by K. J. Colt
Skelkra’s mouth hung open as he pretended to be flabbergasted by my words.
‘You can step back,’ Father said. I did, and he added, ‘Jeykal, come forward.’
Jeykal moved to where Skelkra and I had stood. He looked weary, tormented, and scared. He told a story identical to mine except his started the night we’d met up.
Afterwards, the leaders and other elders whispered to each other.
A group of Father’s council stepped forward. ‘We will discuss what we have heard here today. Everyone will wait for our verdict.’
Eyes darted between me, Skelkra, Jeykal, and Sankat. People threw up their hands, shook their heads, and shuffled out of the hall. Their confusion was obvious. No one seemed certain who was responsible for the deaths of the Watchers.
‘Take them,’ Father said to the guards, and Skelkra and I were pushed to the doorway.
Once outside, I sat down on the stairs of the great hall to rest my leg. Warriors kept the more aggressive people away.
‘Tainted,’ an old man said and shook a fist in my direction, his old skin jiggling with his accusation.
I glanced up at Skelkra beside me leaning against a pole. Tainted meant I had bonded without a ceremony. As the chieftain’s daughter, people expected me to act appropriately. I hadn’t and would now face life as a social pariah.
‘Did you ever care for me at all?’ I hissed at Skelkra.
He crouched behind me and said, ‘What do you mean?’
I kept my voice low. ‘You know exactly what I mean.’
‘You Bears will do anything to keep control of our country.’ He threw a charming smile at the girls adoring him from afar. They swayed under his influence.
I made a choked noise, and Skelkra looked hurt.
‘Oh, please,’ I said. ‘Haven’t we always done what’s in the best interest of our people: built houses, traded with the southerners, ensured a constant supply of food in the snowtimes?’
He took a seat next to me. The women in the crowd looked appalled at our closeness, although their glares were all aimed at me. I shifted away, and he followed, mocking me with his movements.
‘Yet here we are, Klawdia. Our borders unexpanded, our people still grappling over farmable land. Your family are the old ways; the Wolves are the future.’
I huffed and focused on the mists that swirled around the distant mountain peaks. The sun had almost set completely, the stars twinkled, and the wolves howled in the distance, signalling the evening hunt.
Moments later, Father emerged. ‘We have decided.’
He gave Skelkra a sideways glance and gestured for us to follow. We entered, escorted by our guards. The doors to the hall closed behind us, and I heard the disappointed moans from the crowd outside.
When we reached the back of the hall, Father pointed to the front row of seats. ‘Sit down.’
I looked at Jeykal, who’d been allowed to stay inside while the leaders deliberated. Jeykal pursed his lips, and I feared the worst.
Father rubbed his clothes with his hands and lowered his head. His shoulders slumped. ‘You will face each other in a fight.’
I looked over at Skelkra. He was larger and older, and he was a boy, naturally stronger. I’d always been built like my mother, petite and trim but quick. In hand-to-hand combat, he would defeat me.
I stood and spread my hands. ‘Weapons?’
Father raised his eyes to mine. ‘One dagger each.’
My mouth dried, and I sat. With a dagger, I had a chance.
Skelkra crossed his arms like an impatient child. ‘I want a sword.’
‘No. You must be equally matched. In size, you already have the advantage, Skelkra. The dagger is Klawdia’s preferred weapon.’
The elders and leaders nodded their heads. I used my eyes to give them all a silent ‘thank you.’ Thixal’s bonded mate, now one half of a whole, smiled at me, and I knew what that smile meant—he believed I hadn’t killed Thixal. I returned his smile and placed a hand over my heart out of respect.
Skelkra stood, his hand brushing mine as he did, and my body reacted with interest. I cursed myself internally. Regardless of what he’d done, my body still wanted him. I flinched away.
‘When do we fight?’ Skelkra asked.
‘Five days. Enough time for Klawdia’s injuries to improve.’ Father shifted his eyes to the side, keeping something unspoken.
I took a step towards Father. ‘Why wait so long?’
