force of will, Julian was able to turn towards the light, and as he did he felt a strange force pull on him. The light grew steadily, from a dot no larger than a quill tip to a spot brighter than the sun.
Julian longed for the light. He wanted to reach it, but he didn’t know why or how. He strained, stretched, and pushed, straining to reach for it, but something held him back.
Julian noticed a pain, where before there had been none. There was an ache in his leg, and in his back. It felt like something was pulling his foot off. Julian focused on that pain until the world around him started to spin.
He gasped, taking in a breath of cold, damp air. It was perhaps his first real breath in a while. His eyes were blurry and crusted over. Julian’s disorientation lasted several heartbeats before he could make sense of everything around him. The cold, hard reality sunk back in as the stone pillars and cavern materialized.
The smell of damp and decay replaced Tanea’s as he choked down several painful gulps of air. His body felt like dead weight. It was cold, numb, and heavy, so very heavy.
The ceiling slid along above him, and the pain in his leg returned, this ti
me he felt it succinctly. It was a crushing pain in his ankle and foot. It tugged on him, and his body slid painfully against the stone, digging and gouging his bare skin.
He felt his foot pop and grind as the pressure started to pull his foot and ankle apart. He elevated, and like a limp sack of potatoes was pulled over the jagged edge of the stone stair. He could feel the stone cutting and tearing at him as he was yanked along, but there was nothing he could do to stop it.
Barely able to lift his head, Julian caught sight of his leg before it dropped again. His skin was white as a sheet, and a strange dark material had coiled around his foot and ankle. It was warm and alive, coiling and flexing against his cool skin.
Julian coughed. His mouth felt thick, and when he tried to swallow he gagged on thick, congealing blood. Julian felt his hand brush against the sharp corner of the stair as another surge pulled him forward. Instinctively he wrapped his fingers around it and held, bracing for the next surge.
He sputtered again as he tried to breathe, sending dark fluid spattering out over his lips and chin. The pressure hit his foot and ankle, but he locked his fingers around the cold stone. For a moment he lay there, holding back the cries of pain that welled up inside. His guts started to throb, and he gagged as the thick coppery fluid worked its way up his throat.
Abruptly the pressure ended, and he was temporarily spared from the pain. Julian gasped, slowly drowning in the thick secretions of his dying body. The coil around his ankle tightened, and the pressure returned. This time, the force on his leg was too strong, and with a horrible pop his foot pulled free from his ankle. His fingers slipped over the porous stone and then he was sliding.
Julian slid across the lip of the wide pool, his foot throbbing painfully as the joint was stretched well beyond its limits. His foot hung out over the dark water, and then his leg before the pull stopped.
Julian hung perilously over the pit, his breath catching in his throat. A massive throne loomed above him. It was built up on enormous blocks of pristine white marble, and perched out over the water, bending and curving toward the dark depths like a stone monster, bending to drink.
It was empty save for a solitary crown resting on its seat. Large fabulously cut stones glimmered within the headdress, reflecting in the pool’s haunting radiance. Julian had no strength left to fight, and the strange tendril maintained too much pressure for him to pull away.
He looked down into the brackish water, the blood of all those before him left the water black and covered in a pink froth. His imagination filled its depths with unspeakable horrors, and then the surface of the pool churned ever so slightly.
In an instant Julian became weightless and fell towards the darkness below. The water hit him like a brick wall, enveloping his empty and battered body in an icy embrace. The air was crushed from his lungs, and panic instantly took over. Julian thrashed weakly, clawing towards the surface.
Something slid around his legs and squeezed, effectively clamping them together. Julian felt it slide up around his abdomen. It felt warm against his cold skin, but also very heavy. It was pulling him down, deeper into the darkness.
The strange tendril pushed forcefully into the gaping wounds in his back and belly. He could feel it forcing itself inside him, squirming painfully where it did not belong. The pain became too much, the burning need for air had him gulping, but there was no air to be found. The water smothered him in a cold, black blanket as it filled his lungs.
Julian snapped back to the darkness, his body floating towards a solitary point of light off in the distance.
Chapter 48
Facing fear
Cold, dark, and extreme pressure bearing down on him. Strange thoughts tumbled through his mind, such confusing, disjointed thoughts. Sensation flooded through him as well. He felt pain, elation, fear, and betrayal, but couldn’t make sense of them. He fought for control, tried to straighten out the jumble and understand.
His world tipped, and pain exploded over his body. The pain was real, and unlike everything else it seemed to ground him. Weakness, profound weakness joined the pain.
He knew pain in his fingers, stabbing pain that made his hands throb. His fingernails cracked and splintered. The pain continued, he wanted to make it stop, but he didn’t know how.
