Eloy's Challenge

by Kara Timmins

  Copyright © 2018 by Kara Timmins. All rights reserved.

  ISBN 978-0-692-19928-2

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2018911736

  www.karatimmins.com

  For Larry.

  My peace.

  Contents

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  30

  31

  32

  33

  34

  35

  36

  37

  38

  39

  40

  41

  42

  43

  44

  45

  46

  47

  48

  49

  50

  51

  52

  53

  54

  55

  56

  57

  58

  59

  60

  61

  62

  63

  64

  1

  Eloy knew walking toward the black column of smoke in the distance wasn’t smart. He moved forward anyway.

  He had spent five months wandering in a purposeful aimlessness—which is what he told himself it was—after leaving Corwin and Francena. The days fell away as he walked, and the gritty crunch of the land around Curiol became soft and dark. Lanky trees with whiplike branches fell behind, making way for robust giants adorned with dense leaves. Morning cold hung around well into the day, but he loved the puffs of exerted air that led the way in his hike. The dew on the air nourished the moss on the bark, stuck to the spider webs, and colored everything an array of green. He was enraptured by the newness—from the chatty bluebirds darting in the branches above to the shiny brown beetles rushing for cover in the cracked bark of the trees.

  But the pillar of soot and ash that turned the yellow light of day red was something different, something wild and powerful. For some inexplicable reason, something instinctual pulled on him like a child yanking on his mother’s frock.

  Listen to me, it said. That’s where you want to be.

  As a man without a clear plan on how to get answers to find the treasure promised to him as a child, who was he to argue?

  He pulled on the round black stone that hung from a leather cord around his neck a few times a day, rubbing it against his lips, sometimes without realizing he was doing it. The totem—a key to something unknown and wonderful—held just as much mystery as it did promise, and those two things were the extent of what he knew. He was going to find out more, and it didn’t matter how far he had to walk or how long it would take.

  His conviction didn’t make the choice easy.

  He did his best to keep his mind from wandering to those he had left behind. The weight of their memory felt heavier than the satchel pulling on his shoulder or the steel sword strapped to his back—heavier by far. When he was successful, he found his time alone on the temperate nights to be rich with introspection and relaxation. But if he closed his eyes and saw their faces, the ground would become too hard, the wind in the trees too loud, and his body too sore. It felt cruel that the mental images of those who he had come to love the most became the harbingers of doubt. He wanted to turn around and make his feet walk toward them. Missing Corwin felt the same as missing Francena—further proof that Corwin has become as much of a sibling to Eloy as his blood-tied sister.

  But Eloy’s destiny didn’t lie behind him, so he kept to any path that didn’t turn south.

  A hum of energy came with the smell of the fire. Eloy knew the aroma from his time at the salt flats when he had helped reclaim the land from the ground-dwelling creatures that raided at night. At first, that hint of smoky fragrance gave him a sense of comfort, but it didn’t take long before the feeling of familiarity faded away. The sensation wasn’t the same.

  The buzz of the creatures that lived in the trees was louder than he had ever noticed during his months of wandering. The calls of birds had a frantic tempo of urgency. Things moved around him, observable only in his periphery, but he kept walking against the current of movement. He couldn’t ignore his sense of curiosity and the inexplicable pull, a whisper of magic that felt akin to the one that came when he looked at the polished surface of his stone. The ash that drifted down like snow strummed at something excitable inside of him and told him he had to move forward.

  Night arrived by the time he reached a drop-off on the side of a canyon separating him from the fire. The flames were so consuming that it looked like a monstrous being climbing its way through the trees. The trees that stood between the blaze and Eloy were blackened, backlit by the fire, making the tree line look like branching voids instead of living things.

  Eloy was transfixed by the fire’s enormity. Of all the things he had witnessed, he had never seen anything with as much power as what crackled on the horizon.

  The canyon was wide enough that he felt confident he would be able to watch without the risk of getting caught in the path of the flames, so he found a sloped boulder and reclined. He stayed keen to any signs of danger of the blaze, so much so that the barreling raucous of two elk that made their way up his side of the canyon caught him more off guard than it should have.

  His place on top of the rock kept him out of sight of the animals, but he didn’t need to worry. The creatures were too focused on destroying one another. They were larger than any hooved animals Eloy had ever seen, their antlers as wide as they were tall. Their bodies were thick with stocky muscle that tightened with every lunge. The sounds that came from their foaming mouths were a hideous mix of a human scream and a deep-throated groan. Like a dance, they whipped their necks around and clacked their branched antlers together.

  The beasts moved around each other, each trying to make the velvety softness of the other’s crown of antlers bloodier than his own. Pieces broke off, and strips of the soft coating hung around their faces like ornaments.

  One final crack locked their antlers together. Each took their turn pushing, pulling, and thrashing against the constraint, but all that did was move them closer to a sharp-edged drop-off. One of the creatures backed up, gaining a momentary victory in the struggle, and dropped a hoof off the rocky edge.

