FIERCE: Sixteen Authors of Fantasy

by Mercedes Lackey

  ‘They believe in you, Klawdia,’ Father said, then stroked my arm lovingly.

  I stiffened. His nearness put me on my guard. Mother had died giving birth to me, and so had never borne sons. Behind closed doors, Father condemned me for her death through beatings and harsh words, but tonight, for the sake of presenting a united front to my people, he acted like a loving father.

  The western Dividing Mountains that stood between my home and the ocean were silhouetted in the warm reds and oranges of the setting sun. To the south, the Death Peaks sat stark and breathtaking. Swollen clouds swallowed the tallest of the mountains. People often said that by climbing them you could pluck the stars from the sky. That was where I would be tomorrow.

  A reveller jumped through the fire, and one of his feathers caught alight. He landed clumsily on the ground while his friends stomped at his pants, laughing and pointing. Father’s upper lip curled at the spectacle. The city overflowed with tribes from across Ruxdor. They had journeyed for weeks through the snow to witness this momentous event, but Father grew tired of the incessant merriment and scraps that lasted from dawn ’til dusk.

  Though the city’s typically harmonious flow had been interrupted, the Bestial Passage was a vital part of the nation’s future. The Bear tribe had ruled all others for centuries, but Father’s silver hair, deeply lined face, and worsening skill with a blade provoked discussion about who would take his place upon his death. Traditionally, the role of Chieftain would pass to the firstborn son. Father had no sons, only me, and so the elders demanded that I compete for my right to rule and prove my worth.

  ‘You’re deep in thought, my daughter,’ said Father. ‘Even though you are the youngest of the challengers, you are the best with a dagger. Your tenacity and agility make you deadly, but still the Wolf will be crafty and the Lion silent and swift.’

  Praise from Father was rare. Following my first steps as a child, Father put a dagger in my hand and had continued to scold and criticise me since. I’d learned from the best warriors, listened to the wisest men, and hunted many animals. I was strong now, determined, swift, and deadly. I couldn’t lose.

  Daylight loitered while the slush on the ground froze in the icy winds. With added wood, the bonfire grew. Dancers jumped and kicked and twirled. The moon rose behind the Death Peaks, bathing them in a soft, white light. The greentimes were ending, the snowtimes would soon smother the land, and the people of Ruxdor would struggle and fight over the limited resources.

  ‘I do not fear the others,’ I said to Father. I knew these lands as well as I knew the swirls and lines etched into the hilt of my dagger. I’d spent years studying the snow bears. I knew how they fed, slept, and played. They were like us in many ways. They preferred to live peacefully, but under threat, would fight to the death. And soon, I would face and kill a bear.

  Father moved away to greet the tribes gathering around the fire. They filled the gaps between the huts and tents. The other competitors stepped forward: Skelkra of the Wolves, Jeykal of the Hawgrald Birds, Ketnal of the Lions, and Lild of the Snakes. Skelkra was dressed in a cape with wolf headdress and tail. He wore a hardened expression. Tribal girls gathered about him, fetching him wine and feeding him meat. I watched them with envy until Father returned to my side.

  ‘Tell me your plan again.’ Father wanted me to reassure him I was truly ready. However, I was insulted that he would even ask. Fighting was as natural to me as breathing and blinking. From the age of two, I had spent thirteen years of my life mastering every skill. To say I was ready was an understatement.

  I lifted my face to the sky. ‘I will follow the sun and moon until I find the bears’ feeding grounds in the valley of the Death Peaks. I will lure one into a trap, kill it, then return home.’

  Father clasped his hands and looked down at the snow made yellow by firelight. I studied his worn features; the harsh weather of our lands had taken its toll on his once-smooth skin.

  ‘Find a sow without young. Her fight will be weaker.’

  I took an arrow from a nearby quiver and twisted its wooden shaft in my hands, the hard lines of the steel head resembling mountain ridges. Both led to a deadly tip. ‘I could rule now. I would see us through the winter fed and safe. Why should I prove anything?’ I clenched my teeth. I rarely lost a fight, and I’d been with Father to every diplomatic meeting. I knew how to govern my people.

