The Kingdom of the Bears Page 2

  What was this? They looked like a bunch of escapees from a circus of dancing bears.

  The bears growled in the backs of their throats. They dropped the tools or the wood in their paws and edged toward the children, who pressed together in fear.

  Bethany whispered, “Back toward the door.”

  “There’s a bear outside, too,” Aaron said.

  “Better one than twenty,” Bethany said in a low voice. “Hurry!”

  “Let them be!” a voice rang out from the other side of the sawmill. “They are on the king’s business.” A figure pushed his way through the clump of bears, who suddenly took a much less aggressive posture. Aaron wanted to cry out with relief to see the bears obeying their master. They were trained bears, after all.

  And then he saw the speaker and he did cry out, but with shock. It was another bear.

  The bear striding toward them was dressed in a pair of breeches, with a tunic thrown over one shoulder and a leather belt around its waist. A blood-red stone served as a belt buckle.

  To Aaron’s continuing surprise, the bear took off its cap and bowed to the children. “I am Brumbles, His Majesty’s Sheriff of the Eastlands.” He cocked his head when they didn’t respond. “Sorry for the fright, but we’re cautious of strangers in these...difficult times. Most of these good bears have not heard of the quest to enlist your help.”

  The situation was so absurd that Aaron had a hard time finding his tongue. At last he blurted, “But, but you’re a bear.” The other bears began exchanging glances and mumbling.

  Brumbles lifted a paw to quiet them. “You were expecting to find the Kingdom of the Bears run by skunks and beavers?”

  “But you can talk!” he exclaimed. “Bears can’t talk.”

  “Quite clearly, some of them can,” Bethany observed. She added in a low voice, for Aaron’s ears only, “And it doesn’t strike me as wise to argue with a bear, whether he can talk or not.”

  “Excuse me,” Aaron said, finding that his curiosity was winning out over his fear, “but did you say that this is the Kingdom of the Bears? How long have you been here, and wherever did you come from?” He didn’t know what was more shocking, to discover himself surrounded by talking bears, or that this place was smack in the middle of the Mad River Valley, where he’d lived all his life and he’d never heard whisper of its existence.

  Brumbles gave a couple of sniffs at the children. He didn’t answer the questions. “Hmm. Well, it appears from your bedraggled appearance that you’ve had a rough time crossing the mountains. No doubt you could use a bath and some honey and sweetbread to ease your hunger pains before you meet King Greatclaw. But first we’ll find transport to River’s Edge. The ride will give you a chance to gather your wits, eh? Come on, then.”

  While the other bears stared, they did as Brumbles commanded. There wasn’t anything else to do. They followed as Brumbles pushed through the far door and into the open air, but Aaron lingered back to whisper to his sister, “Watch for my cue. First chance, we’re going to slip away and go home.” Bethany nodded.

  But when they got outside, Aaron realized that there was more wrong with the world than just a few talking bears. Gone were the melting patches of snow, the piles of leaves. It was no longer late winter, but early spring, with leaves budding out on the trees and spring flowers poking shyly through the ground. The sawmill–what had been a heap of rotting wood–was trim and clean. It sat amid a handful of other buildings with enclosed pastures and sheep.

  “There’s something peculiar about this,” he said.

  “Peculiar?” Bethany said. “Peculiar are those florescent green and red fruits they put into fruitcakes. But talking bears? That is well beyond peculiar. It’s the most bizarre thing that I’ve ever seen.”

  Brumbles stopped a horse and cart coming in their direction, driven by yet another bear. The sheriff spoke a few words to the driver and then motioned them over. “Climb up.”

  “I suppose you talk, too, don’t you?” Bethany asked, patting the horse on the neck as she passed.

  It turned and fixed her with a quizzical expression and Aaron expected it to open its mouth and reply. Instead, the driver chuckled. “Imagine. A talking horse. Whoever heard of a talking horse?”

