Eloy's Challenge

by Kara Timmins

  “That means you don’t fight for him anymore either.” Eloy said. “Are you okay with that?”

  Malatic shrugged. “Feels like I haven’t been fighting for him for a while now.” Malatic winked at Eloy. “I wasn’t one for loyalty to either of them, to be honest. They functioned more with selfishness than any kind of purpose. It’s a characteristic that doesn’t inspire long-term loyalty in a guy like me. I’m not sure I would’ve gone back even if he were still alive. Interesting coincidence Nicanor and Anso died at the same time.”

  “Maybe it’s a coincidence,” Eloy said. “Maybe it isn’t. Goodwin, how about you?”

  “Yeah,” Goodwin said. “Joining up with Nicanor wasn’t really what I thought it was going to be anyway. This is more what I had in mind. Making a difference, you know?”

  “I don’t know how much of a difference we’ve made,” Eloy said, “but I hope we can soon. How much does everyone know what about the Vaylars?” Eloy asked as he motioned to the crowd, now milling about around the forest.

  “I told what I know and what happened with Anso and his camp to a couple people,” Malatic said, “and I am pretty sure the details have made their way through to the others. I was hoping you would have more to tell them when we got here. I wasn’t expecting so many to come, so this should be fun.”

  Eloy looked out at the murmuring crowd again. Malatic and Goodwin had collected a good crowd, but it still wasn’t enough.

  “Did you learn anything while we were away?” Malatic asked.

  Eloy told them about the trip through the waterlogged terrain and about how many Vaylars there seemed to be, and how they appeared to be ready to make their move.

  “Have you seen any come in westward into the forest?” Malatic asked.

  “No,” Eloy said.

  “So, we don’t really know if there are as many as you think there are,” Malatic said. “We used to do that when I moved with Anso, make fires for fighters we didn’t have. We would make it look like we had more fighters than we actually did. They could be doing that.”

  “I don’t think so,” Eloy said. “Neasa? What do you think?”

  “I think Eloy’s right,” Neasa said. “I can’t explain it, but I knew they were out there, and there are many.”

  Malatic nodded. “What should we do now?”

  “The Vaylars will make their move soon,” Eloy said. “We could wait until they do something or we can move now. What do you think we should do?” Eloy looked around their small circle, directing the question at each of them.

  “I say we wait and see what they do,” Neasa said. “We don’t know what they’re really made of. This might be a way to learn something.”

  “That’ll leave us vulnerable,” Eloy said.

  “We’re vulnerable either way,” Malatic said. “I’m with Neasa on this one. We might have a slight advantage if we stay in the area we already know. I know what it’s like to move through marshland, and I can tell you this will be better for us. Also, I’m sure everyone who came here could use a rest.”

  “Then that’s what we’ll do,” Eloy said. “We’re all in agreement, then?”

  The three nodded.

  Eloy looked out at the faces of the strangers. They were waiting. He had seen expressions like these before. Only then, the looks of expectation were on Evas. She had been the one to bear the burden of keeping her people together and motivated to face the unimaginable. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes while he did, thinking of her, and let it out. If he could emulate her confidence even in part, he would be able to galvanize the group.

  He stood on a knee-high rock. “You don’t know me. My name is Eloy.”

  A man in the front leaned toward a woman next to him and whispered in her ear. She nodded.

  Eloy kept his focus moving, locking eyes with each onlooker. “And I don’t know you, not yet. But I know what it takes to leave your homes and your families to come here and help. I know the character someone has to have to be willing to risk their lives to protect what’s important. I’ll be glad to know every one of you. We’re facing a mostly unknown enemy. They’re called the Vaylars, and I believe they are responsible for destroying Nicanor and Anso’s forces through cunning and manipulation. They’re coming for us now. We aren’t going to let that happen. Right now, they’ve set up camp just shy of a day’s walk from here. I don’t know when they’ll begin to move through our lands, but it will be soon, I’m sure of it. I’m asking you to work with me to get rid of these strangers. I’m asking you to help me finish the brutality that has seized us for so long once and for all. Thank you for coming. Each one of you makes us stronger. If you have any questions, you can ask any of us.” Eloy motioned to Neasa and Malatic to his left and Goodwin at his right. “Thank you.”