  The animals were too heavy to counterbalance the gravity of the fall. The first one went, and the second strained and pulled, grunting against the weight in his attempt to keep them both on flat ground, but his struggle lasted only a few moments. Eloy watched the two animals disappear behind the sheer edge of the drop.

  Eloy had underestimated the effects the forest fire would have on the behavior of the animals, and the warm glow of the night felt a bit more uncertain. He looked around the stacked stones that flanked him and found a protective crevice to tuck into for the night. His sleep stayed light.

  The whooshing whips of the fire were quieter by the time morning came. The chirping morning birds sounded the same as they had every other daybreak. The warmth of Eloy’s body hung in the crevice and lulled him in
to a dreamy sleep.

  2

  The sound that threw him out of sleep at midday wasn’t one of animals howling or trees burning, but an uninhibited song that came from somewhere below.

  “There once was a man who was tall in s’ tature.

  He saw a mare so fair.

  He prayed for a way, hoping she’d obey,

  and swore to bind and catch ’er.

  Ho ho, ha ha, ho.”

  Eloy unwedged himself from his sleeping spot, leaving his belongings behind, and crept over the curve of the boulder to peek at the origin of the song. The singer was setting up camp no more than two hundred steps away. Juts of gray hair pointed in every direction from the top of the man’s head and his naked upper body. Another layer of hair clumped on his shoulders and ran down the bulge of his reddening belly.

  “He made a device, cinched it twice, and set it up to snatch ’er.

  She bayed and neighed,

  shook and swayed,

  and ran too fast to match ’er.

  Ho ho, ha ha—oh!”

  The man caught sight of Eloy and stumbled backward into a stuffed satchel. “You stay back,” he said. “I’ve got nothing for you. You stay right where you are.” He groped around behind him, finding a paring knife the size of a stubby finger.

  Eloy stood with caution, his hands raised. “I’m not trying to rob you. I was just sleeping by the rocks when I heard you. Look, I don’t have a weapon on me.”

  The man scanned Eloy, and the look-over made him overly conscious of his bushy facial hair and weathered clothing.

  “You just come off that rock and introduce yourself, then,” the man said.

  “Will you put your knife down?” Eloy asked.

  The man thought for a moment. “Spin for me. Gotta make sure you’re not hiding something at your back.”

  Eloy turned while looking over his shoulder. “Good?”

  “Okay.” The man put his knife down on the pack, still within reach. He seemed closer to a state of ease once he and Eloy were on the same plane, but the man kept a wide stance.

  “I’m sorry,” Eloy said. “I really didn’t mean to startle you. I’m Eloy.” He tried to smile wide enough to show underneath his overgrown facial hair.

  “Eh, well. It’s fine, I suppose. It’s on me for not making a good sweep of the area. I got stopped on my way by the fire. Unpredictable stuff, wildfire. Just when you think it’s about to go, a dry gust of wind will blow it right back to life again. Anyways, I’m getting on with my words. I’m Critiko.”

  “It’s nice to exchange names with you,” Eloy said. “I’ve slept longer than usual, and I haven’t eaten yet. Would you be interested in having a meal with me? I saw a stream not far back; I should be able to get some fish in no time at all.”

  Critiko gave the exposed round of his stomach a few gentle slaps.

  “Well, if it’s no bother to you, I wouldn’t mind it. I’ll get a little fire going here while you’re gone.”

  “I’m just going to get my things,” Eloy said. “Know that I do have a sword, but we are acquainted now and that shouldn’t cause any worry. Okay?”

  A touch of apprehension returned to Critiko’s features, but Eloy understood it. Critiko seemed trustworthy enough, even if he had held up his cooking knife, but he was a stranger, and Eloy wasn’t willing to risk leaving his possessions behind. Eloy touched at the stone that hung around his neck. Feeling it hidden under his shirt made him feel better. If this man was interested in taking what he could, Eloy wanted to make sure his most prized possession was hidden from sight.

  Eloy was barely gone long enough for the shadows to change shape before returning to Critiko’s camp carrying four rainbow-scaled fish. The fish were fat around their middle and promised enough meat to keep both men full for most of the day.

  “Would you look at that,” Critiko said. “You plucked those out of that stream right fast. Come on now. I’ll help you prepare them.”

  Critiko waved Eloy forward and went back to prodding dried foliage into the heart of the flames of a small campfire and fanning the pungent smoke.

  Eloy made a note of how much more at ease his new companion seemed. Eloy wasn’t sure if the new sense of security came from having put a shirt on or the prospect of a good meal. The new calm helped put Eloy at ease too.

  Critiko handed Eloy the previously brandished knife, handle first. “Here. It’s not very sharp, but it’ll work.”

  “Pretty dull, huh?” Eloy said with a side smile.

  Critiko laughed. “Believe me, boy, it would’ve done the job, just maybe not well.”

  Eloy crouched down to a flat stone closest to the campfire and started filleting the fish with a smile on his face. He’d enjoyed exploring the northern terrain so much that he hadn’t realize how much he missed having someone with him.

