The Kingdom of the Bears

by Michael Wallace

  “So you don’t think we should, eh?”

  “But on the other hand,” Aaron continued, “our success rests on a knife’s edge. Just a little more help might turn the tide in battle. If they’re sincere. If, they fight on our side, the confusion will be all on the other side. Maybe others will even come to join us.” He hesitated. “I think we should take a risk.”

  Brumbles looked at Jarr. “It’s up to you, then.”

  The badger grumbled and complained some more, but in the end, decided to go along with the plan. “But no weapons. Not yet. And you can bet we’ll keep a close eye on those two at all times. I don’t want a spear in my throat in the middle of the night.” He turned back to explain this new development to his men–not all of whom were pleased, if the growling was any indication–while Brumbles and Aaron went to speak with the weasels.

  They flashed those toothy grins again at the news and surrendered their spears on request. “And now,” said the taller of the weasels. “Let me give you some free advice.”

  “Yeah, and what’s that?” Brumbles said with a grunt.

  “Your army is a bit spread out there, boss.”

  “What do you mean, spread out?” The look on the Sheriff’s face was guarded.

  “You’ve got, what? Ten horse-drawn wagons and about twenty more drawn by badgers. They stretch three miles down the road, and are protected at the rear by only a half a dozen men. Most of your army is out front. You’re vulnerable to attack from the rear.”

  “How do you know this?”Aaron asked, alarmed.

  Both weasels laughed. The tall one said, “You’re not going up against the ferret anymore. Youd the Half-Paw is back in charge. And he’s no fool. He’s got scouts ranging through the hills. Spies. We were two of them, but not the only ones.”

  “Tell us, then,” Brumbles said. “What would you have us do?”

  “Slow down your army, keep it closer to your supplies. Your formation is fine for a rapid attack, but you’re not moving fast enough to overrun Youd’s formations before they pull back, anyway. Being spread out just leaves you more vulnerable to attack from the rear. Half-Paw has got almost twenty weasels and wolverines coming through the Greenway Pass to the east. They were hoping to catch you unawares, burn your wagons and kill the badgers in your rearguard. Then slip away into the forest. You’d be left weakened, with few supplies to sustain your march, let alone a siege on River’s Edge.”

  Brumbles nodded. “Very well. Your advice is taken. Anything else?”

  “Not for now, boss. But we’ll speak up when the time comes.”

  The weasels fell back into the army, surrounded on all sides by suspicious eyes. Aaron’s were among them. His sister was even more suspicious, not believing that the weasels could have joined their side.

  When Aaron told her about the weasels’ advice, Bethany muttered, “Probably a trick. Get us all grouped together so they can murder us in our sleep.” She shook her head. “Don’t you think this is a mistake? Aaron, tell Brumbles and Jarr not to listen to him.”

  Nevertheless, after some consultation, Brumbles and Jarr took the weasels’ advice. The pace of the forward marching troops slowed considerably to allow the supplies to keep up. Trick or not, Aaron was glad for the respite, as were his aching feet. They continued north into the Apple Valley.

  The Apple Valley was the richest land in the Kingdom of the Bears. The air hung ripe and full with the smell of apple blossoms. All about them were the buzz of thousands of bees, working furiously to enjoy this rich harvest of pollen before the season passed. They saw nobody working in the fields or tending the beehives placed among the meadows that separated each orchard.

  And still they marched north. The road was abandoned. The villages too, bears either driven from their homes, or fled into the wilderness.

  “Maybe it’s over already,” Bethany said hopefully as they reached the roadside hamlet of Cider Mills, only to find it abandoned. “Maybe the bears revolted and are chasing the weasels into the woods even now.”

  “Not likely,” Aaron said.

  The mystery of the missing bears lasted throughout that day and into the morning of the next. And then, just before midday, they met a party of bears standing in the road, armed with scythes and pitchforks. There were more than a dozen of them, ranging from big brown fellows, to smaller, darker females, and even a couple of overgrown cubs. Brumbles gave a cry of pleasure at the sight and hurried up the road to greet them.