  Father stared at me. His twilight eyes had paled with age, and his once-fiery hair had greyed to the colour of the moon. Tonight, he wore a cape made from the white pelt of a snow bear. A circlet of bear teeth decorated his forehead, and his hands were painted white, like bear paws. The leaders of each respective tribe also wore animal parts. A necklace of wolf teeth for Skelkra’s father, snake fangs for the snake leader, a white fur vest for the head Lion, and metre-long jade feathers for the Hawgrald tribe.

  ‘Women serve men, and you must prove that you can be a man before you may lead,’ said Father.

  ‘I know,’ I spat. Bitterness tightened my throat.

  Near the bonfire, the four other challengers lined up in front of Gevilka, Ruxdor’s oldest medicine woman. She wore a tattered black dress. Her frizzy white hair whipped across her face in the strong breeze. Her hips had hardened with age, and she walked as though she were crossing a rocky stream. Thousands of onlookers fell silent.

  With two slender arms, Gevilka raised her hands to the sky. ‘And so it begins! The challenge of the five strongest tribes: Snake, Lion, Hawgrald, Bear and Wolf. All come forth.’

  Placing the arrow back in its container, I joined the others. Every eye fell on me. I squared my shoulders, took lengthy strides, and kept my chin high. It felt degrading to act like a strutting man, but there was no other way to win the respect of my people. We grasped each other’s hands. Gevilka shuffled closer. Five plates of blood were placed before her. She picked up Lild’s first; I knew it contained snake blood. She marked his forehead. Next, she marked Ketnal, Jeykal and me. Lild and Ketnal were seventeen, and Jeykal sixteen. Gevilka moved to the oldest challenger, Skelkra, the next leader of the Wolf tribe. Skelkra and I had hunted many times together. We’d grown up having snow wars and hunting rabbits in the greentimes.

  He caught my eye. I swallowed. My body tingled as he continued to stare at me. My attention fixed on his large fingers brushing against mine, and pleasure rippled through me, making the unexplored areas of my body throb. I thought about rubbing my fingers across his, but decided against it. We’d flirted, and we’d wrestled, but he’d given no certain indication he felt as deeply as I did.

  His chest rose and fell in the firelight. His bare chest revealed nipples hardened by the icy breeze, and my notice of it flooded my body with a strange sort of energy. I turned away for a moment, collecting my thoughts. His hand flexed over mine. Memories of our play fights flooded my mind, both of us grappling for the advantage in a scrap. On occasion, I’d pinned him to the snow, only to have him pin me back again. One day he’d hovered over me, ice in his hair, mud on his face, and I had been sure he would kiss me. He hadn’t.

  We were destined to bond one day, bringing the Bears and the Wolves together. Everyone expected it, and over the past few weeks, we’d grown closer; my heart swelled with the memories of our hunts. I tried to steal a glance at his face, but he caught me and smirked. My cheeks warmed with embarrassment. I turned back in time to see Gevilka leaning toward me. I flinched a little.

  She whispered in my ear, ‘Beware the wolf that shows you his fangs.’ She lowered her head, and a cautioning look replaced her sombre expression.

  A wolf? I glanced to my right. Surely she didn’t mean Skelkra? He had worked with my father and his father to negotiate an alliance between our country and the country of North Senya, just south of our borders. When we were bonded, we would rule together.

  To my left, Jeykal, my closest of friends, squeezed my hand to get my attention. He was small, but Lild, the Snake boy, was smaller. Jeykal was an expert marksman, which made sense given that t
he most effective way to kill a bird was to shoot it down. His bow hung diagonally across his torso. He’d spent the majority of last year crafting the beautiful weapon himself.

  Intricately carved vines wound around the bow’s top and bottom. Two golden wings stretched from the grip. The silk bowstring gleamed under the firelight. Someone had started the rumour that Jeykal had been born with a bow in his hand. I’d later joked that he’d probably been born clutching his nether regions. Well…at least I’d found it funny. I owed everything I knew of archery to him.

  He leaned over to me. ‘Nervous?’

  I shook my head and whispered, ‘No, you?’

  He snorted, but quickly composed himself. ‘Wonder where I’ll wake up.’

  ‘Base of the cliff face. No doubt they’ll make you hunt a hawgrald. The imeks have flown south, and the pekats are too far north. I’m sure of this. You’ll be scaling the cliffs, so be careful.’ I worried about him. While he had the lean figure needed to climb the Death Peaks, the hawgralds were aggressive and strong. They could easily carry him off.

