THE NIGHT OF THE GOLDEN BEAR LEGEND

By Andamogirl

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2. THE TWIN PEAKS

It was past sunset and stars were glistening timidly in the darkening sky, when Major Gordon and Winnetou reached the twin-peaked mountain.

They dismounted in a secluded area, amongst a cluster of rocks and Artemus said, "This looks like a good place to camp, we'll be protected from the wild beasts and the cold of the night." He said and glanced around him and added, "I know why the Assiniboines believe this place was created by the Thunder God. It's so strange to find a high mountain here, in the middle of nowhere."

The place was like one of its volcanic islands in the distant seas, risen from the waves long, long ago, made of sharp black and gray rock. It was standing, isolated, in the middle of a plain which spanned many miles in all directions, he thought.

Looking up at the steep pebbled slope that led atop the mountain, through the huge fir trees, Artemus said, "The horses won't be able to get up there. We'll have to go on foot."

Rubbing his horse's neck, Winnetou nodded. "Artemus and Winnetou will only bring what they need." And he slid off Iltschi's back.

He pulled his double-barrelled rifle from his scabbard, grabbed the wide blanket that covered the stallion's back, then sat on the ground, leaning his back against a boulder. Then he wrapped himself in the thick blanket, his Silver Gun resting on his lap.

Removing the saddle from his Apache pinto, Artemus looked up. The dark sky was clear, limpid, and now covered with billions of stars. The night would be cold. "I'm going to light a fire, we're gonna need it to keep us warm."

He placed his saddle near Winnetou and then, from his saddle bags, he pulled out a matchbox and a knife. He slid them in the right pocket of his corduroy jacket and said, "I'm gonna go gather some dried wood around here. I'll be right back."

Artemus wandered around the camp for a bit and then came back half an hour later, arms loaded with branches and twigs, and was surprised to find Winnetou sitting cross-legged near a fire pit he had built with collected stones.

He was skinning a cottontail rabbit he had killed, for dinner.

He smiled and said, "Good idea, I was hungry and I suppose Winnetou is too." And he dropped branches and twigs on the fire pit.

A few minutes later flames illuminated the two men.

Using his knife, Artemus sharpened a few branches and then gave them to the Apache so he could skewer the pieces of meat on it.

Soon a smell of burning wood and roasting meat filled the air.

Leaning against his saddle, Artemus asked his friend, "Did you use your knife or your tomahawk to kill the rabbit?"

Busy eating a piece of roasted, juicy flesh, Winnetou placed his free hand on his knife. "Knife," he responded, his mouth full.

Dropping a few twigs on the fire, Artemus nodded. "I'm not bad at knife-throwing, but you're much better than me," he said. "Speaking of knife, Old Shatterhand told me you killed a bear with your knife to save Ribanna, and that's how the two of you met."

Nodding, the Indian hunched toward the flames, took another skewer of caramelized pieces of rabbit and stared absently into the flickering flames of the camp-fire, remembering what had happened. "A bear had attacked Ribanna on top of the hill not far from the Assiniboine's camp and Ribanna was injured. Winnetou killed the bear and brought Ribanna back to her father."

There was a brief moment of silence between the two men, before Artemus began another train of thought. "Your necklace, did you get it after killing a bear?" He asked.

Looking at Artemus, Winnetou replied, "When he was a young warrior, Winnetou killed a big, black bear that was threatening him at Nugget-tsil, stabbing the animal in the heart with his knife. Winnetou offered the bear's skin to his father, and kept the claws for himself, to make a necklace." He started fingering it and continued, "Intschu-tschuna was so proud of Winnetou that he decided to call me Kuruk, it means bear."

Frowning, puzzled, Artemus said, "But Kuruk is not your name."

Poking the fire with a twig, the Apache shook his head. "No." He lifted his eyes, staring up at the blackness of the night sky. "No. Intschu-tschuna called Winnetou Tarak when he was a baby, which means Star."

Fascinated, Artemus said, "It's a lovely name."