He looked at the other leaders. A silent exchange passed between them, and they nodded.
‘We’ve sent out scouts to look for the bodies of those murdered. They will return in three days. If they cannot ascertain the elders’ cause of death, you’ll fight each other. If they discover evidence that one of you has lied, the other will be banished. Forever.’
I swallowed. They would find the Watchers’ bodies and see the embedded stakes. They would know Skelkra had lied. Skelkra would leave Ruxdor; that part I was happy about. My heart raced, and I couldn’t help but smirk at my enemy. His expression wavered under the recognition they would catch him out.
That night, in my hut, I stared up at the roof. My leg itched wildly. I tossed and turned, trying to ignore the sensation. When the itching turned to pain, I wanted the maggots out. Eventually they settled down, and the lessened discomfort distracted me from my thoughts but also allowed me to sleep. I drifted off.
Father stayed away for the next three days. I knew he was still angry with me. Jeykal didn’t visit either, but I was certain his family kept him from me. The only company I had was Corilksa and the two guards. The men were Bear warriors and far less hostile than the Lions or Wolves. I was happy to see Gevilka when she visited me that afternoon.
‘Good, good. Dead flesh is gone. No more pungent smell. Any pain?’ she asked with withered lips.
‘A little. Can you take them out?’
She pulled down my pants and inspected my leg. ‘Yes, they are ready.’
She washed her hands and dug out each maggot with her long fingernails. She placed them in a container. My gaze went to the crotch of my pants as I looked for blood. A few days earlier, when Jeykal and I journeyed back to Vilseek, I’d bled a little. No more had come, so I knew it must have been caused by stress. The last thing I needed was for my body to show weakness. It had to be strong. I had to be strong.
‘There is much on your mind.’ She pinched my skin between her fingernails, and I breathed in sharply. She paused to appraise my level of discomfort before continuing to remove the maggots.
Something about her glance made me want to speak. ‘I wish I could see the future. So I would know how to act.’
She chuckled. ‘The future is made, not discovered. Consider your choices carefully, and you will know what happens.’
I considered that for a moment. ‘Will I be able to fight?’ I lifted my arm, indicating I was most worried about the bone.
She bit her lip. ‘You should not use it. But if you do, I will give you something for the pain.’
She stood and handed me a vial of dragonclaw. ‘Two drops at most. It’s strong, and it will make you drowsy, so don’t take it before the fight.’
She handed me two other concoctions. The lids were loose, and I could smell the sour brews. One of them was a greenish-yellow colour, sort of like cow cud mixed with urine. My stomach churned, and I put the vial down. But my disgust reached my stomach, and I hobbled over to a nearby bucket and vomited. I wiped my mouth and peered up at the old lady as she tipped her head to regard me.
‘Are you sick?’
‘Weak stomach,’ I said.
She narrowed her eyes. ‘Are you lying?’
I frowned. ‘What do you—’
‘About killing the Watchers,’ she interjected.
I stared at her in astonishment, but I supposed it was a fair question. I stole a glance at the liquid in the bucket. Everything I’d eaten that day was in there. I’d never recover at this rate. I clutched my irritable stomach and sat dow
n on the floor. ‘No. What I’ve said is the truth. It is Skelkra who lies.’
She shook her head. ‘Sad. Pathetic. He deserves to win. Look at you. You’ve no fight in you. You’ve never had to fight for anything. In snowtimes, you’re fed before others, and you’re the warmest, most comfortable, and best dressed. In greentimes, you get first choice of lambs. Skelkra is a warrior; you are a dog panting at its master’s feet.’
I clenched my fists. Forgetting my stomach, I stood, feeling powerful as I loomed over the small woman. She stared up at me, defiance in her eyes and smugness on her lips.
‘You know nothing,’ I spat.
‘Tell me, oh great future leader of the Bears, did you jump into the river to save Lild? Did you feed Ketnal when he was desperate? Did you help your friend Jeykal hunt for his bird claw? As soon as Skelkra, the master of your heart, showed you interest, your pride swelled, and you let your feelings control your mind. You’re weak.’
