Two kids from Vermont discover a magical land where a kingdom of bears is fighting a desperate struggle for survival against a gang of rapacious weasels. Mistaken for emissaries of a lost human kingdom, they join with a band of renegade bears, a skunk, and a clan of fierce badgers, to reclaim the throne of the Kingdom of the Bears. The Kingdom of the Bears is a page turner for fantasy lovers of all ages, in the vein of The Chronicles of Narnia.
The Kingdom of the Bears
by Michael Wallace
© Michael Wallace, 2011. All rights reserved
Cover Art by Glendon Haddix at www.streetlightgraphics.com
Chapter One: Hunted by a Bear
Chances are, if the Merley kids had obeyed their uncle and stayed on the west side of the river, they wouldn’t have been attacked by a bear. And things would have turned out very differently indeed.
“The problem is,” Aaron said, as he and Bethany skipped stones across the river, “we stay on this side of the river and we can be sure that B.B. will come sniffing around for us. And then we’ll have a fun afternoon, won’t we?”
B.B. was their nickname for their cousin, Brad. They never used it to his face, of course, but behind his back he was Big Bully, or sometimes Bully Brad: B.B. for short. He was thirteen, almost fourteen, and about three inches taller than his younger cousin Aaron. And he was just hitting a growth spurt that Aaron had yet to see, which meant, Aaron noted gloomily, that his cousin could be expected to widen his height lead for the next couple of years, at least.
“I say we go, then,” Bethany said.
They both looked to the other side. It was darker over there, the riverbank marked with boulders that jutted into the river. Trees wrapped their roots around the stone and leaned way over the water. The smaller ones would be torn away when the spring floods came. The trees grew thicker further up the hillside, and there was no visible trail. A few days earlier, Aaron had seen a moose staring out from the trees, only his head visible. Last autumn, just after they’d moved to the inn with Uncle Phil and Brad, he’d even seen a bear climbing from the river into the trees. It had thrilled him to think that the bear had probably been crossing from their own property. Wildlife and humans were close neighbors in this part of Vermont.
But the thought of bears didn’t dissuade the Merley kids from wanting to explore that hill. Bethany had overheard Uncle Phil talking on the phone a couple of days earlier, and he’d said something about the ruins of a sawmill atop the hill. They’d determined to look for it at the first chance.
Bethany turned to look at Aaron. “Well? What do you have in mind?”
Aaron had been working this part out already. “See that tree that fell over in the storm?”
“Yeah.”
“If we’re careful, we could make it halfway across by following the tree, then hop to those two boulders and be on the other side without getting wet.”
“Nice plan,” said a voice from the trees behind them. It was Brad. Aaron could tell from the smirk that he’d been listening to the whole thing. “Yeah, pretty smart for a couple of dinkleberries.” It was his favorite word, dinkleberry, and he used it as often as he could.
“Ah, we’re just talking,” Aaron said, with a shrug. If they did go across the river, the last thing they’d want would be Brad following. Better to act like it had been all talk.
“You know what I think you should do? I think you should name ten fruits.”
Aaron backed up a step. “No, not today.” He tried to keep the whine out of his voice, but he absolutely loathed this little “game” of Brad’s. “Come on, I was just kidding. We’re not going across the river.”
“No, you’re not.” Brad came after him in a rush and shoved him to the ground. The riverbank was a gravely beach and it scraped up Aaron’s head as he fell. “Come on,” his cousin said in a jeering voice. “Name ten fruits.” And then he began to rap his knuckles against Aaron’s forehead. “Quick, name ‘em. Hurry up, dinkleberry.”
“Ow! No. Let me go.” He squirmed, but Brad was bigger and stronger and the rapping only got harder and more painful. “Uhm, apple, grape, orange, tangerine. Let me go! Ow, uhm, grapefruit, kiwi, tomato.”
“Tomato isn’t a fruit.” He kept rapping.
“Yes, it is. Okay, stop.” The first ones had come easily, but now he was struggling to remember anything. Then he remembered the berries. “Strawberry, blueberry, raspberry, blackberry. There, that’s ten.”
