Within

by Aaron Bunce

  Julian spun on his feet, blood dripping from his pickaxe. One of the dogs cried out as a gnarl pinned it to the ground with its machete-like sword. The creature didn’t even bother to pull the weapon free before leaping, claws first onto Stark. The young man, with all of his injuries, crumpled under the weight of the creature.

  Julian felt powerful and fast, like his feet hovered above the ground. He squared his stance as two of the menacing brutes circled him. He fought in a straight line, with singular determination. The masked man, and Tanea’s struggling form his ultimate focus.

  A gnarl on his right attacked first. It brought its club down, but Julian was faster and ducked aside. The metal slugs embedded in the wood whistled in the air before the weapon thudded into the ground.

  Julian spun, then stopped, and hurled the heavy pickaxe at the creature’s back. The large gnarl flopped over, the impact of the heavy weapon toppling it lifeless to the ground.

  Julian broke one of the first lessons he had learned in training, never let your weapon leave your hand. He regretted it instantly, as a second gnarl jumped over the body of its fallen comrade, effectively cutting him off from his weapon. It looked back at the embedded axe before turning on him.

  Someone cried out in pain, and Julian wavered for a heartbeat. He caught sight of someone collapsing beneath several gnarls out of the corner of his eye, but he couldn’t determine who. Julian ducked and dodged several of the gnarl’s attacks.

  The surge of strength ebbed and flowed, surging as tried to dodge around the creature and get to a weapon. The gnarl swept its rusty sword in wide arcs as it tried to keep him off balance, but its attacks were clumsy. Julian leaned back as the sword cut across, and before the creature could reverse the motion he lunged forward, both fists swinging.

  The gnarl was caught off guard. His left fist missed the mark but his right cross caught it squarely in the face. The gnarl staggered, but shook the punch off quickly, coming at him with teeth and claws bared.

  It clawed at him, and Julian, feeling surprisingly bold, accepted the hit. He lifted his arm to protect his face, but there was more strength in the attack than he imagined, and the blow knocked him back.

  Julian tripped over a body, landing hard on his back. He scrambled to get clear and in the process, his hand brushed against the hilt of a blade. It was his sword, and it was still lodged deep within the tangled body. Julian fumbled for the weapon, but the gnarl leapt at him, shrieking and stabbing at him with a sword. He rolled, the blade piercing the dead creature next to him instead.

  The large gnarl fell upon him, thick ropes of drool splattering his face as it snapped its jaws. The monster crushed him under its weight and it took every ounce of strength Julian could pool just to keep the snapping maw away from his neck.

  Jaws snapped closed right before Julian’s face. His arms shook, threatening to give out until an arrow whistled in and buried itself deep in the gnarl’s side. The gnarl howled and lurched off to the side. Julian pushed off of the ground, and sank his fingers deep into the bony ridge on the creature’s back.

  It snarled and flailed at him, but its blows could not connect. He had no weapon, so Julian drove his steel gauntlet down into the back of the creature’s head. He punched it repeatedly, until with a sickening crack, the creature jerked and went limp beneath him.

  Julian pulled his sword free from the gnarl carcass and picked up a discarded axe. He waded into the remaining creatures, chopping and slashing, giving in to the rage. He lost track of whom or what he was as flesh and bone parted beneath his blades.

  Julian stumbled clear moments later, a mud-covered gnarl sliding free of his sword. Only one creature stood between him and the masked man. The disfigured creature came forward, chopping at his waist with a spiked club. Julian caught the barrel of the weapon with the axe in his left hand and whirled his sword around. In a pathetic move the gnarl raised its arm to shield its face, but Julian’s strike was too fast and too strong. The blade parted the creature’s forearm and then drove clean through its neck, decapitating it.

  “Let her go,” Julian growled, holding his guard as the gnarl fell away. He stepped forward, weaving his way through the fallen bodies of beasts, dogs, and men.

  The figure laughed. A decrepit, hoarse sound both muffled and magnified by the strange mask. “Come and get her,” he croaked.

