Bear Heart

by K. J. Colt

  ‘You look tired,’ he said, standing. ‘You must rest for tomorrow. Or we will lose, and I’ll be forced to live with the shame of losing the Bears’ place as first tribe.’

  ‘You’d still be leader of the Bears,’ I said.

  He punched a nearby wall. ‘The Wolves will ruin us! They don’t know how to run a country.’

  ‘Neither did you until someone taught you.’ I didn’t know what was wrong with me. I wasn’t trying to provoke Father; I just didn’t care if I did.

  He moved towards me slowly and stopped with his face inches from mine. ‘Are you trying to anger me? You want me to injure you so you don’t have to fight. Don’t you?’

  I knew any answer I gave would result in violence, so I said nothing.

  He scoffed. ‘Women are not meant to lead, and if I’d had sons, I would’ve been relieved not to have to pass headship to you.’

  I brought my eyes to his and clutched the hilt of my knife in my left hand. Father or not, his words called for an argument. If I were a man, we would be in a scrap, jabbing with elbows and fists. I had never fought my father physically, but I wanted to. ‘Leave. Me. Alone,’ I said through gritted teeth.

  Father grabbed my damaged arm and squeezed. I suppressed the scream that welled within me. Tears trickled down my cheeks, and my legs turned to mud, but I kept my eyes on his. When his grip loosened, my glare returned. I would not let him intimidate me. How I longed to sleep, and I considered taking too much of the dragonclaw herb. The sleep would be endless and all my worries gone. When Father let go, he showed no hint of remorse.

  I sat on my bed, my right arm throbbing and aching, and my vision blurred.

  Father sighed and took a seat beside me. ‘I am afraid,’ he admitted.

  I could produce no sympathy for him. A virtuous leader does not control by hurting the people who love him. I stared at a sketch of Mother and wondered if he’d ever hurt her. ‘I will fight the best I can,’ I said.

  He shook his head. ‘No. I mean, I am afraid he will kill you. You are a disappointment, but I do not want you to die. You’re all I have left of her.’ I followed his gaze to the wall and thanked the stars he’d loved Mother so much. For if he hadn’t, I might be dead. Then again, if he hadn’t, maybe he wouldn’t continue to take out his grief over her death on me.

  ‘I know why you hurt me. You blame me for her death. I don’t care if you are the chieftain—I know you’re a coward.’ I stood up. The room moved, and I swayed a little. My stomach swelled and churned like an animal had nested inside of me and was now trying to get out.

  Father grabbed my wrist again, and I waited for him to squeeze. He trembled, and his fingers tightened slightly. I glared at him and raised my chin, encouraging his rage every way I could. Come on, hurt me, I thought at him.

  ‘I will fetch the medicine woman,’ he said and left.

  I blinked a couple of times and collapsed onto the bed again. The pain kept me awake. I looked over at the black vial of dragonclaw. One drop soothed most aches, four drops for severe pain. I tipped half the bottle into my mouth.

  Skelkra faced me across the Fighter’s Circle, a place used mostly for training and sparring. Vilseek citizens crowded around the outside and leaned against sturdy railings, shouting either my name or Skelkra’s. Thirsty, excited eyes flicked between the Wolf boy and me. They wanted blood; they wanted to know who their next chieftain would be.

  My right arm hung at my side, throbbing. I gripped my dagger in my left hand. I felt a little foggy from the dragonclaw I had taken the night before, but the aches in my body were faint and bearable.

  Father stepped towards us through the snowy mush. The clouds had darkened overhead. No snow fell, yet the wind had grown dry and cold. Snowfall was coming.

  The chieftain shouted, ‘You must cut your opponent three times! Only cuts from a blade count as points. No deadly strikes. If one dies, neither wins, and Jeykal of the Hawgralds becomes the next ruler.’

  My eyes slid to my friend watching anxiously from the side. He made a fist with his right hand and pummelled his left. He was telling me to fight strongly. To fight dirty. One part of me knew Jeykal would make a great leader, but he was passive. When it came to war, he’d falter under pressure.

  Our country bordered Senya, and ever since the civil war that split it in two, the Queens of the north had grown strong. No one knew what they wanted other than the biggest army they could muster. This was a time that needed a leader with fire in the belly. My father had that, but sometimes the flames consumed his better sense, and those around him, like me, got burnt.

