When time arrived, I bade the old man farewell, understanding that Alaric, more than the artefacts and stones, was looking for someone who he could talk with, a friend, a companion. That could explain the reasons for his many diversions and his slow way of talking. He had offered me some food in a clean cloth that smelled of lilies; apples, bread, cheese, and a jar of jam of his own making. I had been reluctant to accept it, yet I could not offend his kindness by declining and instead I had promised to return the favour one day.
Reading the map that he had sketched for me, was easy and I could already see the mistake I made in attempting to find his place. How could I have been so wrong? What Nana had mentioned to be a simple path inside the forest ended up being a miles-long detour for me. Now with the underlined path he indicated, I would cut the mountain range straight down the middle, and emerge near the south-eastern valley of the village. From there, I could reach Sallncoln in only a matter of hours, having had abundant rest and food for the past day and a half.
The bulk of my voyage was crossing the mountain range that expanded in front of me.
Firebreath was as keen as me to be on the move again, and I was confide we could do it before nightfall.
Autumn seemed closer than a few days ago and hastened its drastic mutations of the landscape. There was something about the sky that made the air feel intense and rich with a tinge of cold portending the unkinder season. The clouds moved faster and their shapes evolved more drastically, billowing in a display of sharp shadows in the midday sun. The moist air near the foothills, rather cold and rich with a pine and oak scent, made me lose myself in a couple of long, deep breaths that inundated my entire body and made my eyes tear. Being quite high on the mountain and still close to the many rivulets, I perceived the enhanced fragrances that the air dispersed abundantly.
Firebreath had carried me along the forest at a brisk pace, though after some hours we had entered a brushwood and the mountain had become too steep for continuing on horseback. I had to descend and walk alongside him at a slower pace. The mountain eventually took on a precipitous nature and it was clear we’d have some difficulty cutting straight ahead on this section of the peak. Sharp rocks with tips like spears were dangerously protruding from underneath the wet black soil and I decided it was safer to go around the left side of the slope.
“Better late and safe!” I said while gently pulling Firebreath after me on a small path of dead leaves and twigs, most likely formed by the deer and boars that, obviously, had been taking the same route.
Judging by the amount of moisture in the air and on the ground, I could tell that the sun rarely reached this side of the mountain. The perennial shadow made the air feel sharper and every plant and rock was filled with a multitude of sparkling, perennial dew drops.
I took my time and looked for a sturdy cane that I could use to aid my walk as well as to move aside the tall and wet vegetation. A day in this dank air would certainly result in a sleepless, feverish night at the very least, even without drenched clothing. Once I was happy with the pine twig I found, I started bending the waist-tall ferns and giant butterbur leaves that were in my way. Nana would have something to say about this, as they were one of the most wanted plants I was forced to gather with her during the year. The tender roots of the freshly sprung plant in the early months after the taw, were a priceless remedy for fevers, head and stomach aches and we’d have to collect enough to last the whole year round. When their harvest in spring would not be as productive, we’d venture to collect in places just like this where summer’s heat could not affect the vegetation so drastically and humidity persisted throughout the warm weeks. A task I never liked carrying out, but I could only appreciate the fast and quick effects of the concoctions she achieved, never once failing to cure the illnesses that afflicted us – even if the cost was having to deal with its bitter flavour.
The exercise of bending the various impediments, left and right, did well to my body and I did not mind the cold air anymore. More than a half an hour passed before we reached a dry patch of tall pines with a floor made entirely of brown needles and sporadic tussocks of herbs and mushrooms. Nearby was a big shrub of blackberries, the perfect supply to refresh my stamina.
I approached the massive shrub salivating over the dark-purple, round fruit perched on the very top of the bush, the bottom part of which seemed to have hosted something else.