  “Wait,” Jarr said to the bear. “Hold up a moment.”

  But Brumbles paid the badger no heed. Aaron frowned. Something about the stance of the bears in the road seemed wrong to him. A flash of understanding came over him, and he opened his mouth to cry a warning.

  Several of the bears flinched as Brumbles approached but others stiffened. One of the females lowered her pitchfork and gave a sharp jab at the Sheriff’s head. Another bear swung his scythe, catching Brumbles on the shoulder. Others moved in with their own weapons. If they had been trained warriors, that would have been the end of Brumbles, cut down by his fellow bears. But there was hesitation and uncertainty in their attack, and Brumbles recovered his wits in a hurry. He scrambled backward with an outraged cry. Badgers came to support him with weapons at the ready.

  “Hold your attack,” Jarr ordered. At his command, they formed a barricade against the larger bears, but did not move forward.

  “Looks like we’re not the only ones harboring defectors,” Aaron said to Bethany with a nod in the direction of the weasels, who had caused no problems to date, but had not won any friends, either. The two creatures watched with half-smiles on their faces.

  Brumbles was more outraged than injured. He scarcely seemed to notice the blood trickling down his forearm. “What are you bears doing?” he demanded. “Do you know who we are?”

  “Yes, we know,” said one of the bears blocking the road. His voice was wooden, drained of emotion. “And we’ve been ordered to keep you from using the road.”

  Brumbles looked at each of the bears in turn. “You, aren’t you Ned Bricklesweet? How is your orchard? Expecting a good apple harvest this fall?” His voice was sarcastic, outraged. What kind of harvest could there be, with the weasels controlling the Kingdom? The bear looked away, but didn’t lower his scythe.

  Meanwhile, Bethany had found some bandages from one of the nearby wagons, and went to tend to Brumbles’s wound. He waved her off at first, but when she insisted, he didn’t push her away.

  “And you,” Brumbles said, eyeing another bear. “Aren’t you the daughter of King Greatclaw’s cousin? What is your name? Shayna Greatclaw? I wonder what your father would think if he could see you now. Shaming his name.”

  She didn’t answer.

  Aaron shook his head in disbelief. What was this? Aaron looked around, but he saw no weasels. There was nowhere for them to hide. So why were the bears standing against them like this? He didn’t think they could have joined the enemy, but what, then? Were they so afraid that they couldn’t resist Garmley even when none of the weasels were present?

  “What then, boss?” said one of the two weasels who’d joined them the other day. “Are you going to sit here jawing at them all day?”

  “You’re right,” Brumbles said, his voice rising to a near roar. He turned to Jarr. “Time to get these traitors off the road.”

  Jarr turned to his men. “You, badgers. Form up. Have at them.”

  Badgers growled, formed ranks quickly. They gathered clubs and maces. The weasels drew their swords and a few of the smaller animals who’d joined their army took out daggers or bared teeth. The bears on the road looked frightened and ashamed at once, but they didn’t yield their ground.

  Jarr shouted, “Now!” The badgers surged forward.

  “No,” Bethany said. “You can’t possibly mean to–”

  But the badgers were already sweeping past her, charging at the knot of bears holding the road. Aaron could do nothing but watch, a sick feeling in his stomach.


  Weapons clashed. Claws slashed and jaws snapped. And then it was over, almost as quickly as it had begun. The band of bears on the road dropped their weapons and scattered in every direction but the road to the south, held by Brumbles and the badgers. There had been no fight in them, after all. Only two bears remained on the road, weapons at their feet, not running. Angry beasts surrounded them on all sides.

  “Please!” one of the bears cried. “Don’t hurt us. We couldn’t stand alone against the others. They said there was no other way.”

  The other bear said, “But we’re with you now. We want to help. Please.”

  Jarr restrained his badgers while Brumbles rubbed his chin. At last, he nodded. His rage seemed to have passed, replaced by a sorrowful expression. “Very well, then.” He nodded to Jarr. “Take them back. Don’t harm them, but keep them under watch.”