  Jeykal rubbed his hands together, and his decorative feathers swished. ‘Haven’t been to the nesting grounds since my father took me last year. Do you know what you have to bring back?’

  I shook my head. ‘A claw, I bet, or a head maybe.’

  Jeykal bit his lip. ‘For your sake, I hope it’s a claw.’

  I agreed with him. A bear head would be heavy, maybe weighing a quarter of my own body weight.

  Gevilka glared at us before raising her hands again and uttering a prayer to the surrounding world. ‘Let these cubs, pups, chicks, and snakes return home whether they bring their prizes or not.’

  ‘Here comes the bad part,’ Jeykal whispered from the corner of his mouth.

  Gevilka held a tree-shaped goblet. The Cup of Sleep. Apparently, it hadn’t been used since the last Bestial Passage. People gasped and whispered as she gripped it with two bony hands.

  Tomorrow we would wake, cold and alone, our heads pounding with headaches, and we’d be constantly stalked by Watchers, select elders from other tribes who would watch to make sure we didn’t cheat. Watchers wouldn’t intervene—not even to save our lives. I wondered who’d follow Jeykal, though. Someone plagued with the stiffness of age would never be able to climb the cliffs with him.

  ‘Who’s your Watcher?’ I asked him.

  ‘Don’t know. You?’

  I shook my head. ‘I don’t know either.’

  ‘Been many years since the last Bestial Passage. At least two hundred.’

  ‘Yes.’ I thought of Mother. I had never known her, but I was sure I would have liked her. She’d favoured the arts over fighting, and had worked for peace and cooperation between the tribes. Father had said she’d brought many of them together. In the north, tribes such as the Fox and the Boar clung to ancient grudges. They kept their distance, but we knew that the ice valleys in which they dwelt brought them suffering. Mother had wanted them to move south to live in Vilseek, but the idea had only angered them.

  I looked around at the other challengers. Ketnal, the Lion boy, seemed confident; Lild, the Snake boy, appeared focused. Lild stared at the ground, and I knew he was considering his plan. Tomorrow, I might be forced to kill one of these challengers. I didn’t want to, of course, but if they threatened me, I would fight back.

  Ruxdor’s armies consisted mainly of Bears, Wolves, and some Lions. The rest of the Lions focused on hunting and trading. The Snakes and Hawgralds ran Vilseek’s farms, organising produce and wares and managing the workers. Those workers consisted of people from the Frog and Goat tribes that served the rest of us, not by choice but by force.

  I felt Skelkra’s sea-blue eyes tugging at the back of my head, and I turned around. He was smirking at me again, and I was distracted by the curves of his strong body. Did he want me? I closed my eyes. Love. I’d been tossing that word about in my mind for the past week. Did I love him? A Wolf and a Bear, once bonded, would be a strong alliance for my people.

  We moved into a circle and passed the Cup of Sleep around, taking large gulps of the liquid called Devsod. The concoction tasted of salt and sap, the smell of it was overwhelming. Devsod’s effects were commonly used in feat of strength games among the tribes where two men would ingest the tonic, and the winner was the man who stayed awake the longest.

  Gevilka took the cup away, and we formed a circle to stare each other down as the effects took hold. My thoughts grew sluggish, and I noticed other challengers’ limbs buckle, then straighten, and then bend again. Amusement sprouted within. Heads sagged, eyes rolled, and I fought the drug. A smile touched my lips as I looked at Jeykal, whose legs trembled.

  Skelkra stumbled, making me chuckle, but then my own body began to buckle. I fought my heavy eyelids, my numb fingertips, and my weakening legs. My knee bent for a moment, but I straightened it. Lild and Jeykal were on the ground trying to sit back up. Ketnal, Skelkra, and I remained upright, although Skelkra fell to his knees. Slowly, I did the same. I decided to play dirty and make the others laugh.

  ‘Floppy and wobbly,’ I said, knowing my tongue was slack, which made the words sound like child speak.

  Ketnal laughed the hardest, and his legs gave way. Once on the ground, his body went limp. Skelkra gave a small chuckle but stayed kneeling.

