Chapter 6  Animus

The washroom was a converted barn.  It had once a stabled a handful of horses before father purchased and rebuilt it.  The dirt floor was replaced with clay tiles that father’s friend on the other side of the mountain had custom made for him.  White and gray swirled together with some sort of pink, which made random designs in the floor.  Though clay, father assured him it was every bit as durable as steel.  A metal drum as tall as Animus was mounted off the floor in one corner, pipes running from outside to its lidded top where a bracket directed incoming water.  On the other side of the barn were two bathtubs, each with a metal pipe running to them from the drum.

As he pumped the water, it poured into the metal drum his father had built.  Under the huge container was burning coal, heat that was many times greater than wood with none of the smoke.  Father called it “Stone Coal”.  Animus knew it was mined from the mountains a few valleys over.  Father often traded his blacksmithing labors for the expensive resource.  The smokeless coal heated the water which could then be dumped in the tub.

It was perhaps the most peaceful of his entire day.  Coming to the wash barn helped settle him, He couldn’t help but admire his father’s work.  The oversized drum was premium steel and would not melt at high temperatures.  It was constructed with a series of levers and pipes that, when operated correctly, allowed for the heated water to be poured directly to the tubs without hauling buckets of water.  

The lever pulled water directly from the town’s well.  Father oversaw the construction of this mechanism; he’s spent many hours poring over father’s drawings that showed how it was built.  When Animus asked him if he could assist when father ran that same type of system to Clovas’s Inn, father shook had shook head and said, “Plenty of time for that when you’re a man.  Stick to learning to be a smith.”  Animus pleaded to be included, and that’s when father sent him to haul buckets of water from the well, a chore he was given often.   I may haul buckets all day tomorrow Animus knew he deserved that, and would haul buckets every day for an entire year if it meant Sterl would be okay.  He felt guilt for bathing while Sterl struggled to survive.  Mother told him what to do and he didn't want her angry at him, too.

Animus checked the water level and determined he had enough water to fill both bathtubs.  And he would use them both.  Mud was in his nose.  It was caked to the face and arms, inside of his ears, and packed under his nails.  He would use the first to rinse and scrub, and the second to soak.  Tired, Animus’s arms and legs ached from the day’s tragic happenings.

Quickly he stripped his muddy clothes and threw them in the wash bin.  Water was channeled, there as well.  He plugged the drain and filled the bin with enough water cover his clothes and shoes.  Then to climbed in the tub.

The water was warm but not hot.  He knew the next water would be near scalding, for it would heat longer before Animus released it to the second tub.  He immersed himself and scrubbed his head.  Underwater he opened his eyes and watched the clear water cloud with dirt.  Feeling immediately cleaner, Animus raised his head above the water.  As her reached for the dull yellow bar of soap, he sensed his sister.  

He froze.   Water dribbled off his face, the only other noise in the bathhouse was the slow drip of water from the well to the huge drum.  His head slowly turned to the entrance. She wouldn’t dare.   Father and Mother are too close.  The wash shed was set in the woods about thirty feet from the house.

The door creaked open.

He shot out of the water so quick he stumbled off the platform on which the tubs were mounted, caromed off the side and nearly fell.  His hands dove into the bin and pulled out his still-muddy clothes.  He grabbed his short pants and pulled them on.

His eyes popped to the door.  It was open but she didn’t enter.  Animus focused on the door.   She’s right outside.  But why?  He grabbed his pants and had just pulled them on when she entered the doorway.  She paused and looked back toward the house for a moment.  Then she stepped inside the door and mumbled, “Shatares.”

The door closed on its own.  He heard the familiar click of the lock that was located on the outside of the door.

Terror struck him.  She’d promised to kill him earlier.  Did she mean to do it right now?

She didn’t say anything; her only response to his silent question was that familiar smirk on her face.  Daring not to move, Animus sunk his right hand into the sink and pulled out his soaking wet, still muddy shirt.  He squeezed it dry and waited, never taking his eyes off of her.

She walked toward him quickly, and Animus tried to run.  He darted toward the wall closest to the door, but she stepped to cut him off.  Like a bully. Suddenly, Animus tired of her games.  Let’s be done with it.

“I’m through being scared, sister. Leave and I won’t hurt you.” Why did I just say that? He wondered if he sounded brave because he was terrified.

Yayisha’s green eyes turned pitch black.  The ends of her fingers glowed like glimmer bugs hovering around her fingers.  

Okay, maybe I won’t stand up to her. Animus ran across the room.  There were double doors near the tubs, magically locked by his mother to prevent theft of the equipment.  As a test of strength he and Sterl would come there and attempt to raise the bar many times; no matter how much hard they tried, the bar wouldn’t budge.  Panic convinced him to take another shot.

He bent his knees and it surprised him when it moved, the heavy wooden board popping off as if greased.  It shocked him as it shot off its holdings.   The board would have clubbed him in the head had he not stumbled backward and caught it.

His hackles rose. Magic.  The board animated in his hands and swung into him, catching his lower abdomen.  Its force swung his entire body up and over the tubs.  Animus whished around the room in a half-circle as his back hammered against the wall.  The wind rushed from his lungs and he struggled to breathe, still crooked against the wall, the board still pressing into him.

The board broke and squared around his chest.  As air found his lungs again, his armpit fell hard onto the board, the pressure of his weight focused on the sudden wooden prison.  His eyes saw the board pressed to either side of the wall and were somehow stuck there.  The area around his body was held in a tight square, regardless of how he shoved against them.  Unable to escape, he hung there, powerless to defend himself. I’m going to die.

