by Kara Timmins
“Maybe,” Nicanor said. “What do you suggest doing with your one-man rebellion?”
Neasa cleared her throat. “Two-man rebellion.”
Nicanor smiled and held his cup to her. “My apologies. What do you suggest doing with a force of two?”
“I don’t know,” Eloy said. “Yet.”
Nicanor looked at Eloy from behind the lip of his drinking cup, gulping through a contemplative scowl.
“Fine.” Nicanor drained the rest of his cup. “You two will stay here for the night. I’ll do some thinking. You do some thinking. I’ll provide you with a tent and some food, but you can’t wander the camp. Yes? Good. Finish your drink, and someone will take you to your tent.” Nicanor got up from his chair and left with pitcher in hand, sloshing half empty as he left. Two of the warriors followed. Nicanor’s fighters had been so still during the conversation—a stark difference to the shifting anxiety they had had during the confrontation with the tute—they had almost dissolved into the accommodations of the tent.
Eloy looked at Neasa as she gulped at the contents of her own glass, a line of red above her top lip as she put it down with an empty clang. Eloy followed her lead, draining the contents and savoring the calming fractals of warmth that spread out under his skin.
“We’re okay, I think,” Eloy said in a low voice.
Neasa nodded and gave an attempt to smile through her ashen complexion.
Two men stood close enough to convey that Eloy and Neasa were meant to get up, and they followed the wordless command.
25
Their assigned tent wasn’t far, and even though the cover didn’t do much to keep out the cold, the accommodation was free of rips, which made it markedly nicer than the ones they had seen near the entrance. Once inside, Neasa found a pile of animal furs, folded her legs underneath herself, and dropped to the ground with a thud.
“A tute,” Neasa said. “Why would he do it? Tutes are supposed to be above the urges of greed and power. Why would he want more power when he can see what a tute can see?”
“Maybe he can’t.” Eloy sat next to Neasa on the furs.
“Are you saying the tutes are lying, that they don’t know any more than you or me? I can’t believe that.”
“I don’t know about the other tutes of the world, but that one didn’t.”
“Yeah,” she said, her shoulders relaxing. “I can’t help but think back on all the other tutes who came through Valia in my life, who told me to act one way or hone certain skills to get to where I am supposed to be. I felt such a comfort knowing they saw something in me and my future. To think they were just making things up for their own gain just feels like too much.”
Eloy leaned against her. “I don’t know enough about tutes to know if what they say is true, but they helped you when you needed it. That means something. There’s bound to be darkness in the intentions of some men, and they’ll find ways to exploit preconceptions, but that shouldn’t take away from the things other tutes have given you and the others who believe in them.”
“You’re right,” Neasa said.
Eloy listened to the muddled sounds of talking in the camp beyond the tent.
“What’re we going to do?” Neasa asked.
“I don’t know. Each step feels like I am doing everything I can to maintain some kind of balance to not fall. Hopefully, Nicanor really is thinking about a way to stop Anso.”
“Did you believe him when he said he had lost?” Neasa asked.
“I don’t see any reason not to. The signs are all here. These warriors don’t look like they have the same fight in them as the ones of my youth, I can tell you that much.”
Neasa wrapped her arms around her knees. “Let’s say he does come up with something that works against Anso and we manage to pull it off, what about him? Nicanor hasn’t been fighting all these years for the good of the people. I think we both know that. If we somehow get Anso out of the picture, who’s to say Nicanor won’t do the same things he says Anso will do.”
“I don’t know. I think our best bet is to take it one challenge at a time. Are you okay with all of this? We’re so close to Valia. You can still go back.”
Neasa shook her head emphatically. “No. I said I wanted adventure. If we can help, even a little bit, it’ll be more than I could do staying at home or roaming the forest.” She opened her mouth to continue, but a sound cut through the quiet from the other side of their tent.
To anyone else, the sound could have been the squeal of an animal, but Eloy knew who marred the calm of night with their death rattle. Eloy put a protective arm around Neasa as they flinched at the last sound of the dying tute.
