by Kara Timmins
The night was cooling just enough to warrant a small fire, something Niall seemed insistent about having. “I can’t be in this forest dark,” Niall said. “I gotta see stuff coming. Who cares if it’s too hot.”
“I don’t care if it’s too hot,” Oisin said.
Eloy, Malatic, and Neasa looked around at each other. Malatic and Neasa seemed as interested in debating the issue as Eloy was: if he had any energy left, he wanted to use it eating.
So Niall built his little fire, and Eloy was grateful for the light.
“You did it again,” Neasa said to Malatic.
Malatic swallowed his bite of food. “Did what?”
“You made a face,” she said.
“That’s just my face,” Malatic said.
“Very funny,” she said. “I’m being serious. That’s the second time I’ve seen you wince.”
“I don’t know if you noticed,” Malatic said. “But this isn’t the freshest straight-off-the-fire food we’ve got here. I’m fine.”
“You’re fine?” she asked, her eyebrows raised.
“I’m fine,” Malatic repeated.
“Fine,” she said.
“Great,” Niall said, “now I’m thinking about food off the fire. Actual food. Not the stuff in this forest. Oppo food. What I wouldn’t give for some fish from the main hall right now. No one makes a meal like Tripper.”
“You can keep the food,” Oisin said. “I want a cup of the barley stuff. Just have a few of those and listen to some travel stories.”
“Boy,” Niall said, “we were getting some good stories coming through before we left. Lots of travel.”
“Lots of travelers with lots of stories,” Oisin said. “Like the guy from Cinecho.”
The fatigue pulling on Eloy was gone. He straightened. “What about Cinecho?”
Eloy thought he saw Niall chance a sarcastic glance at Oisin. “Oh, you know it?”
“I’ve been there,” Eloy said. “What did the traveler say about it? Are there a lot of people there? How big is the town now?”
“I don’t know how big the town is,” Niall said with indignation. “That would be a terrible story, ‘There were fifty people living there in thirty-five houses.’ Who’s been telling you stories? Do you want to hear the story or the report from their town head?”
“Go ahead,” Eloy said, biting his tongue. “Tell your story.” More than anything, he wanted to hear about Evas, even if the update was in a story passed from person to person.
“Yeah, tell the story,” Oisin said. “I may not have good food or a drink, but maybe I can pretend enough to have a barmaid greet me in my dreams.” He wiggled his eyebrows up and down.
Neasa groaned. “Niall, start the story so your brother will stop talking.”
“So,” Niall started, “this traveler, his name was . . . what was his name again?” He looked to his brother, who shrugged. “Whatever, his name was Trill, I’ll say, doesn’t matter.”
Eloy missed Corwin and his stories more with every word that tumbled out of Niall’s mouth.
“This is the story as Trill told it,” Niall went on. “Cinecho has become a pretty popular stopping point in the last few years. Relatively safe lodging, good food, good trade. But Trill had his sights on bigger prizes. You see, he wanted a little swatch of land for himself, a little bit of profit for his own coin bag, if you know what I mean.” Niall pulled himself closer to the little fire, the illumination casting dramatic shadows over his face. “He could have built up next to Cinecho, but he said no, that wouldn’t do. He wanted to have a new town entirely. So he went to the head of the town.”
“What did he say about the head of the town?” Eloy asked.
“Just that she was the head of the town.” Niall shifted out of his affected storyteller’s tone to sound more familiar. “It doesn’t matter.” He cleared his throat to resume his affectation. “Trill goes to the head of Cinecho and tells her, ‘I want to start a town, a new town, and I want to do it out there.’” Niall pointed out into the forest. “He pointed out to the salt flats. So, the woman says, ‘If you find resources out there to start a new town, no one here will stand in your way.’ This should have been his first sign to turn around. But he was stubborn. His words, not mine.”