  Julian advanced a step, but the masked figure suddenly hoisted Tanea up, dangling her off the ground by her pale cloak. And as Julian watched, a multitude of strange black hands materialized out of the darkness and wrapped around her.

  “Tanea…no!” Julian screamed, and without a sound, she was gone, pulled back into the black of night.

  The masked man came at Julian with a speed and dexterity he could barely register. He struck before Julian even registered the sword in his hand. It all happened so fast. Julian parried the blow, the air filling with the clang of metal on metal. The two swords danced off of each other in a shower of sparks.

  The man jabbed his free hand towards Julian and shouted, his voice too mangled to fully understand. He was faintly aware of something the man wore on his wrist, if only because the strange gems adorning it flashed green in the dark.

  A force hit Julian like a raging bull, staggering him back and nearly knocking him from his feet. His steel armor rang, vibrating like a struck bell. Nirnan charged in at the man from behind Julian, his large axe dropping in a blow that would split a healthy tree, but the masked man was too fast.

  He flicked his sword, just under the axe head and between the large man’s hands. The blade broke clean through the solid oak handle of the larger weapon, sending Nirnan reeling forward in a clumsy attempt to correct.

  Sky stabbed in at the man, saving Nirnan from a skewering blade to the chest, but he was prepared once again, and Sky’s blade was blocked out wide.

  “Where is she? Bring her back!” Julian roared. His anger drove him as he jabbed low and then high, followed by a chop of the axe. The masked man flipped his sword ever so slightly, the small contact sending Julian’s sword out wide, and like a prairie dog, ducked the axe and tossed his whole body forward to avoid Sky’s blade.

  Julian had never seen anyone move so quickly, and the man’s skill with his weapon was staggering. A gnarl bounded towards them from the other side of the camp, but it tumbled to the ground, an arrow stuck clean through its throat.

  Nirnan swatted at the smaller man, holding his axe by the stub of its broken shaft. His attacks were slow and calculated, never opening himself up too much to the masked man’s blade. Sky growled in frustration, dodging in and out, stabbing and cutting as he fought to find a flaw in the man’s technique.

  Banner circled the group with his bowstring taut, an arrow nocked and ready to fly. Julian silently urged the archer to fire, but the masked man worked skillfully to keep one of them always between them. But Julian realized that if they did manage to kill him, he might never find Tanea.

  A gust of wind ripped through the camp with a howl, whipping up dust and debris into their eyes. The masked man didn’t hesitate. As soon as Nirnan’s hand went up to shield his face, he struck. The big man bellowed in surprise as the highly polished blade cut into his thigh. Nirnan tried to swat the smaller man aside but he spun out of range, moving with the grace of a dancer.

  Nirnan backpedaled as Sky and Julian tried to redirect the masked man, but he was focused on the big man. Nirnan swept his axe across to push him back, but he slipped through and scored a solid hit on his forearm. Julian watched as Nirnan fell backwards onto the ground, the masked man’s blade sliding from a small gap in his friend’s armor.

  Julian threw himself forward, unwilling to watch all of his men picked apart by the masked man’s cold and calculated swordsmanship. He jabbed in hard, cutting repeatedly as hard as he could. Julian’s didn’t want to wound him. He wanted to tear him apart.

  “You’ll pay for that!” Julian growled, catching the man’s sword with a low guard and trying to grab him.


  “I don’t think I will,” he laughed in a harsh, mocking tone.

  They exchanged several blows, Julian’s muscles straining and starting to ache. The masked man had an answer for every attack or feint. Sky darted in and tried to catch him off guard, stabbing at the man’s back. But before the blade could meet flesh the man inexplicably twisted completely about and knocked the weapon aside.

  Banner’s loosed an arrow at his unprotected side, but the strange jewels set in his bracelet flared and the arrow bounced away, rebounding as if striking a wall of solid stone.

  Banner didn’t hesitate. He nocked another arrow and let it fly, but the masked man knocked the projectile aside with a wave of his hand.

  “Ahh. Where is she?” Julian growled.

  The masked man tilted his head to one side, then the other, as if considering him before lifting his hand. Julian acted fast. He threw the axe as hard as he could. He never meant for it to strike him, only to distract him for a moment.