  ‘The referee will raise a flag with each score. Anything goes. Begin!’ Father strode to the side and climbed over the fencing. The referee sidestepped and moved as Skelkra and I circled each other.

  Red body paint and ash covered his torso in the shapes of paw prints, moons, and wolves. For a moment, I admired his physique and noticed how a necklace of wolf fangs sat perfectly aligned with his shoulders. He wore shorts and blunt-spiked boots.

  I wore loose cloth that stretched with my movements, including long sleeves and pants to add another layer of protection to my skin. The sun emerged from behind dark clouds. People in the crowd chanted, ‘Bear’ or ‘Wolf.’ A part of me considered taking Skelkra’s life and allowing Jeykal to become the next ruler, but my father had worked hard to keep his place as leader, and while I found myself angry at him a lot, I respected the realm he’d built.

  Skelkra ran at me, swiping his hand from left to right. I skipped to the side, feeling the blade whoosh past my ear, and then I rolled further out of the way. Cold mud stuck to my arms, and Skelkra lunged again, aiming for my throat. I leaned back and sent my foot up into his groin. It connected.

  He groaned and hunched his body. I swiped my blade across his arm, and the crowd cheered as the Wolf’s blood stained the snow. I wiped the blood from my blade on my right arm so he could see. He growled, and my heart raced with my success. My veins, skin, mind—everything was consumed by the buzz of the fight.

  ‘Cheat,’ he hissed.

  ‘Yes, you are,’ I replied, enflaming his fury so he’d make more mistakes.

  He sprinted at me, holding nothing back. I shuffled backwards as he raised his arm to strike, my eyes on his knife held high in the air. He kicked, and the spikes on his boots hit the wound on my right leg.

  I cried out and reached for my leg. Something bit my left shoulder. My sleeve fell from my arm, and the referee raised a flag. I turned my head to see fresh blood staining my shirt. Skelkra smiled at me, and we moved back to the middle of the Fighter’s Circle. His leg dragged slightly, and I knew my kick to his groin continued to affect him.

  I tried to stand up, but my thigh had cramped and was throbbing. My clothes stuck to my back and chest. I put my hand up to signal I needed a moment, and the referee raised his flags, granting me the time.

  I leaned over to catch my breath. The crowd indicated their impatience with me by shouting and cursing at me. A single fight broke out between a Bear and Wolf warrior, which distracted the others for a while. From my leant over position, I looked up to meet Skelkra’s eyes.

  Skelkra snickered at me, crossed his arms and looked around to the Wolves in the crowd. A few people chuckled and cheered. Annoyed by his disrespect, I threw snow at him. The crowd roared with laughter as he did a stupid dance dodging each one of my throws. A lump splattered on his face, more mud than snow. He wiped at it, the smile gone from his face.

  The referee raised his flags signalling the fight had resumed and I hurled more and more, and he began to throw some back.

  When he bent to pick up a handful, I tossed the knife into my other hand, pulled back my injured arm, snapping the sling, and threw the knife at him. I heard a crack in my wrist, followed by excruciating pain that broke through the effects of the dragonclaw. The arm dangled at my side like a hanged man. I heard a thwack, and Skelkra groaned as the knife stuck into his upper thigh. He howled and grabbed at it, trying to pull o
ut the blade, but it was in too deep. I ran forward and jumped at him, landing two feet against his chest. He fell over backwards, and I landed beside him. He’d dropped his own knife, and as I reached for it, he snatched it away and cut my left armpit, right where the fold stretched.

  The referee raised two flags. The crowd went wild. Dammit, still tied. Bears and Wolves taunted and mocked one another. The rest hooted, booed, or clapped. They’d wanted blood, and we’d given it to them. The cut stung, but nothing hurt more than my now-broken right arm.

  People climbed onto the fence, punching their fists into the air. A few men exchanged coins; they were taking bets.

  I squeezed my left arm to my ribs and noticed Skelkra held both daggers, although he struggled to stand. I ran, putting distance between us. The pain in my thigh made my steps awkward, and spots formed in my eyes with each beat of my heart. The sky had darkened, and thunder clapped in the distance.

  Skelkra rose to his feet, blood gushing down his leg, and I noted we had matching wounds. He bent forward at the waist. I crouched, my body screaming for rest. I picked up my sling from the ground and wrapped it under my left arm to stop the bleeding. If I used my left arm, the rip in the skin would worsen, and the cut would never heal. I would be badly scarred.

