Eloy's Challenge

by Kara Timmins

  “That’s incredible,” Eloy said. “What does someone need in order to be able to use it?”

  “They have to be fundamentally different, I guess. I don’t know what makes someone or something able to do these things when others can’t. Just the luck of being born to it.” Gwyn shrugged.

  Eloy thought of Midash and Kella again and how their gift to access minds seemed to have passed from mother to son. He cleared his throat. “So, I was thinking about something you said last night about the Seer.”

  “And you want to find it,” Gwyn said.

  “Would it be completely crazy to go into the forest looking for it?” Eloy asked.

  “Without a doubt.” Gwyn closed the delicate box cradling the thyrethan silk and put it back in its place among the other items. “But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t. It’s not safe, so don’t go in there thinking that what you’re doing is smart. That’s how anyone who survives in there thinks. You better believe that’s how I go in.” Gwyn’s tone and gaze shadowed with seriousness, the other side of the frivolity Eloy remembered from the night before.

  “Can you give me any direction?” Eloy asked.

  “My friend who got close told me the way,” Gwyn said, “but it wouldn’t help you. You don’t know the forest. Like I said before, things don’t work in there the way things work out here. Directions aren’t the same. You shouldn’t go in there alone.”

  Eloy lifted a hopeful eyebrow.

  “Not me. I’m done for the season. Someone else who is stronger and younger than I am, someone who has lived here long enough to get a sense of how cautious someone should be. Someone who has been in a few times. You need more of a warrior-type on this trip, not a trader-type.”

  The prospect of the journey took a different shape. Eloy thought about his time traveling with Corwin, and the idea of having of company like that again lifted his spirit about the trip.

  “Where do I find this person?” Eloy asked.

  Gwyn started to give verbal directions through curved paths and around specific buildings until Eloy’s blank look of confusion stopped him.

  “How about I just show you?” Gwyn said.

  “That would be great,” Eloy said. “Critiko and I were going to get something to eat. Maybe you can show me on the way?”

  “Even better,” Gwyn said, his demeanor perking up. “Let me pack up my things. We can get some food and more of those drinks you like so much.”

  “I’m assuming you’re talking about plain water,” Eloy said.

  7

  After walking away from the trading square, Gwyn pointed to a house next to the path toward the dining area. “The person you’re looking for lives there.”

  Eloy committed every discerning detail of its facade and surroundings to memory.

  Critiko snuck up behind them. “You ready to eat?”

  Eloy spun around. “I could eat.”

  Critiko gave Gwyn an assessing look.

  “What?” Gwyn put a hand to his chest with feigned innocence and laughed.

  “Uh-huh,” Critiko said with a side glare and a smile.

  They ate at the same long tables they had the night before. The meat was red and thick, and the vegetables were oily, salty, and crisp. The food fit the empty edges of Eloy’s stomach, pushing away the ache from the morning.

  Eloy stood up, breaking the easy conversation that pairs so well with a full and happy stomach. “There’s something I have to look into.”

  “You go off and do what you need to do,” Critiko said. “My door is open if you need it.”

  Once outside, Eloy found navigating the pathways easier than it had been that morning. He didn’t have any difficulty finding his way back to the house Gwyn had pointed out. The day was growing darker, and he was glad he had left the dining area when he did.

  A light glowed in the window as he scaled the stairs to the front door. He took a deep inhale of the air, smells of fresh plants and pollen-rich flowers filling his nose, and tried to exhale his apprehension. He gave the door three solid raps and tried to put the right words together in his mind so he could start the conversation in the right way. As soon as the door opened, all of his carefully arranged sentences fell away.

  Neasa stood in the doorway with the same firm face she had the night before.

  Eloy stammered over a few failed attempts to start the conversation.

  Neasa didn’t try to relieve him as he searched for the right thing to say.

  “Hi,” Eloy started. “Uh . . . Gwyn told me I could find someone here who could take me into the woods.”

  “And who are you?” Neasa asked.

  “Right. I’m Eloy. I’m staying with Critiko. And you’re Neasa, right?”

  “I am.” Neasa stepped to the side. “Come in.”

  He walked across the threshold, and Neasa closed the door behind him. The room had a setup very similar to Critiko’s home—one large space with the living necessities against all four walls. Neasa sat at a familiar-looking round wooden table where a candle burned. She picked up an ink-dipped quill and scratched the tip against the parchment, her handwriting illegible to Eloy. She looked softer in her surroundings than she had the night before. The dress she wore was loose and fanned out at her feet as she sat in her low seat. Her hair was the same as he remembered it—tied to one side, a weave of different shades of wheat.

  “Have a seat.” Neasa looked up but maintained a motivating com-mand.

  He sat in the chair next to her.

  “You were saying something about Gwyn,” she said.

  “He and I were talking last night, and he told me about the Seer in the woods to the north. I need to go there. He told me that I need a fighter for the trip, not a trader. He said the person who lives here is someone like that. Are you . . . I mean, was he referring to you?”

