“Bear! Sir Bear!”
Sammy’s voice echoed in the night air, frosting in puffs with each cry. Surrounded, he pressed his back against the metal of a street lamp, the stinging cold biting through the thin material of his red, stripy pajamas. His feet almost tripped over a black bin bag that had been piled with others against the street lamp. There was nowhere for him to run–they had cut off his escape back up the alley towards home and the exit out onto the main road. At this time of night, everyone was asleep. No-one would hear his calls for help.
He only had one hope.
The orange light of the street lamp painted the shadows of his three assailants longer than their diminutive statures should allow. They watched Sammy hungrily, each atop a beaten, scar-ridden cat. He had never liked cats. Too mean. Dogs were his favorite, although his parents had never let him have one. They weren’t going to change their mind any time soon either.
To his left was a one-armed Action Man, to his right a Monsieur Stretchstrong with limbs twice the length of its body, and between them was a one-eyed Barbie whose hair had seen better days. Judging by her dress-up clothes, Sammy guessed she had been a Doctor Barbie. He remembered seeing the advert on TV last Christmas.
They tightened the circle around him, their little plastic faces lit up with the joy of cornered prey. Sammy knew what they wanted. He also knew they’d never be satisfied with any amount he offered them. They’d want it all and, even if he didn’t know how, he knew they would take every last speck.
Sammy shivered.
“Lay it on us, boy, and we’ll make sure you get home safe to your parents,” said the Action Man. His tone was calm, but Sammy noticed he didn’t sound like he did on the advert. He was supposed to be American, but he sounded more like the bald road worker who whistles at Mum when she walks him to school. Mum always walks faster on that road, her hand a bit tighter around Sammy’s.
“N-no,” stuttered Sammy. He looked over the heads of his attackers for a sign of hope. He would come. “Sir Bear told me never to trust wild toys.”
Barbie’s cat stepped forward, hissing. “We just want to play.” She sounded like Sammy’s aunt from Birmingham, a woman never without a cigarette in her mouth.
“I’m not playing with this kid,” said Monsieur Stretchstrong. He definitely didn’t sound French. Sammy didn’t know what he sounded like. Why did toys never sound like they were supposed to?
“That’s not what Barbs means, Stretch,” said Action Man. He looked Sammy up and down. “You shouldn’t play with your food.”
A voice rumbled from the darkness beyond the synthetic glow of the street lamp. “Away, plastic leeches. Thou shall not have my squire.”
Sammy’s heart lifted. He knew he would come. He always did.
“You guys are in trouble now,” said Sammy. A wide smile stretched across his face, dissipating the fear the three wild toys and their steeds had cast over him.
The wild toys twisted around to face the voice, their little plastic hands yanking at the cats’ furry necks to turn. The cats yowled in anger and pain. Sammy felt a bit bad for them, even if they looked ready to scratch his face off.
The Action Man scanned the darkness beyond their halo of light, one of his small hands scratching behind his cat’s ear. It purred approvingly, forgetting the rough handling. “What’s this? An appetizer for our main course?”
Sir Bear, or just Bear as Sammy called him, waddled into the light. His usual frown was deeper than ever, a look the people of the toy company would have hated to see on their cute and cuddly teddy bear. Being Sammy’s Guardian seemed to bring it out in the knee-high teddy. Bear straightened his little red shirt–it constantly rode up on his paunchy body–and pulled his pen-sized sword from the scabbard slung across his back.
Sammy had never found out where the sword came from; he had never even been allowed to hold it. It certainly hadn’t come with Bear–especially as it was a very real and very sharp blade. Despite asking about it many times, Bear always answered the questions in the same way: A Knight is nothing without his sword.
Bear levelled the sword at each of them in turn, as if marking them. The street lamp lit the blade with a fiery glow. “Die dishonorably by my hand, or fade honorably. The choice is thine,” he grumbled.
“You owned toys are all pompous little freaks,” said Barbie.
Bear nodded, accepting that as answer enough. He looked at Sammy. “Close thy eyes, squire. Don’t open them until I say.”
“But–”
“Squire…” Bear warned.
