FIERCE: Sixteen Authors of Fantasy

by Mercedes Lackey

  ‘The referee will raise a flag with each point. Score however you must. 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. 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.

  Skelkra sprinted 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.

  ‘Halt!’ shouted the referee, who then raised one of my flags. Back in our fighting positions, the referee raised a hand. ‘Begin!’

  Skelkra attacked again, 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 clutched my thigh. 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.

  As I stood, I tried to straighten, but my cramped thigh kept me hunched. My clothes stuck to my clammy back and chest. I signalled that I needed a moment, and the referee raised his flags, granting me the time.

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

  The Wolf 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 lips.

  The referee raised his hand, signalling the fight had resumed. 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 in the process—and threw the knife at him. Crack! Excruciating pain in my wrist broke through the dragonclaw’s effects. The arm dangled at my side like a hanged man. I heard a thwack, and Skelkra groaned as my knife lodged in his upper thigh. He groaned and tried yanking out the blade, but it was in too deep. I ran forward and jumped at him, planting two feet against his chest. He fell over backwards, dropping his knife. I landed beside him. I tried to grab his knife but he snatched it up and sliced 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 compared to the consuming agony of my now-broken right arm.

  People climbed onto the fence, punching their fists into the air. A few men who’d made wagers, exchanged coins.

  I squeezed my left arm to my ribs and noticed Skelkra held possessed 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 our matching thigh wounds. It’s only fair, I thought, smugly. He bent forward at the waist. I crouched, my body screaming for rest.

  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, exposing the side of his body, so 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 breath crackled, and he clutched his side. One of his ribs must have been broken. In his distraction, 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 face and checked my fingers for blood.

  Chapter IX

  THE REFEREE STOPPED THE FIGHT, and the chieftain 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. They shook their heads at each other.

  Father hissed in my ear, ‘If you don’t win, I will make your life a misery!’ 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 genuine taste for killing and felt more at home defending than attacking. 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?’ It was easy to feel confident with a blade in my hand.

  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 in response to one another. He came from the r
ight, and I couldn’t block him with my arm, so I leaned back, and the blade swished 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 people surged into the fighting ring. Wolves beat me to the ground and I collapsed, leaning on my left arm. He’d moved into my throw. I stared up at the sky while the Bears fought 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 Bear woman restrained her. Heat rushed to the imprint of her hand on my face.

  ‘I didn’t mean…’ I started, but my throat was dry and hoarse. Hardly a whisper came out. Still, I managed to stand before tipping over. Jeykal appeared, catching me mid-fall, and helped me limp to Skelkra’s family residence.

  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 as I feared, I’d punctured his lung. Another part of me felt relief that his death might come as an accident. Well, almost an accident. Weak or not, at least Jeykal would be a benevolent ruler.

  Father entered 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 distrust to his position as chieftain. They probably suspected us of being lovers.

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

  Surprised by his words, I couldn’t even form a reply in my head. Father moved to Skelkra’s bed. I’d disappointed him. I’d disappointed everyone. The thrill of the fight swiftly left my body and the pain grew unbearable.

  ‘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 uncorked the vial and put the glass to my lips, then groaned as I changed my mind. I deserved to be in pain. I threw the bottle aside and it clinked against the hardwood floor.

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

  I stared at him blankly, no fight left in me. He fetched the discarded vial and forced what little was left between my lips.

  ‘Swallow,’ he said in a stern voice.

  I scowled, but obeyed.

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

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

  ‘Don’t,’ I said. ‘It’s not worth it, Jeykal.’

  Feeling the animosity of Skelkra’s mother, Jeykal and I went outside. We stood at the base of a surrounding veranda. Angry voices rose within the hut. Father emerged with a hard expression. Feeling tired, I sat on the hut’s stairs. Every now and again, Jeykal went inside to inquire to the medicine woman on Skelkra’s condition.

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

  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.

  The two male riders wore black robes. The woman wore shimmering gold, and she pushed the hood back, revealing the red hair of a Ruxdorian. With the sun behind her, her body remained a silhouette. As she neared, I gasped. Her eyes were as golden as the sun.

  With my hand I rubbed my face, trying to clear 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. So what was she doing here?

  ‘Well met,’ she said with a slight accent. ‘You should get seen to.’ She nodded at my arms.