Looking back at Artemus, Winnetou continued, "Winnetou was not happy. He did not want to be called Kuruk because it is not a warrior's name. Winnetou told Intschu-tschuna to give his son a warrior's name – and, the Chief of the Mescalero Apache told Winnetou to earn one in combat. He sent Winnetou to fight the Kiowas who were stealing our horses on the prairies. Winnetou fought against three warriors with his tomahawk, he wounded them and pushed them into a hole dug in the rock, which was filled with boiling water, and they died there, howling in pain. Then, after Winnetou told Intschu-tschuna how the Kiowas had died, Intschu-tschuna decided to give me a warrior name, Winnetou. It means Boiling Water, and I'm very proud to bear that name. It is a feared and respected name."

Throwing twigs in the fire, Artemus said, "It's a beautiful name."

Curious, Winnetou add a couple of sticks to the flames and asked, "What does Artemus mean?" then he rubbed his gray-green eyes which ached with fatigue.

Leaning back against his saddle, Artemus chuckled as the fire popped, sending glowing embers spiraling upward into the cold night air.

He replied, "My mother, Helena, when she was pregnant, thought she was expecting a girl, and she had chosen to name her Artemis after she was born. Artemis the name of the Greek goddess of hunting…"

Winnetou nodded. "Winnetou knows. Klekih-petra had books on Greek mythology, as well as Homer's writings, and he liked to tell us about the Trojan War."

Artemus added, "But she delivered a boy, me. So instead of naming her daughter Artemis, my mother called her son Artemus, Artemis's masculine version. People think that the name Artemis is composed of the Greek word arktos – which means Bear or Big Dipper - and thémis which means great strength or 'the order established by the gods'."

The Apache was impressed and summarized, "Then Artemus, means Strong Bear. That name suits you. You are broad and strong like a bear."

Rubbing his itchy chin, the spy smiled with both pleasure and pride. "Thank you, but I'm a white man, not an Indian. I can't be called Strong Bear, especially while I'm wearing this uniform…" He smiled and continued. "You know, there's starting to be a lot of bears in this story... and I think there'll be others on the way, including that famous Golden Bear..."

Silent, Winnetou stared down at the crackling fire through his sleepy eyes. He was exhausted, his body drained of all energy after several hours of riding.

He finally said, "Let's get some sleep. Tomorrow will be a hard day." He retreated against a big rock and rolled in a ball there. He whispered, "Good night, Artemus," and then disappeared beneath his blanket and he was fast asleep.

Covering his lap with his saddle blanket, Artemus lay down on the dry, cold grass and leaned his head against his saddle, regretting that he hadn't brought his bedroll with him. "Good night, Winnetou;" he said.

He closed his eyes – hand resting on the handle of his Remington - and drifted off to sleep.

Perched on the heights, a dark furry creature looked down at the little speck of light shining in the darkness, and growled menacingly.

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It was dawn when Artemus woke. He sat himself up and looked at his companion, across the faint glow from the dying fire.

His horse-blanket covering his lap, Winnetou was still sleeping, head nestled in his elbow, his face relaxed, his lips parted.

The Major was rubbing his puffy eyes when he heard a distant something indefinable – like a muffled growl – coming from the sacred mountain.

Immediately the horses became nervous and neighed.

Artemus's hand moved instinctively to the butt of his gun and he stilled, listening more closely. But the odd noise was gone now.

He dropped his right hand at his side watching Iltschi and Naaki calming down. The two horses no longer felt any threat.

He shivered with cold – the air being noticeably cool and decided to revive the fire, throwing a few branches in the glowing embers.

He knelt down, blew on them and flames awakened little by little. Then he stirred the fire and brought his hands towards it and his fingers, numb from the cold, began to warm up.

He smiled as he saw the blanket move and Winnetou slowly woke. "Good morning," he said as Winnetou emerged from sleep.

Looking around him, disoriented, Winnetou automatically replied, "Good morning," then he remembered everything.