Reluctantly, Sammy covered his eyes with his fingers. How was he supposed to become a knight if he didn’t watch Bear fight? But Bear insisted combat was not for young eyes. In fact, his code as a knight forbade it. Violence should not darken one’s childhood, as Bear had once said, rather definitively, after an afternoon of Sammy’s begging to sword fight.
Sammy opened his fingers a crack, enough to see the small battle play out. Of course, it was only in case Bear needed his help.
Bear leapt at Monsieur Stretchstrong with all the agility of a gymnast. You would never think it looking at him: his pudgy, round body and plump arms and legs were built for cuddling, not fighting. Bear grumbled about his size often, but Sammy knew he preferred it that way. Everyone underestimated the snuggly teddy bear.
Monsieur Stretchstrong was thrown from his cat, his limbs trailing after him like the tendrils of a jellyfish. Bear smacked the rear of Monsieur Stretchstrong’s cat, which hissed and scampered away. A rubbery arm flew at Bear, trying to wrap itself around him. With a single swing, Bear hacked the arm in two, the fist falling to the floor.
Sammy gasped.
Bear’s frown became a scowl. “Peek not, squire. I know thou art watching.”
Sammy closed the crack between his fingers. “I’m not!”
Bear didn’t reply. All Sammy heard for the next few minutes was hissing cats, metal shearing plastic, and the frenzied shouts of the wild toys. The sounds of battle only tempted him to peek again, but Sammy stopped himself. Bear was angry enough with him already. All he could do was listen.
A husky cry of pain made Sammy look. Worry swelled. He had never heard that noise from Bear before.
The broken, inanimate bodies of the wild toys littered Bear’s battlefield. Sammy saw the faint gold of their life magic escaping into the night air–barely sparks against the dark sky. No wonder they had fought Bear so desperately–they had been on the cusp of fading. With or without Sammy and Bear, tonight would always have been their last.
One of the wild toys’ cats remained, standing protectively over the decapitated Action Man. It stared Bear down, growling low, reminding Sammy more of its bigger, exotic cousins. Fluff and golden shimmers spilled out of deep claw marks on Bear’s belly, his paw trying to hold himself together. In his other paw, he still held the sword, pointing shakily at the mongrel.
Sammy stood staring, uncertain. Bear never wanted Sammy to put himself at risk–another of his codes–but Bear was in too much danger for Sammy to ignore.
The cat looked at Sammy, waiting to see what he would do. This was no regular cat–spurred by humanity, it bore the crusty marks of a survivor. Wrathful eyes narrowed, daring Sammy to intervene. Sammy tried to pull himself up to challenge the cat, but its stare and low yowling made him weak. His arms and legs felt as rubbery as Monsieur Stretchstrong’s, his voice lost like the failing flickers in the air.
“I’ll beat thee. Leave us,” said Bear, drawing the cat’s attention back to him. Letting go of his wounded side, he took his sword in both paws and dragged it along the concrete in front of him. Sparks spat up from the ground, Bear’s sword singing with a haunting ring.
With a spitting hiss, the cat stepped away from Bear. It looked between them before grabbing the head of the Action Man in its mouth and running. Sammy watched it jump from the ground to the top of a bin to the top of a fence. He didn’t move until it disappeared over the fence, into the wilds of someone’s garden.
He still didn’t like cats.
“Damnable villains,” said Bear and collapsed onto his back. His breathing was strained and irregular, his sword forgotten on the floor next to him, both paws clamped around his cat-wound as he tried to stop the shimmers escaping. Sammy noticed Bear’s brown fur seemed less glossy, almost stiffer, like he’d been forgotten at the bottom of a toy chest for several years.
Sammy rushed to his side, worried but not panicking. He knew what to do. “Oh, you silly old bear.” He held his hands over Bear’s belly as he had many times before, palms down, and remembered the rhyme that had come to him in a dream so long ago.
“Glimmer, shimmer, give my bear a flicker.”
Nothing happened. Sammy’s breath quickened.
“Glimmer! Shimmer! Give my bear a flicker!”
Again, nothing.
“Bear! It’s not working!”
“Hush, squire,” said Bear. His deep, slow voice calmed Sammy a little. “Allow not fear to control thy heart.”