  As soon as the axe left his hand, Julian drove his foot into the ground and charged, and as fast the masked figure was he barely had time to recover from blocking the axe to dodge aside. Julian would not relent, he drove in on the small man, working his blade furiously in and out, back and forth, trying to find a way past his defenses.

  Every blow rang loudly. The force of each impact jarred his arms and reverberated deep within his bones, but Julian did not stop. He would never stop.

  Julian caught sight of Banner out of the corner of his eye. With a quick step back and two to the side he was successful in getting the masked man to turn. Their timing was perfect. Julian stabbed in and as his sword was knocked down. He quickly reared back and chopped down at the man with a driving attack. The masked man’s sword came up in a perfectly executed high guard to block the strike. Banner’s arrow struck home.

  The masked man grunted, and staggered forward a step. He gave no other indication of pain however, even as he turned, exposing the feathered shaft protruding from his back. Julian was baffled. For any normal man it would be debilitating, and most likely fatal.

  “Where is she? What did you do with her?” Julian demanded.

  “Come and get her!”

  Without warning, he struck again. The sword flashed, and again the strange gems on his wrist flared. The blades crashed together and Julian thought the world had split apart. His arm went numb and the handle of his sword landed by his feet. The fractured blade toppled end over end through the air, until finally sticking cleanly in the ground.

  “Come and get her.” He surged forward in a blur, kicking out as Julian staggered back.

  A sudden and immense pressure landed on Julian’s chest and he felt weightless. A moment later the ground reached up and embraced him as he rolled violently.

  Everything appeared to be upside down. He was disoriented, and he couldn’t breathe. Julian waved his hands clumsily above him, drunkenly trying to push off the weight that was squeezing the life from him, but his gloves passed through only air.

  Julian rolled over, the campfire coming into blurry view. He sipped the air, sucking through his teeth in tiny gasps. His lungs burned, screaming at him to draw more breath.

  He just managed to heave his body off of the ground. His fingers crawled over his steel chest plate and found that it had been caved in. The ruined metal dug painfully into his ribs. He fumbled for the straps securing the armor in place but his fingers felt bulky and out of sorts.

  His thoughts became scattered, and no matter how hard he focused on his hands, he couldn’t get them to move correctly. His steps became clumsy and drunken as he wobbled towards the camp.

  The masked man stood with the campfire at his back, his strange bracelet glowing in the night. He showed no fear of the men circling him. Then he was gone, a green burst of light burned into Julian’s vision.

  Despair and agony flushed the anger from Julian’s heart as he lurched forward. He fell in a heap, sucking inconsequential mouthfuls of air as dizziness enveloped him. The camp narrowed as the black night squeezed in all around him. Shiny, sparkly lights flitted around in his vision.

  Tanea…gone, Julian thought. He had failed her, failed everyone. He tried to focus on the beating of her heart, but it felt so far away, and a moment later, he slid into the darkness.

  Chapter 23

  Bloodlust

  A massive weight was lifted free. Air, blessed air, entered his lungs. It didn’t feel like waking from a night’s sleep, but more like crawling out of an impossibly deep and black hole.

  His mind ached, and his vision and hearing took several long moments to clear before he could understand what was going on around him. Hands wrapped around his arms as he was pulled up into a seated position. Sky’s face appeared before him, a grimace of pain wrenching his face.

  “Ama’lik, are you okay?” he asked.

  It all rushed back to Julian. He remembered the attack, the masked man, and Tanea.

  Tanea is gone.

  He pushed forward, attempting to get up, but heavy hands fell onto his shoulders and pushed him back down. Nirnan dropped down next to him. There was a blood-soaked bandage around his midsection, and he bled from a number of smaller wounds.

  “Are you injured?” Sky asked again. Julian eyed him warily.

  “Don’t worry, it missed,” he said, motioning to the splintered stub of an arrow shaft sticking out of his chest plate.

  “I’m…” Julian started, and then took another deep breath, still fighting off the dizziness. “Where did he go? He took Tanea. I need to find her.” Nirnan held him down again as he tried to stand.

