by Kara Timmins
They continued their work of disrobing the fallen men in silence, mulling over the implications of the short fight. Eloy took the sword out of the stiffening fingers of the fighter who fell first and turned to Goodwin.
“You should take this,” Eloy said. “The weapon you have isn’t going to help you when you need it.”
“Are you sure?” Goodwin asked. “Don’t any of you want it?”
“Our weapons seem to work fine enough,” Eloy said. “You take it.”
“Thank you so much,” Goodwin said. “I’ve never even held a sword that was made this well.”
Eloy brought his head back down to Neasa. “Probably a good idea if Goodwin joins us in our practice too.”
“That’s wise,” she said.
Eloy tried to keep from thinking about the life, personality, and past of the fighter as he finished stripping the man of his clothes. Eloy was aware that these men had every intention of killing him and were spurred only by a viciousness Eloy wanted to see burned out of the area like a fever, but he couldn’t help but wonder about who they were and what led them to the small mound just off from a patch of shifting grass where they died.
From her crouched position, Neasa held up a small pouch. “Malatic, what is this?”
“It looks like a little leather pouch,” Malatic said without getting up.
“Very funny,” Neasa said. “It’s filled with some kind of green powder.” She threw it to Malatic.
“I don’t know,” Malatic said. “I’ve never seen this before. They didn’t have these when I was on their side. It looks like the kind of leather work you would get from Anso’s camp, though.”
“This one has one too.” Eloy grabbed the pouch from the dead man’s waistline and looked at the intricate stitching that kept all of the loose powder locked inside.
“I have no idea what this is,” Malatic said as he dumped some powder out in his hand before letting it drift on the night breeze.
“We should keep these,” Eloy said. “Who knows what we’ll need when we get there.”
29
Eloy suggested that they bury the men. Neasa and Goodwin agreed. Malatic went along with the idea because he said hiding the bodies was the best way to avoid any others coming along and hunting them down. By the time they finished their work, the rising sun cast enough light to see the maroon stains on the ground with illuminated clarity. The streaks on the dirt and grass were the sign they didn’t need that they should move on with their journey.
They moved on in search of water to wash, and even though the grip of mental and physical fatigue wanted to pull them back down to their sleeping furs, they all wanted to put distance between them and the men who were now stacked together under the weight and darkness of the earth.
The stink of exertion and whiffs of decaying flakes of dried blood warmed by the midday sun was almost choking by the time they reached a small, snaking stream. Malatic and Goodwin fell into the frigid water in chaotic splashes, with Neasa and Eloy close behind. The four peeled off their wet clothes down to their undergarments and scrubbed the fabric against the rocks as they relished in the sense of cleanliness.
“Here.” Malatic handed Eloy a lump of something misshapen and white. “Use it on your clothes. It helps.”
“Thanks,” Eloy said.
Malatic turned to move away, but his eyes lingered on the stone on Eloy’s bare chest. It looked like Malatic was about to say something, but he squinted his eyes and moved back toward his own bundle of cloth that was bobbing up and down in the ripples of the stream.
Eloy looked around at the tranquility of his surroundings. It seemed almost obscene to be here after what had happened. The oblivious innocence of the water bugs darting and hovering above the clear water made Eloy feel dazed and disconnected. The stream was so clean it almost looked like the little bugs were hovering over the round river stones, their shadows casting on the multicolored surface with little discs at the end of each thin leg—the mysterious power that kept them securely rooted on the surface, seeable only in shadow.
Eloy felt his eyes burning. He had been staring.
He focused back on the clothes. Rubbing the white lump into the fabric released the filth in a satisfying streak of darkness in the clear stream water. When Eloy laid his items out on a warm, flat rock, they looked almost new.
“How are you doing?” Neasa asked as she placed her items next to Eloy’s.
“Same. Fine. You?”
“Same.” She let out a tired groan as she sat next to him. “I’m trying not to think about what’s going to happen when we get to the camp. There’s no way we’re the first to think we can do this. It feels very blind.”
Eloy looked out at the spectrum of colors that reflected off the rippling water. “I know. But things now are not as they once were, or as they have ever been. We saw that with Nicanor. If he was that tired, I can only imagine that Anso is too. They’ve been at this for a very long time. We are only a few against the many, and I’m hopeful that the solution will present itself when we have all the pieces in front of us. I have to think we’ll find a way.”
“I trust you,” Neasa said, “and I believe in what you’re doing.”
Malatic slid down next to Neasa without a swatch of clothing on. “What are you two talking about?”
“We were just discussing the wonder of witnessing a glowing river specter in all its brightness moving about as if it didn’t have a care in the world,” Neasa said. “To our dismay, it turned out that it was just you.”
“What am I supposed to do?” Malatic said. “Not wash my undergarments? That would be disgusting! Not to mention, how else am I supposed to catch some pigment on these parts if not for basking in the rare breaks in the dark clouds? I do this for you, Neasa.”
“In that case, I prefer the river-specter look.” Neasa got up and brushed the river pebbles off her palms. “Eloy, come with me. There is something I want to show you.”