  And then everything went dark; I couldn’t see. The feeling of my eyelids being open, but being confined to complete darkness, made me panic. Devsod’s effects worsened and when Skelkra fell against me, I knew I’d won this challenge. From behind, someone pulled me to the ground. For a moment, my vision returned, and Father’s face stared down at me.

  ‘Win,’ he said, and I sank into blackness.

  Chapter II

  THUMP. THUMP. THUMP. PAIN THROBBED in my temples. Something moved beside me. I sat upright, and the world rushed by as if someone were spinning me about. I shut my eyes and grasped at my aching jaw. My ears ached, too, and my nose. I peered to the side. A woman sat nearby, her gaze steady. It was Thixal from the Lion tribe, my Watcher. When I was young, Thixal had told me stories of my mother to help me sleep. I hadn’t seen her in months, and now I knew why.

  ‘Greetings, Watcher,’ I said through gritted teeth. The ache in my head overwhelmed me.

  She moved closer and handed me a square of something fibrous. ‘For the pain. Eat.’

  The dry herbs stuck to my mouth, and I swirled my tongue around, trying to dislodge them. She threw a knapsack at me. I searched for water and found a half-filled skin. I slurped at the contents and rinsed my mouth. I gauged my location, recognising the mountains in the distance, the summits nearby, and the trees in the valley. I resumed digging through the bag, hoping to find boots or cloth, anything to wrap around my feet.

  Impatiently, I dumped the contents into the snow. I glanced at Thixal hovering over the fire. She ate bread, and her face glowed as she faced the rising sun. I looked down at my body. My shirt and pants had been taken, leaving me with undergarments that did little to cover my skin. I fumbled with the knot of a smaller bag and accidentally ripped its sides. I cursed, took a breath, and slowed my movements. Mistakes were often made in haste.

  I lined up my items: dagger, skinning knife, bow, salt, water pouch, small pot, and a piece of parchment with a drawing on it. It showed a bear’s head severed from its body and an image of the knife that lay on the snow before me. I picked up the weapon and touched the tip with my thumb. A droplet of blood welled and trickled down my finger. I wiped it on my undergarments, grabbed the cord of the main bag, and slid the blade along it. It split apart in one stroke. A bear’s skin was tough to penetrate, but once it was pierced, only a soft insulating layer remained.

  I stared up at Thixal. ‘Anything else?’

  ‘You must kill the bear with the knife. Other than that, no.’ She placed a finger over her lips, signalling the end of any further communication.

  I looked up at the blue sky. With the sun peeking over the eastern mountains, long morning shadow
s stretched across the lands. Clouds were scarce, and the fog had mostly lifted. I was amongst the Death Peaks, close to Death Valley. The bear they’d drawn was specifically a snow bear; other bears could not survive in our harsh climate anyway. Most of the snow bears would be hibernating in caves. The rest would be at the river. Their bodies would be slowing for the long sleep through snowtime. They’d be sluggish, making them slightly easier to fight.

  I put the items back in my bag and headed for the frozen streams. I passed through crevices and scaled mountainsides, supporting myself with pine trees and boulders. Snow shook loose as I swung on the limbs of trees. I’d been here many times before. I knew the quickest way in and out of the valley. I stared up at the incredible mountains, each one higher than the one before it, until the tips disappeared into the mountain mists.

  To my right, gently sloping hills created a bowl shape where water collected and turned into a half-frozen river. I placed each foot carefully as I descended. My ankles and toes already ached from the cold. I had spent many years exposing my body to frozen lands, but the desire for warmth could never be completely overcome.

  At the bottom, fluffy pillows of snow sat on the frozen crust. I took my dagger and stabbed the ice. Crack. Broken fragments parted, revealing the coursing liquid underneath. I scooped some into my mouth. No unusual flavours registered. After boiling, the water would be drinkable.

  I stepped around the thinnest parts of the ice and made my way back to the embankment. Snow bears lived on rabbits, fish, and other small creatures; they also ate snowberries and roots. Because the snowtime was so close, the bears favoured fish. The Death Valley River travelled south through the mountains. In order to follow it to the ocean, one had to stick to the peaks, a dangerous feat accomplished by few. Fish relocated downstream to the ocean before the river completely froze. At this time of year, the bears had to fight over the dwindling sections of unfrozen river.