by Kara Timmins
They came upon a jut of black rock after fifty strides. The stone was slightly higher than Eloy was tall. He’d only seen the monolith under the raincloud from a distance, so he couldn’t tell whether what he as standing in front of now was the same kind of rock, but it looked similar.
He reached out and ran his hand over the gritty, inky black stone. He’d never seen anything like it; it looked as if it were comprised of poles fitted into one another. He climbed to the top, finding pockets in the porous surface big enough to get a finger-hold. The top rose up at one side, but the surface was flat enough to rest for the night. There looked to be just enough room for the four of them to sleep with a fire at the center.
“You guys have to see this,” Eloy said.
The other three climbed up, one after the other and marveled at the stone’s surface. The top was a patchwork of shapes, each post of the stone fitting its sharp angles to the one next to it to make something strangely out of place amid the soft curves and slopes of the forest.
“The rock we can see from the trees has to be a much bigger version of this,” Eloy said in wonder.
“It’s a center rock,” Timyr said.
Eloy, Neasa, and Malatic looked over at him. They must have all been showing the same expression of confusion, because he went on.
“There’s liquid rock under our feet. Way, way down,” Timyr said casually.
“How is that . . . ?” Neasa asked.
“It’s hot enough to be liquid. Kind of like the glass, only hotter.” Timyr sat down, crossed his legs, took his bags off, and put Vivene, still in her sling, in his lap.
“You’re just going to drop that fact of horror on us?” Malatic asked. “Were the dangers above ground not enough to worry about?”
“Oh, calm down,” Timyr said. “You’re fine. It’s always been there. You just didn’t know about it until right now.”
“I . . .” Malatic looked back down at the strange shapes in the stone. “I don’t know how to feel about that.”
“Feel in awe of all the other things out there that you may not know,” Timyr said.
“I think I’ll go collect stuff for a fire and work on forgetting everything you just said.” Malatic lowered himself off the side of the rock and slid down out of sight. “Neas, you coming?” he yelled from the bottom.
“Forget him,” Neasa said. “That’s incredible.” She smiled at Timyr and slid down over the edge of the rock.
“They’re an odd pairing,” Timyr said as he watched Neasa and Malatic walk away.
Eloy sat down next to Timyr. “I think they think so too.”
Vivene stirred in Timyr’s lap, a little coo from a yawn burbling up from inside the sling.
“Shouldn’t she be getting up by now?” Eloy asked.
“She’s sneaky,” Timyr said. “Sometimes she doesn’t wake up until she knows I have something good for her to eat. She’s up. She’s just waiting me out.”
“Clever,” Eloy said.
“There was one time . . .” Timyr stopped. He looked confused, as if someone had interrupted him with important and confounding news.
“Everything okay?” Eloy asked.
“It’s just that . . .” Timyr cocked his head, listening to something only he could hear. “It should be fine. It’s the thing I told you about . . .” The look of confusion dropped away, and his eyes widened.
The only careful thing Timyr did was put Vivene down on the rock next to him. Her little head popped out of the fold, her big eyes alert. “Stay, Vivene. Stay where you are.”
Then Timyr drew the rough sword from its sheath. Eloy reached for the sword at his back. He still had his bags slung over his shoulders, hanging off him. The look on Timyr’s face made the packs feel heavier. Eloy pulled at straps, looping each arm through the tethers. He was free from his burdens with his sword readied.
“Neasa and Malatic?” Eloy asked.
“They’re walking away,” Timyr whispered. “We’re between them and it. But hopefully it’s not coming this way.”
“What is it?”
Eloy saw something moving in the forest ahead. There were too many leaves, too many vines and branches to see clearly.
“Get down,” Timyr said. “Hopefully it’ll go right past. What in Aerelion’s name is it doing?”
Eloy and Timyr lay on their stomachs, side by side.
Patches of brown began peeking through the green of the vegetation, something big enough to sway the trees as it bumped into them. The movement was chaotic.