He moved into a sitting position and winced as his not-quite-yet healed injuries hurt. Then he ran a hand through his long hair to comb it with his fingers. "We'll be leaving in a few minutes, as soon as we gather our things" Then he stood up, and placed the heavy blanket on his horse's back.

He said to ltschi, in Apache, "In case of danger, Iltschi will take cover." And the horse nodded and huffed in response.

He grabbed his Silver Gun and patted the buckskin pouch loaded with bullets hanging from his belt. "Winnetou is ready."

He watched Artemus as the other man was taking his rope which he put across his chest. Then the spy filled his pockets with bullets and slid his sheathed knife in his right boot.

Glancing up at the top of the mountain, Artemus said, "Alright, let's go!" then he stroked his white stallion's head, between his eyes, exactly where the horse had two black spots, "I'll be back soon, and be nice with Iltschi," he said in Apache.

Surprised, Winnetou asked, "Has Artemus learned my language?"

The white man smiled. "A little bit, enough for my Apache horse to understand me. There's an Apache scout at the fort, and he's my teacher, his name is Taklishim, Grey one."

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It took Winnetou and Artemus half an hour to reach the foot of the mountain walking on bumpy and uneven ground.

Once there they had to make some strenuous detours due to gaps or fallen trees, and then they started to climb the steep slope, in a tangle of underbrush, rocks and trees, stones rolling and slipping underfoot, slowing their pace.

Leaning against a boulder, pausing, breathing hard, Artemus said, "Ya know, I'm sure there's easier access to the top of the mountain, which Tah-Sha-Tunga and O-canah-hhai use to get up there on every summer solstice. We should have asked the Chief to indicate it to us before we left."

Halting next to a shrub, Winnetou shook his head. "Tah-Sha-Tunga would not have told us, Artemus. It is a secret. It is actually exceptional that the Chief, the medicine man have allowed Winnetou and Artemus to come here to defend the Sacred Mountain. Usually only Tah-Sha-Tunga and O-canah-hhai are allowed to go to the sacred mountain." And, on that, he started up the steep incline again.

Following his Apache friend walking on ahead, Artemus replied, "And we'll see if there's a golden bear up there too." And he froze when a rock tumbled out from under him.

Once arrived on a small plateau, bordered by a deep ravine, Artemus stopped there, panting, legs burning, exhausted and gave an envious and admiring glance at his Indian friend who was in great shape and not out of breath like he was.

He remembered that Apaches' stamina was legendary.

He looked up. The terrain was even more rugged, with more boulders and deep cracks. The trees were packed tighter and they were taller, almost hiding the sunlight.

The two men continued mountaineering for long hours, a stiff climb bringing them almost to the summit where the twin peaks towered.

Looking around them Winnetou and Artemus were impressed by the 360-degree view. They paused for a moment to enjoy the beauty around them.

The older man lifted his hand to wipe the sweat from his eyes, catching his breath and said in awe, "I've never seen anything so beautiful before."

In front of his eyes, an immense plain extended to the horizon where rolling hills and beyond, blue mountains could be seen.

Several rivers flowed and disappeared into groves before reappearing further between boulders and wild flower beds and he could see herds of buffalo in the distance.

The Apache nodded, "That's why the Great Spirit chose this place to create this mountain." Looking up at the twin peaks, he saw movement high above him, among the rocks, but couldn't tell what it was as it was just a fast-moving shadow.

Frowning, Artemus said, "I saw it too. A mountain lion maybe? I heard a growl last night and the horses became nervous… Let's continue cautiously."

Holding his rifle against him, Winnetou said, "Artemus is right. Let's go." And he grabbed at the next crack in the mossy rock.

Muscles aching, Artemus climbed on, higher and higher, scraping his hands in the thick thorny brush, following Winnetou who was on the alert, ready to fire his rifle if threatened.

He reached a ledge two minutes after the Apache, breathing open mouthed from exertion and sat on a small rock. "Boy! I can't feel my legs," he rasped.