Neasa closed her eyes and leaned against Eloy’s chest. “Well, that’s that, then.”
26
Eloy tried to get some sleep that night. But if he found rest, he didn’t realize it.
He felt foolish every time he closed his eyes, and he imagined Neasa felt the same. If Nicanor decided to do away with them as he had the tute, Eloy wanted to have his eyes open when the warriors came. But no one came until midmorning, and when the two men finally arrived, any fear Eloy had went away. These men looked wilted and tired. They looked defeated. They were there to move Neasa and Eloy back to Nicanor. Nothing more.
Nicanor was waiting in the same tent from the night before, sitting at the same tree-trunk table, but Eloy, Neasa, and Nicanor all had a new puffy darkness to the skin around their eyes. Nothing in the tent appeared to have been moved. Every paper was as it had been the night before. Lines of daylight cut through thin gaps in the thick panels of the tent, and a few flickering lanterns did most of the work to light the area. The two fighters who had removed the tute stood next to Nicanor, their shoulders slumped and their stares distant. They didn’t look at Eloy and Neasa. Other than the two fighters who had brought Eloy and Neasa, they were the only warriors in the tent, a slim entourage compared to the group from the day before.
“I did some thinking.” Nicanor motioned for Eloy and Neasa to sit. “And I decided you should get to Anso the same way you got to me. You’ll just walk right in.”
Neasa took the seat she had occupied yesterday.
Eloy sat in the chair next to her and looked at Nicanor at an angle that was becoming familiar. “But we don’t have a tute to do that. We got inside your camp because everyone looked at him instead of us. We simply used the tactic he had been using for years. That wouldn’t work for Anso. Especially because the tute is dead.”
“You don’t have the tute. But we have these.” Nicanor pointed to a few tattered uniforms adorned with red. “We also have a man here who defected from Anso. This fighter has been with us for a while—long enough that they’ll have forgotten his face. He can go with you so you don’t wander around Anso’s camp and stick out. You won’t carry yourselves like warriors who have been with my camp, so you shouldn’t raise any suspicions.”
“And what should we do after that?” Eloy asked.
“That’s up to you,” Nicanor said. “You seem like a man who is motivated to stay alive. Just do that. A warning: Anso’s fighters haven’t been weakened like mine. The opposite, actually. They’re faster and stronger than they have ever been.”
The flap of the tent swished open, the light of the morning hitting Eloy’s back before it closed again, leaving a touch of warmth.
Nicanor motioned to the man who had come into the tent. “This is Malatic. He’ll guide you through the ways of Anso’s camp.”
Maltatic’s skin was paler than Eloy was used to seeing, but his hair was blacker than the water from the forest of Valia. A dimple pierced into his right cheek, provoked by his half smirk. Malatic looked from Eloy to Neasa, and his eyes lingered on Neasa before he spoke.
“Taking on the world, are we?” Malatic looped his thumbs around the leather of the sword strap that crossed his chest. “When do we leave?”
Neasa gave Malatic a critical sweeping glance before returning her attention back to Nicanor. “None of this sounds well thought out.”
“It’s the best you have,” Nicanor said. “You can either do it or don’t. I don’t have a whole lot of faith that you’ll succeed, so it makes no difference to me.” Nicanor got up from his chair with an unsteady sway and walked out of the back of the tent. The two older fighters followed.
Malatic looked to the other two fighters. “I’ve got it from here. Go with Nicanor. He’s going to need at least two people to keep his pitcher full. Am I right?”
The fighters shook their heads and left through the back of the tent.
Eloy stood up. “So, you defected from Anso?”
Malatic nodded with a quick glance at Eloy before his gaze settled back on the now-rising Neasa.
Neasa stood next to Eloy and looked at Malatic, her arms crossed. “Don’t you think that’ll be a problem?”