Eloy tried to imagine Evas saying the words, how they would have sounded, what she would have looked like saying them. He looked into the fire and hoped that his face was blank, careful not to show the others the pull of longing he felt.
“So, Trill wasn’t a dumb man, again his words, so he hired a couple people to go out into the salt flats with him, two guys and a lady. Doesn’t matter their names. These four head out into the white desert, lookin’ for some sign of life. They have enough supplies for two weeks, a week out and a week back.”
Eloy had been so caught up in the idea of Evas that it took him a moment to realize the importance of the story, an importance there was no way Niall could know. Niall was telling the story of the trip Eloy and Corwin never took. He listened with new interest.
“And they walk,” Niall says. “And it’s hot. Hot and salty. It’s mental anguish for Trill to keep himself from bringing his water up to his mouth. He needs to save every drop, make it count, but it’s hard and getting harder. He starts doubting his plan. The first night he hears sounds out in the distance, so he doesn’t really sleep well. By day two Trill knows he’s doesn’t want to live in a town out in that salty wasteland, let alone anybody else, but he’s in the thick of it now. He’s in it, and he can’t tell the others what he’s thinking. He’s the leader, and a leader needs to be confident and strong. Confident and strong in his lead over the people. But it’s a bad idea, and every step is an extra coin down on a bad bet. And they keep walking. He keeps telling himself they just have to walk a week. After that, they have to turn back. No weakness on his part. The supplies will turn them around, not him. He starts craving new days almost as he’s craving water, and boy is he thirsty.”
Oisin takes a big gulp from his pouch.
“He gets to day five before everything really goes to the crapper hole,” Niall said. “It’s middle of the day and the heat is distorting the horizon ahead. The woman says she sees something. Trill’s hoping it’s really something special. He already starts thinking about how he’s going to get people to come five days out from Cinecho. But they’re still too far out to see what it is. But it’s something, and it’s something big. They get closer and he sees the outline of trees. He’s excited now. Trees mean water. Water he can drink. Water he can use to start a town.”
Malatic yawned and lowered himself down to put his head in Neasa’s lap.
“But this isn’t a happy story,” Niall went on. “They get close, and there are trees all right. In fact, there’s a whole river, if you can call it that. There’s water that looks like a river, but it’s not moving, and all the trees are dead. It’s not just the trees, either. Everything is dead. Birds, lizards, you name it. Whatever found its way to this little oasis was frozen in their death, crystals growing all over their dead bodies.” Niall leaned forward again, the flames under his face. “There weren’t only little creatures there, either. Trill started shaking a bit when he told this part. There were humanlike creatures there too. With curved talons for hands. Just like they say . . . um . . .” Niall leaned back and cleared his throat. “Anyways, the river had these creatures frozen like stone all through it. White with the salt taking over their skin, preserving them. If the river ever flowed with fresh water, that was long gone. The trees were cracked and dead. Nothing was alive. At least, that was what they thought.”
Niall looked around the group in a slow sweep. “So Trill and the others are poking around looking at the birds frozen with their wings still spread like they died just as they tried to fly away. They looked in the stream, maybe hoping there was some way they could make it work and purify the water someh
ow, but all they see is their own reflections at first. The closer they look they more they see that under their own faces, the bottom of the river is covered with more dead things staring up at them.
“Then something moved. They thought the thing was just another mound of salt. Just like every other mound of salt in that damn death desert. But it’s not a mound of salt. The thing stood up and turned to them. At first Trill didn’t know what he was looking at. The thing was just as crusted and caked in the salt as the other dead things around.
“When it started walking towards them, he realized the thing was wearing clothes. It had a spine so rounded that its height was at the middle of its back. The head hung low, swaying its salt-crusted hair back and forth, the crystals clinking together. The thing wasn’t a thing. It wasn’t one of the taloned things in the river. The thing was a man.”
“But he’s not like a regular man,” Oisin said.
