To The Far Reaches Page 2

  ‘Fight the girl,’ he told Dunn.

  Dunn looked stunned. Dell’s heart started to race. Instinct told her she was in trouble. Dunn was two years older, and taller and stronger. Samus only bested him because he was taller and stronger still. She could get knocked out or break a bone. Dell only had seconds to prepare herself but she had a talent for being able to quickly spot the ways others could hurt her and she could hurt others. Dunn limped into position and they stared into each other’s eyes across the floor. The measured eyes of her normal opponent had given way to a hateful stare.

  ‘Go,’ said Kerr flatly, indicating the start of the contest. Dunn would be expecting her to be defensive so she attacked, springing immediately from the spot and driving him down with a hand pinned to each shoulder.

  ‘Point.’

  Dell quickly scrambled to her feet while Dunn forced himself into position, wheezing as he tried desperately to catch his breath. Dell thought furiously about her next attack. She considered doing the same again. Samus and Dunn always watched her contests with Benjer fixedly and knew she never repeated attacks, so she thought it a good ruse, but Dunn was now too folded over from his winding, too difficult to upend. She knew she would have to try another tack.

  ‘Go,’ said Kerr. As soon as the word was spoken, Dell ran forward then skidded on her knees towards Dunn. When she was upon him she banged her fist directly upon the fresh welt on his thigh. Dunn cried out in pain.

  ‘Point,’ said Kerr, and again Dell immediately returned to the starting position. Dunn’s cheeks were blazing and he could not have been more wary as he settled in for the third point. He crouched over so he could not lose his balance and hid his injured right thigh behind his hip, but in doing so he had exposed his left ankle, which bore the red rag. It stood out like blood on fresh snow. As soon as Kerr said the word, she leapt for it, and the pair tumbled to the floor. Dunn flailed his leg desperately to try and free his ankle from Dell’s grasp. Dunn was stronger and she was about to lose her grip, so she passed her thumb under the rag and held it tight so Dunn could not break free her advantage. She tucked her own rag under her rear and worked on the knot. Each combatant was responsible for tying their own rag so they soon learned to tie it as tight as possible. A preferred technique had emerged to loosen the bind by shaking it vigorously then slipping the knot over the ankle, rather than trying to untie the knot. The favoured method of the defender was to try and shake their leg free or reign down blows on their attacker until they desisted in their efforts. It was to this purpose that Dunn was now engaged, pummelling Dell across the back, head and shoulders to force her to break. Dell’s response was to take Dunn’s leg on a death roll, constantly shifting her position and ensuring Dunn’s blows never landed where they were intended. Even at seven this was a well-worn instinct for Dell; to lessen the effectiveness of an opponent’s attack. Finding where they were weak and hiding where you were weak at once. She had been scrapping with her sisters since she could walk after all. Dell succeeded in creating some slack in the rag and ripped the bind off Dunn’s ankle.

  ‘Point,’ Kerr said and Dell and Dunn came to their feet, red-faced and panting. ‘Good,’ he said to Dell flatly, and then turned to Dunn and spat at him in disgust. ‘How did she beat you?’ he said. ‘She is smaller and weaker. How did she beat you?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Dunn answered dumbly, staring at the floor.

  ‘Because she has a fire inside of her,’ Kerr answered. ‘And you do not.’

  Dunn offered only mild resistance to the accusation in the form of a shrug.

  ‘You are craven,’ continued Kerr.

  ‘No,’ resisted Dunn, still staring at the floor.

  ‘You are craven,’ Kerr insisted. ‘You ceased your efforts so the contest would end. Is that what you would do in battle? Drop your sword and open up your heart to be speared so the village could be razed?’

  ‘N-,’ started Dunn, but he was cut off by Kerr.

  ‘Enough,’ he said. ‘Start your chores. No breakfast.’

  Dunn knew better than to add further comment.

  Later, when Dell was sweeping outside the hut, Benjer approached.

  ‘You know what will happen tomorrow?’ he asked. Dell nodded. She did not need to be told. Kerr would have her fight Samus, a boy almost twice her age.

  ‘You should let him beat you quickly,’ Benjer offered. ‘If you don’t, he will hurt you. He broke Dunn’s arm once. And even if you could win, your life wouldn’t be worth living if you beat him in front of Kerr.’

