(Search & Sitemap)
> Writing >
Longer Fiction >
The Steel Orb
Skip Back
Previous
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
Next
Skip Forward
Printer-Friendly Version
Fortress stood, armed with a sword, a crossbow, and several quarrels. He had given the pike to me; we followed several other men and spread out into the woods. Fortress told me, "I want you just to search, and cry out if you see the bear--we'll come. Don't attack the bear; just set the pike if it charges, and run once it's hit. I think you have a good chance of noticing the bear. Don't take any unnecessary risks."
We spread out, and I moved along, my feet slipping noiselessly on the forest soil. It was more of an effort than it should have been; my body seemed to move with all the fluidity of sludge. The forest looked more rugged than usual; the storm which almost killed me had torn through the forest, and the storm's mark was far heavier on the forest than the city. I thought of the saying that a storm is liquid fire.
I looked at a tree that had fallen. The dead tree had broken a branch on another tree, and left an unpleasant wound. I cut the hanging branch with my pike, to leave better wound. Then I placed my hand on the tree to bless it, and left it to heal.
I thought of how the hunt would go. Someone would see it, then the men would gather. Those the bear faced away from would fire a volley of arrows. Those it chased would run while others taunted it. When the hunters left the city, there was an edge of excitement; I don't think it would be the same if it were not risky.
I continued to move along noiselessly, and looked for a creek. I was thirsty. I blessed another tree, hoping it would heal: the storm had left some rather impressive wreckage. It was dead silent, and when I cut a damaged branch from a third tree, two things happened. First, I heard a babbling brook, and realized how parched I was. Second, part of my pike caught on the tree, and I couldn't wrest it free.
Leaving the pike for a moment, I stole away from the tree and refreshed myself at the brook. I sat for a moment and rested, breathing in simple joy. Then I heard a stick snap on the other side of a rocky outcropping. I realised I could hear some very loud pawprints.
I slithered up the rock, and looked around. I saw nothing.
Then I looked down, and saw the biggest bear of my life.
It looked around.
It smelled.
I held tight against the rock.
Something under my right hand moved noiselessly. My fingers wrapped around a large stone, the size of a man's skull.
Fear flowed through me. And excitement. I lifted the rock, slowly, noiselessly, and brought my legs in. I lifted the rock.
I felt with my left hand, and found a rock the thickness of my wrist. A flick of my wrist, and it crashed thirty cubits away.
The bear turned its head, and began to run.
As it ran, I jumped.
I began to fall.
I could see the forest moving as if it had almost stopped.
Between every beat of my heart, a thousand things happened.
I landed on the bear's back, astride it as if I were riding it.
Immediately the bear tensed, and began to turn.
The rock, still in my hand, crushed the bear's skull.
I could hear a crunch, and the bear's body suddenly went limp.
My hand released the stone.
The stone began to fall, about to roll over on my leg and crush me.
My hand caught a thin branch from a tree.
I pulled my legs up and pulled the branch as hard as I could.
I tore it off.
The bear's body turned.
Something slapped my other palm.
I pulled with all my strength, and my body lifted from the bear.
The bear hit the ground.
I looked around.
Most hunting parties killed a bear every few years.
I had heard of a warrior who had killed a bear alone.
I had never heard of someone kill a bear with only the weapons the forest provided.
I lowered myself to the ground.
I watched the bear breathe its last.
I shouted with a roar like a storm's fury.
Other men began to arrive. Their jaws dropped when they saw me standing over the bear's carcass--empty-handed.
Fortress walked up to me.
I smiled, with a smile of exhilaration such as I had never smiled before.
He looked into me, looked at all the other men, then curled up his hand and slapped me.
The slap resounded.
I touched my face in disbelief. I could feel hot blood where his nails had struck me.
"You disobeyed," he said.
He looked into me.
"Next time you do that," he continued, "it will be a bear's claw that slaps you. I don't know what the bear will look like, but it certainly will be a bear's claw that slaps you."
(Search & Sitemap)
> Writing >
Longer Fiction >
The Steel Orb
Skip Back
Previous
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
Next
Skip Forward
Printer-Friendly Version