I tethered Firebreath to a nearby pine and took out my knife, which easily aided me to snap a couple of long branches. Consuming the delicious fruit in a more comfortable position was key to savouring and enjoying such a moment, rather than standing on tip toes to reach them. My crane came in handy once more as with its crooked tip I bent a twig that I couldn’t have otherwise reached. It was loaded with a row of fat and juicy berries. I cut the twig as far as I could reach it and let go of the remaining bit, shaking off to the ground some of the ripe berries.
“Nothing goes to waste” with calm, I recollected the fallen fruits which I then brushed from the dust and ate.
My horse was quietly nibbling at a small twig and I went to sit near him. The pine-needles bed was drier here and I was enjoying the fruit’s sweet juices. I couldn’t wait to reach Sallncoln and tell my grandmother and Kuno about my findings. Far too many times, when we went gathering forest berries for our winter preserves, we found the shrubs already stripped bare. The brushwood near the village was a common place not able to sustain the growth of our population. Everyone in Sallncoln knew about the best areas, where to look for berries, and everyone made their own jams and preserves. Though I had a feeling that this place would soon become our new favourite location, regardless that it meant travelling a bit further out. I indulged myself in another long branch of ripe berries and I opened the map to make sure I marked and remembered the precise spot.
All of a sudden Firebreath became unsettled; he neighed and violently pulled the harness in an attempt to free himself. Before I lifted myself up to try and calm him, the branch on which he was bound snapped with a loud crack and he galloped away, breaking in half the bow I had tied at the back of the saddlebag.
I jumped to reach the leather bridle, which was brushing the forest floor with a part of the broken branch still attached to it, but I was too slow and only fell and hurt my ribs on something hard buried under the dead needles.
“Firebreath, you come back right now!” My angry voice soothed the sharp pain in my chest, even as my irritation persisted.
I lifted myself back up, yet I had to keep a hand pressed on the left side of my torso. In my desperate pounce, the knife and the map had dropped to the ground and, afraid of losing them, I rushed to retrieve them. I took the map and put it in my pocket and as soon as I placed my hand on Winterhorn’s handle, I heard footsteps snapping the dried foliage behind the berries’ shrub.
Wide and heavy footsteps – four of them.
A gruff breathing accompanied the stride and I could feel its loud, inquisitive sniffing pushing the leaves and pine-needles aside. Although I could not see it, I had a clear picture of what would soon emerge; a bear. There were no other beasts I knew of that moved so firmly and heavily.
I hoped I was wrong.
Each thudding step made the beat of my heart increase and I dared not flinch a muscle. With all my strength, I found myself squeezing the antler-handle of my knife in my right hand and with the help of my left I propped myself against a solid pine trunk. I bemoaned the cane which was too far from my reach. Even if it proved useless against the beast, there was something comforting thinking about the size of it compared to my short dagger.
Make it be a boar, please! I voicelessly implored the sky, hurting my back against the hard, coarse bark in the attempt to push myself further back.
The heavier breathing from my right-hand side soon revealed a wide, large paw adorned with five curved sanguine-brown claws, as big as my fingers. Its sight made my hurting ribs spike in pain again.
Then another paw.
Whe
n I braved myself and looked up, I knew my initial instincts had been right; that was a giant black head.
I froze.
A thick, blood-draining growl erupted from his wide-open maw as the beast locked its charcoal-eyes on mine.
For a strange reason, the only image that stuck in my mind were its dark-purple, slobbery, coarse tongue and the four sharp, long fangs at the tip of his mouth. His furious eyes pierced right through me and I could feel my heart beat in my throat.
The confidence of the bear grew as it sensed my frightened presence; it continuously moved on its front legs, from side to side, roaring its big mandible towards me. Though, it did not advance.
From where I stood there was no running away. I knew I only had a moment to react. If I had two healthy legs, I could have probably made a couple of yards before it reached me, though with my broken knee I was as good as dead. I considered climbing the tree, but being pressed with my back flat against it, there was no way I could climb it fast enough; the beast would tear at me before I even spun. The consideration of jumping, and reaching the branch that Firebreath had broken, was just as impracticable as running.
