slow, wide defiant gape and he knew that while fear ran in him, drying his mouth and lips, there was no fear in Lerg. One silent signal would send the hound in.
The bear roared and then appeared as though by magic on the crest of the rise. It stood for a moment on all fours, its great head weaving and swinging. Then it rose on its hind legs, raised its head to the sky and roared its anguish and fury. It stood almost twice as high as Baradoc and against the long line of its belly he saw the heavy milk-full dugs ⦠a she bear, her cubs now killed to swell her fury⦠and from the right side of her thick, pelted neck stuck out the splintered shaft of a great spear, and another broken spear shaft showed in her left flank, the blood from the wound thickly matting her fur.
The animal, seeing Baradoc and the dogs, dropped to all fours, roared, and began to lumber down the slope. As she did so Baradoc saw that an unbroken shaft stood upright in her back. He raised the bow and drew it, sighting along the arrow, knowing exactly where it must lodge, through the long fur a handâs span in from the top of the left foreleg to smash through bone and sinew and find the heart. To shoot at her head would have been to shoot at a rock. As he covered the lumbering downhill approach of the bear the pony tethered to the back of the hut whinnied and neighed suddenly with fear and then Baradoc heard the thud of her hooves as she reared and bucked in panic. At the foot of the rise the she bear, hearing Sunset, stopped and swung her great head toward the sound. For a moment the beastâs left shoulder was wide open to Baradoc.
He let the arrow fly, heard its hornet flight across the clearing and saw it bury itself deep in the bearâs shoulder. The animal roared with pain, rose full height and, her jaws flecked with white foam, the red mouth gaping, the great teeth flashing ivory dull in the lowering sunlight, came, on in a lumbering run toward Baradoc. And Baradoc stood his ground, for there was only death in flight; and standing his ground, he cursed himself that he had not practiced more with the bow at close range. It pulled to the left but the nearer the target the less it pulled. All this swept through his mind as he stood, marking the spot which the bear must reach before he fired again; and, as he held the tensed bow, he prayed to the gods that they would put virtue and cunning into his hands and eyes to humour and direct the arrow in a true flight to the small target inside the left shoulder.
When the bear was two spear lengths from the fire, Baradoc loosed the second arrow, saw it find its mark, heard the heavy sound of its strike as the short length of shaft bore into the beastâs body until the flight feathers were only a finger length from the rough pelt. The bear roared, dropped to all fours, and still came on. It charged across the small patch of garden and through the low-burning fire, scattering ashes, red embers and hearthstones, and Baradoc, as he fitted another arrow, knew that the gods had deserted him, for there was no time even to draw.
At this moment Cuna barked sharply and ran in at the bear. He ran from the side, jumped for the furred throat of the animal, and got a grip on the side of her neck. The bear, pausing in her foreward movement, rose to her hind feet and with one sweep of a forepaw brushed Cuna from her neck like a fly. Cuna flew through the air, yelping high, and landed in the soggy ground around the pool. Then, as the bear still came on and the signal was moving from Baradoc to send Lerg in, the great beast swayed sideways, halted, roared to set wild echoes ringing around the clearing, and then dropped to all fours and collapsed on her side on the ground at his feet.
Baradoc stood unmoving. From the poolside Cuna barked sharply and then came limping toward Baradoc. Lerg went forward slowly and his great muzzle dropped to the bearâs head. He stood, hackles risen, and then turned away.
The bear roared and then appeared as though by magic on the crest of the rise. It stood for a moment on all fours, its great head weaving and swinging. Then it rose on its hind legs, raised its head to the sky and roared its anguish and fury. It stood almost twice as high as Baradoc and against the long line of its belly he saw the heavy milk-full dugs ⦠a she bear, her cubs now killed to swell her fury⦠and from the right side of her thick, pelted neck stuck out the splintered shaft of a great spear, and another broken spear shaft showed in her left flank, the blood from the wound thickly matting her fur.
The animal, seeing Baradoc and the dogs, dropped to all fours, roared, and began to lumber down the slope. As she did so Baradoc saw that an unbroken shaft stood upright in her back. He raised the bow and drew it, sighting along the arrow, knowing exactly where it must lodge, through the long fur a handâs span in from the top of the left foreleg to smash through bone and sinew and find the heart. To shoot at her head would have been to shoot at a rock. As he covered the lumbering downhill approach of the bear the pony tethered to the back of the hut whinnied and neighed suddenly with fear and then Baradoc heard the thud of her hooves as she reared and bucked in panic. At the foot of the rise the she bear, hearing Sunset, stopped and swung her great head toward the sound. For a moment the beastâs left shoulder was wide open to Baradoc.
He let the arrow fly, heard its hornet flight across the clearing and saw it bury itself deep in the bearâs shoulder. The animal roared with pain, rose full height and, her jaws flecked with white foam, the red mouth gaping, the great teeth flashing ivory dull in the lowering sunlight, came, on in a lumbering run toward Baradoc. And Baradoc stood his ground, for there was only death in flight; and standing his ground, he cursed himself that he had not practiced more with the bow at close range. It pulled to the left but the nearer the target the less it pulled. All this swept through his mind as he stood, marking the spot which the bear must reach before he fired again; and, as he held the tensed bow, he prayed to the gods that they would put virtue and cunning into his hands and eyes to humour and direct the arrow in a true flight to the small target inside the left shoulder.
When the bear was two spear lengths from the fire, Baradoc loosed the second arrow, saw it find its mark, heard the heavy sound of its strike as the short length of shaft bore into the beastâs body until the flight feathers were only a finger length from the rough pelt. The bear roared, dropped to all fours, and still came on. It charged across the small patch of garden and through the low-burning fire, scattering ashes, red embers and hearthstones, and Baradoc, as he fitted another arrow, knew that the gods had deserted him, for there was no time even to draw.
At this moment Cuna barked sharply and ran in at the bear. He ran from the side, jumped for the furred throat of the animal, and got a grip on the side of her neck. The bear, pausing in her foreward movement, rose to her hind feet and with one sweep of a forepaw brushed Cuna from her neck like a fly. Cuna flew through the air, yelping high, and landed in the soggy ground around the pool. Then, as the bear still came on and the signal was moving from Baradoc to send Lerg in, the great beast swayed sideways, halted, roared to set wild echoes ringing around the clearing, and then dropped to all fours and collapsed on her side on the ground at his feet.
Baradoc stood unmoving. From the poolside Cuna barked sharply and then came limping toward Baradoc. Lerg went forward slowly and his great muzzle dropped to the bearâs head. He stood, hackles risen, and then turned away.
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