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Yayisha walked between the tubs and looked up at him.  “I’ve been waiting for this for a long time.”  She raised her hands.  Her eyes went to the ceiling and she whispered words he couldn’t understand.  The board prison lowered and leveled until his feet dangled a mere foot from the ground.  He sister’s whispers ended and she looked at him again.  “Look at me, brother.”

Immediately he looked away from her, knowing better that do anything she said.  “Let me go!”  He yelled.  “Father!  Mother!  Help!”

Yayisha shook her head, her voice quiet.  “They can’t hear you.  I’ve seen to that.  Nobody can hear you.”   He heard water splash.  Moments later, a hand-made of muddy water moved to his line of sight.  He watched as it balled into a fist.

“Hel—.”

The fist clobbered him, the force whipping his face around.

His sister stood in front of him and said, “Sterl may die tonight.”

“What?”  Animus said.  His head bobbed to the ground and he saw his own muddy spittle dribbling to the ground.  He turned his head away from her and the muddy fist.  Another one hovered up to him, balled into another fist, and struck him.

Animus lost track of things for a few moments as he head bounced from side it side, the watery fists repeatedly hitting him.  When he came to, his head bobbed on his chest, chin resting on the board the entrapped him.  Blood drooled from his bottom lip.

He felt watery hands grab either side of his face.  They forced him to look at Yayisha.

She scowled at him and he blinked.   Is that tears in her eyes?    Animus had not seen her cry since they were little.

His sister spoke again.  “I didn’t know it was Sterl.  But you did.”

The fists struck him again, this time in the stomach and legs.  Yayisha screamed at him.  “I’ll make you pay for hurting him.”

Animus heard her accusations and roared past the pain.  “You hurt him you letch!  You hurt all of my friends.  You.  You’re magic!”

 He watched as she flipped a bucket on the ground so she could stand level with him.  When she was close enough, she swung her fist right at him.

He gripped the boards in front of his chest and forced himself up with his upper body strength.  Her weak blow hit his left shoulder and unbalanced her.  Yayisha fell toward him, and Animus head-butted her, a move he saw from his father the night he thrashed three men in the alley behind the Clovas’s inn.  The sharp on his forehead told him he connected.

The momentum of the head-butt knocked her from the bucket.  She hit the ground under him and lay there gasping.  

The watery fists fell and splashed to the ground in useless pools.   If the fists are gone then…   Animus struggled to grasp the wooden prison.   The room blurred and the stars blotted his vision.  Yet he forced himself to think, to stay strong.

His sister slowly rose to a crawling position, right under him.  Animus pushed himself up again, his body just off the wooden square.   He waited.  

She staggered to her feet, stunned, still right in front of him.  Animus pushed himself with his hands, pushed off the barn wall with one foot and with his other kicked her right in the chest.  

Her scream stopped when force of the kick drove her into the tub.  Her left side slammed against the side before she upended and slid into the muddy water.

The boards clattered to the floor.  Animus fell awkward.  His left shoulder and hip like sledgehammers.  He rolled to his stomach and groaned.

Time passed.  He wasn’t sure how much.  He couldn’t seem to move.  Then slim hands touched his back, cool and smooth.  He moaned as he felt himself being rolled to his back.  An unfamiliar woman knelt above him.  There were two of her for a moment and his vision blurred, but after a few moments Animus’s eyes focused.  

Her curly blond hair fell to touch his chest.  Pale of skin, her face was smooth.  She had lakes for eyes, an indescribably shade of blue.  The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.

Her voice fell to his ears in a whisper.  ”Come. We must get you out of here.  Before she recovers.”  

Animus heard his sister crying and coughing.  As the woman helped him stand, Animus figured she couldn’t be much older than Yayisha.  He felt weak.  He tried to muster some energy as he looked toward the tub. I should kill you, sister.  Like you promised to kill me.

But he wouldn’t.  He wasn’t her.  He would never be her.  And as he stared toward the tub, the hand of the woman gripped his chin and moved his head toward hers.  “Stand.”

He gasped from the pain as she moved his head, but he did as he was asked, though his hip made it difficult.  The sharp pain from it nearly made him fall again.  Yet the woman kept him steady.  When he finally stood straight, he saw she was just as tall as he was.  Animus felt her strength.  As his woozy gaze found hers again, she pulled his long arm over her shoulder and wrapped her arm around his waist.  “Quickly.”

He limped outside supported by her, knowing he couldn’t walk without help.  She leaned him against the outside barn wall. How did she get it open?   Then she reached for a crowbar in father’s open wooden toolbox that lay in the bed of the wagon.  With it, she wedged the door closed, shoving the end through the metal bars that usually held a thick lock.

"The other door it is..."

"Blocked on the other side already."

Animus saw father’s other wagon blocking that entrance.  “Who are you?”  

From somewhere she produced a small flask.  “Drink this.  It will give you enough strength to get you back to the house.”

He didn’t question her. She saved my life. He downed the liquid which tasted oddly like the red berry fruit his mother gave him when he felt ill.

She put her hands on his chest as he leaned against the barn and looked at him.  “Tell nobody I helped you.”

“Who are you?”  Animus asked.

“Vara,” she said.

Animus felt a sudden surge of energy.  Spots blotted his vision and for a few moments he was disoriented.  Then his mind cleared, though he still felt the beating Yayisha had just given him.  He pushed himself off the barn and found that he could stand on his own though every part of him hurt.

Vara was ten feet away, heading toward the shadow of the night road.  She looked back at him briefly and put her finger to her lips.  Then she was gone.

As he walked toward the house, it wasn’t his sister trying to kill him that he thought about.  Nor was the impending wrath coming from his parents.

She’s gorgeous.  How did she know I was there?  Vara.  Who is she?