Niall punched his brother in the arm. “I’m getting there. I’m telling it. Shut up and listen. So this man-thing gets closer. The salt man walks right up to them and stares Trill right in the face, gets right up eye to eye. Trill can see every detail. It’s bad. It’s like the guy had a face of armor, scales of salt like little pyramids. His eyes are yellow and shrunken in his face. And it gets worse when the salt man smiles. The salt cracked apart and some of it fell away. The skin cracked too. All around the guy’s mouth split open like a lightning strike and fresh blood dripped down the white of his salt skin.”
“How was he even alive?” Neasa asked.
“I’m getting there,” Niall said. “So the thing smiles and says, ‘It’s been so long since someone has come to visit.’ Only it takes him a while to find the words and his voice is so rough it’s like he has salt all the way down his throat. Trill asks how long the salt man has been there.
“‘Well, I don’t know,’ the man says. ‘How long has it been since I came out here?’
“Trill looked to the other three for help, but they didn’t know what was going on any more than he did. So he tried a different question. He asked the man his name.
“‘My name. Hmmm. You don’t know my name?’
“‘No,’ Trill said.
“‘Everyone knows my name,’ the man said.
“‘I don’t. I’m sorry,’ Trill said.
“‘I’m Brooke of the Isle. Don’t you recognize me?’
“‘I’m sorry. But it’s been a long day.’ Trill said.
“‘Understandable.’
“Brooke’s voice was distorted, but there was something about it that was refined. Refined in a way that Trill said you don’t really hear anymore.
“Brooke kept talking. ‘I don’t blame you for not realizing it’s me. I haven’t been able to freshen up in so long. It’s hard to look your best when there’s no way to see yourself.’
“‘But what about the water?’ the woman asked.
“‘Oh, no, no,’ Brooke said. ‘That dried up long ago. There’s no water now. I would know. I look for it every day. There’s no water. The water here used to be so beautiful. So reflective.’
“‘But . . .’ the woman started again, but Trill touched her arm to make her stop talking.
“‘If I had the water,’ Brooke said, ‘I would have been able to freshen up. Then you would recognize me. You would recognize me from the walls of Delgos. They paint me there, you know. To see what they see. That’s the drawback of being the one to hold the beauty, it’s others who get to see it. They’re the ones who get to enjoy what I do to look my best.’
“One of the men behind Trill laughed. Trill tried to shut him up. Trill wasn’t the smartest man, clearly, but he was smarter than the others. This wasn’t a laughing moment. There was something off. There was something dangerous. Trill knew it.
“‘So what brought you out here?’ Trill asked.
“‘Traveling,’ Brooke said. ‘Looking for something. Something important. Can’t remember now. Things are different now. Things changed. I looked up one day and everything was different. Gone. I found the river and the surface was so reflective. I got to see what everyone got to see all the time. I looked down, and there I was. I looked up and everything was different. I looked down and the river was gone. I couldn’t see myself anymore.’
“Now Trill is starting to put things together of what happened to good ole Brooke here. And he’s starting to put other things together too. Like, just like you said, Neasa, how is this guy still alive? Then he starts looking around and seeing the things they were looking at earlier a little differently. The dead things. The birds and lizards and monsters aren’t just around, they’re positioned. They are placed on dead tree limbs or posed in the middle of the river. Trill doesn’t know why he didn’t notice it before. He wasn’t looking for it, he guessed. There were bites taken out of things too. Chunks missing. Brookey was getting liquid from somewhere, all right. Trill starts getting jittery. Maybe that’s what Brooke picks up on. He starts to smell the fear, like an animal. The two guys with Trill still aren’t picking up on it. The woman is catching on, though.” Niall looked past the others into the forest. “You’re keeping an eye on the forest, right?” He let the dramatization in his voice fall away.
“Always,” Neasa said, “Keep going.”
“Yeah, sorry.” Niall said. “The story is a little creepier saying it out here than telling it in a warm room in Oppo. Going on. So, Brooke starts circling them. Crouched like an animal. He walks through the river like it’s not even there, like he doesn’t even see it. The water is so full of salt it rustles around Brooke like slush.