Sammy nodded although he wasn’t really sure what that meant. He breathed deep, thought hard of playtime with Bear and of those magical golden sparks. “Glimmer. Shimmer. Give my bear a flicker.”
Something tugged on his heart, a slight sensation. His hands lit up, glowing with the webbing of his veins through his skin like rivers on a map. It was only brief, longer than a flash but shorter than a flicker. He remembered when the magic used to light up his bedroom like a summer sun, bathing them in its warmth. Sammy had never seen it so small before and worried it wasn’t enough.
Before he could repeat the rhyme again, he felt a soft paw on his hands. “Tis done. Thou did well, squire.”
Sammy’s hands fell away and he saw Bear’s brown belly was whole again. Tears began to well in Sammy’s eyes, relief washing over him in a huge wave. Bear has always been fine before, taking the odd slash to the arm, but never this bad. And Sammy had always been able to fix him. He had never had any issues with the magic before.
Bear wasn’t just his Guardian, but his best friend too. No-one else could protect him from wild toys, monsters in the cupboard and demons under the bed whilst also playing out every one of Sammy’s daydreams.
With everything happening with his parents, Sammy needed Bear more than ever.
“I’m sorry, Bear. I’m so sorry. I never–”
A coughing fit interrupted him. His throat felt sharp and raw, lined with a tangy metallic taste. Sammy buried his mouth in the crook of his elbow, just like Dad had taught him for coughs and sneezes. When he pulled away, there was a dark patch against his pajamas. His eyes went wide. That had never happened before.
“Art thou well?” asked Bear, climbing to his feet slowly and straightening his red shirt.
Sammy tucked his arms behind his back. “Fine. Just a tickly throat.” It was nothing. If Bear thought it was anything more, he would make a fuss, even insist on Sammy having a spoonful of Benylin. Sammy made a face at the thought of it.
Bear watched him with black marbles eyes, waiting for more from him. Sammy just smiled.
“Thou art safe. For that, I am happy,” said Bear, finally. He picked up his sword and scowled at the marks on the blade. He ran a paw along it, almost a caress, and slid it away into its scabbard on his back. “Let us return to the castle. May hap thou can explain what thou was doing by thyself?”
Sammy nodded and got up from his knees. He looked at what was left of the wild toys. Little more than broken parts. “What should we do with them?”
Bear glanced at the wild toys, crinkling his button nose in disgust. “Nothing.”
“We should bury them.”
Bear looked up, craning his head to meet Sammy’s eyes. He smiled, briefly and wistfully. “No, we shan’t. Dishonorable toys deserve a dishonorable death, especially those who would harm a child.”
The wind blew and Sammy shivered, feeling the bite of the night air through his thin pajamas. Now wasn’t the time to argue. It was cold out and he knew Bear’s mind was set. He hoped someone would come along and bury them. Maybe he could come back tomorrow, during the day, and do it himself. After all, they had been someone’s toys once.
Noticing Sammy’s shiver, Bear said, “Let us depart.”
“No, not yet,” said Sammy, crossing his arms over his chest.
Bear looked up at Sammy, his soft face crumpling and folding into a frown. “I said let us depart.”
“I need to finish my quest.” Sammy tried to sound assertive, like Bear had when confronting the wild toys, but it was lost in a quiver. He blamed the cold.
“A quest? I don’t recall assigning thee a quest.”
“It’s one I set myself. One of great importance.”
Bear’s face uncrumpled, almost looking like a normal teddy bear were it not for the slight worry lines that had become sculpted into his fur. “Pray tell, what is thy quest?”
Sammy turned back towards Bear’s battlefield and pointed past it. Bear followed his finger, past the end of the alley Sammy had almost reached and over the road to a broad lighthouse in the dark of the night: the supermarket. Always open and always lit for weary travelers on their way home at such a late hour. “I wanted to get a magic pill to keep Mum and Dad together.”
Bear’s brow creased again, deeper than before. “Magic pill?”
“Yeah, a girl at school said her parents used to argue all the time, but then her Dad got some magic pills and they stopped. She said they’re in love again, happier than ever.”