Glancing around him, Winnetou said, "That shadow we saw a few minutes ago was here…" And then he knelt on the ground to observe the imprints left there in the dirt and gravel. He easily recognized the traces left by wolves and a mountain lion. They were fresh he noticed. "Three wolves and a mountain lion have been here recently, but no bear."

Standing, the spy replied, "That doesn't mean there isn't one. Let's keep moving forward." And the Apache took the lead again.

The Apache made his way between the boulders, with the agility of a mountain goat, his breathing even, not affected by exertion and the thinning air and, effortlessly, he climbed up onto a rocky outcrop which was overlooking the grandiose landscape that opened up to the horizon.

Winnetou helped Artemus to join him, and then said, "We're almost at the top, the twin peaks are not far away. If the legend is true, the cave of the golden bear should be there."

His face flushed with exertion, Artemus doubled over, breathing greedily the cold air. "Or it'll be an ordinary bear's cave, or there'll be nothing at all," he said huskily.

He straightened up, hands at his sides as he inhaled deeply and suddenly… the ground slipped from under his right foot.

He fell to his knees before sliding to the cliff edge, crying out in sheer panic.

In a flash, Winnetou caught Artemus's wrist in a firm grip, as the other man was dangerously close to falling backwards into the overhanging precipice above the steep drop below.

He pulled his friend to safety, away from the deadly void, and then leaned him against the rough bark of a several hundred-years-old tree. "Is Artemus alright?" He asked, with a frown, noticing the other man's pallor, and his hands shaking.

Swallowing hard, his heart pounding wildly in his chest, Artemus shook his head. "No, not yet… I saw myself falling all the way to the bottom to die there, on a rock, skull smashed and all bones broken, flattened into a human crêpe," he said with a slight tremor in his voice.

Patting Artemus's shoulder in a comforting gesture, Winnetou said, "Artemus is still alive and no longer has to be afraid," and then, intrigued he asked, "What is a 'crêpe'?"

Thinking about making crêpes, and especially eating them, Artemus felt better all of a sudden and responded, "A crêpe is a type of very thin pancake, usually served for breakfast. You can spread jam on it, or butter, but I prefer to eat my crêpes with sugar…" His stomach growled complaining it was hungry, at the thought. "Mmm… I'm hungry."

The Apache grabbed the rope the other man had put across his chest. "It would be safer for us if we're roped up," he said." Then he wrapped one end around the white man's waist.

Pressing Winnetou's arm in a friendly way, Artemus croaked, "Thank you, you saved my life," and watched Winnetou looping the rope securely around his own waist. He wiped away the sweat running in rivulets down his temples and then added, "It's a very good idea."

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More than one hour of walking later they stopped at the foot of the twin peaks that stood out against the dark blue sky like two gigantic stalagmites.

His legs feeling like rubber, Artemus first leaned against a tree and then he slumped on a rounded rock and let out a husky, "Finally", then he buried his tired face in his hands.

He was exhausted.

Winnetou un-looped the rope around Artemus's waist. "The ascent of the mountain is over, now we must find the cave of the golden bear," he said.

Stretching his aching arms and legs Artemus nodded. "If it exists, of course."

He stood and finally registered that Winnetou and he were standing on a sort of lightly wooded terrace that seemed to go around the two peaks. It was dotted with half-buried rocks in the thick grass and there were beds of wildflowers everywhere.

Dropping the rope at his feet Winnetou said, "There is always some truth in every legend, Artemus."

Glancing down at his scratched hands, Artemus asked, "And what if the legend is true? What do we do?" Then he looked at his companion.

Winnetou responded, "We will protect him, like this sacred mountain. No white man shall come up here, which is why we are here."

Excited about finding out if the golden bear and gold-covered cave really existed, Artemus said, "Let's find out if this legend is true!"

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Later

It took only half an hour for the two men to find the cave which was hidden behind a group of bushes and dark jutting rocks.

They warily noticed that the ground in front of it was covered with bear tracks - all fresh.

Instinctively moving back with caution, Artemus said, "There's a cave and there's a bear…"

Frowning in alarm, Winnetou corrected his friend, "There are bears. There are traces of a powerful male, a smaller female and one young."