“It might be,” Malatic said, “but I doubt it. I was there a long time ago, and Anso’s warriors have a way of turning over pretty quickly. It’s fine. Don’t worry so much. Are you two ready to go, or do you want to wait around longer to see how violent Nicanor gets after a few days of consistent drink?”
Malatic picked up the bundle of tattered red-lined clothes as he left the tent. Eloy and Neasa found their bags and weapons next to where the clothes had been and made their way out of the tent. The two looked through their bags once they were back in the illumination of the day.
“Nothing missing from mine,” Neasa said. “You?”
“Not that I can tell.” Eloy touched his sword as a physical confirmation of relief before letting his hand go to the stone around his neck. Nicanor’s men hadn’t found it when he had been disarmed, even though their searching hands seemed to touch around it. He no longer felt a sense of wonderment at the ability of the stone to keep itself hidden from those who may not have Eloy’s best interest at heart. Nevertheless, he touched it with a sense of relief that it had stuck with him through another trial.
Malatic was already more than fifteen strides ahead of them. Eloy didn’t quicken his pace to catch up.
Neasa kept close to Eloy’s side. “What do you think about this Malatic?”
“He’s not my first choice. I can’t get the word defector out of my head. But Nicanor is right, we need someone who knows Anso and his camp and how to get there. I guess we have to wait and see. I know that Nicanor wants us to succeed even if he doesn’t believe we will, and he seems to trust Malatic. That has to be enough for now. Let’s just say I’m cautious but hopeful he’s really here to help us. What about you?”
She squinted at Malatic ahead of them. “Not sure yet.”
The camp felt smaller to him as they made their way out, and as they reached the entrance filled with skinny new recruits, he felt the weight of new information. These soldiers were starving, surviving off of what came from Valia, and Eloy knew that starvation could make people wild. How long before these warriors went wild? How long before they turned on Valia and took everything that wasn’t being rationed?
Eloy looked around the apathetic, hollow faces and stopped on one with cheeks a little fuller and an expression a little more eager. The light in this new face that made Eloy want to pluck him out of the dirt and defeat.
“What’s wrong?” Neasa asked, looking desperately at the exit of the camp a few easy strides away.
“That one looks so young,” Eloy said.
But Eloy was thinking about all the people he watched walk into the Bowl. The newness in the young warrior had the same wide-eyed fear. Eloy walked over to the sitting young man, with Neasa following a few steps behind.
“Hi,” Eloy said.
The young man stood up, eager that someone was talking to him. “Hi.”
“What’s your name?” Eloy asked.
“Goodwin.”
“Goodwin, did you just get here?” Eloy asked, already knowing the answer.
“Yes,” Goodwin said. “Just.”
“Eloy, what are you doing?” Neasa asked from behind his right shoulder.
Malatic joined the group at Eloy’s left. “Everything okay?”
“We’re going off on a task for Nicanor,” Eloy said to Goodwin. “Do you want to come with us? Malatic, are there enough clothes for four?”
“We can make it work if we need to,” Malatic said. “Don’t know why we need someone else, but this is your campaign. I doubt Nicanor will miss him. One less mouth to feed.”
“So, do you want to come?” Eloy asked.
“I don’t know,” Goodwin said. “What if I’m going to get a post soon?”
Malatic huffed. “I doubt it.”
“You don’t have to,” Eloy said. “But coming with us is an option.”
Goodwin scanned the busy camp. No one looked back at him. He sighed. “I haven’t gotten anything to do in the five days I’ve been here, so I don’t see why not.” Goodwin flicked his head to one side, moving away a pesky patch of phantom hair that no longer hung in his eyes.
“Great,” Eloy said. “We’re leaving now.”
“Give me a moment.” Goodwin ran for his few items.
He returned with a small bundle and a dull sword. The jagged hammer strikes and blunted edge had an uncomfortable familiarity for Eloy, so he looked down the path to the exit instead.