Bear’s eyes fixed on the supermarket, silent for a moment. Sammy hoped he was deliberating over the quest. Even though his encounters with the wild toys had left him shaken, he still wanted to continue. With Bear at his side, he would feel a lot braver. It had been silly for him to go without Bear, but Sammy had worried he would say no.
“Oh…” said Bear, finally, turning back to Sammy. “Oh no.”
Sammy’s spirits dropped. “What is it?”
“Thy quest will be in vain. Thou will go no further.” Bear’s voice was firm, yet softer than usual. His tone made Sammy angrier than his actual answer.
“Why not? Why can’t we get it?”
“Because tis a false magic, squire.”
“But it would keep them together!”
“Nay, not thy parents.”
“But we have to try!” Sammy’s voice felt close to breaking into angry squeaks.
“Not this time. Tis not meant to be,” said Bear. There was that assertiveness in his voice again that made Sammy bristle.
Bear started walking towards home, but Sammy stayed his ground. True knights never abandoned their quest. He couldn’t abandon his, not when so much relied on it. Bear stopped and looked back at him, shivering in the glow of the street light. “Thou won’t help thine mother and father by freezing to death in this dreadful place.” He offered his paw to Sammy.
Sammy held out for a few seconds longer but the cold got the better of him. He knew he should have brought a jacket. Ignoring the outstretched paw, Sammy stamped past Bear and back up the alley towards home.
There was no winning with Bear. How could he understand? He didn’t even have parents–at least, Sammy was fairly sure he didn’t–so he’d never see why Sammy’s quest was his greatest yet. His parents had to stay together.
“Stubborn old Bear,” muttered Sammy. He wasn’t sure if Bear had heard him, but he didn’t care.
They walked along the alley in the half-dark of the city’s night. Garden fences and walls ran either side of them and Sammy imagined they were passing through a great valley, returning to his kingdom empty-handed. Light from windows and gardens spilled over the canyon’s edge, enough for Sammy to avoid tripping in the pothole craters that made the path rough. The scrape of his slippers against the concrete echoed, making the wooden, suburban cliffs seem taller, and somewhere behind him there was the soft padding of Bear’s feet, two for every one of his steps.
Something moved on one of the valley’s walls and caught Sammy’s eye, a shadow slinking along the top. Somewhere else, beyond the walls, there was a sharp hiss. A chill reached into Sammy deeper than the cold of the night.
Sammy stopped and waited for Bear to catch-up. He wasn’t scared, he just wanted to see if Bear had changed his mind. When he didn’t hear the small steps, Sammy turned back. “Bear?”
A few meters behind him, closer than Sammy had expected, Bear had stopped. His right paw was held to his chest beneath his red shirt, feeling for something, and the other was held in front of his eyes, examined by a frown. Sammy moved back and knelt down in front of Bear so that they were almost eye-level with each other. Only then did Bear notice him, dropping the right paw and bringing the left to his chin, rubbing it slowly like Sammy had seen Uncle Brian stroke his beard. Bear shook his head as if already answering an unspoken question. “Tis nothing. Simply checking to make sure none of those scoundrels damaged my hide.”
Sammy saw the left paw. The fur was unharmed, but dull and stiff. What was the word Bear had used before? Inanimate. He reached for his paw, but Bear pulled away. “Don’t hide this from me.”
“That makes two of us,” said Bear, nodding to the bloody patch on Sammy’s sleeve.
“I wasn’t hiding it. I was going to tell you when we got back,” Sammy lied. “Your paw is serious. You’re fading. Let me give you more magic, get it working again.” Cupping his hands together, Sammy reached out towards him.
“Nay!” Bear stepped back from Sammy’s reach. “No more.”
Frowning, Sammy reached for Bear again. “I mustn’t have done it properly before. It’s not your time yet.”
This time, Bear didn’t move away immediately, his face softening. Had Sammy convinced him to change his mind? A rare first. But Bear glanced back the way they had come and then moved away again, his face crumpling.
“I will decide that!” boomed Bear. Sammy paused. Bear had never been this loud before. “Thy natural magic has run out, squire. Thou art too old. Any magic more comes directly from thy life force. Does thou understand?”