I was doomed.
This damn knee!
I swallowed nervously, overwhelmed by anger and raw fear, fighting to hold back tears of frustration and terror.
These were the last moments of my life.
My heart was uncontrollably pounding inside my chest and I felt like the fresh air was not getting in anymore.
Closer to my end, I took another glance at the bread-knife I was holding, knowing too well it wouldn’t penetrate the bear’s thick fur. Fear got the better of me and I allowed uncontrollable tears to wet my cheeks and blur my vision. Frustrated by my helplessness, my hand squeezed harder around the handle, so hard I felt my fist’s knuckles detach noisily from their sockets.
The brief moment the bear had taken to study me was gone. Acknowledging me as prey, it then bent his forelegs and pounced towards me.
As I swallowed my sorrow, I looked the beast right in the eyes thinking I was about to die, eaten alive.
And then something beyond my comprehension happened; the tears that started falling uncontrollably on my cheeks, the fear that I would not see my family ever again, the fast beating heart and the desire to live, were gone.
It was all gone.
I could feel only the salted tears that reached my lips.
I was stunned.
A warm, bright light encompassed me and I could remember memories I did not know I held. Brief and intense chapters of past, joyful moments flashed in my mind and before my blurry sight. One memory in particular lingered more than the others; I was very small and I could hear the laughter at my own cooing and giggling, as two adult faces looked at me.
How could I remember the faces of those I had seen as an infant? Are these the faces of my parents?
I wondered and thought for a moment that I was being devoured by the shock, that I was already dead.
Two pairs of vivid eyes, one blue, one green, were smiling down at me. I flinched and instinctively moved my free hand upon my chest in an attempt to touch and feel the imaginary, yet awkwardly-real, bright-red hair of the woman tickling my skin.
Mother? Father?
The words did not reach the air, they were only inside my head. My face was numb.
And just as fast as the images appeared in my mind, they vanished. All I could see now was the slobbery and fetid mouth of the ravenous beast, a few inches away from my face. Stuck in the air, as if a gelid gust of wind had frozen the bear in its pounce. Right in front of my nose the bear’s enormous maw emanated a rancid smell of digested meat and warm entrails.
My right hand’s fist, firmly clutched around the handle of Winterhorn, was visibly and painfully pulsating with blood pressure. What moments ago was a loud and animated forest-life scenery, had altered in a muted scene of quiet sounds and faded echoes.
A sweet and gentle voice gained in intensity inside my mind, isolated from the dimness of the others. It grew until I could make out a half word.
Ardar…
I could perceive the incomprehensible whisper coming from behind, somewhere to my left, yet when I turned there was no one.
Ardarah… the woman’s voice grew more commanding, compelling me to say the word aloud.
I took a breath and swallowed to moisten my dried throat; I knew the word now.
“Ardarahia!” I shouted in a clear voice, not knowing what it meant.
As soon as the sound left my mouth, my body involuntarily and uncontrollably carried me to the right side of the tree, just clear of the beast’s powerful jaws. With a sharp movement, still out of my control, my right arm arched backwards in an attempt to gain the strength needed for a powerful blow. And just as it did, it returned restored with reinvigorated power and thrust Winterhorn right through the bear’s neck, plunging the blade deep inside its throat.
Astonished and confused, I was incapable of making my body respond to my commands. I only felt the grip on the knife being released and my hand pulled out, bloodied and shaking.
Silence subdued. The confounded state I was in suddenly died and all sounds came back to life from the momentary reverie, bolstered with vivacity.
Charged by the force of its own leap, the bear’s roar resonated in the forest and died as it crashed its massive head against the pine trunk, shattering a portion of the thick bark. It made a havoc of cracking sounds, scattering birds away from nearby trees.
Where I had been standing, a fraction of a moment ago, the lifeless body of the beast was convulsing for one last time. It twitched and quailed with brief movements until its innards started steaming in the moist air through the wound I made.