  Brumbles gave the driver a severe look. “In King Prestor’s land, anything is possible. Now then, bear, take us to River’s Edge.” Together, they hoisted themselves into the back of the wagon, which was filled with odds and ends of turnips and onions and potatoes. “Sorry about the transportation,” Brumbles apologized. “Nobody expected you to arrive at Woody Ridge. It’s barely an outpost.”

  The driver gee-hawed and the horse and cart lurched into motion. They followed the dirt road as it passed through the half-dozen homes and shops that made up Woody Ridge and began to descend the hillside. Everything looked so different from what Aaron remembered. He figured this must be the old road that they’d been searching for, but it was freshly trammeled and led through a farmer’s field that stretched down toward the river.

  “How long have you bears been living atop that hill?” Aaron wanted to know. He looked through the trees, trying to catch a glimpse of the inn.

  “I have no idea. Generations, I suppose.”

  Aaron knew something was off when they reached the river. There was a bridge crossing it, which he swore he’d never seen before, and then an open field stretching to Vermont Route 100. Only the highway wasn’t there. Instead a dirt road stretched along the valley floor. And the inn was gone, as well. Aaron could see the exact spot, but it was covered in pine and birch and maple.

  Bethany and Aaron gave each other looks of alarm. “What now?” Bethany whispered in his direction.

  “What now?” Brumbles repeated, picking up on Bethany’s whisper. “It’ll be six hours to River’s Edge to see the king. You might as well lean back and get some rest.”

  Aaron thought it best to explain before things got further out of hand. He wasn’t so frightened as he’d been back at the mill, although still rather alarmed at the strange turns that had overtaken them ever since they’d crossed the river. What a dumb idea that had been, and the situation could easily grow worse, couldn’t it? This King Greatclaw was obviously expecting someone other than the Merley kids.

  “Uhm, Sheriff Brumbles?”

  Brumbles was sniffing around among the produce. He sat up with an apple in his mouth. “Yes, boy?”

  “I’m terribly sorry, but there’s been a mistake. I’m not sure who you were expecting, but we’re just a couple of kids. Nobody sent us. We just got lost in the woods.”

  Brumbles finished his apple. He fished out another, this one turned soft and wormy, which he offered to each of the children in turn. They declined. With a shrug, he popped it into his mouth. “Yes, of course,” he said between chomps. “I knew it from the moment I saw you in the mill. There was shouting and someone said that help had come from King Prestor. Naturally, I came rushing to see if the news was true. I knew right away that it was not.”

  “You knew?”

  “Of course. The king didn’t appoint me Sheriff of the Eastlands just for my ability to regulate the quality of the honeycakes, although naturally, that is one of my duties.” He gave a shake of his shaggy head. “Now, I don’t know if King Prestor even exists, or if he’s just a legend, but I do know that such a great kingdom as his would not send a pair of children as his emissaries. And look at you, bedraggled, without provisions or weapons of any kind. The weasels would tear you to pieces.”

  “But if you knew, then why...?”

  “Why did I make such a show? The most obvious reason is that you were about to be set upon by twenty angry bears. Most of them have never seen a human before, but they know that Garmley–he’s the chief villain of these weasels–is threatening our southern flank. Emotions are running high. They see some strangers suddenly wander into town and they might bite before speaking, if you take my meaning.”

  Aaron certainly did. “But you’re taking us to
see the king anyway? Whatever for?”

  “Naturally, I can’t have you just wandering around the kingdom. Greatclaw will want to see you. And I must confess to some curiosity, myself. Tell me your story. How did you get here?”

  “We were chased up the hill by a bear,” Bethany blurted out. “Not a bear like you, but a stupid bear. Not that bears are stupid, I mean, but this bear wasn’t a smart bear.”

  “What Bethany means to say,” Aaron cut in before she made it any worse, “is that it wasn’t a talking bear, wearing clothing and everything.”

  “Ah, a wild bear. Are you sure? They don’t live anywhere round here. Every few years one of them will wander in from the wilds and take up refuge in one of the many woods around here. Then a funny thing will happen. About half of them will start living closer and closer to our homes, until one them will wander into River’s Edge, speaking in slow, halting speech, like a cub just learning to speak. The other half grow ever more dangerous until they have to be driven back into the wild. Sometimes, someone will get hurt.”