  Brumbles was shaking his head sadly as he walked back to where the children stood, still stunned by the speed at which the battle had commenced and then disbursed.

  “I don’t understand,” Bethany said. She readjusted and tightened the bandage on his shoulder. “Why did those bears fight against us? We’re fighting on the king’s side. Don’t they know that?”

  “Of course they know that,” Aaron said. “The entire Kingdom must know by now that Brumbles is leading an army of badgers to march on River’s Edge.”

  “You cubs know the real reason, don’t you?” Brumbles said glumly as he turned back and forth between the two bears being led away by badgers and the rest, who were disappearing over a small hill in one direction and into an orchard in the other.

  The children shook their heads.

  “They may have been cowards, but these bears never would have stood against us if their hope for our victory was greater than their fear of being on the wrong side of the battle. The truth of the matter is that they give us no chance of winning.”

  Brumbles turned away while the truth of his words sank in. Aaron felt a knot of despair in his gut. What did those bears know? What awaited them at River’s Edge?

  Skunk sniffed her way over to stand by his side. “Don’t be so glum,” she said in a kindly voice. “The bears are on your side. They are hungry, that’s all. The weasels have taken everything for themselves. Hunger and despair made them feel hopeless. That is why they didn’t dare to oppose the weasel lord. But in the end, they will remember their king and the bears who fight to free them. And they will remember their true friends.” Here she lifted a paw and put it on his arm. “And they will join your struggle.”

  Aaron looked at her with gratitude. He hoped she was right. The bears had been weak and frightened. For once, the issue might really be about food. Give them food and hope and they would find their strength.

  She had better be right. What hope did they have if even the bears were fighting for the enemy?

  Chapter Twenty-Three: At the Gates of the City

  After so many weeks on the road, Aaron found himself almost surprised by his first glimpse of River’s Edge. It had become almost myth in his mind, less real even than the lost city of Shar La. That, at least, he had seen with his own eyes, even if it had taken on an almost dream-like quality in his memory.

  They’d marched two days north along the Apple Valley, then briefly retraced their first steps in the Kingdom of the Bears as they continued along the road past Woody Ridge and the mountains where they had taken the pass east to the other side and the Alonus River. But this time they continued north on the highway. They crossed Southbottom and marched through the Birch Vale.

  The enemy harried their march northward. They would attack before dawn, when the badger forces were at their most disorganized and vulnerable. Mostly, the weasels would just prod for weaknesses and then slip away into the shadows. But twice, they caught the badger army unawares, and came hard. The second time, just the previous morning, weasels had burned a wagon and killed two badgers and a raccoon before they could be repelled.

  With each of these battles, Aaron’s fear grew. It was clear what was happening. The weasels were blocking their escape. Should things go badly at River’s Edge, there would be nowhere to run. They’d be trapped between Garmley’s forces at the city and Youd’s growing army at their rear. The weasels meant to end the war by delivering a single, crushing defeat.

  “Let them try,” Brumbles had said grimly when Aaron explained his fears. He still wore a bandage on his upper arm and shoulder, though he never mentioned it. “We have our own surprise to spring, don’t we?”

  One of Skunk’s cousins had reported that his brother Dermot and Princess Sylvia had joined forced with Lieutenant Blacksnout and the remains of the Greencloaks. They numbered perhaps twenty bears in all, plus the gray badgers of the Ash Clan, strong and loyal beasts who would support the main army. Word had it that this second force was marching through the forest along the banks of the Alonus, east of the mountains. They would meet the badger army at River’s Edge.

  After so many days on the road, Aaron was surprised when they finally approached the city. The last obstacle was called Honey Hill. Here, the road was lined with fields of clover and clusters of beehives. Aaron was with his sister, just behind Jarr and a small band of badgers at the front of the army. He was looking at the hole that had begun to open in the front of his right boot when they crested the hill.