“That’s only nine. I said tomato doesn’t count.”
Was it only nine? Hadn’t he come up with another one? Never mind. There must be a hundred other fruits, and if he hadn’t had Brad sitting on his chest, knocking on his skull with his knuckles, he surely could have rattled off all of them, no problem. “Okay, uhm...dinkleberry!”
Brad pushed him away with a sound of disgust. “You’re the dinkleberry.” He rose to his feet, dusting off the wet sand in an irritated way, as if somehow Aaron had pushed him to the ground, instead of the other way around. “Now, what do you say we go swimming?” He gave Bethany a big grin.
They’d gone “swimming” with Brad plenty of times before. It meant their cousin throwing them, fully clothed, into the water, and then pushing them back in when they tried to climb out. Brad reached toward Bethany.
Aaron said, “Bethany, the log.” He gave Brad a push in the back, which sent the older boy sprawling. Bethany wasted no time, but jumped onto the fallen tree draped across the Mad River. She ran across, jumped off, and hopped across the stones to get to the far bank. Brad got up, lunging at Aaron, but not before the smaller boy got to the fallen tree first. Brad jumped up and began to chase him across.
Brad was in that growing, clumsy stage and had little balance. He ran halfway across the log, and then, as if suddenly remembering that he had no balance, began to wave his arms. He was just recovering when Aaron reached the other side and jumped onto one of the boulders in the stream. Relieved of his weight, the tree gave a jiggle as it straightened itself. Brad cried out and fell. He hit the water with a splash.
“You’re dead!” Brad shouted as he dragged himself onto the bank, sputtering and bedraggled as a wet cat. “Soon as you come back, I’m going to kill you.”
Aaron and Bethany disappeared into the trees that stretched up the side of the hill. Aaron and Bethany were laughing, both in relief and at the stupid look on Brad’s face as he’d lost his balance. Aaron said, “Pretty funny now, but sooner or later we’ve got to go back.”
“You know,” Bethany said. “We could just keep going, couldn’t we? Just keep hiking up over the hill until we find a road, and then hitchhike down to Boston or New York, or somewhere far from here.”
“Right. And when someone asks us who we are and where we live and they send us back?”
“We’ve got amnesia. There was some accident–” Here, she hesitated. Accident was exactly what had happened and her words were an uncomfortable reminder. Seven of them sailing on Lake Champlain when a ski boat had struck them hard. It had been almost dusk and the other boat had been going too fast, with no lights.
Mom and Dad hadn’t been wearing life jackets, and neither had Brad’s mother, Aunt Karen. Only the three kids, and Uncle Phil. The three without life jackets had drowned. The three kids and Uncle Phil had survived.
Aaron had to speak up or both of them would be able to think about nothing else and it would ruin their afternoon. “Yeah, amnesia? I’m listening.”
“We tell them we’ve got amnesia. We have no idea who we are or where we live.”
She was panting now. It was tougher going than they’d thought. They faced a steep hill, the surface mixed mud, wet leaves, and the last of the winter snow. They slipped and skidded, as much down as up
until at last they reached a gentler slope, where they leaned against the trees and panted. The air was thick with the smell of rotting leaves and it was chill now that they were out of the sunlight.
“Let’s do it. Let’s run away,” Aaron said, even though they both knew they would do nothing of the sort. They would have their little adventure, and then they would return to their bullying cousin and their uncle who paid more attention to the squirrels and birds at his feeders or the guests at his inn than to his niece and nephew, or even his son.
“Uh, oh,” said Bethany all at once. Something in her voice made Aaron take notice. “Did you hear that?”
Aaron was just about to say that he hadn’t, when something crashed through the brush down the hillside from which they’d just come. He froze.
“It’s Brad,” Bethany whispered. Her face had a "we’re-in-deep-trouble-now" look.
“Don’t panic,” Aaron said. His head still hurt from the rapping it had received. “He’d be shouting threats at us. It’s just a wild animal.” But he wasn’t quite sure.