“Damn,” Timyr said. “It’s coming.”
The rock they were on was tall, but the thing coming at them wasn’t small. Eloy could feel the tension from Timyr as he lay next to him.
The thing came into view.
“Oh man,” Timyr said. “That’s not good.”
The animal came at them on all fours, its gray skin wrinkled and bunched around its trunk-like limbs. Patches of hair stuck out randomly, one tuft in a clump off of its mangled face. It took Eloy a moment to realize the animal was some kind of bear. Even though he hadn’t seen any bears in this new land before, he had a feeling they weren’t supposed to look like this one. Scars marred the side of its mostly hairless face, carving a path across the place where its right eye should have been. And whatever misfortune this creature had suffered hadn’t stopped at its eye. The lower part of its jaw hung down, the meat of its mouth mangled and its teeth broken.
The animal charged toward the rock. Despite all its wounds, it still knew there was potential prey nearby.
Eloy and Timyr were up on their feet before the bear smashed its paws against the side of the rock. The folds of its scarred black nose flared just over the edge of the stone, sniffing. It howled out: a guttural cry of desperation and hunger. A battle call.
Timyr was down on the other side of the rock, opposite the bear, which was clawing around for a steady hold. Eloy marveled at the size of it. He was sure the paws were bigger than his head, but he didn’t want to get close enough to find out. Timyr ran around the stone toward the creature.
Eloy raised his sword in front of him, ready to slash down on the flailing arms of the animal, but the bear was too frantic to get a read on it.
And then the bear was gone. Timyr had all of its attention. Eloy chanced a look over the edge and saw Timyr circling the bear, his short sword readied in one hand, a crooked branch in the other. He swung the branch toward the maimed side of the bear’s face, and the bear went for it, gnashing its jagged teeth at the limb. Timyr was quick, lunging in and striking at the good eye. But the attack wasn’t enough. The bear shifted its girth and snapped toward Timyr, its bite just missing him. Timyr’s back step was swift, calculated, and practiced, but the growth on the forest floor was too dense to trust.
Eloy moved to the side of the rock Timyr had gone down and slid off. The rough surface of the stone rubbed at his exposed skin, leaving a burning sting in its wake, but Eloy barely felt it; the bear’s phlegmy growls had all of his attention.
The bear had shifted during the fight, but not enough to put him facing the creature head on, next to Timyr. Eloy rounded toward the left side of the bear, and it caught sight of him. Timyr took advantage of the distraction and slashed at the bear’s turned neck. It cut, but not enough.
The bear roared, foamy green and white saliva raining out of its mouth. Up close, Eloy could see the glistening center of the wound in its face. The smell of rot filled the air. The bear charged, the impact of each step rippling through its scabbed skin. Eloy moved backward, but he wasn’t fast enough. The bear swept its massive arm forward, the thick hooks of its claws just missing him. Eloy tumbled backward, reaching out with his left arm and grabbing hold of a nearby tree. The soft moss helped his grip, and the hold was enough to keep him on his feet. A blossom of hot singing pain shot through in the joint of his shoulder.
; The bear would have been on him were it not for Timyr. Even though Eloy had stayed on his feet, the stumble was a misstep that cost him valuable moments. Timyr shuffled to stay behind the bear’s right front leg. The creature howled as Timyr jabbed his sword into the soft spot of the animal’s armpit. The bear had the advantage of size, but Timyr used it against the creature by staying in its blind spot.
“Go off!” Timyr yelled. “Get back into your forest. Get!”
But the bear didn’t run. It kept turning with Timyr, gnashing its broken mouth in anger and frustration. The bear reared up and twisted its torso toward Timyr. There was a blur of slashing paws and a reverberating clang as claws clashed against sword.
Eloy slashed his weapon at the bear’s exposed flank. The blade split the dry cracked skin, opening it like a peeking clam, a thin layer of yellow fat bubbling up next to red muscle.