Sammy didn’t respond. He looked down at the dark spot on his sleeve–Bear was right. He had felt it with the spell. It had come differently than before, like the magic had been pulled from the deepest part of a well and he had struggled to pull up the bucket.
“If thou continue to maintain me, thou will die. I will not have that on my conscience.”
“But you can’t go,” said Sammy. His eyes stung–he hoped his face was hidden enough by the half-light. “I won’t let you.”
Bear turned on him, a guttural growl to his tone. “Would thou have me become one of those Wild Toys? Scavenging for scraps of magic? Threatening children?”
“N-no, but–”
“But nothing! Let me fade with my honor and dignity. That is all I want.”
Sammy clambered to his feet, towering over Bear, red-faced. “And what about what I want?”
He didn’t wait for an answer, fearing it. Sammy twisted on his heel and stormed off, stamping hard, hoping it would crack the concrete beneath them.
“Squire!” Bear called after him. Then, again, softer than before. “Sammy!”
Sammy ignored him. First, he wouldn’t help Sammy save his parents, now Bear wouldn’t even save himself. What sort of knight stands by and does nothing?
The familiar high white fence of his garden soon came into view. Sammy slowed down. He hated coming back empty-handed, knowing that he had failed before he’d even left the alley. He didn’t look back for Bear.
Waiting atop the garden fence, glowing in the darkness, were multiple pairs of eyes, watching Sammy. He stopped abruptly. More wild toys, come for his magic. Would they stop when he told them he had none to give? Sammy wasn’t sure.
One of the pair of eyes let out a great hiss and leapt down into Sammy’s path, putting itself between him and home. They weren’t wild toys. It was worse.
Cats.
“Bear!” shouted Sammy. He kept his eyes on the lead cat, recognizing it from before by the head of Action Man it held firmly in its mouth. Others joined it, grouping up behind. Sammy watched an army take shape in front of him, worried that if he looked away they would be on him with fangs and claws.
He listened for the ring of Bear’s sword being unsheathed, but heard nothing. “The cats are back!” he called behind him.
Bear didn’t answer.
The cats rushed at Sammy. He screamed and squeezed his eyes shut. No bite or scratch ever came. Sammy opened his eyes and saw the cats washing past his legs like a fierce breeze. He turned to follow them and saw their true target. A few metres behind him was Bear, lying on the floor, paw caught on the hilt of his sword.
“Bear!”
Bear didn’t move.
The cats descended on him.
“No!” shouted Sammy. His legs moved towards them, despite the hammering of his heart and the lump in his throat. “Get away from him!”
The cats ignored him, their claws raking Bear. Sammy couldn’t see Bear, only hear the sound of ripping fabric rising above the yowls. Each tear made Sammy flinch and shudder, his mind visualizing what he heard.
He had to help Bear.
Pulling himself up, Sammy puffed up his chest and squared his shoulders. Doing his gruffest impression of Bear and thinking himself as big as Dad, he rushed at the cat army. “Begone, mangy furballs!”
A few of the horrible beast scattered, running to a safe distance, but many either didn’t see him or didn’t care.
Sammy was among them now, their hot bodies pressed against his legs as they each tried to get at Bear. He stuck his hand into the center of the mob, claws tearing at his skin and sleeve of his pajama, and pulled Bear free. He pressed Bear to his chest, his arms cocooning protectively around him, and stepped back several times.
All eyes snapped towards Sammy, pupils narrowing to slits. Yowls spread between the cats, rising like a horrible chorus.
Sammy ran. He hated that he didn’t fight, but he knew he couldn’t. Bear wouldn’t be able to save him this time.
He sprinted for his fence and scrabbled over it, losing a slipper as his feet kicked at the wood paneling for purchase. He barely noticed. Once he was over the top, he fell into the garden. The grass softened his landing, but he still hit the ground hard, knocking the air out of him. It didn’t slow him by much as he scrabbled in the grass, gasping, his fear driving him to his feet. He crossed the garden to the back door and didn’t stop until the back door was firmly locked behind him.
He hated cats.
Sammy rushed up to his room, not even trying to stay quiet any more. Fortunately, his parents had had an energetic argument earlier this evening and neither his Dad on the sofa, nor his Mum in their bedroom, stirred.