  Dell knew Benjer was right, but Samus’ cruelty had hardened her resolve. She would try her best to beat him, but how? When she settled to sleep under her pelt that evening, she devised her strategy. As she closed her eyes, listening to Samus’ breath, she thought of the four ways to win points: Pinning. Kicking. Screaming. The red flag. Dell knew she had no hope of pinning back his broad shoulders or getting the red flag off his ankle. He would shake her loose like she was a puppy nipping at him. She focused on the other two ways. She could land a kick on his shoulder if she could get herself airborne, and she may be able to make him scream. But he would be expecting it and have a tight hold on his tongue.

  She thought of the ways he would try and win points from her. If he tried to get her flag that would be a gift, as he would be up close and she could try and get him to cry out, but she knew in her heart he would leave the flag alone. He would pin her twice as it was easy for him to do, then he would have to get his third point another way. She was too small a target to kick, so he would try and make her scream, but she wouldn’t. As tight as his grip would be on his own tongue, Dell’s would be tighter. He imagined all the things he would do to her to try and make her scream, all the tender pieces he would charge, all the crevices he would work his rough fingers into. He would do it and she would not utter a sound. When sleep eventually came it was broken.

  Dell woke easily the next morning, full of nerves. She curled and stretched on her pelt instinctively, waking up her muscles. Kerr sat in a chair facing them, drinking something hot from a cup, staring at them through the steam. Dell felt butterflies in her stomach. She didn’t pretend to herself that she wasn’t scared. Samus was twice her size and could hurt her. Really hurt her. Break an arm or leg as Benjer had warned, or worse.

  ‘Training,’ Kerr said as he placed a log on the fire, and the children rose quickly from the floor, rolling up their pelts and moving them aside. Kerr paired Dell with Benjer and Dunn with Samus for their usual contests. Dell initially thought it best to reserve her energy, but she realised she would need the first contest to warm her body and gave it her all but was distracted. Benjer won the first point and the third until Dell doubled her efforts to win with a pin, a kick and a flag. Dell picked herself off the floor and started to feel sick. Having Kerr demand that she fight Samus seemed both preposterous - he was twice as big and twice her age – and inevitable. She had bested his two youngest sons and he would naturally be curious to see if she could beat his eldest. Dell feared two things equally. The pain Samus could cause her, and the rage she would unleash if able to best him in front of his father. For the first time in a long time she started to feel like the little girl she was, and her mind spilled in a million different directions, of cracked heads, broken arms and awoken beasts. She watched slightly nauseated as Samus easily defeated his brother, dead-eyed and determined. Kerr’s actions next were as expected. He pointed to Dell, then Samus.

  ‘You two will fight,’ he said.

  ‘No,’ said Dell.

  Kerr immediately snatched his cane from its resting place against his chair and sprung at her, bridging the space between them in two long strides and bringing the cane down upon her back with all the pace he could muster. It was exactly what Dell had wanted.

  All the doubt was gone. All the fear was gone, splintered by the canestrike. She did not feel the fire of the cane across her back, but between her eyes, like a line of fire focussing her mind. She could not think of broken bones or stoneoak boys or bleeding skulls anymore. There was no room for it. There was a raging fire in the middle of her forehead and it could be only fed one thing. Three points.

  Dell opened her eyes and took her position, waiting for Samus to join her, her face dressed with a slightly deranged smile.

  ‘Go,’ Kerr said, and Dell launched from the spot. Samus simply landed a flat hand on her chest and pushed her down. Then he was astride her, grinding her shoulders into the ground.

  ‘Point,’ Kerr said. As Samus rose he put the full weight of his body on Dell’s shoulders, so much that they cracked. Benjer was right. It was not just Samus’ intention to win, but to hurt her. Dell fed the pain into her line of fire and rose and took her spot on the floor opposite.

  ‘Go,’ Kerr said, and again Dell ran a fixed line at Samus, and once more he only had to place a flat hand against her chest to drive her to the ground. This time he punched her shoulders down, firing a deep pain that she fed into her new eye, letting it blaze hotter and hotter.

