Page 4 of Ironhold, Trial One

My mother seems to understand what I'm thinking. “Lyra, no, it's too dangerous.”

“I have to try to help,” I insist. “If people have been hurt-”

“Youcould be hurt, or worse.” My mother looks scared for me, but also slightly resigned, as if she knows she will not be able to stop me from doing this. “At least promise me you will be careful.”

“I promise,” I say. It feels like an easy promise to make. It's not as if I'm planning to fight the bear. I just want to see if there's anything I can do to help. “Shut the door after me. You don't want it getting inside.”

Am I really about to do this? It seems that I am. I rush out into the open air, the normal scents of fish and the sea now tinged by blood. There are wooden houses around me, set out on the shingle, as if clustered together for warmth. Boats bob out on the ocean or are dragged up onto the beach.

A roar comes from behind the houses. It must be the bear. Steeling myself, I move towards it, determined to face it.

CHAPTER TWO

I hurry towards the bear, hoping that I will be able to do something to help, fearing that I might not be able to, and that I am doing something foolish just by trying. Yet I feel as though I have no choice. Imustdo this. I can’t just leave people to be hurt. I have been raised to help people, to heal people. I must at leasttryhere.

Around me, as I move through the village, I can hear people locking their doors. Several are running in the other direction, so that I feel like a fish swimming upstream. One man knocks into me, almost tumbling me from my feet, but I keep going.

Am I doing the right thing? Fear runs through me. What am I doing, hurrying towards a bear? I can imagine the injuries that such a beast might be able to inflict all too easily. I have seen enough wounds inflicted by different creatures to know how bad it can be.I imagine those injuries on myself. I imagine the pain of teeth and claws rending my flesh. It is almost enough to make me turn around and run for cover with the others, but I know that if I do that and someone dies, I will blame myself.

I want to help. At the very least, I can try to drag the injured to safety and help them with their wounds. If a healer isn't for this, then what are we for?

I rush to the central square of the village, really just an open space of windswept grass between the houses. As I round the corner of one of them, I see the bear for the first time.

It is massive, with deep brown fur that is currently tinged red by blood on its chest. Its muzzle is bloodied as well, and it huffs as it stalks around the square, looking this way and that, as if trying to decide who it should attack next. Already, the body of a soldier is on the ground beneath it, his iron and leather armor broken apart by claws. Iron did as much as magic to makeAetheria great, but it seems it cannot stand against the might of nature’s fury.

I see a couple more of the soldiers at one side of the square, their spears leveled, as if ready to receive the charge of an enemy formation. Their iron helmets disguise their features, so I cannot see the fear on their faces, but I know it must be there. One has blue flames flickering on the tip of his spear in a minor display of magic that presumably only helps a little. They are guarding a small group of villagers who could not get to safety.

No, I realize, they arenotguarding the villagers. Instead, they are guarding a portly, balding man wearing sandals and a grey toga of office. He must be the official from Aetheria. Currently, he is cowering back with the rest, and his presence among the villagers means that his soldiers must protect them from the bear as well. The question is how long they can do so. If the creature tries to charge in earnest, their spears might not be enough to save everyone.

I see a wounded man trying to crawl to safety. He is too close to the bear, and I know that it is only a matter of time before it decides to finish him. It doesn't look as though the soldiers are going to try to help him, and everyone else is just staring in shock and fear. If I don't help him, he's going to die.

I hurry forward, hoping that I can get to him and drag him clear without the bear noticing. It is a vain hope, because as soon as I approach, the creature turns towards me, huge form rippling with strength and violence.

My first instinct is to run. My fear demands that I must, that I cannot do anything else. But I know that if I do so, the bear will easily outrun me and bring me down. More than that, I would be abandoning the man I have hurried forward to try to save. I can’t do that, despite my fears.

The bear roars at me then, rearing up, far taller than I am when on its hind legs. I am close enough to see every fleck ofblood on its maw, see the glint of light on massive incisors. I can feel the anger there at humans with pointy things trying to hurt it, feel the fear that it has wandered into a place where there are so many of them.

I realize that, without meaning to do it, I have reached out to communicate with the creature without words.

“It’s all right,” I murmur. “You don’t need to be afraid.”

I know it can’t understand the words, but it can feel the intent behind them. It knows that I don’t mean it any harm, and that is enough to make it pause. But it is still standing there, swaying over me as if it might come crashing down with teeth and claws at any moment. It won’t do so out of fear or anger, but there is still a much bigger need behind it.

The creature ishungry. I can feel how harsh things have been for it out in the wilds beyond the village. There was once good hunting there, but the humans wearing iron and using magic have come and taken everything. It has driven the bear to seek food elsewhere, wherever it can. I see an image of it trying to catch fish on the shore, then wandering down the shoreline, heading inexorably to Seatide.

The bear is hungry, and if I don’t find a way to assuage that hunger, it will try to feast onus.

“You want food?” I say. I back away from the bear, gesturing for it to follow me. It doesn’t know the gesture, but it knows what I want it to do. I lead it away from the others, down through the village. I head for one shack in particular, backing my way to it until I can hammer on the door.

There is no answer from inside, not at first, so I hammer my fist into it again.

“Go away!” a voice calls from inside. Benkan’s voice.

“Benkan, it’s me,” I call back.

“Lyra? You should run home, there’s a bear!”

“I know,” I call to him through the door. “Open up.”

---