She scooped her things into a bag and turned back to face me. My mind tripped over every response I tried to devise. Instead I made a strange blubbering noise.
‘If it comes to a fight, you must take risks. You must be ruthless.’ And with that, she left.
Suddenly feeling lightheaded, I returned to the bucket, and my knees buckled. Corilksa tried to comfort me, but I sent her away. I held the edges of the pail and threw up over and over again. I wiped at my mouth, revelling in the stillness that followed. I didn’t have a fever or a sore throat or chest. Perhaps the vomiting was another reaction to my distress or my wound. I eyed the new pink flesh that had taken the place of the crusty yellow.
Father entered the hut, and I jumped to my feet, causing pain to shoot down my leg.
‘The scouts are back, and they have news.’ He turned to leave, and I followed.
Chapter Eight
A crowd gathered around the great hall. When we entered, I saw that the tribal leaders and elders had moved the chairs into a horseshoe shape. The doors were closed behind Father and me. Skelkra and Jeykal were already there. Father sat in a large chair at the head of the group, and I stood beside him.
The scouts moved forward to address the chieftain. ‘Sir, animals had been at the bodies. Ketnal’s form remained intact. There was a spear through his chest. The other bodies had been dragged through the snow, their limbs removed and spread around the campsite. It was difficult to tell what had killed them.’
Father’s face darkened. For a moment, his eyes met mine, and they flickered like fire reflecting off a blade. He moved his gaze to the other side of the hall and beyond. He shook his head, and I placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder—he knocked it away.
‘Don’t,’ he said. He stood and left the room.
After everyone had left, Jeykal came to me. ‘Are you prepared?’
‘To fight Skelkra? I can hardly walk. My arm is still injured. How can I prepare?’
‘That’s your attitude? Come with me.’ Jeykal grasped my wrist and led me to the edge of the city and beyond to the woodlands. A bow and quiver were slung across his body. ‘You have to cheat. Think, Klawdia. You must win.’
I sifted through my fighting knowledge. Catching an opponent off guard was a key tactic in hand-to-hand combat. My right arm, my good arm, was useless. I would be holding the dagger in my left. While I had always trained with both hands, my left was worse when it came to throwing knives.
I was famous for my deadly knife throw, but because I would only have one dagger, and I was sure we would be fighting to the death, I couldn’t risk letting it out of my hands.
‘I could kick snow into his face,’ I said.
Jeykal nodded approvingly. ‘Don’t use the knife unless you can really do some damage.’
‘Jeykal, I’ve been using knives since I was a child.’
‘You are still a child,’ he said.
I threw a stick at him. He ducked and lunged at me, grabbing my arms in his hands.
He held me still. ‘You’ve always been a fair fighter. This time, you must take advantage any way you can. Skelkra can’t win, and your body can’t take any more injuries.’
‘I could ask them to postpone the fight until my right arm is better.’
Jeykal cocked his head. ‘They might, but I doubt it. Will you take dragonclaw for the pain?’
I nodded. ‘Gevilka already gave me some. As well as other unhelpful advice.’
Jeykal chuckled. ‘Oh yeah? What did she say?’
‘That I was weak and pathetic. That I’m not a true warrior because I’ve never struggled. Do you think that’s true?’
Jeykal shook his head. ‘Of course not. Look how you handled yourself in the Bestial Passage. You beat a bear!’
I thought about that for a moment. Many men had died trying to kill a bear, yet I’d done it. Surely that counted for something. So why had Gevilka been so hard on me then?
‘What did she say about your arm?’
‘It’s not broken, just bruised, perhaps the bone a little split. I will leave it out of the sling for the fight.’
Jeykal frowned. ‘No you won’t. You’ll keep it tied up, or he’ll use it as a weak point.’
‘Weak point? That reminds me...’ I allowed a grin to spread across my face.
‘Oh, no. What have you done?’
‘No, I mean, Skelkra is tall, right? And he’s a man. I’ll have access to some of his weak points, if you take my meaning.’
