The Kingdom of the Bears by Wallace Michael

Author:Wallace, Michael [Wallace, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2011-01-18T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen: A King Unthroned

It was a dank pit to store sewage, rotten food, filthy rags, and anything else too nasty to simply slosh into the street. The weasels had set some of their slaves to digging out the worst of it and then converted it into a prison. Half-Paw led Brownia, First Captain of the Greencloaks, down passageways beneath the manor. From the smell she knew where they were taking her; there could be no other place foul enough for the weasels to leave her to die.

She was chained with great iron manacles about her wrists and ankles. An iron collar hung about her neck. Brownia could scarcely lift her feet as the weasels dragged her along. Weasel guards jeered and spit as she passed. Her head hung low, and she wished she were dead.

“Here we are, Captain.” Half-Paw bowed low, his tone mocking. “A room befitting your high station as slave of the weasel lord. I trust you will find the accommodations comfortable.”

He threw open the door and his henchmen shoved her inside. She landed sprawling, chains biting as she twisted painfully and struck the flagstones. The door slammed shut behind her. Locks turned, bars fell into place. She lay in the darkness, gasping at the foul air.

Slowly, her eyes began to adjust. A trickle of light came through a tiny window high on the ceiling. The worst of her despair passed and she struggled to a sitting position. Rats scrambled out of her way, then promptly returned to fighting over a bit of rubbish. She looked around. The cell was bigger than she’d originally thought, roughly fifteen feet square. Heaps of garbage filled the corners.

Suddenly, something moved.

She’d taken the creature for a pile of rotting clothing, but then the rags convulsed and she heard the rattle of chains. Another bear, she guessed, taken in the weasel attack on River’s Edge. The kind of bear that had looked to Brownia to rescue him. Well, she had failed him. Brownia made her way to her own corner where she hunkered down and lowered her head with closed eyes. The last thing she wanted to do was complain to a fellow sufferer, or listen to his complaints, or worse, his misplaced hope of rescue.

The poor beast was muttering to himself. He spun around as if grappling with some unseen foe. He hurled himself to the ground, then rose again and cried out. For a moment, Brownia thought he was really fighting with someone, the way the shadows twisted, but it was only madness.

“There, now,” she said. She made her way to his side, then took his paws, to keep him from scratching himself.

“No, Prestor,” he said, struggling. “No, I must protect the kingdom. We must not surrender.” The bear was strong, even in his weakened state.

“I’m here to help. But please, stop struggling.”

“Is that you? Is that really you? Have you come for me, my child?”

“I am Brownia, of the Greencloaks. Do I know you, friend?”

“Ah, it is you, Captain Brownia,” said the other.

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