  “Look!” Bethany said. Aaron looked up from his boot.

  And there it was. River’s Edge. It wasn’t a big city like New York, or even a large town like Burlington, Vermont. Neither did it look like the overgrown, forest-like city of Shar La. It was just a collection of tidy houses and shops, with a tower here and there throughout the city.

  From this height, they could see over the walls and right into the city, as if they were looking at one of those maps of Colonial Boston or Philadelphia that they had at museums. The streets were narrow and winding, forced to cope with the hillside against which the city had been built, sloping down toward the river. Enormous trees sprouted up at rough intervals throughout the city, big as redwoods, and dwarfing every building constructed by the bears but one. T This was a manor, almost a castle, rising from the southern edge of the city. He knew right away that it was King Greatclaw’s castle.

  At first he thought that there were trees growing against the walls of the manor, but then he realized that the trees were actually a part of the building. It was alive, growing, like a tree itself. There was something of Shar La in the city after all.

  The more Aaron looked at the city, the more beautiful he thought it. Every building in the city–and the streets, too–was built with a foundation of gray stone. Atop this foundation, the buildings were built of a deep, auburn colored wood and a roof that looked like a thatch made of redwood bark. The city walls were thick poles of redwood, strapped together with ropes of the same wood. Beyond the city were various shades of green. Green tree-covered hills rose to the north and west, the gray-green waters of the Alonus hugged the city to the east, and rich green meadows stretched southward from the gates to Honey Hill on which the badger army now gathered. It had rained the night before, and everything glistened with droplets not yet dried.

  The only thing to mar the view of the city was what the weasels were doing to the meadows. For some reason, they’d dug a great trench through the turf in a straight line at the edge of the meadows, straight from the walls of the city and up toward the hill on which they stood. In fact, they were still digging it; work crews of bears–overseen by weasels with whips–were laboring with shovel and wheelbarrow. Aaron didn’t like what he was seeing, although he had no idea what, exactly, the weasels were up to with that trench. It was some trick or trap.

  Brumbles approached from behind. He eyed the gash in the earth with a sad shake of the head. “Give Garmley another year and he’ll have destroyed River’s Edge.” He pointed at the city. “Look there, and there. Burned houses. And over there, he’s torn down the old toll house at the river and replaced it with some hulking monstrosity. Garml
ey does love to collect his taxes, eh?”

  Now that Brumbles had pointed them out, Aaron could see the flaws in the city. But he still thought it was beautiful. “But what about that trench?”

  “I’ll tell you what that is,” said Jarr, approaching. “They mean to box us between the walls of the city, the river, and that trench.” He nodded at Brumbles. “You were right about that.”

  “You can thank your scouts for that,” Brumbles said. “I was just guessing from what they told us.”

  “I don’t understand,” Bethany confessed.

  The badger chief said, “We have to come down from this hill to attack the city. So we come up to the gate and Garmley sends out his weasels. There are too many of them and we’re forced to fall back. That’s what the weasel lord is thinking, right? We are forced to retreat. Meanwhile, Youd the Half-paw comes up behind us with another force and takes Honey Hill.”

  Aaron filled in, as he worked it out in his mind. “So we can’t come back on the road. And there’s a river on the other side, the gates of the city blocking us, and now this big trench, manned by other weasels. They’ll trap us in here and kill us all, down to the last bear, badger, human, and skunk.”

  A frightened look came over Bethany’s face. “Oh.”

  From the mountains to the east came a blast of a horn. For a moment, Aaron didn’t place the sound. He was still worried over the implications of what lay in front of them. They couldn’t go forward and they couldn’t go back. “So what do we do now?” he asked the others.

  Jarr and Brumbles were exchanging a smile. “We attack at once.”

  In the distance, the horn sounded again, a short blast. He remembered suddenly Dermot and Princess Sylvia. Long blasts meant send help. Short blasts meant that help was on its way. Help was on its way.

  Jarr said to Brumbles, “Shall we stay with our plan, Sheriff?”