  Aaron nodded. “I’m pretty sure it was a wild bear.”

  “Well, I suppose it’s possible. But how did you find yourself in Woody Ridge?”

  Aaron and Bethany took turns explaining what had happened to them, while Brumbles listened and nodded every once in awhile. Every so often, he would break in with a question, then returned to listening with an occasional, “Hmm, you don’t say,” or, “My, that’s strange.”

  “So you see,” Aaron finished, “we don’t appear to be from around here although it looks almost like the same place as this, if you moved some of the trees around, and put a bunch more houses and farms and inns down. I’m not sure how we got here, but we definitely don’t live anywhere near the Kingdom of the Bears.”

  “And you know nothing about King Prestor the Wise?”

  “Never heard of him.”

  “And you have no fighting skills, or know any secrets about weasels and wolverines?”

  “None whatsoever.”

  “Then I’m afraid you truly will be of no help, after all.”

  Aaron gave an apologetic shrug. “No, I’m afraid not. We just have to figure out where we are and how we can get home to Vermont.”

  They traveled in silence. Left to his thoughts, Aaron was starting to get seriously worried. The land looked familiar, in a way, yet he recognized none of it. How could they possibly have found themselves so far from home so quickly?

  “It sounds silly,” Bethany said all of a sudden. “But I’ve got an idea about all of this.” She’d been rubbing her nose, which appeared to be still hurting from the knock it took in Vermont.

  “What kind of idea?” Aaron asked.

  The road was leaving the fields and meadows and passing through a wooded stretch, and Brumbles was scanning the roadside for potential trouble. Nevertheless, he looked interested in what Bethany had to say.

  “The problem is,” said Bethany, “We’re still thinking like we’re back in Vermont. If we were in Vermont, there would be, of course, nothing we could do to help in this sort of case.”

  “What do you mean, in this sort of case? I didn’t know that bears and weasels typically went to war in Vermont,” Aaron said.

  “Let me finish,” she said. “You know what I mean.”

  “No, really I don’t. This place is nothing like Vermont.”

  “I mean grown-up problems. War and conflict. How could we help something like that in Vermont? That’s what I mean.”

  Aaron nodded. “Yes, but I still don’t get it.”

  “This sort of place, things might be different. It’s kind of like the stories, you know, where people from our world come to some place like this–some magical place–and help to solve their problems. And it’s always kids who show up to save the day. Think of Peter Pan, or the Wizard of Oz. Or Narnia.”

  “But those are books,” Aaron started to protest. “This is the..uhm, real world, remember.”

  Brumbles said, “Hmm, well it could be that you came for a reason, even if you weren’t sent by King Prestor. Human children are not what the King was expecting when he sent for help from the humans, I must confess. He asked for at least three hundred men, armored and wielding swords. It will take at least that many to help us drive off the weasels.”

  “How many weasels are there?” Aaron asked. He was trying to picture an army of weasels and having trouble doing so.

  Brumbles licked his face with his tongue after finishing the last of the wormy apples in the wagon bed. “Several hundred, all told, if you count weasels, mink, ferret, and wolverine.”

  That didn’t sound particularly bad, truth be told. “But how many bears are there?”

  “In the whole kingdom? Oh, it’s a vast realm, a hundred miles long and fifty miles wide. Quite a few towns and villages and freeholds in the mountains and valleys. As a guess, I’d say maybe four thousand bears, counting cubs.”

  The Kingdom of the Bears didn’t sound particularly vast. That wasn’t even as big as the state of Vermont, and four thousand roughly the size of a small town back home. Still, it should have been enough to face the threat.

  “What?” exclaimed Bethany. “Four thousand bears against a few hundred weasels? I can’t even imagine an entire army of weasels would stand for long against even a handful of bears.”