  “No,” she said.

  “No he wasn’t talking about you or no you won’t take me?”

  “You don’t look like the type who’ll do well in there,” Neasa said. “You should rethink what you’re doing.”

  “I don’t need to rethink it. I’ve spent a long time looking for some sense of direction on how to accomplish what I need to accomplish. I’m tired of wandering around following hopes and possibilities that I am on the right course. I’m done feeling lost, and if there’s a chance to get an absolute course, I’m going to take it. I’m sorry to come in like this. Gwyn told me I shouldn’t go alone, but I will if I have to. I’ll let you get back to whatever you were doing.”

  She put the quill down and looked at Eloy. “Take a breath. That all came out fast. Gwyn isn’t wrong. You shouldn’t go in there alone. I don’t mean to put you off. I’m just letting you know the facts. The woods are dark and protective of the things that live in there, which means things have had a lot of time to adapt and thrive. I don’t mean to insult you when I say it’s unwise to explore. Can I get you something? Water?”

  Eloy uncoiled his self-conscious tension. “Water sounds good.”

  Neasa got up from her place at the table and walked to a pitcher in the corner, her dress making a soft dragging sound behind her.

  “You can’t fault the viciousness of the creatures,” she continued as she put two cups on the table. “They’re simply better at surviving. People go in there thinking they’re good enough to best these things, kill them, and take the parts they want. There are those who think that because they’re big, young, and strong they can go in and take. Those who go in like that always lose to something that is built to defend itself. I don’t know what your reasons are for wanting direction, or whatever it is you want out of there, and I am going to do you the courtesy of not prying, but the best advice I can give you is to not go in there thinking you’re going to swing a sword and be able to take what you want.”

  “Noted. Thank you for the information. I don’t want to
take any more of your time, though. Thanks for the water.”

  Eloy moved to get up.

  “If you don’t want to go alone, the fighter you’re looking for will meet you here. He’ll arrive early in the morning to take you.”

  “Really?” Eloy sat back down. “That would be great.”

  “I suggest you stay here for the night if you want to leave early in the morning. I hope you don’t mind, but I have some things I want to get finished here.” She motioned to the quill and parchment on the table.

  “Of course. Are you sure that’ll be okay—me staying here? It seems, I don’t know, a bit . . . inconvenient.”

  Eloy looked at the paper, curiosity getting the better of him. It looked like a to-do list. He read, In the event I don’t . . . before she turned the paper over.

  “Is it inconvenient for you?” she asked.

  “Umm, no. I meant for you and whoever will be here in the morning.”

  “It’s fine. I’ll set everything up for you while you get your things from Critiko’s place. I imagine you won’t be back to Valia for some time, so you should get everything,” she said.

  Eloy did as he was told and went back to Critiko’s house. The room was empty and cold. It was clear that Critiko hadn’t been back to his home since he left that morning, so Eloy left a note explaining where he was going. He ended his message by saying that he was grateful for Critiko’s generosity and hospitality. If he didn’t make it out of the forest, he wanted Critiko to know his kindness was appreciated.

  When Eloy knocked on Neasa’s door for the second time, he heard her chair scratch against the wood floor before she let him in. In the time he had been away, she had put together a makeshift bed on the floor. It was as far away from her soft, wooden-frame bed as the room would allow.

  “You’re over there,” she said. “I know it’s early, so if you want to go out and come back later, that’s fine.”

  “I think I got my share of Valia’s night activities yesterday,” he said.

  Her laugh was high in her throat and short, but hearing it made him proud of himself.

  “Your call,” she said, “but like I said, I have some things to finish, so if you’re going to stay, I just ask that you do it quietly.”

  “I don’t want to be any more of an inconvenience to you than I already am. Do you have something I can read? You know, something to keep me occupied for a few hours?”

  “I might have something,” she said.

  After a moment of looking inside hidden pockets of the home that were concealed by little doors, she pulled out a tattered object bound in animal skin.

  “Here,” she said. “This should keep you for a little while.”

  “Thank you. Just over here, then?” Eloy motioned toward the sleeping arrangement that she had already pointed out. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was intruding, and he wanted every movement done with her approval. He went to sit on the mess of cloth and animal skins only after she gave him a nod.

  Finding comfort in the silence of the room was difficult. He tried to focus on the letters in the book she gave him, but his ability to process the words was slow. It had been a while since he had to use of the skill of reading he had learned from Roch in the stick-and-straw house in the savanna so long ago. Mostly, he wanted the item as something protective against the awkwardness of the situation. He took each word slowly, trying to make sense of it, but every time it started to make sense as a whole, his mind would drift to Neasa and her gown that moved like water, and he would have to start again. She didn’t seem distracted or worried by the strange man in her house, and her quill let out a consistent scratch.