Remembering what happened in 'Ribanna's cave', Winnetou had to make a considerable effort not to be overcome by fear.

He thought about the wounds the bear had inflicted on him, but thankfully the pain had now faded into a dull throb.

Holding his rifle tightly, the Apache said, "Let's go inside."

Un-holstering his gun, Artemus joined his red-skinned friend. He cocked the hammer back, his finger over the trigger – ready to pull it.

They were ready to enter the cave, when they heard some rustling from a few bushes behind them. Something was moving there.

Heart hammering in their chest, the two men whirled around… to face a growling bear. It was immense, with a black coat – and angry.

The wild animal immediately charged, its jaws opened wide, its fangs out, ready to bite, its long, sharp claws extended, ready to shred – ready to kill.

Bang!

Bang!

Smoke left from both Winnetou's Silver Gun and Artemus's Remington 1861 Army Revolver as they fired at the same time, but the bullets didn't stop the hulky bear, just made it angrier.

The very large animal knocked the double- barreled rifle from the Indian's hand as if it was a mere twig and the .44 caliber, six shot from the Major's hand, sending it flying in the air.

Then the two men were both propelled down to the ground with great force – and the wild animal chose to swiftly pounce on Artemus who was closer.

The bear slammed Artemus into the ground and a grunt of pain escaped the spy's lips as all the air was knocked out of his lungs. He grimaced as his head hit the rocky ground, hard and for a moment, all he could see was bright stars.

The female bear started sniffing at Artemus's body, snapping her powerful jaws within inches of his face, nuzzling it, and poking randomly at him with her huge front paws, with a rumbling growl.

Fear gripping his heart, Artemus raised his left arm in an instinctive move to protect his face from bites and slashes from the bear's thick claws.

Gritting his teeth, he struggled in defense, hitting the bear with all his might, desperately trying to get free and survive.

He twisted his body the best he could, trying to buck the dark mass of fur and muscle which was pinning him to the ground, almost crushing his bones, but to no avail.

Playing with his prey so far, the bear decided to end it all and Artemus screamed hoarsely and almost passed out as he felt the bear's claws ripping apart his dark blue uniform jacket and vest, and his white shirt, taking away some of his skin with it and drawing blood.

His rifle back in his hands Winnetou pointed it at the bear's head as strong jaws clamped around Artemus's left shoulder, the beast, sinking its long, sharp teeth into the man's flesh.

He was on the verge of firing, when a second bear – even bigger, more powerful and deadlier than the first one came out of the bushes, and growled.

Winnetou instinctively moved back at the sight of the massive male. He stumbled backwards against a rock with a startled cry, lost his balance and landed hard on the ground. He had just got back to his feet when the roaring beast charged.

He fired – but it didn't stop the bear.

The injured bear collided with Winnetou head-on, and the Apache was flung backwards with great force towards the edge of the terrace… which was sloping there and, caught up in the momentum, he slid over the wet grass, straight towards the precipice.

His heart thundering with dread knowing what would happen, Winnetou tried to grab on to what he could to slow his slipping, clumps of grass, roots, rocks, in vain.

Winnetou fell into the air, head first, yelling, "Manitouuuu!" preparing to join his parents, sister, Klekih-petra and all his ancestors in the Happy Hunting Grounds.

The Apache's body hit a narrow ledge with a thump, about thirty feet below. His head connected with the hard bumpy surface and he cried out, eyes clenched shut as pain enveloped his head. He lost consciousness almost immediately - inches from the edge – and death.

The female bear didn't kill Artemus. It abandoned its prey to join the male bear who, badly injured, was groaning in pain.

Seriously wounded, Artemus crawled through the grass towards the trees, using the last of his strength, wanting to escape the bears. That was his only preoccupation at the moment; he wasn't thinking about his injuries and whether he was going to make it.

He slid down over some slippery rocks and then fell into the ravine. Thick bushes slowed his fall, and he finally crashed into a cluster of rocks.

Everything went black.

Tbc