  The murmuring among the group started as soon as he hopped off the rock. A few of the crowd came forward and asked questions, which were some form of what the plan was, what was expected of them, and what they were going to do next.

  Eloy answered the variations of the same questions. “We have to approach the situation cautiously . . . You and I have never encountered people like this . . .”

  Every encounter infused him with new energy. He didn’t see any fear in the faces that looked at him. The men and women showed strength in their purpose to defend the land where they raised their families, grew their crops, and lived their lives.

  Groups formed and built campsites, and people took turns keeping watch on the area. The men and women weren’t warriors, but their hands were calloused and strong enough to climb the thicker trees with the robust, wide-reaching branches. Others walked toward the wetlands, listening and watching, careful not to venture too far away from the others. Everyone, whether they were tucked in trees or tiptoeing through the dense grasses, kept their presence hushed.

  Malatic’s anecdote about building more fires to increase the appearance of the group hung and swayed in Eloy’s mind as the day wound down. They wouldn’t be able to build enough fires to look comparable to the Vaylars, and Eloy realized it might be in their best interest to make it look like the group was smaller than it actually was. Eloy moved through the group and told the others to light as few campfires as possible. A few people grumbled and one or two sneered, but by the time night fell, only a few crowded fires warmed the area.

  Eloy walked away from them and toward the darkness to the edge of where he knew some of the others kept watch. He looked up at the sky and marveled at the clutter of stars. The moon was almost complete and had an aura of light wrapped around it like a silver ring.

  He heard someone walk up behind him—Malatic.

  Malatic stood next to Eloy. “How’re you doing?”

  “Getting on,” Eloy said.

  “It’s overwhelming if you think about it all too much,” Malatic said. “How’re you doing after . . . ?” Malatic looked over his shoulder, to the right of where the glow of the campfires, toward the dark part of the forest, in the direction of the camp Eloy and Neasa had buried Emil.

  “I’m fine with how that happened.” Eloy crossed his arms over his chest. “We shouldn’t have asked him to come along with us in the first place.”

  “I always thought he would need at least three or four swords in him to take him down.” Malatic stood next to Eloy and looked up at the moon. “He was always such a menace in battle. I doubt he thought he would die out in the middle of an empty forest. If I had known he would try something that crazy that fast, I wouldn’t have left you two alone with him. He was always unpredictable, but he wasn’t always so insane.”

  “I imagine a long time in Anso’s camp would do that to a person.”

  “Well, no one will ever have the privilege again.”

  “The world does give favors from time to time.”

  They stood together and looked out into the blackness.

  “I don’t kn
ow how we’re going to make it out of this situation alive,” Malatic said.

  Eloy turned and looked at Malatic. “I don’t know either, but there has to be a way. We’ll find a way.”

  “You’ve been right so far, and believing you is a lot better than believing in Nicanor or Anso. What happens next?”

  Eloy looked out into the darkness again. Only this time he didn’t process what he was seeing. He hoped Malatic was right, that he could be trusted with this belief.

  Eloy cleared his throat. “We have to be ready. They’ll come soon.”

  He felt the presence of the Vaylars like the burn at the back of his throat. They wouldn’t wait long to make their move. Eloy felt the pressure of them in the dark with as much certainty as he smelled the coming rain on the air.

  52

  Eloy’s hope of a restful night sleep fell away when fat and cold raindrops hit his face in the early morning. Groups of men and women huddled together around the smoking remains of the few fires they had. The rain hit the red embers with smothering sizzles. In the darkness, Eloy heard people talking about battle techniques and weapons.