  ‘Point.’

  Samus leant long and heavy on her as he raised himself.

  ‘That’s your last pin,’ she hissed under her breath. Samus had to find a new way to win points now.

  ‘Go,’ said Kerr.

  Again, Dell ran a line to Samus. This time they locked, and Samus drove Dell to her knees, digging his thumbs with all his might into the tender meat of her shoulders, trying to make her shout out. An immense pain built and Samus pushed harder and harder, like he was trying to bore holes in Dell’s skin. Her response was to bite Samus as hard as she could in the thigh. He grimaced, but did not issue a shout, and Kerr gave a snort of amusement from his chair. Samus retaliated by digging his thumbs deeper into Dell’s shoulders and Dell bit harder and har
der until she thought she would fill her mouth with Samus’ raw flesh. He had no say in the scream that spurted from his mouth.

  ‘Point.’

  Dell scrambled to her feet.

  ‘She bit me,’ Samus protested, covering his thigh with both hands as he hobbled to the starting position, trying to quell the pain.

  ‘Men bite in battle,’ Kerr said simply as reply.

  Samus glared at Dell with nothing but hatred. Dell said nothing. Her body screamed at her, but only her new eye got a voice. Feed me another point, it said.

  Dell stared fixedly at the rag tied to Samus’ ankle. She stared at it like a mad monkey. When Kerr told them to proceed Dell did not make a run at Samus, but stayed on the spot and splayed her limbs, never taking her eyes off the red rag. Samus could not help but react instinctively to the show, tucking his ankle away, turning his body to the side and exposing his back and shoulders.

  Dell ran forward, never taking her eyes off the red rag, but she was after another prize. Samus went into a low crouch to protect his ankle, and when she was almost upon him she did a sharp flip, bringing her legs over Samus’ head and down upon his shoulders.

  ‘Point,’ said Kerr, with an amused look on his face. ‘Last point.’

  Samus looked at Dell with murderous eyes. Any reservation he had up until this point, because his opponent was a girl, or half his age or half his size was gone. He would win the next point if he had to kill her to do it. Benjer and Dunn watched stone-faced, sniffing the rising dread. Life in the hut would never be the same, whatever the outcome. Kerr did not say anything this time, just beckoned them into battle with a lazy wave of his hand.

  They met and locked, Samus reigning down furious blows upon Dell’s head and shoulders, forcing her to her knees. Dell said nothing. She would pass out before she would call out. Samus reached down and grabbed Dell’s ankle rag and lifted her upside down by it. She had bound the knot tight but Samus shook her violently trying to wrench her foot free. She could feel it slipping and worked her foot at an angle to make it stay in the bind. Samus could feel the tension easing and he started to shake more furiously. Dell could sense the rag was almost away and grabbed Samus by his boy bits and squeezed with all her might. Squeezed them like dough through her fingers. Again he had no option but to scream, filling every nook of the hut with a throttling cry. He fell limp to the floor and Dell scrambled to her feet and faced Kerr.

  ‘Point. You win,’ was all that he said to her. Samus remained a rag on the floor and stammered to his feet when he was able, his face drenched in rage. Dell smirked at him, and something in his eyes snapped. He grabbed her by the hair and tossed her across the hut. Kerr sprang from his chair and brought the cane down across Samus’ face with such force that he almost sheared the nose from his face. Samus fell on his rump with a sharp cry, his face in his hands.

  ‘Up,’ Kerr shouted. Samus stumbled to his feet, his hands still covering his face and Kerr swatted them away. A red angry welt was already starting to bubble up either side of a deep, bloody cut across the bridge of his nose. Samus’ anger had melted away. He was now in a daze. He stared at his father dully.

  ‘She beat you. Does my blood count for nothing?’

  Samus could only look at his father with wet eyes, a deep shame leaking from the burning welt on his face.

  ‘Go,’ he said, waving him away with disgust. ‘Make us breakfast.’

  Samus said little for the rest of the day, lost in his own mind, mumbling to himself, the welt on his face deepening to a dark shade of purple. Dell was cautious around him as he seemed troubled. She avoided him like she would a cut dog wandering the village. That night, when Kerr told Dell to take Samus’ spot by the fire, she saw a disturbed look in his eye. It was not shame or anger, but a troubling brew of both, mixed with something that she could not understand.