Jeykal cringed. ‘See? You can fight dirty. Just don’t try that trick on me.’
‘I promise,’ I said.
When Jeykal looked towards the horizon I stuck one of my legs between his, hooked my boot on his shoe, and stepped into him, knocking him off balance. He almost grabbed my injured arm but stopped when he realised what he was doing. He fell to the ground.
‘Seems you can’t fight dirty, either,’ I noted.
His face lightened. ‘There’s no chance you’d kill me. If I thought you would, I’d let my inner hawgrald out to play.’
‘You mean your inner sparrow?’ I teased.
He jumped to his feet, leaped, and knocked me into the snow. I laughed hard as his limbs entangled me. I fought back, trying to get the upper hand. Eventually, I had him on his back, his legs held down by my legs, and my free hand held both of his wrists.
‘Gotcha!’ I said.
But Jeykal just stared at me, his smile slowly disappearing. A hunger replaced his jesting, and all but his chest turned still. His pupils expanded as his eyes softened.
I relaxed and fell to the ground beside him. ‘I need to train,’ I announced, eager to escape the awkward moment.
Jeykal just lay there, staring up into the trees. His long neck drew my attention down to protruding collarbones that stopped at a taut chest. A vein pulsed under his jawline, and for the first time, I saw Jeykal the man, not Jeykal the boy. I considered my feelings for Skelkra. They were confused and ugly, contorted by his deceit yet persistent because of the moment we’d shared. I was doing my best to rid myself of him and my feelings. I knew what it felt like to be used, and I wouldn’t do that to Jeykal.
I hadn’t noticed him staring at me. His arms relaxed underneath his head. ‘I don’t mind.’
‘Mind what?’ I replied.
‘That you were with him. You know.’
I tilted my head. ‘And?’
‘I just wanted you to know. I don’t care that you were with him.’
‘I wouldn’t care if you minded anyway. It’s my life, and it’s my decision.’ Feeling foolish, I got up and stormed off through the woods.
Jeykal didn’t follow.
I spent the afternoon throwing a knife with my left hand. Out of every five times, it hit three. Curse it! I couldn’t risk throwing the knife at Skelkra with those odds. The times I missed, the knife tipped forwards or backwards, hitting the target with the handle or the side of the blade. I became angry and threw the knife harder and harder. Each time I missed, I became angrier. My frustration boiled inside me, and I curs
ed myself over and over for my weakness. I hated myself. I grabbed the knife and considered dragging the blade across my skin. For a moment, I stood there, breathing heavily, dagger clenched in my left hand, ready to draw blood.
Then I shook my head at my absurdity and reckless emotions. The medicine woman had been right. I was no warrior. I collapsed to the snow, dropped the blade, and buried my face into my hand.
I was going to lose.
Then I passed the knife into my right hand. I gripped it softly and then harder until my arm ached, but the pain wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. I untied the material that held my arm to my body. I straightened my elbow, and it creaked a little as the joints regained their mobility. I stretched out my fingers, but the splint held my wrist in place. Holding the knife, I raised my right arm and felt pain shoot down my forearm. When my arm was all the way back, I threw the knife, and the pain knocked the air from my lungs. I clutched at the splint, doubling over in the snow.
Tears streamed down my face, and I regretted the effort. When I looked up, I saw the knife embedded in the target and smiled. I stood and hobbled over to the tree to remove the knife. I had to try again. I had to see if I could make a perfect strike with my arm in a splint. I clenched my jaw and cried as I released the knife again. I heard a small crack, and the sharp ache caused white spots in my vision. I swayed to the side and bent down to the snow again. My brow drenched in sweat, I put the sling back on and clutched at my arm, shaking and swaying back and forth. Nausea rose in my stomach again, and it cramped over and over, trying to empty its contents. But I’d eaten nothing since Father had found me crouched over a bucket earlier. I wiped the film of wetness from my brow, stood, and checked the target. I’d hit it again. I had a plan.
Back in the city encampment, when I entered my hut, I found Father sitting on my bed, head resting on his hands.