“‘It’s been so long since I’ve had visitors,’ Brooke said.
“Only this time it sounds different. Just like he’s saying, ‘It’s been so long since I’ve had a fresh cut of meat.’ Finally, the two other guys get it. They’ve been hired to fight if there’s fighting that needs done, so they step in front of Trill. The woman, who was there for healing, meaning, not a fighter, is tucked behind. Brooke stops moving midstride and freezes. He stares at the four with his little yellow shrunken eyes. He looks no different than the monsters that are dead around him.
“Trill says he felt like he stood there forever, staring at this thing of a man who has his own blood dripping lines down his salt-covered skin. Trill wanted to turn and run. How fast could a crouched and scrawny thing like Brooke be? Turns out, fast. Very fast.
“Brooke moved first. He practically flies. Brooke gets the two men, big men, at the same time. He sinks his cracked and jagged teeth into one man’s throat, pulling chunks and drinking. The other guy gets it across the throat. You see, Brook is so crusted with the shards of salt that the little things are on his skin like thousands of little blades. The two men are bleeding out. Fast. Gurgling. It all happened like that.”
Niall snapped his fingers.
“Trill and the woman fall back and try to get away. But Brooke is there. Now totally covered in blood. He gets right on top of Trill. So much so that Trill can pretty much taste the smell coming off the guy. It’s like jerky. Brook has his teeth right next to Trill when the woman speaks up.
“‘Here you are. I knew I recognized you,’ she said.
“Brooke is gone. Trill looks over and sees Brooke standing over the woman, who is now on the ground. She’s holding something in front of her to Brooke with a shaking arm. Trill knew what she was holding. This woman had a man once, a really good looking man, and this man had died. She had a little painting of him that she kept with her. She would look at it all the time. The man wasn’t Brooke, but Brooke stood there staring, and then he smiled.
“‘Yes, there I am! It’s been so long since the water dried up. I haven’t been able to see. But there I am!’
“He took the painting from the woman and cradled it in his hands. Loving it. Trill scrambles over to the woman, who is now trying to keep from crying, and pulls her away from the r
iver of death and away from its town lead. They sneak away, and when they’re sure Brooke isn’t going to follow, they run. They run all the way back to Cinecho. I mean, I’m sure they stopped to rest, but that isn’t how Trill told it.
“They get back to Cinecho, and the town lead asks him how things went. Would he be starting a town all his own?
“He said, ‘No, no one should go out there. Don’t go out there.’
“To which she said, ‘I never would.’
“And that’s it. That’s Trill’s story.”
“He told it better,” Oisin said.
“Yeah?” Niall said. “Maybe I should tell the story about the time you thought you broke your . . . ow! Hit me again and see what happens.”
Eloy sensed the night getting hazy behind his layer of fatigue, but there was something familiar about seeing Neasa smiling, Malatic laughing while looking up at the brothers from her lap, and Oisin and Niall play fighting. The scene was like something he remembered, but he couldn’t reach it.
The memory wasn’t his. He had been thinking of the moment he had seen in Kella’s mind, of her time with Aerelion sitting around a fire at the end of a day of travel. Eloy wondered if he seemed as troubled as Aerelion has been. If he did, he imagined he understood Aerelion’s preoccupation a bit more now than he had before.
26
Eloy took the middle of the night watch. He wanted to fall back into a restful and dreamless sleep after Neasa took over, but every time he closed his eyes, it scuttled away from him, scared off by thoughts of the creature waiting in the salt flats, Evas, or looming threats. All of the thoughts of longing and concern were like ropes tied back to one point, like a stake in the ground: the black pillar of stone under the storm. He could feel it churning in the distance. So close now.
Neasa was scanning the forest when Eloy finally opened his eyes. He wasn’t going to get back to sleep.