Once in his room, Sammy closed the door, hoping it would stop the cats if they managed to get into the house. Gently, he placed Bear on his carpeted floor, pushing toys aside to make room for him. He looked awful. Claw marks had torn open his hide in several places, teeth marks dotted his face and had scratched his nose and marble eyes. There was a chunk missing from his ear. No magic spilled from his wounds.
Hands cupped over Bear’s body; Sammy spoke the rhyme. “Glimmer, shimmer, give my bear a flicker.”
No light. He moved his hands away to check, but Bear was the same as before. There had to be some magic left.
“Glimmer, shimmer, give my bear a flicker.”
Nothing. Tears welled in Sammy’s eyes. He remembered what Bear had said, but he didn’t care. It wasn’t time. Not like this. “Please don’t leave me, Bear.”
His breath shortened, knocked from him. His muscles tensed. Something squeezed his heart, not hard, but firmly. Through tear-filled eyes, he saw a dim light, barely a spark, between the cracks in his fingers. Sammy moved his hands and saw Bear, wounds healed and whole again, his face slowly bending into its usual frown.
“Bear! You’re oka–” A violent cough forced its way out, making his throat burn and his chest tighten. Sammy doubled over, fingers digging into the carpet. Spit flew from his mouth, landing in the middle of his bedroom floor. Sammy looked at the quickly drying patch, horrified by its dark crimson shade. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
Bear was on his feet, looking down at what Sammy had coughed up. His frown was gone, his eyes wide with something Sammy had never seen in them before. Fear. “Thou shouldn’t have done that.”
“Don’t be silly, Bear,” said Sammy. He got off the floor, trying to hide the shaking of his legs. Fetching a tissue from the box on his chest of drawers, Sammy wiped up the dark spit. A smear remained. Sammy hoped Mum wouldn’t notice in the morning. Don’t be silly, Bear.” He walked over to his bed, pulled the duvet back, and climbed in. He created the usual crook in his arm for Bear to settle down in.
Bear hadn’t moved. He stood in the same spot, staring at the carpet, his face still fixed with a worried look that didn’t belong on him. For a moment, he worried Bear had faded again, but the wide eyes told him that Bear was still there. “Come on, Bear. It’s very late.”
When Bear didn’t move, Sammy got out of bed and picked him up, carrying him to the bed. Bear felt too firm. They settled into bed together and Sammy pulled his Kings and Castles duvet up to his chin. Bear’s back pressed against Sammy’s chest as they cuddled.
“Thou were… very brave tonight, squire,” said Bear, his voice barely a whisper. He craned his head up to Sammy, the movement slow and rigid. There was no annoyed frown on his face, but there was something in his eyes Sammy couldn’t quite pinpoint. It reminded him of how his Dad had looked at him when he had learnt to tie his shoes, or how Mum looked at him whenever he came home with a gold star on his homework. “Does thou see what must happen now?”
“But…” started Sammy. A hundred arguments came to his lips, powered by a thousand sweet memories he didn’t want to let go of. All words faltered, crumbling under the unstoppable force of change. He couldn’t stop his parents divorcing. He couldn’t stop Bear fading. Sammy wished he was bigger, because he had never felt so small before. “Yes. Yes, I do.”
Slowly, Bear lifted his paw. “Good. Then take my sword.”
Sammy gasped. Bear never let him touch his sword. He always said it wasn’t a toy for squires. Carefully, he took it from Bear’s paw, taking extra care to hold it by the hilt, knowing it could cut him easily. He looked at their reflections in the thin blade. “Bear…”
“My sword is your sword,” interrupted Bear. Sammy could barely hear him, like he was speaking from very far away. The words of the spell were on his tongue, but he bit them back. Holding on would hurt them both more than letting go.
Bear placed his paw on Sammy’s hand. It felt stiff. “Carry it with honor and courage, no matter what comes. Your true quest has only just begun, Sir Sammy.”
Henry Sanders-Wright is a London-based Project Manager by day and an anywhere-based writer by early morning/evening and has had work previously published in All World ’s Wayfarer and Planet Scumm.