  Skelkra stepped shakily towards me. I stood and backed away before stepping around the edges of the circle. He darted at me. I moved to the side, and as he swerved, I dropped down into a backwards roll, bringing my feet up when he lunged. My feet caught his chest, and I pushed him over me into the fencing. I scrambled to my feet, completely covered in mud. Skelkra stood, roared, and came at me again. I ran.

  The crowd laughed as he chased me around. Whenever he got close, I switched directions, and my thigh seized, bringing tears to my eyes. He swiped at me and missed. The side of his body became exposed, and I kicked him in the ribs. He fell. I kicked him in the head. Then his thigh. Then his ribs, over and over until he coughed and rolled away, still clutching the two knives. I was afraid to get close. One misstep would see him cut me again, and I’d lose.

  I went to kick him again, but he rolled onto his backside and jumped to his feet, clumsily throwing a dagger at me. It wobbled through the air, and the handle banged against my shoulder. The knife thumped to the mud, and again the crowd laughed. Skelkra ran at me, trying to stop me from picking up the dagger. He swiped, and I veered back. Once, twice, three times, I was too quick.

  He leaned over to catch his breath while I tried to keep standing. His breathing sounded laboured, and he clutched his ribs. I must have broken one. I saw my opportunity. I hooked the toe of my boot under the dagger and flicked it into the air. As I reached out to grab it, I felt a tickle across my nose. Skelkra had managed to clip me again. Anxiously, I brought my hand to my nose and checked my fingers for blood.

  Chapter Nine

  No blood. The referee stopped the fight, and Father and another elder jogged towards me. They bent my head back, twisting it this way and that. My legs wobbled, and I clutched at Father for support. Father pulled me close, supporting the entirety of my weight. They shook their heads at each other.

  Father hissed in my ear, ‘Win.’ He glared at me before turning away.

  When he let me go, I stumbled a bit. The crowd cheered as the referee signalled for the fight to resume. Skelkra breathed out, frustration covering his face.

  I decided to wait for him to come to me. He’d always been the aggressive type. That was why Jeykal had lectured me to fight dirty. I had no taste for conflict. Besides, I’d always been better at defence. Skelkra straightened, crossed his arms, and flexed them to make himself look bigger and stronger.

  ‘Come on then!’ I yelled. ‘What’s wrong? Is a Wolf afraid of a big bad Bear?’ I felt more confident since I had one of the knives again.

  The crowd booed. Skelkra howled to the sky. Not surprisingly, the other Wolves from his tribe joined in. The Bears growled to compete with the noise, and soon the air was saturated with the calls of every tribe. Father shouted for silence, and the racket stopped.

  I splayed my fingers and placed my hand over the top of my head, imitating the shape of a cock’s comb. ‘Cluck, cluck,’ I said and then poked my tongue out at the Wolf boy. I wanted him to attack me. The Wolf tribe snarled and howled. I poked my tongue out at them too. Skelkra lowered his head and bared his teeth. I thought of Gevilka and the night we had drunk from the Cup of Sleep.

  ‘Beware the wolf that shows you his fangs,’ she’d said.

  Sensing his coming attack, I tried to move my right arm, but it wouldn’t budge. I glanced at Skelkra. He lowered his head and shuffled his feet, and his right biceps bulged as he gripped the dagger. Here it comes.

  His chest flexed, and he stepped towards me. We danced for a moment, our footsteps moving and changing depending on the other’s. He came from the right, and I couldn’t block him with my arm, so I leaned back, and the blade moved past me. As his arm swung around, I kicked it, and his body twisted, revealing his back. I swept his legs out from underneath him, and he fell to the ground.

  I jumped at him, and he rolled once, twice, keeping his dagger between us. I couldn’t get close, and seeing the opportunity, I lifted my left arm and flung my dagger at his shoulder, willing it to hit the target. When he saw it coming, he sat up, and I gasped as the blade embedded in his left lung. His eyes moved to his chest, and a gurgling noise escaped his lips.

  ‘No!’ Father roared.

  Angry shouts rose from the crowd, and they surged into the ring. I collapsed to the ground and leaned on my left arm. He’d moved into my throw; he would die. I stared up at the sky while the Bears pushed the Wolves off me.