The bear cried out again, more desperate now, thrashing back and forth between Eloy and Timyr. The animal was losing focus, lost in the desperation of its hunger, anger, and defeat. It turned on Eloy and lunged. Eloy sidestepped and spun toward the bear until his back hit the sticky, bloodied chest of the animal. He could feel its confusion.
The moment was brief, but the break was all Eloy needed. He thrust his sword up, into the bear’s neck. Hot blood poured down his arms as the bear howled in agony and shock. Eloy felt Timyr’s firm grip take his wet arms and pull. The light and fresh air surrounded him again.
Eloy stood next to Timyr, and the two watched the bear fall to the ground.
Timyr huffed. “It’s not right.”
Eloy rubbed at his shoulder. The throbbing ache from catching himself and having Timyr pull him out from under the bear was making itself known.
The bear twitched, its final movement.
Eloy heard Neasa and Malatic run up from behind them.
“What’s not right?” Eloy asked through labored breath.
“I’ve never seen a bear here act like this,” Timyr said, “let alone look like this.”
Neasa ran up. “What in Aerelion’s name happened? What is that thing?” She brought the back of her hand up to her nose.
“It’s a bear,” Eloy said.
Malatic ran up behind Neasa. “What’s that supposed to be?”
Eloy walked the few strides toward the dead creature and looked down at its rotting mouth, a forearm-sized tongue flopping out onto the trampled growth. “A bear.”
“If you say so,” Malatic said. “If that’s a bear, what’s wrong with it?”
Timyr stood next to Eloy. “I have no idea.”
Scales of scabs covered the creature from head to toe. Some of the mounds of the crusted wounds had cracked, and raking claw marks told the story of how they got that way.
Timyr put his hand on the bear’s temple. “They don’t do this. The bears have never attacked me before. Their hair is so thick I find it in clumps on trees they like to scratch. It’s as soft as Vivene’s. They’re beautiful things. What happened? Why did it come after us?”
“It was desperate,” Eloy said. “Hungry. Maybe because it’s sick.”
“Maybe,” Timyr said, standing up. “But this isn’t right, that’s all I’m saying.”
“We believe you,” Eloy said. “You know this forest better than we ever will.”
Timyr turned and walked back to the rock. “I wouldn’t count on that.” The words were said with inexplicable venom, and the back of Timyr’s neck was red with anger.
The fury in his words was so foreign that Eloy felt like he was looking at a stranger. Despite the weeks they’d spent together, the outburst was a reminder that there was still a lot that he didn’t know about Timyr.
Eloy crouched down next to the bear and pulled his sword out of its throat.
Neasa put a hand on his shoulder. “You okay? There’s a lot of blood on you. Is any of it yours?”
“I don’t think so,” Eloy said.
“That’s what I figured,” she said. “You’re moving pretty okay. Is your arm fine? You’re keeping it pretty still.”
“Just tweaked my shoulder. Nothing that won’t heal.”
“If you say so,” Neasa said. “Mal and I walked over a very little stream up the way. It’s deep enough that you can clean off. But you’re going to want to hurry. We’re almost out of light.”
“We have to move this thing,” Eloy said. “We can’t have a camp close to something this big that’s dead, and it’s too late to find another place to set up.”
“I think we’re all with you on that,” Malatic said and pointed to Timyr making his way back down the rock, vine ropes slung over his shoulder.
“Okay,” Eloy said. “I’ll be quick.”
Eloy trotted past the rock, toward the direction he’d seen Neasa and Malatic go. He found the stream easily. Its scent was as strong as a perfume compared to the drying reek of the bear’s sickly blood. The stream was no wider than his foot from toe to heel, but it moved more than enough water to scoop up and rinse the filth away.
The cleanup wasn’t perfect, and he tried not to think about how great it would feel to be back at the pool next to the bog, but it was enough. He wouldn’t have to sleep with the smell of death clinging to him. He finished up, taking an extra moment to throw water on his face.