  Brumbles gave a low rumble, something between a chuckle and a growl. The driver of the wagon gave a snort of disgust, as if appalled by her ignorance. “It’s not so easy as that, child,” the sheriff explained. “We had a few weasels in these parts before Garmley arrived. Sharp-toothed, but small. These weasels are different than that. They’re about twice that size, and just as mean. They’re armed with knives and short swords. We have little metal in these parts, and are either armed with clubs or with tooth and claw.”

  She nodded, “Fair enough. But, still. You’re bears. You should be able to turn them back.” Aaron nodded his agreement.

  “Certainly, if they were alone.” Brumbles sighed. “I’m afraid I’m not explaining very well. Let me back up. The weasel lord, Garmley, settled with his kind to the south about two years ago. There were only a few dozen at first, and maybe five or six of the big brutes, the wolverines. They’ll put a fright in you, eh? Well, we didn’t pay them much attention at first, until they started to hold up trade on the highway, demanding tribute to let goods pass through. And then word came to the king that Garmley was enslaving the moles and muskrats, and that was too much. Greatclaw sent me and twenty good strong bears to settle the issue.” Brumbles pointed a claw at his left ear, which was missing a chunk along the side. “That’s how I got this.”

  “What happened?” Aaron asked.

  “Ambushed. Those few weasels had multiplied into a hundred by then, and twenty wolverines, each one a match for a bear. And the foxes, the opossums, and the racoons had all been intimidated into fighting alongside Garmley.” Brumbles shook his head sadly. “Three good bears died that day. Garmley captured two others and keeps them caged, fur shorn and starving.”

  “Ugh,” said Bethany. “What nasty beasts.”

  “The rest of us just escaped with our lives. Now, if the King had immediately summoned a force of bears, maybe begged help of the badgers of the south country, we could have trounced Garmley and his bunch, and driven them from our lands for good. Greatclaw thought the losses would be too great.” The way Brumbles said this last bit, it was clear he did not agree with the king in this matter.

  “And that was when he sent for King Prestor’s help?” Aaron asked, thinking aloud. “But nothing came of that?”

  “The King sent two bears. My brother, Dermot Strongpaw, and his wife, Sylvia, King Greatclaw’s daughter. It was Princess Sylvia who convinced Greatclaw to seek King Prestor’s help. That was several weeks ago. We’ve been waiting ever since. Meanwhile, the weasels grow more numerous, this Garmley, more bold. The thing is, King Prestor is likely a myth, or at the very least, he would have died hundreds of years ago. Who
knows what has become of his kingdom?”

  Aaron was about to ask more about this Prestor and his human kingdom, when Brumbles said, “What’s that, then?

  Smoke rose to the north. They’d been on the road for maybe two hours, and the valley had grown narrower, the mountains higher on either side. It was almost like Vermont, but not quite. The mountains were taller and the forested areas deeper and many of the trees were a species he didn’t recognize. They’d passed through a farm or two, but seen no other travelers on the road.

  “What is it? A forest fire?”

  Brumbles shook his head. “This forest never burns. Too damp. I’d say it’s a farmhouse burning, but it’s on the other side of that mountain, so it would have to be pretty big to send up so much smoke.” He leaned forward to the driver of the cart. “Let’s pick up the pace.” Then back to the children, he said, “I don’t like this.”

  About an hour later, the road took a turn around a low hill at the foot of the taller mountains to the east. By now, the sky northward was black with smoke and an acrid smell hung in the air. Little bits of ash fell like sooty snowflakes. They shortly came upon a farm house set back from the highway and Brumbles jumped down from the wagon to speak with the owner while the wagon driver gave his horse a rest. “Let’s see if they know anything here,” he said, ambling down the hillside toward the house. The children were tired of sitting in the smelly cart and they took the chance to get down and stretch their legs.

  The bear returned within moments, loping along on all fours. “Back in the wagon, all of you. Driver, we have to reach River’s Edge. Hurry.”

  When they were back underway, Aaron turned to Brumbles with concern. “What is it?”

  “The farmhouse had been attacked. The door is hanging broken from its hinges. The front room ransacked. No sign of the owners, they must have fled.”