Eloy didn’t linger next to Malatic and followed after her at a trot.
“Do you see that plant?” Neasa pointed at a harsh-looking plant that had sharp black tips at the end of each leaf.
“Oh,” Eloy said. “You really wanted to show me something. I thought you were just getting us away from Malatic.”
“A bit of both,” Neasa said with a smirk.
“What about the plant?” Eloy asked.
“We have these in Valia. They’re useful for a few things. I wanted to show you what they can do for a few reasons.”
The plant looked chaotic with its thick leaves, which looked more like giant blades of grass, growing out of its center. Its jutting appendages of angry spiked leaves didn’t look inviting or useful, and Eloy told Neasa as much.
“Thorns are a defense for the plant until someone is looking for something sharp.” She crouched down into a squat, her knees on either side of the bush.
He didn’t know what she was about to do, but of all the things he anticipated, none included her bending over face first toward the spikes. She was slow and delicate as she selected the spike to clamp between her front teeth. With her lips pulled back and the sharp point firmly secured in her teeth, she pulled her head back slowly. Eloy heard a crack as the tip broke off and the thin innards of the leaf came out behind it.
“And there it is.” Neasa held her trophy, the sharp black tip with its fibrous threads swaying in the breeze.
“That’s amazing,” Eloy said. “Really. Now we have something to repair the clothes.”
“Not only that.” Her voice was more somber than Eloy liked.
“What else?” Eloy asked, matching her seriousness and adding apprehension.
She got up from her crouched position, the spike with its fibers pinched between her thumb and pointer finger and made her way back to Eloy’s side. Eloy hissed at her gentle prodding of the cut on his shoulde
r.
“You did a good thing for yourself by packing it with the leaves from the forest. Did Gwyn tell you how to do that?” Neasa asked.
Eloy nodded.
“Well, it is a good thing he did,” Neasa said. “This cut is deep and would have caused you a lot more trouble had you not taken care of it, but it’s too deep for the leaves alone. I think you know where I am going with this.”
Eloy took a deep breath and nodded again.
“Do you want to do it or do you want me to?” Neasa asked.
“If you don’t mind,” Eloy said. “Surprisingly, I’ve never had to do this before. It might help if I watch you do it first.”
“You got it,” Neasa said.
They moved to the edge of the water, and Eloy sat with his legs crossed so he could grip his knees to stabilize himself from the pain. He didn’t want to watch as the sharp tip went into his skin to pull the two sides of the crevice in his shoulder together, but he knew there might be a time when he would have to do it for Neasa or someone else he cared about, and he wanted to be able to do it right.
Her work was quick, and even though a few of the stitches bulged, he knew she had been right to do it. She got more of the cooling leaves from her own bag, chewed a small bunch, and put it over the puckered line of sutured skin.
The four ate a small meal of a few minnows that happened to swim by during their stay. They put on or packed away all the clothes they had cleaned, and Neasa pulled out the remaining tips of the plant to repair the clothes they had taken from the three fallen men. The damage from the night before had been washed away or repaired, but it hung with them as they continued on—an aura of pressure upon them to remind them of what they were walking toward.
30
The four started training the day after the ambush. In the following evenings, they took turns teaching each other tactics and techniques for battle. Goodwin knew only the most basic steps to dodge and attack, and Eloy found himself grateful that Goodwin had remained asleep the night Anso’s men tried to sneak into their camp. Goodwin had an eagerness to learn that made his lessons quick to take, and before long, he slashed his thin blade with an ease and grace that was beginning to rival Malatic.
Malatic’s demonstrations were aggressive, and even in the pantomime of conflict, his eyes would sheen over with a calculated stony stare. He stopped often to point at his feet with the tip of his sword to show their position in relation to the movement.
“Do you see how my toes are already pointed to move even though I am moving the other way?” Malatic said. “I’m ready for the next move. You always have to be ready to be at the next step, or your enemy will never let you get there.”
Neasa brought a finesse reminiscent of the clever creatures that lurked in the forest playground where she grew up. When Eloy watched her as she moved, he felt a sense of familiarity from their time under the dark canopy. He had never realized how much the forest had left its impression on her, but the same shiver ran through him when he saw her move with her sword as it did on the nights he sat in the blackness of the forest.
Eloy showed what he had learned from his time at the Bowl and what he had learned from Midash, like how to use robust limbs to protect a vulnerable core. They spent their downtime practicing, correcting mistakes, and creating something that melded them together to make something new—something Eloy hoped would be unique enough to give them the advantage he knew they would need in the encounter they were getting closer to every day.
During the day, they walked. The short days and the uncharted path to Anso’s camp slowed their progress. They tried to find shelter at night far from any roaming groups of fighters. Even with all the roundabout trips, dead ends, and corrections, Eloy knew they were headed toward their goal. The abandoned camps from Anso’s fighters became more frequent, and the signs of cruelty became more common.