“Oh,” said Bethany with a half smile. “Just a wild animal? You mean like, just a bear?”
“No, like a deer, silly. Come on.”
Deer or not, Bethany moved more quickly all of a sudden, taking the lead as she scrambled up to the next level stretch. Aaron followed. To his alarm, the crashing continued, growing closer in fact. They’d found a deer path, a narrow, muddy little trail winding its way up the hillside. Aaron could barely keep up with his younger sister, but he most certainly did not want to be left behind, even though he knew that the terror he felt about whatever was following them was just silly. Probably just another kid. Someone other than Brad.
Suddenly, “Ow, oh!” cried Bethany. She was sliding down the hill. She flailed for something to grab onto, looking like dog swimming, only she was paddling in leaves instead of water. For a minute, Aaron thought she would keep tumbling all the way down the hill, but there was a beech tree rather conveniently placed to stop her fall. Bethany grabbed the tree as she rolled past, and her head whipped around and gave the trunk a good knock. It sounded like the thwack of a woodpecker. Only Bethany was not a woodpecker. Noses, unlike beaks, do not appreciate being slammed into tree trunks.
Aaron gave a sympathetic, “Ouch!”as Bethany rolled onto her back and groaned. She clutched at her nose.
And then suddenly, the thing that had been following them emerged from the trees just below where Bethany was on her back, groaning. It reared up on its hind legs and let out a growl. Aaron could not believe his eyes. It was a bear.
“Beth!” Aaron screamed, but she had heard the growl and rolled onto her back and was staring into its face. Her mouth dropped open. “Get up!” he shouted.
Bethany scrambled to her feet, just as the bear dropped to its paws and lumbered forward. It was growling, and angry looking. Or maybe it was hungry. Aaron searched the ground for something to throw. There were no rocks, and no dead branches so big as to serve as a club with which to fight the bear. He found a smaller stick and hurled it end over end. It didn’t hit the bear, but it smacked into the same tree on which Bethany had stopped her fall, and that was almost as good. The bear hesitated at the noise and movement. Bethany gained her feet.
You don’t run from a black bear, you stand your ground. Running triggers its hunting instincts. Fortunately, his sister remembered this rule; she waved her arms and shouted. Meanwhile, Aaron slid down the hill toward his sister, screaming and throwing whatever sticks or rocks he could grab.
The bear reared back on its hind legs again, roaring its anger and confusion. It was much bigger than they were, several hundred pounds, with heavy jaws and claws that could open the gut of a full-grown man. Two kids would never stand a chance in a fight.
But the bear decided that the challenge was more than it had bargained for. It dropped back to its paws and rumbled back down the hill, where it soon disappeared into the trees. As soon as the bear was out of sight, the two kids scrambled back up the hill until they got to a more secure spot. It was a rocky patch, bare of trees, where they didn’t feel so vulnerable. They stood shivering in fear. Blood trickled from Bethany’s nose and her jacket was streaked with mud, with leaves sticking out of her pockets. Down the hill, alarmingly, they heard something crash. The bear had not left for good, merely retreated.
“Okay, bad idea. I’ll take my chances with B.B.” Bethany said. She wiped the blood from her nose. “Can we go back?”
Aaron nodded. “If we can figure out how to get past that bear.” His words came in a gasp, like he couldn’t catch his breath. His heart was pounding so hard it felt like it would burst right out of his chest.
“We could shout for Brad,” Bethany suggested. She looked surprisingly calm, considering that she’d nearly made the lunch menu of a four hundred pound black bear.
“If he didn’t already hear us squealing like a bunch of pigs, he won’t hear us calling for help now. Besides, he’d never help us.” Besides which, Aaron suspected that deep down, Brad was a coward. Weren’t all bullies cowards at heart?
He thought a little more. “If there’s an old saw mill on the hill, there’d have to be an old road, too.”
Bethany said, “We can follow the road until it meets up with the highway. It will keep us out of the way of the bear.”
With that, they continued up the hill. They could hear the bear moving in the trees and brush below, and once Aaron caught a glimpse of it standing there, watching. It was drawing closer too, by the sounds of it. Maybe they’d startled it, but it was still aggressive enough–hungry enough, perhaps–to attack a human.