The confusion broke a little more, and he felt something cold and hard, jagged and unforgiving against his skin. There was a thought pressing against his mind. It rang in a strange voice over and over again. He could hear the desperation in the voice, feel the panic behind the word, and the emotion urgency became his own.
Breathe…breathe!
Julian became aware of a burning need to draw breath. He tried to suck air into his lungs, but they wouldn’t respond. Pressure settled on his chest, like someone was sitting on him, torturing him and preventing him from taking in the air he so desperately needed.
His thoughts started to scatter. He was fading again, back towards the cold darkness that claimed him before.
Push…the voice rang out again, reverberating within his mind and pulling him back from the void. Julian felt his diaphragm contract. The pressure on his chest increased a bit, but nothing happened.
Push harder! Push now! The voice boomed in his mind, and this time it rang with so much force that Julian’s muscles finally responded.
The blackness lifted and Julian’s eyes snapped open. Everything came flooding back to him in that instant. His vision cleared, allowing him to recognize his hands before him. He almost didn’t recognize them. They were covered in bleeding cuts, and his fingernails were all splintered and broken.
He felt the weight in his chest and pushed against it. It felt like he would be sick, but continued to push. Julian’s arms nearly buckled as water rushed up his throat and poured out of his mouth. He felt his lungs move a little as he drew a wet, paltry breath.
Julian exhaled, and even more water rushed up his throat, gagging him and making him choke. His second breath was deeper, but it still felt inadequate and rattled noisily. His third and fourth breath pushed out yet more water, but he could draw more air each time, and the burning in his head started to subside. Air rushed in and out as Julian coughed countless times. Each lungful of air felt like a blessing.
He wanted to stop and rest but knew that he couldn’t afford it. Julian forced his way to his feet, his legs shaking horribly. He staggered, but caught himself against the wall. The stone felt rough against his raw and bleeding hands.
He was in a tunnel now, and it was dark save for a few lonely torches. Memories flickered back of the pool, the wretch, and his horrible sword. He remembered Sky. His friend was dead. All of the others were dead.
He remembered the pain as the gnarl torn him open, and his hands automatically went to his belly, where the sword cut through him. Julian looked down as his hands worried over the area. The hole was closing, knitting itself back together as he watched.
A pain formed in his head as the wound closed. It cut into his mind like a knife, scattering his thoughts. He doubled over and fell to his knees as the pressure grew. His vision flickered and tunneled, the darkness closing in around him.
A host of overpowering emotions and thoughts crowded in. Julian felt his consciousness wrestled aside, and then once again he was floating in a sea of black.
* * * *
Julian snapped to. He drew a breath, taking in the stale, damp air. He was disoriented for a moment, confused, and lethargic. He felt as if he had woken up from a long and troubling sleep, yet could not immediately recall what had happened before his slumber.
The tunnel was dark ahead of him. The tunnel was even darker behind him. The only sound in the strange labyrinth was the distant plink of water droplets falling from the sweating stone overhead.
I must be dreaming…am I dreaming this? He thought. But everything around him felt real enough, he even pinched his arm to make sure.
Julian followed the tunnel as it curved and zigzagged ahead, simply continuing in the direction he was
facing when he had awoken.
Julian walked for a great while, the quiet slap of his bare feet the only sound. But as he entered a particularly dark stretch of tunnel, a strange and frightening noise reverberated off the stone behind him. It sent a cold shiver through his body.
He stumbled against the wall, as his legs twitching and moving against his will. He fell onto his hands and his knees, fighting to maintain control but his muscles seized, pulling his legs up into his body and curling his toes.
The noise echoed behind him again and in response his legs kicked out, flailing in a painful pantomime as they banged and scraped on the stone. Julian focused and just managed to still his legs. He stood and ran, driven by the frightening cries behind him.
Julian ran out of the tunnel and into another small circular chamber. It appeared to be a hub, connecting the tunnel Julian emerged from with several others. Julian could hear the creature following him, but he could feel it too. Somehow, he could feel it moving, smelling, and considering him.
He scanned the ground, moving around the circular room, looking for anything he could use as a weapon. His eyes were inexplicably drawn to the pit at the center, where a fire burned.
He stopped and took a step back, but then darted forward and grabbed a simple torch wedged in a crack on the ground, figuring it was better than nothing. Something crashed into the fire as he pulled the torch free.
Julian danced back, holding the thick torch out before him as two fur-covered creatures rose up on the other side of the fire. The gnarls saw him and froze in the act of throwing more wood onto the fire.
The creatures chortled to each other and stepped out from around the fire, effectively cutting Julian off from all of the tunnels, save the one he entered from.
They were small creatures, no taller than an adolescent boy, but their bodies were covered with tangled muscle, and their claws were sharp. What would have been an easy fight for Julian properly equipped, was a fight he would be sorely pressed to win.