The four set up for the night on the disheveled remains of the discarded camps when they found them, hoping it would keep their presence hidden in the refuse. The setting of chewed bones that ranged from small and animalistic to long and big enough to be human served as a consistent reminder to practice protecting themselves. As the camps became more frequent, Eloy realized they needed to change into their commandeered uniforms. Eloy and Neasa laid them out for a last look-over at one such abandoned campsite in the light of a fresh fire reborn in a pit of ash.
Neasa crossed her arms over her chest. “I think they’re as good as they’re going to get.”
“I guess I’m getting the tattered one,” Goodwin said as he sat on a rock, his chin in his hands.
“I’ll take that one.” Neasa winked and smiled at Goodwin. “Unless you think Malatic should wear it.”
“What was that, now?” Malatic asked, walking up from the forest on the other side of the row of clothes.
“I think he’s supposed to look the best out of all of us,” Goodwin said, “but it’s tempting.”
Goodwin stood up and straightened his posture as he picked up his new clothes.
The items didn’t fit on any of them perfectly, particularly Neasa, but they used what fibrous plant threads they had left to tighten or tuck where they could. Each one had stains and stitching somewhere on their uniform, and they all pulled at the rough fabric in a compulsive reaction to the irritation from both outside and within. The memory of their previous owners felt stitched into the fabric, a scratchy and uncomfortable history, but Eloy had used worse to conceal himself, and he could manage the clothes.
Eloy touched at the stone around his neck to make sure he had it concealed below his new collar line before looking at the others. The other three looked rougher than they had in their own clothes, but they looked enough like members of Anso’s fighters to pass.
“Keep your red flag tied either around your head or your arm,” Malatic said. “It has to be anywhere that’s easily seen, but there’s an unspoken agreement among the fighters that it has to be one of those two places. If you wear it around your head, keep the knot tied at the back. Having the knot in the front means you’re of a higher rank, and you don’t want to be called out if you’re wearing your flag like you’re something you’re not. I saw a guy get staked from bottom to top, if you know what I mean, for wearing his knot in the front when he wasn’t upper rank. So, keep that thing in the back.”
Eloy wrapped the folded flag around his head and placed the knot at the nape of his neck before helping Goodwin tie his.
“Anso knows who’s higher rank,” Malatic said. “If you think you can get anywhere by pretending to be one, they’ll know immediately.”
31
They hunted heavy animals for their oily meat and thick pelts to protect themselves against the growing cold. Eloy watched the moon shrink and grow two times since their journey had begun and marveled and suffered his new experiences in equal measure. The first snow bit at the delicate skin of his cheeks and nose, but he held out his fur-wrapped hands to grab the falling clusters of fractals when they drifted down to him. He watched the ice in all its perfection crumble and turn to water against the heat of his body. The creaking crunch of it under his feet held a satisfaction as their trek marred the pristine blanket of ankle-deep snow, but the happiness dissipated in proportion to its growth. The more they slogged through the cold, the more he wished for the dry plains of his youth.
They moved through the white terrain with its naked gray trees. Malatic knew the way, but Eloy kept close. The ground grew more rocky and uneven. Boulders hidden under the snow caught their toes and made their process more calculated to avoid jolting stumbles. Eloy could hear the strain in their breathing. The huffs of heavy breath had pushed all conversation aside. They needed rest.
Eloy pointed to a rocky crag rising out of the snow among a thicket of lanky trees. “There’s something up there,” Eloy said. “Might be a good place to stop.”
Eloy saw the cave in the rock as
they got closer and put some of the trees behind them. It would be a while until sunset, but Eloy knew the others were tired—even if they didn’t say it—and they might not come across a better place to rest. A cave meant they would be able to trap some of the heat of the fire and sleep with a little more depth than the cold winds of open night allowed. Eloy led the way up and into the cave.
“I’ll go check it out and make sure there isn’t something already living here,” Neasa said.
She was back before they could even unload their packs and supplies, which did enough to speak of the cave’s depth.
“Nothing,” Neasa said. “There’s some droppings that are more dust than anything. I’m guessing a bear based on the bedding. She and her whelped young are long gone. It’s ours for the night.”
“Good,” Malatic said, “because I didn’t want to have to fight a bear just for a night’s sleep.” Malatic lay down and put his hands behind his head at the mouth of the cave, his head resting on one side and his feet resting on the other.
“That’s something I would watch,” Neasa said. “I’ve never seen a bear maul a man to death before. Could probably learn a thing or two.” Neasa kicked Malatic’s feet out of the way so she could go back out to collect wood for a fire.
“So little faith in me?” Malatic said. “Even after all this time? Fine, then. I guess I am going to have to do some great feat of strength to prove my worth to you.”
“We’ll see,” she said with a half smile over her shoulder.
Eloy had noticed the way Neasa and Malatic’s tone had changed with each other in the days they had been together. It had started as soon as Neasa began giving her battle lessons. Malatic had watched her with a dawning, wide-eyed respect—a look he still gave her when he thought no one saw him. His smothering comments of her attractiveness and the sexual innuendos disappeared from the conversation, and the longer they stayed away, the more Neasa seemed to smile at him. Eloy tried not to notice. It felt intrusive on something he didn’t even think they were fully understanding themselves, but he found it difficult to avoid in such a small band of travelers.