“What is with this bear?” Aaron asked, frustrated and frightened. He was still bringing up the rear, though he was none too happy to be doing so. He was looking over his shoulder almost as much as Bethany, who looked like she was only just holding back tears. “He shouldn’t be doing this.”
Black bears were solitary creatures, who avoided humans as a rule. Your biggest risk was coming between a mother and her cubs. It was so rare for a bear to attack a human unprovoked that it made the news when it happened. Yet here was this bear, hunting them.
Before they’d reached the top of the hill, Bethany gave a cry, and Aaron looked forward to see the bear watching them, just a short distance above them. Somehow, he’d climbed up past them on the hill and was waiting almost directly in their path. The children waved their arms and shouted. The bear backed up a few feet, but didn’t run off this time. A low growl started in its throat.
“What now?” Bethany cried between shouts and waves of the arms and hurled sticks.
“Whatever you do, don’t show it your back!” Beyond that, Aaron wasn’t sure. He was terrified to move forward and past the bear, but didn’t like the thought of the bear above them on the hill any better. And it might just be further to return the way they’d come rather than go forward. He was frozen with indecision.
“Look,” she said. “A building.” It was just visible through the trees ahead of them, the corner of a wooden roof, like a barn’s. It was at an angle to the bear; they could reach it without confronting the bear directly.
Aaron made his decision. “Go for the building. Stay close to me. Keep shouting. And whatever you do, don’t show it your back.” He bent and scooped up a stick, at last finding something heavy enough to swing should it charge.
They made their way past the bear, but it kept growling as they edged ever so slowly up the hill. Aaron glanced over his shoulder and caught a better glimpse of the building. He’d been hoping it was someone’s cabin, that there might even be someone working in his yard who could help them chase off the bear. Instead, they’d found the old sawmill. A section of roof had collapsed, and so many trees grew around the foundations or from broken out windows that it almost looked as though the building itself were part tree. One door hung askew on its hinges, and Aaron thought if they could just make the door, they could pull it shut before the bear could get after them.
The bear was crouching low and moving forward faster now. They kept backing away, while continuing to shout and wave their sticks as menacingly as they could. Aaron glanced over his shoulder. They were only twenty feet from the open doorway now, and they’d reached a flatter stretch, the old road, now overgrown with weeds and brush. Aaron made a quick decision.
“Run!”
They hurled their sticks at the bear and then fled for the door. The bear roared and charged. He was so close now that Aaron could hear his feet pounding on the ground behind them, and feel a woosh of air as he closed the distance.
Bethany reached the doorway first with Aaron directly behind. There was brush in front of the door, but they charged straight through it. The door was wedged in place. They wiggled in through the gap. Aaron grabbed the door and pulled himself through the brush. Just then, his pants made a ripping sound as the bear snagged his jeans with his paw. It was roaring in his ears. His sister screamed and grabbed his arms and pulled. He kicked his foot backward into the bear and then he was free and through the doorway and into the interior of the old sawmill.
It was not so dark inside as he’d expected, what with all the windows blocked by trees. Curiously, the scent of freshly cut pine hung in the air, rather than a musty, rotten smell. He stopped in surprise. Bethany stood still as a statue. Her eyes were wide-open with terror. Aaron looked around the inside of the mill for the first time.
They were not alone. The entire room was filled with bears.
Chapter Two: Of Weasels and Bears
There were maybe twenty bears in all, standing in every corner of the sawmill. The room was filled with boards and lumber and a fine haze of wood dust hung in the air. Some of the bears held boards in their paws, others saws and hatchets. But the strangest thing of all was that the bears were dressed in leather aprons and wore gloves and hats and woolen cloaks. Most of them stood on two legs as easily as if they’d been men, and they were smaller than the black bear that had chased the children up the mountain, no more than five feet tall, though still with the powerful build of all bears. The bears did not attack, but reared up one and all onto their back legs and simply stared at the children, as if waiting for something.
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