He didn’t even realize he was shaking until he looked down at his wet hands, shadowed in the weak evening light. His mind told him that everything was fine, that he didn’t feel anything out of the ordinary, that everything that had just happened wasn’t even the worst thing he’d ever faced. But his body knew better. He sat down hard on the ground, a shot of pain running up his tail bone. He scooped water up to his mouth to try and fight back the bile rising in his throat.
It’s okay, he tried to say to himself. I’m not hurt. Everything worked out.
But his body and his mind weren’t working in tandem. They were seeing two sides of the same story. So he closed his eyes and tried to will the resistance out of his muscles. His shoulders dropped, and his chin dipped to his chest. The river water was sweet in his nose again. He let the sickness be, and he let his thoughts come and go. He sat until he didn’t shake with his breaths.
He stood up again and wobbled, fatigue from the battle and the affliction it brought after making his body weak.
“Eloy?” Neasa called. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” He turned toward the sound of her voice. “Fine. Just finishing up.”
His steps were steady by the time he reached the black rock again. Someone, probably Neasa, had made a fire. The top of stone glowed like an ominous torch.
“Two people have to pull the ropes,” Neasa said. “The other two have to move the logs to the front as we roll.”
Timyr secured the second rope to the bear’s back legs. Two fallen logs waited at the bear’s feet, ready to handle the brunt of the weight.
“I’ll pull,” Eloy said.
“Me too,” Timyr said.
“Let’s get this going so we can get some sleep,” Malatic said.
Timyr wiped his brow. “And before things come looking to eat.”
Eloy grabbed his rope and secured it over his shoulder. “Ready.”
They moved the mass of dead bear more than a hundred strides away from their camp.
“That enough?” Eloy asked Timyr.
“Should be,” Timyr said. “We’ll just have to keep watch and be extra careful. Wouldn’t want to have the fight we just had in the dark.”
“What do you say we get back to the fire?” Malatic said, already moving back, Neasa following.
“Sorry about that earlier,” Timyr said.
“About?” Eloy asked.
“Getting angry. It’s something I thought I got a handle of a long time ago. Then again, I haven’t had anyone around to test it.”
After deali
ng with his own post-battle reactions, Eloy had almost forgotten. “Don’t worry about it.”
“It’s all so strange,” Timyr said. “I can’t figure it. Bothers me maybe too much, if I’m being honest. I know this forest. I know those bears. But I don’t know what that thing is that we just dragged.”
They reached the black rock again. Neasa and Malatic were already rummaging around at the top.
Eloy hesitated before hoisting himself up. “But there’s something in this forest that you don’t know. Would you say we’re getting close to this thing that doesn’t belong?”
Timyr thought on it before answering. “I would say so.”
“Let us know what you sense,” Eloy said. “But I think it’s safe to say that whatever it is that’s out there is going to make us realize that we don’t know much of anything at all.”
“You think there’s going to be more things like that?”
“I don’t know. But I doubt it’s a coincidence that there’s something going on here at the same time that something that you say doesn’t belong is roaming around out there.”
“We don’t belong here either,” Timyr said.
“No, we don’t. But that thing belongs here even less than we do.” Eloy jumped up and grabbed the edge of the rock, pulling himself up.
Timyr did the same.
Both men slumped down in front of the fire. Eloy didn’t startle this time when Vivene jumped on his knee. He ran a finger over her little head before she bounced over to Timyr, climbing up to his shoulder and burying herself in the thick brush of his beard.
“She okay?” Eloy asked.
“Yeah,” Timyr said. “She’s okay. She stayed put up here. You should have seen her when I came to check up on her, though. A little puff of hair. Her tail looked like a stalk of wheat.” He chuckled and jostled Vivene in his beard.
Neasa dropped down next to Eloy, a bag between her crossed legs. “You hungry?”
“Not really,” Eloy said.
“Here.” She handed Eloy a handful of dense, bland seeds. “Will probably be good for all of us to get something in us before the walk tomorrow. If your theory is right, and there will be more things like that to come, we’ll need it.”