  Dell slept lightly, as she had the night before, and in the morning a small rattling noise woke her. Her eyes popped open and there was a piece of coal from the fire only a few inches from her face, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from it and the smell of it up her nose. She looked around. Kerr was outside and the three boys were still sleeping, or pretending to. She flicked the coal back into the fire and got up.

  That morning training was as normal; Dell played Hurt Seasons against Benjer, and Dunn against Samus. His meanness seemed to have set in again overnight and he was wearing his new scar with a grim sense of pride. He and Dunn loomed over Dell and Benjer as they wrestled on the floor, snickering quietly at their efforts. Dunn came closer than normal to beating Samus during their contest, but Kerr’s berating did not seem to affect him in the way it normally would have. Something had changed, something had snapped, and there was a chill sense of foreboding in the air that Dell could almost taste on her tongue.

  Dell was later stacking wood against the side of the hut, and she kept catching Samus and Dunn looking at her, pointing and whispering. She answered them with a glower then returned to her task. Kerr came out of the hut with a bear pelt draped over his shoulders and bearing a long bow. None of them were brazen enough to ask him where he was going, but they held his gaze casually. Kerr grunted at them.

  ‘I am sick of fish,’ he said, indicating towards Benjer who had a line in the water. ‘I’m going hunting. There should be goats north.’

  The words grabbed Benjer’s attention, and he dropped his line and raced to his father, standing to attention in front of him and looking up expectantly. Samus and Dunn were still, watching the exchange with interest.

  ‘You can come,’ Kerr told Benjer gruffly. ‘Grab a pelt and a knife. A small one.’

  Benjer ran into the hut and soon returned with the items. Kerr looked at Samus.

  ‘You’re in charge,’ he told him. ‘No trouble. We will be gone one night at least.’

  Samus bowed his head sincerely at his father, but Dell was looking at him intently and saw the corner of his mouth turn. Dell continued with her task, gazing up frequently at the retreating figures of Kerr and Benjer like a candle slowing snuffing out. It started to snow but they did not turn back, just pulled their pelts tighter around their shoulders and pressed on until the white swallowed them whole.

  When Samus and Dunn passed the wood pile on their way back inside, Dell braced for some taunt or attack, but there was none. They each picked up a slender log from the pile with a smile and went inside and placed it on the fire.

  ‘Just building up the fire so you can cook us supper,’ explained Samus when Dell followed them inside carrying the two fish Benjer had caught. His voice was strangely flat. He sat down on his father’s chair and put his feet up on the table, shaking his head when Dell put down the fish.

  ‘Not fish,’ he said. ‘I feel like salted beef.’

  Dell shook her head. She knew Kerr had a small store of dried beef, which they very occasionally revived in a stew as a break from the tedium of fish, but he guarded it closely and raiding it would surely bring a severe punishment.

  ‘You heard him,’ Samus said threateningly, pointing outside. ‘He left me in charge and I want salted beef.’

  Dell relented and took three strips of salted beef from Kerr’s store and shredded one as finely as she was able, then put the other two back when Samus wasn’t looking. When Dell brought the stew to table, Samus sniffed at it then sent his bowl reeling.

  ‘Ugh,’ he said in mock disgust. ‘Too salty.’

  Dunn also left his bowl untouched, and both of them looked down their noses, their arms folded across their chests, as Dell ate her supper. She then gathered up the bowls and cups for washing.

  It was a shocking sight that greeted her when she returned to the main room of the hut.

  Dunn was clutching at his arm, bright red blood flowing freely from a deep gash. Samus was standing away, a smirk on his face. One of Kerr’s swords lay on the floor.

  ‘What has he done to you?’ Dell asked Dunn.

  ‘Nothing,’ Dunn said without emotion. ‘You did this to me.’

  And then Samus descended on her.

  Samus has obviously given some thought as to how to restrain Dell. He sat on her chest and contained her hands in his own. The only part of her she could move was her legs, and they flailed against the floor helplessly. Behind Samus she could hear a shifting sound as Dunn collected something, and then he returned and she saw with horror what it was.