  The plump meat of the fish didn’t take long to cook over Critiko’s fragrant smoking fire, and both men’s shoulders sagged in relaxation as they put the first steaming chunk of flaky meat into their mouths.

  “The flavor on the fish is nice,” Eloy said. “What did you put in the fire?”

  “You like that, eh? Just some leaves from a few of the low-growing leafy plants. The trick is to mix it with something dry so you get the smoke from the plant without worrying that it won’t catch in the fire.”

  “I haven’t had anything that tastes this good in a long time,” Eloy said. “I don’t know the plants here well enough to try anything. Are you from around here?”

  “Not far,” Critiko said. “Just past the wildfire in a place called Valia. I thought I’d be home by now, to be honest.”

  Critiko nibbled on a fish bone, his bushy brows pulled together in distant thought, as if something had just occurred to him. For a moment, the change in his disposition made Eloy sit up straighter in excited anticipation. No human contact besides the random and brief passing traveler meant there hadn’t been an opportunity for word from Amicus. Eloy wanted help from his strange, intangible guardian. The last time Eloy had heard from Amicus was when he took possession of Charlin at the salt flats. But the change in Critiko made Eloy’s stomach flip. This could be it. Finally, some kind of insight, maybe even assurance he was going the right way.

  But Critiko’s voice was still his own. “I gotta ask,” Critiko said. “Given that it doesn’t look like you’re on your way north with any goods to be trading, and I know full well you’re not from there, what is it you’re looking for? Any man on his way with mostly empty hands has to be looking for a way to fill them. That’s just the way of things, as I see it.”

  “You’re not wrong. I’m looking for answers mostly, and the more I walk north the more I get the sense that I might be able to find some up here. Maybe that sounds wild.”

  “Well, not a regular thing, that is for sure, but maybe not so wild.” Critiko slowed his chewing and scanned Eloy with a side gaze.

  “I guess I’m okay with that, then,” Eloy said.

  “Where’s it you said you were from again?” Critiko asked. “I gather you’re from the south, but whereabouts exactly?”

  Eloy filled his mouth with fish and took his time chewing.

  “I don’t think the place I grew up has a name,” Eloy said. “I imagine it isn’t even there anymore. I was pushed off the land by Anso’s warriors, and I never went back. After that, I found places to stay. None that I would consider to be home, though. I have family in the trade town Curiol.”

  “Ah!” Critiko said, his stature perking up. “Curiol, now that’s a nice little trade stop. Organized. Doesn’t mess about with what it is. They mean business, and they can be mean about their business, but they sure know how to take care of people. Nothing untoward going on there, and I’ll tell you, I like it a lot. I make it a point to stop there on both legs of my trading journey. Good people there—tough traders, but good.
Who’s your family?”

  “My sister, Francena,” Eloy said.

  “You’re joking. I know who Francena is. I don’t know her personally. Just seen her in passing. Ain’t that something,” Critiko said with a slap to his knee. “Do you know where you’re headed once the pass clears?”

  “I haven’t had a specific place in mind since I left Curiol.”

  “Then you should come with me to Valia,” Critiko said, all apprehension burned off like a morning mist.

  “I wouldn’t want to put you out,” Eloy said.

  “Stop with that,” Critiko said. “I could use the company. Consider it a thank-you for the fish.” Critiko rubbed his belly again.

  “Well, if it isn’t any trouble, it has been a long time since I slept under a roof.”

  “There you have it, then,” Critiko said. “It’s only a few days’ walk from here, and it looks like we might be able to start out by tomorrow morning. You’ll like it, and I’m not just saying that because it’s my home. I mean, maybe I have a little bias. Really, it’s not like any other place I’ve seen, so I’m betting it’ll be that way for you too. Who knows? Valia might just be the place where you get some of those answers you’ve been looking for.”

  “That would be nice.”

  Eloy’s intuition seemed to sigh. Going to Valia felt like part of the pull north. Eloy looked at his new companion and wondered if their meeting was part of what drew him to this place.

  “I heard there was magic in the north,” Eloy said. “Is that true of Valia?”

  “Well, Valia is about as north as you can get before you really start to get into the other territory.” Critiko’s voice dropped slightly when he spoke the last two words.

  “What’s the ‘other territory’?” Eloy asked.

  “The more you get into the forest north of Valia, the more likely you are to come across things that don’t necessarily fall in line with the capabilities of man. Things get a bit more extraordinary.”

  “What kind of things?”

  “I hear lots of stories, of course, but I don’t really deal in the trading of magical things, so I don’t have a need to go in there much. There are many in town who do, though. Lots of dangers in that forest. People talk of things that walk like a man but have the body of a lizard, sharp teeth and all. Things out there can get in your mind, they say, make you think the world is something it’s not if you’re not careful. If you’re looking for answers, I’ll introduce you to people who know better than I do. They should be back from their trade season by now.”