  This feeling of possibility was one he knew. He remembered it from when he had spent the first few nights underground with Evas in the salt flats. The slippery, giddy feeling in his stomach was exciting, but as soon as he connected the sense to memory, it soured. He also knew the feeling of what would happen next—the goodbye and the loss. And there was something else. As soon as Evas played her usual role in his memory, there didn’t seem to be any room for anyone else.

  Thinking about and missing Evas made Eloy tired.

  “Well, good night, then,” Eloy said before rolling over onto his side, his back to Neasa.

  “Mm-hmm,” she hummed.

  8

  After what seemed like a short bout of sleep, Eloy felt the unmistakable sensation of having the toe of a boot poke into the soft part of his side.

  “Get up.”

  Eloy jumped to his feet and tried to adjust his eyes.

  Neasa was no longer draped in the fluidlike fabric as before. In its place were sturdy pants—leather softened by years of wear—and a cotton shirt not so different from the one Eloy wore.

  “We have to go now,” she said. “And I’ll ask you again: are you sure you want to do this?”

  “Is it morning? I thought you said someone would be here to take me?”

  “Someone is here to take you,” she said. “Me. And it’s morning. Barely.”

  He stood looking between her and his travel pack, trying to reconfigure his thinking to correct his previous misconception.

  “Yeah, I’m sorry,” Eloy said. “I guess I misunderstood.”

  “That was intentional,” Neasa said. “I wanted you to misunderstand. I don’t know you. I don’t know what kind of man you are. I had to see what you would do when it was just the two of us before we enter the forest together.”

  Eloy saw the logic, but he couldn’t help but feel the sting of offense.

  “We okay?” Neasa asked.

  Eloy thought about his answer, careful to make it true. “Yeah.”

  “Okay, good. Let’s go.”

  She walked toward the door and picked up a leather satchel of the same kind of soft brown leather as her pants and looped it over her head. The bag formed around her hip. Finally, she picked up a short sword in a sheath and slung it across her other shoulder. As she lifted her arm to do it, Eloy saw the flash of a dagger tucked into the belt around her waist. He hadn’t heard her getting dressed and ready, and he wondered if she had slept.

  He put on his bag and sword and followed her out of the house.

  Valia was still steeped in darkness as they walked outside, but the cold was uncomfortable and characteristic of early morning. The silence felt out of character from the lively town Eloy had come to know.

  “People will get up soon to tend to the work that needs to be done,” Neasa said. “They’ll be ready to tend to their gardens or prepare for a hunt in a little while, but not yet. This is the rare moment in every day when Valia rests.” Neasa adjusted her pack.

  “Should we have brought more supplies?” Eloy asked.

  “I have everything we’ll need, but there are things in the forest that will sustain us, like any other. We just have to be sure they’re the right things.”

  Eloy tried to keep close to Neasa through the grassy paths so they could keep their voices low.

  “Why now?” Eloy asked. “Why is this the best time to go in?”

  “Because in this moment of the day, the edge of the forest isn’t so different from Valia. There are things that function in the daylight hours and other things that like the evening, but there is a time between, when the night is winding down and the day hasn’t begun and both are focused on either resting or waking. It’s a quiet time. Once we get inside, though, beyond the sun, those patterns don’t mean anything.”

  They walked until the worn paths amid grass and crops faded and disappeared. The more they went forward, the denser the trees became. For a while during their walk, Eloy didn’t notice anything spectacular about the surroundings. The creatures rustled in the bushy growth around the base of mossy trees just like the rest of the terrain of the north. If the life of the forest was different or powered with a mysterious otherness, he couldn’t tell.
The nervousness of walking into the unknown dropped away somewhere in the monotony of their footfall, and Eloy let his mind go to other things—like how much he wanted to go back to sleep and how the skin around his eyes felt swollen. They were far enough away from Valia that the little flames that lit the paths were behind them, and even though the rays of morning light were breaking over the horizon, the thickening canopy of the treetops made it clear there wouldn’t be much of a chance to benefit from it. He was looking down at the pendulous movement of his footfall when a ripple of unease sent goose bumps up his spine. He stopped moving.

  They had crossed a boundary.

  The sense of otherness wrapped around him in a way that let him know he was in a world different than the one he knew. The forest had a dreamlike quality to it. Everything around him looked recognizable but had an underlying sense of distortion. Only a few patches of sun, no bigger than a fist, danced on the leaf-strewn forest floor. The blackness ahead told of how the sun would soon lose its hold completely.

  “You felt that?” Neasa stopped and assessed Eloy.

  “Yeah. I felt that,” Eloy said, stopping too.

  “Good,” she said. “That means you have at least a passible survival sense.”

  Neasa crouched down to the ground, slung her pack strap over her head, groped around inside of the pockets, and pulled out what she was looking for. She removed two metallic saucer-shaped plates no bigger than the palm of her hand.

  “It’s a shell cradle,” she said. “Critiko got these for me on one of his trips.”