I could not comprehend what had happened, but I was heavily gasping for air, feeling weak and wavering as never before. Tears of joy and fear mingled together and clouded my face again. I tugged at my eyes with my heavily shaking sleeves, clearing the unfathomable vision in front of me. It felt like I had run for an entire day, my feet could barely endure my weight.
I took a few steps back. Instinctively, and without purpose, I lifted my backpack and propped myself against a tree where I could still see the heavy body of the collapsed bear. Between gasps, I felt heat lifting itself in my muscles with delayed adrenaline.
Water!
The urge to drink finally reached my brain and I found the courage to interrupt my gaze from the bear for a moment, in search of my waterskin.
I gulped down almost half of what was left and returned to the tree.
I knew I had to calm myself and recover from the strain and I forced myself to breathe slowly and deeply through my nose and spurn the sense of nausea that was making its way from my stomach. It took me a really long time before I managed to calm myself and stand again. But I could not stay still anymore. I started pacing around in circles, never for once abandoning the beast from my sight, and after many long moments I regained some of my lost strengths and clarity. I closed in on the beast and stopped, palms on my knees, scrutinising the enormous dead mass of meat, bones and fur.
“Did I do this?” My voice sounded surprisingly loud in my pounding ears.
With the tip of my boot I poked at the bear’s paws to make sure it was completely dead, prepared to try and run in case it moved. When it didn’t, I encouraged myself to advance closer and have a better look at the big gash that my fist and knife had created.
Blood still spewed abundantly out of the wide wound, creating small and dense wafts of steam in the cold air and a puddle on the needles-floor. I knelt beside its head and pressed my chin on the ground so I could see inside. Winterhorn was buried deep. It had lacerated skin, muscle, sinews and arteries in its devastating way, almost to the other side. The smell of blood was inebriating and it hinted of raw metal being worked.
Reluctantly, I extended my arm to pull the knife out of his throat; I had to push way past my elbow before I finally touched the handle and extracted Winterhorn. Being b
uried deep inside bone, I had to put some serious effort to succeed in my attempt. As soon as I freed it, I stepped aside and cleaned out the blood, gore and stray fur fibres from my hand and knife on the back of the bear’s skin.
The realisation of what transpired only made me more agitated and I knew I was stuck with a moronic smile on my face. A black bear this big would be worth a fortune and certainly be of much support for me, my family and Elmira's. Its skin alone could earn at least half a year’s worth of Henek and Kuno’s wages in the wood trade.
Although I had seen skinning done many times before, I wanted to avoid damaging the bear with my untrained hands and started thinking of the most practical and convenient way to carry the beast back to Sallncoln. A sturdy cot would do, if only I could retrieve Firebreath.
“Where did you run, you coward?” I barked, standing up and looking around for the horse.
I had no choice; I needed to go looking for him, otherwise the imminent lack of light would make things way more difficult for me; I certainly could not afford to lose my way in a forest again and was not particularly keen on spending another night in the open.
Luckily, it sufficed to return to where we had arrived previously, the same direction he went in his rampant flight. I found him among the giant butterbur leave, nibbling as usually, which he happily interrupted to come towards me. I stroked his neck and patted his big head, feeling guilty for having called him a coward. It would have been a big problem back home, explaining the loss of our horse.
Once I retrieved the body of the bear, I started building the cot I would use to lug it back home. I used the saddle straps and the bridle to tie sturdy branches together and make a foliage bed on which I’d roll the body of the bear. I knew it was going to be a challenge to move such a dead weight but with the help of Firebreath and a big pile of logs I managed to trundle over the fore part of the bear; its head, neck and front legs. The rest followed with exhaustive attempts on both my part and Firebreath’s. In the end the bear was secured by the paws on a cot made out of thick branches and twined twigs.
Winterhorn (Tokens Of Benevolence Book 1) Page 20