  In full morning, a few of the older people sparred with the younger, some of them former fighters for Nicanor.

  “We need to get everyone ready,” Eloy said to Malatic, Neasa, and Goodwin.

  “Are we going to move forward?” Neasa asked.

  “No,” Eloy said. “The plan stays the same. We hold here until the Vaylars come to us, but we have to be ready for them.”

  “What should we do to get everyone ready?” Goodwin asked.

  “The four of us will break everyone up into four groups,” Eloy said. “The number doesn’t need to be exact, but we should try to keep things even. Look for how everyone is grouping themselves naturally. It’ll be easier for them to stand united with people they know or who they’ve met here and already feel a kinship. Try to work with them as opposed to directing them. Remember, we’re not here to be their superiors. Some of these people will die in this forest, and they’re not here to die for us. Remember that. Are we together in this?”

  “Absolutely.” Neasa squared her shoulders and lifted her chin.

  “Sounds good,” Malatic said.

  “I’m with you,” Goodwin said last.

  53

  Eloy didn’t know if the feeling inside of him was magical in the same way the Seer’s ability had been magical, but he knew the Vaylars were on their way. He knew it with the animal part in him. There was no way to hide this many people from the Vaylars’ notice. The Vaylars would know, and they would come.

  The four groups were spaced out evenly with Eloy, Malatic, Neasa, and Goodwin shoulder to shoulder with the front line of each one. Eloy looked around and tried to see the group from an objective perspective. They didn’t have the unity or training he had seen in the Vaylars. The people at his side didn’t move to a secret beat. Those around him had likely lived very different lives than one another. If Eloy had been watching from an impartial distance, he wouldn’t put his coin on their side of the scale. But a warmth spread from his core as he looked around. These people didn’t have to come. He had little doubt that others had heard Malatic’s call and stayed back, sure that someone else would protect them. The ones standing at his side, no matter how many years they had seen or how little they were versed in battle, had shown up willing to protect the lives of others. If he had to die with any group, he was glad to die with the ones he was with now.

  A clicking call made its way through the pattering of raindrops—the sound of one of the lookouts. The Vaylars were in the forest. Blood beat hard inside the thick vein in his neck. Puffs of steam came faster from the nostrils of those around him, and he felt a connectedness—the unity he thought they lacked—as they rose their mismatched weapons.

  The green and grays of the forest broke apart in front of them, making way for the cream-colored shrouds of the Vaylars. They didn’t try to sneak up as they came into view. The group had more fighters than there had been the last time Eloy had seen them at Anso’s camp, but their unified movement, covered faces, and spears were the same.

  There looked to be twice as many fighters on his side than there were Vaylars. A part of Eloy wanted to feel relief—the scales were leveling, and their chances of survival had increased—but he had seen the Vaylars fight before. Even if they were two-to-one in numbers, the Vaylars still had a chance, a good chance, to come out the victors.

  Eloy squared his shoulders, straightened his back, and lifted his sword. Every step the Vaylars made sent vibrations through the wet soil. Every step brought their spear tips closer. Eloy took his hand off the hilt of his sword just long enough to touch the stone hanging from his neck.

  The Vaylars stopped their encroachment a hundred strides in front of Eloy’s battle line. The moment stretched. No one moved. Until, in synchronized movement, each Vaylar stamped their right foot three times. Together, the sound was like the thumping of a great heart. Eloy looked to Neasa at the head of the group at his right for insight. She shrugged her shoulders.

  A man’s voice called out from somewhere in the middle of the Vaylars’ formation, and the line spread out at the command. Their spears moved forward, filling in the empty spaces between one another like a basket weave.

  “Get ready,” Eloy called out.

  “Move out from the center,” Neasa yelled.

  The four groups spread out from one another.

  Eloy looked to his right and saw Neasa and her stone-faced readiness. She had her short sword level with her chest and her dagger low.

