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The Year Of The Bear - Ep.5

ButonflyAug 20, 2018, 2:21:41 AM

(Start at the beginning)

“When I speak from the heart, I speak from the heart of truth!” The Yos speaker called from his raised platform, unaware of the troop of angry Bears moving his way. Carmel moved with them, caught up as he was though feeling no bond of loyalty to do so. He could have as easily melted to the background like so many others. Yet luck had seen him fall into the Bears company, and after his brief but stirring interaction with Dolev, he found himself on a course outside the realm of his design.

“So again, I say, cast off this false chattel that imprisons you. Step forward while the offer is free. Spare yourselves the grief of future anguish as you continue to live out slavish lives. Free yourselves, for your children, and your children's children to come.”

The blue sashed guard surrounding the Speaker shifted quickly as the Bears emerged at the front of the crowd. The Speaker, addressing the full breadth of the townsfolk, took a moment to realise what was happening and turned slowly with a wry smile to greet them.

“Ah, good hardy-folk of the north! Have you stepped forth as agents of your own liberation?” The Speaker’s eyes traveled from man to man, marking the looks on their faces, and noting the weapons or hilts of such clasped in their hands. The Speakers face twisted, a sneer of revulsion causing his cheek to twitch. “Or have you come only with a common display of ill-intent.” He spat.

Brown Beard had come to a stop a few paces from the nearest Yos guard with Carmel and the bears in a loose cluster behind. “Your words are poison, Yos snake. Every good man here knows it. You’re not welcome in these lands and we have a mind to prove it.”

“Not welcome? Who are you but a mere Brut, trying to decide what is right for everyone. You sound much like the masters who rule You and these very people’ that you claim to speak for!” The Yos speaker turned, raising his arms wide and lifting his voice for the crowd. “So why not hear what every ‘Good man’ knows, and let them decide who is welcome here and who is not!”

The motion was subtle, coyly executed amidst the grandeur of the motion, and done with a degree of expertise so refined it was hard to see, even in plain sight. The waggle of the fingers, the unnatural shift in the angle of the wrist, Carmel’s eyes caught it for all it’s cunning and recognised it for what it was. Sorcery.

Amidst the crowd a number of unhappy looking townsfolk moved forward to mark their dissent. Others called out,

“Let him speak!”

“Who’re you anyway!?”

An uneasy tone settled like a dark cloud, and all of a sudden Carmel felt the-lone individual amongst a comparably small number of Bears. Although the number of locals who’d rallied against them was few and far between, the rest of the throng were neutral bystanders at best, and dissenting in their involvement at worst.

Carmel considered Brown Beards position which resembled something like a beast with it’s back to a wall. He had come to know Brown Beard as a man of honor, resilient, and stout in his intents. With the Bears behind him, literally as was the case, backing down would be a huge blow of ego. He had lead them into this position after all, and if Dolev and Browns assessment were true, then his cause against the Yos would be justified.

Carmel felt like an innocent bystander, trusting in the opinions of his acquaintances out of sheer survival instinct, but not confident as would be a man of saving faith. It was too late for such considerations now though as Brown Beard did the only thing he could, and drew his sword to go with his threat. There came a flurry of arms as both the Bears and the Yos guard responded, and a tense moment distilled throughout the arena.

“Look! Look!” The Yos Speaker yelled, pointing with an overzealous finger that screamed accusation. “The hand of force seeks to control you through steel and bloodshed.”

Brown Beard looked frustrated, and the heat from his burly physique was coming out red beneath his collar. To Carmel’s reckoning, Brown Beard was ready to cut the men down where they stood, but had just enough sense to realise he’d been outwitted. It reminded Carmel of the sort of conflict that might arise throughout the idle moments in a couples private spaces, or when dealing with the wiles of a keen-edged woman. Brown Beard might be able to overpower the small group of weirdly fashioned foes, in fact he undoubtedly would, but he’d end up hanging himself in the process and losing the cause for his fight all the same.

Brown Beards heavy foot stepped forward, the gravel crunching on the mud beneath it, when a voice called out from the other side of the arena.

“Friends! Brothers! Stay your weapons for one moment more while there’s still time to brandy words.”

Shifting slowly, even cautiously through the crowd was a tall man of some six and a half to seven feet tall, cloaked in a heavy thick brown bear pelt, and shrouded in a hood that made his exceptional height all the more foreboding. Despite his size he took care to gently move lesser folks out of the way, placing gentle hands on shoulders, and giving the crowd time to adjust to his meandering through. As he broke forth, Carmel noticed a steaming mug of something hot clutched in one fingerless-gloved hand, and with the other he casually drew back his hood.