  Skelkra’s father and his warriors broke through the crowd with a stretcher. They lifted the Wolf boy onto the leather and rushed him away. I tried to get up, so I could stagger after them.

  ‘No! You do not follow my son. Harlot!’ Skelkra’s mother slapped me across the face, and a woman from my tribe stepped in to restrain her. My skin prickled from her touch.

  ‘I didn’t mean…’ I started, but my throat was dry and hoarse. Hardly a whisper came out. Still, I managed to stand and fell forwards. Jeykal appeared beside me and held me up. He knew where I wanted to go.

  I stumbled beside Jeykal as we walked to Skelkra’s family abode. At the hut, I could hear sobbing and wailing coming from inside. When we entered, I saw blood on the bed beside Skelkra’s body. His breath came in laboured bursts, and I feared I’d punctured his lung. Jeykal would rule. Relief washed over me as I considered my friend bringing order to our country.

  Father stepped in and stood beside us. Outside, the town had gathered, and snow fell heavily. I wondered what everyone thought. Was I Klawdia the killer or Klawdia the really bad throw? They probably thought I’d planned the whole thing. I knew that Jeykal should detach himself from me. We should no longer be friends, as my presence in his life would bring mistrust to his position as chieftain. They probably suspected us of being lovers.

  Father touched my shoulder. ‘I’m glad you’re alive.’

  When I looked up at him, he averted his eyes and moved to Skelkra’s bed. I’d disappointed him. I’d disappointed everyone. I crossed my left arm over my body.

  ‘Dragonclaw,’ I whispered to Jeykal.

  He nodded and left. Minutes later, he returned and put the vial into my hands. I looked at the small bottle. I’d killed a man. I’d let the Watchers die. I smashed the bottle on the floor. I deserved my pain.

  Jeykal grabbed me. ‘Why are you doing this to yourself?’

  I stared at him blankly, no fight left in me. He pulled out another vial and put it to my lips. I swallowed a little then moved my head away.

  ‘Traitor,’ Skelkra’s mother hissed at Jeykal.

  ‘Do not speak of what you don’t know!’ he spat back.

  I shook my head at him. ‘Don’t. It’s not worth it.’

  We stood outside at the base of a surrounding verandah. Angry voices rose within the hut. Fa
ther emerged with a hard expression. Feeling tired, I sat on the hut’s stairs. Every time the medicine woman came out, I questioned her.

  Gevilka’s answer was always the same: ‘I don’t know.’

  I’d wanted him to die, hadn’t I? I’d told myself I hated him. I wanted to kill him.

  Jeykal tried to take me back to my own hut. He insisted that I had to rest. I had to eat. However, I merely shook my head. He left me there, and as I watched the sun crawl down the western sky, three riders on stunning white geldings trotted up to the stairs.

  Two of the riders wore yellow robes. The middle wore shimmering gold, and she pushed the hood back, revealing the red hair of a Ruxdorian. The sun behind her put her face into shadow. As she neared, her cloak and hair glimmered. I gasped when I saw her eyes; they were as gold as the sun.

  I shook my head. Had I taken too much dragonclaw? Then I remembered the tales. She was a healer. When I was four, Ruxdor had been pulled into a war between North and South Senya. We had sent warriors to fight for the legendary Queens of North Senya. They occupied the city of Meligna. For some reason, the plague that had affected Senya had not affected the Ruxdorians in the same way. Father didn’t trust healers. He said they’d betrayed their own people, leaving their king to die.

  ‘Hello,’ she said. ‘You should get seen to.’ She nodded at my arms.

  My mouth hung open as I stared into eyes the colour of flames. I didn’t know what to say. I watched her golden cloak drape over the plain wooden steps leading into the hut. I listened for the conversation inside, but the dragonclaw replaced my senses with a strange humming feeling. I lost track of time for a while. Someone shook me.

  ‘He lives,’ Father said, smiling.

  ‘So that means?’

  ‘You got the last blow. You won the fight.’

  ‘But without the healer, he would have died.’

  ‘The rules are clear. ’ He gave me a forced smile and walked away.

  Gevilka emerged from Skelkra’s hut. She glared back at the building, muttering under her breath. Then she noticed me. ‘Oh, child, come on, let’s get you fixed.’ She practically picked me up, and I was surprised at her strength. ‘You fought well. I hope you didn’t try to kill him because of my angry outburst the other day. I’ve always thought you a good fighter.’