  Eloy looked to his left to see Goodwin, his cheeks flushed with splotchy redness and eyes wide with something that could have been excitement, fear, or a mix of both. Goodwin had his sword held out in front of him.

  Malatic was at the head of the group beyond Goodwin. The man whom Eloy had come to know, whom he had come to respect and value, was different now, morphed into the fighter Eloy had seen when three of Anso’s men had tried to kill them at the beginning of their journey together. Eloy was glad to see the serpentlike energy. The more Malatic was like the fighter Eloy had seen, the better chance he would make it on the other side of the battle alive.

  A small moment split the standoff, a fraction of a heartbeat. The Vaylars had stopped their posturing and started forward again. Eloy let himself imagine what it would look like with all four of them surviving the fight. He pictured their faces, exhausted, shaken, but victorious. He branded the image in his mind as he took a step forward in front of the battle line.

  The Vaylars’ flowing movements came forward. When they got within twenty strides, the Vaylars were close enough. Eloy was ready.

  “Close in!” Eloy called out.

  Like an animal trap, three of the four groups closed in around the Vaylars. The Vaylars repositioned themselves to face off with each line that folded in upon them with a fluidity Eloy had come to expect, but their force was no longer centralized. Eloy had little doubt that a force-on-force struggle would end in the Vaylars’ favor.

  Eloy clenched his teeth as a thunderous clack vibrated up into his skull as the two forces met. The rich aroma of blood was immediate. Many of the fighters used their shields to deflect the jabs and swinging spears of the Vaylars with reverberating clangs that could have been melodic were it not for the chaos of the world in which the sound was born. The fighters that battled with Eloy didn’t crumble under the might of the Vaylars.

  With difficulty, Eloy looked past the gleaming spear tip that came toward his face. He had to be able to see the wielder and watch his intentions and not the action, the afterthought of those intentions, just as he had with Emil. The spear created the challenge of distance. The opportunity to maneuver away from the attack was quickly closing, and his jump forward and to the side was more instinctual than tactical. He leaned into the shaft of the spear, securing the weapon between his body a
nd his arm. The Vaylar pulled and jerked the spear. Eloy didn’t let go. With his hold on the stalk of the spear, Eloy twisted his body, wrenching the spear out of the grip of the Vaylar, and drove his sword into the fighter’s body. The tip of the sword disappeared into the Vaylar’s chest. For a moment, Eloy thought the Vaylar would disappear into a puff of smoke before he hit the ground, but he crumbled in a heap in the mud. Just a man.

  Eloy didn’t have time to think about his victory. If he didn’t keep moving his body, the point of a spear would find its mark. Swipes of sharp-edged weapons blew past his ear like a breath and churned the air against his cheek and neck as he ducked and dodged through the mess of movement. Icy eyes looked at him through the windows of fabric, too many pairs of eyes. He couldn’t avoid all their trained attacks. He felt the cool spreading sensation as sharpened edges found the soft surface of his skin. But the more he moved, the more he knew the damage wasn’t serious. He felt a trickling itch of blood, but the heady, vision-blurring feeling of mortal damage never surfaced. He kept swinging, sending his sword out in front of him to find the bodies of his attackers where their skin seemed all too willing to part at its point.

  His lungs strained against his ever-growing need for the air. Clouds came faster and bigger from his mouth where the heat of his body met the cold. Everything in his physical self was asking him to stop, to take a moment, to breathe, but his mind was stronger, and he didn’t stop moving his feet until one of the Vaylars knocked him to the ground.

  54

  The Vaylar came at Eloy head on, much the same way as the first one. Eloy repeated the movements that had given him success before, but when he tried to come at the spear from the side, he was too late.

  The Vaylar let the armed end of the spear fall toward the ground and made a jab at Eloy’s foot. The attack threw Eloy off his center as he tried to sidestep away. The Vaylar exploited the wobble and swung the back side of his spear around. The blunt end of the spear cracked against Eloy’s temple.