Tall though he was, the man had an exceptionally common look. His scruff of thin beard marked him as someone local to the surrounding lands, and from behind it he greeted the world with a haphazard smile. From Carmel’s perspective, the crowd seemed familiar with the figure and even revered him to some extent. When he presented himself before them, whatever dark cloud had descended seemed to thin, and clear.

The tall man stepped forward as Brown Beard and the Bears stayed any action. He took position at center stage and though he had no plinth of his own, matched the height of the Yos Speaker beside him.

“He speaks truth,” The tall man began, referencing the Yos, turning to look around the crowd, and immediately grabbing their attention at the revelation of his opening words. “I see no need to control these Yos men with steel and bloodshed. If all they’ve brought to bandy is words, then let them brandy those words!”

“Here here!” The Yos speaker called, clapping his hands once, then twice, much to his own own delight. He smiled gleefully, marked by pride.

“But the Brut are also right!” The tall man continued, his voice booming, his finger pointing at Brown Beard while his eyes locked to a random figure in the crowd. “The Yos are snakes, and their words poison, and I for one have had enough of their poor wares in this marketplace today.”

Carmel watched as the crowd suddenly turned. Those who had remained impartial suddenly found their voices and a murmuring of agreement filtered forward. The general tone of agreement caused those who’d stepped forward at the behest of the Yos speaker to shrink away, in both manners of caution or shame. Tension eased between the Bears and the Yos Guard, as the Bears sensed a shift to a moral victory, and the Yos felt the security of the crowd slipping away. The Yos speaker adopted a vile look on his face before a glimmer of recognition shimmered in his eye.

“You. I know you. You are a fool to reveal yourself. Mark my words, I’ll see that you’ll regret this.” The words were personal, spoken from man to man, but Carmel caught the exchange all the same.

The tall man's demeanor changed. His face drew down into hard lines, and he seemed to inflate his huge size to look down upon the Yos speaker.

“Is that a threat?”

The Yos speaker shrunk, and backed away, calling suddenly to his guard who took toward their horses.

The tall man watched as the crowd, and the bears, all began to break into a fluidity of movement and chatter. Business was quickly returning to normal.

The Bears moved to greet the tall man as the Yos retreated, leaving Carmel standing alone amidst the dispersing crowd. As he considered all that had just transpired, an older woman in pursuit of a maiden passed before him. The older woman pleaded hysterically while making a feeble attempt at resistance.

“Wait! Take me, I want to come with you!” The girl called while reaching with one outstretched hand.

“No, no you can't!” The older woman, whom Carmel now took for the girls mother cried.

The Yos, now on their horses, had wheeled around ready to take their leave when the chief amongst them nodded one of his men to action. He rode over and reached down to take the girls hand. The mother resisted, resulting in a brief tug of war as the girl tried to shake her mother free. The Yos guard cursed and kicked his horse, forcing it closer, then lifted his boot and kicked the woman off. She slammed into the gravel, yelping in pain, and crying out for her daughter. Not wasting a moment the guard hauled the girl onto the back of his horse and tried to remaster his reins.

Carmel seized the initiative, dashing forward he reached up at the mans collar, and grabbing him by the wrist, hauled him down to be slammed into the ground. The girl, clutching to the guards waste, came crashing down behind him, and all three rolled in a heap as the horse went kicking and screaming away. Carmel landed a blow with his fist on the mans face and brought his hand up in time to catch a flailing wrist wielding a dagger. Where the guard had drawn it from felt a mystery but such was the way of small blades. Having the advantage of his weight, Carmel shifted the blow past and turned the blade down towards the guard chest. It caught him in the breast, tearing his shirt and bloodying them both. Despite the pain the distraction from the blade brought the guard a solid blow to the side of Carmel’s head. Rattled, he forced the offending arm down and twisted the dagger for good measure, causing the guard to scream.

The remainder of the Yos guard rallied, surging forward on their mounts with weapons drawn. The girl was up on her feet, staggering around and screaming hysterically. Carmel heard the clatter of hoofbeats and saw the approaching Yos. The old woman, still on the ground, yelled in his ear.

“My daughter! My daughter!”

Carmel kicked off the wounded guard and drew his sword. One of the Yos guards had reached the girl and was attempting to haul her onto his horse. His sword was already in his hand and Carmel could see him calculating his approach with wicked ambition. Carmel charged, grunted, deflected an awkward slash from the rider, and shoulder checked the horse in its front flank. The beast protested, shaking its head and thumping away, but not before Carmel wrapped his hands around the girls waste and toppled with her to the ground.

More Yos swelled forward but so to did the Bears, and a line formed between them with the screaming girl, and a blood spattered Carmel, between them. There was a pensive moment as each considered what was to come next.

“Leave her.” The Yos speaker ordered and took flight. With hasty assistance from his fellows, the injured guardsman mounted his horse and galloped off after.

The girl screamed her dissent and, as the Yos withdrew, descended into a wailing, slovenly mess.