  “Easy, Ama’lik. There is nothing you can do for her in your state,” the big man said, wincing. Julian wanted to argue, but knew it wouldn’t do any good. The big man was right.

  After several excruciating moments they let Julian stand. His chest ached with every breath. It became work just to breathe normally. He limped back into the camp, trying to straighten out his thoughts.

  Julian came upon Stark prone on the ground, his neck clawed wide open. His face was frozen in a horrible mask of pain and fear. He knelt over him, the moments bleeding away, trying to reconcile his death, failing to find reasons not to blame himself. He moved to close Stark’s eyes and found his skin still warm. He was barely removed from life.

  “We lost Stark. Nirnan took a couple nasty pokes, but he’s strong. Those that came from the north camp didn’t fare well. All but Banner are dead. We lost one dog, another ran off, and the last one, Judge, is licking his wounds by the fire,” Sky said.

  Julian nodded, but turned and moved off, unable to find the words to respond. He came upon several gnarls still alive. One had almost clawed its way out of the camp, so he dug a large rock out of the ground and dropped it onto its head.

  Julian had Banner patrol the camp while everyone else stacked the gnarl carcasses in a pile. He helped Sky drag the last gnarl over and tossed it onto the pile. When he looked up he noticed Tristan and another soldier walking into camp from the south.

  “What the…” Tristan cursed when he saw the pile of bodies.

  “Where were you boys?” Nirnan asked, sinking back down by the fire.

  “We made our rounds, like usual. But the wind stirred up from the Crest when the clouds came out. We didn’t hear anything,” Tristan said defensively.

  “How could you not hear this racket? Men died…” Sky replied irritably, but Julian cut in as Tristan came forward, his face scrunching in anger.

  “Fighting won’t bring them back. Tristan, walk the line south, Sky, north. We’ll do the best we can until first light. We can sort it out then,” Julian said decisively.

  Julian used the last of their firewood and pitch to burn the gnarl carcasses. The oily smoke rolled off the pyre, filling his nose with the stench of singed hair and burning flesh.

  Tanea is gone. Good men…are dead. This is hell.

  Death surrounded him on all sides. He could feel it. Smell it. He didn’t cover his mo
uth, or shy away from the putrid smoke. He let it waft over him, reminding him of the lives he let slip away.

  Julian paced the camp when he wasn’t walking the lines. His anxiety continued to build, until it was almost more than he could bear. He wanted to run from the camp and charge into the woods. To track down the masked man and make him pay.

  Only Julian’s guilt and grief kept him from running. His sense of honor told him to stay and watch over the others, to do his duty. While every other ounce of him told him otherwise. He was sure the conflict raging inside would tear him apart.

  After an excruciating wait, the pre-dawn hue appeared above Bahlman’s Peak. Julian watched the paltry glow, anxiously massaging his chest, which had already turned black and blue. The rest of him ached horribly, now that the battle rage had abated.

  The sun finally crested the horizon, spilling across the landscape in glorious rays of warm light. Slowly, the city appeared, expanding from the impenetrable shadows.

  I look like a corpse, he thought, checking himself over. Dirt, dried blood, and ash covered him from head to toe.

  Julian didn’t bother with breakfast. Food was the last thing on his mind. Not long after the sun appeared a group of mounted soldiers appeared from the city, moving directly for their camp. Julian spotted them first, the impatience knotting his stomach and pulling on his already frayed nerves.

  The patrol of a half dozen riders rode into camp. They all looked fresh and rested, which irritated Julian even more. He tried to maintain his composure as they dismounted importantly.

  The leader of the patrol, a greybeard named Golath, resisted at first when Julian insisted that his men relieve them, but after further inspection of their condition, and injuries, he grudgingly agreed.

  Tristan refused to go with them. Julian couldn’t tell if it was out of guilt, or sense of duty, he simply didn’t argue the point. After helping Nirnan mount his horse they rode for the city. They rode hard, their horse’s hooves thundering against the soft ground, clods of dirt and grass splattering behind them.