  My mouth hung open as I stared into eyes the colour of flames. Her golden cloak draped over the plain wooden steps as she stepped into the hut. The conversations inside slowed upon her entrance, and then the dragonclaw took hold of my senses and my body hummed with elation. 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. Forgive my angry words the other day. I always thought you a good fighter.’

  I stared down at her. ‘I didn’t try to kill him, you know. He moved at the last moment. Not that anyone will believe me.’

  ‘I will.’ Jeykal appeared beside me, took my other arm, and helped Gevilka carry me home.

  Inside my hut, the corners and sides blended into a hazy blur. For a moment, I wondered if the beautiful golden-eyed healer had fixed me too.

  ‘Is my mistress well?’ Corilksa asked.

  ‘She’s drugged. It’s none of your concern, though’ Gevilka said. She shook her head at me. ‘Too much dragonclaw in too little time.’

  She treated the on my shoulder. My skin was numb except for the sensations of cold and hot, and everything seemed slow, as if I were underwater. When stitched the skin of my armpit I felt pain again. I clenched my jaw. Each suture reminded me of the time a prickle rat had embedded its spines in me.

  Gevilka grabbed my face and turned it toward her. ‘Pay attention, dream girl. If you get a cut in the corner of your mouth, and you speak, the cut will reopen. Won’t it?’

  I nodded slowly.

  ‘It’s the same with your arm. You must keep it still.’

  ‘She refused dragonclaw earlier. I had to make her take some,’ Jeykal said.

  The medicine woman gave me a disapproving look. ‘Self-pity will not serve you well as our ruler. For that is who you will be.’

  Then I realised I was upset that Skelkra had lived. Not because I had wanted him to die, but because I was to become chieftain. ‘I don’t want to lead. I wish Skelkra had died so Jeykal could lead.’

  She laughed and regarded my friend. ‘She has a point, boy, you are skilled in nothing but archery.’ She turned to me again. ‘Klawdia, it has to be you. Accept your destiny.’

  She opened a container, and a warm, putrid smell wafted out. My nausea returned. My mouth filled with saliva, and my stomach swirled.

  I put a hand to my mouth and leaned away. ‘Close that.’

  Gevilka frowned. ‘Why?’

  ‘It stinks. Take it away.’

  ‘I can’t smell anything,’ Jeykal said.

  ‘Smells like rotten meat. Take it outside!’

  Jeykal and Gevilka looked at each other and then back to me. Gevilka passed Jeykal the container, and he took it away. I closed my
eyes, trying to make the feeling of motion go away.

  ‘Did Skelkra hit your head?’ she asked me.

  I thought back to the fight. ‘I don’t think so.’

  Gevilka eyed Corilksa suspiciously. ‘Leave.’

  The servant obeyed, and when she was gone, Gevilka grabbed one of my breasts.

  ‘Ouch,’ I said, pushing her hands away.

  She yanked up my shirt and inspected my nipples.

  Of course, Jeykal came back in at that very awkward moment. ‘Oh, er…’ He made a choking noise and started to leave again.

  ‘Come back here, boy. I’m done.’ Gevilka pulled down my shirt. ‘A child grows inside of you.’

  Suddenly, the fog in my head cleared, and my thoughts raced. It’s Skelkra’s. The bleeding. The bleeding was from our bonding. The nausea is from the conception.

  ‘It’s only been seven days,’ I said.

  ‘When did you last bleed?’

  ‘Two weeks ago. I bled a little the next day…you know, after...’ I stopped and looked at Jeykal.

  He rolled his eyes. ‘Klawdia, it’s all right. The two of you bonded, I get it. Stop worrying about my feelings.’

  Gevilka grunted in agreement. ‘I’ll fetch an herb to make you miscarry. No one can know. You’—she pointed at Jeykal—‘don’t you utter this to a single soul.’

  Jeykal’s expression hardened. ‘I won’t.’

  Gevilka patted my hand, stood, and rushed from the hut. Skelkra’s child grew within me. I put a hand to my stomach, and it was as if the child inside knew I was planning to kill it, because I felt sick again and vomited on the floor in front of me.

  Jeykal stifled a groan. ‘Don’t move. I’ll clean that up.’

  I threw him a thankful look. He was pale again, and his shoulders were hunched and his movements lethargic. Jeykal fetched the bucket sitting next to a rack of weapons. He sprinkled lavender oil to mask the smell.