The four walked out of the camp, but Eloy felt better than he expected. Having Goodwin with them felt as if he had taken something back from Nicanor for all the innocence that had been lost at the Bowl. Goodwin wouldn’t starve and go mad with the others. That was something.
27
Eloy walked ahead of the others and kept to the path until he reached the fork where he and Neasa had waited for the tute. As soon as they reached it, Malatic left the path and turned east.
To Eloy’s surprise, most of the conversation came from Malatic. The farther they got away from camp, the more words came out of his mouth. Most of his questions were for Neasa.
Malatic fell back and put himself between Eloy and Neasa. Eloy caught her eye and raised his eyebrows, a silent questioning. She rolled her eyes and shook her head. Eloy slowed his step and walked next to Goodwin, who seemed to be in the best spirits of the four.
“Where are you from?” Malatic asked Neasa.
“Valia,” Neasa said.
“I’m from a place called Idius,” Malatic said. “I doubt you’ve ever heard of it. It’s a cold place. Terrible. Snows almost all year round, and if the sun does happen to come out, it turns all that snow into hard, sharp ice. I once saw a kid slip and get his ear cut clean off after two days of sun. You’d be surprised how much blood can come from a head wound. It just kept coming, and he just kept screaming. I didn’t even have to run and find someone to help him he was screaming so loud. I didn’t know what it felt like to be warm until I had the hair of a man. Still have it, if you want to see.” He winked at Neasa.
“Only if you want it pulled out.” Neasa kept her sight on the road ahead of her.
Malatic went on, “I left Idius as soon as I figured out I could and walked right into one of Anso’s camps. Not sure if you know, but Anso’s warriors are a mean bunch, and I put it together pretty quick that I should either tell them they were just the people I was looking for to join up or die right there. Lucky for me, they seemed pretty excited about some kind of bloodshed from earlier in their day because they didn’t slice me up. But I’ve always been good at talking my way through a situation.”
“I can see,” Neasa said. “You’re quite charming.”
“I’ve heard that before,” Malatic responded, oblivious to Neasa’s insincerity. “Anso’s camp wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. Life there was a wild time. Sure, we had our fair share of fighting, but it all kind of made sense when I was in the thick of it. We did what
we wanted as long as the higher-ups didn’t get hungry for what we had. It’s all about balance after all—do enough to get by, but not too much to stand out. Take what you want, but not too much that someone else would want what you have. I figured that all out pretty quickly and kept to the middle of things.”
Eloy stepped forward next to Malatic. “If things were so great, why did you go to Nicanor’s camp?” He kept the question level—careful not to sound accusatory—but his tone wasn’t casual either.
“Yeah,” Malatic said, walking straighter. “Well, that seemed like the smart decision at the time. The reds were taking one hit after another, and I saw a lot of people from my side dying. I snuck away one night, gave Nicanor’s right-hands some valuable tidbits, and that was that. I was in yellow by morning. It would seem now I didn’t make the right choice after all.”
Eloy gave Neasa a sidelong glance behind Malatic. She returned his look with a nod of understanding. Their seemingly impossible task had an extra spur of danger that grew the more Malatic revealed about himself.
Malatic kicked at a rock in the tall grass. “I didn’t want to believe it when Nicanor told me what happened with the tute.”
Eloy looked over at Neasa in time to see a muscle under her eye twitch.
“He seemed pretty convinced this war is just about over now,” Malatic said. “It’s been going on for so long I assumed it would just keep going. I thought there might be some kind of advancement for me. I’ve been doing pretty well as far as ranks go. Right up beside Nicanor and everything. Then, just like that, done. Crazy.”
“That can’t be true,” Goodwin said from the back, his voice slightly winded.
“What do you think you’re doing here, kid?” Malatic called over his shoulder.
“I have no idea,” Goodwin said. “You asked me if I wanted to come, so I came.”
Malatic waved his hand to usher Goodwin to walk between him and Eloy. “We’re going to Anso’s camp as a last effort to try to keep his fighters from destroying everything,” Malatic said.