The werebears of Adengaan: Chapter 2

 The Werebears of Adengaan

by

 MC 

 Chapter Two

The orphanage in the town of Ascot was far from pleasant. Not that Elitha didn't try to make the best of a bad situation, but she feared her husband, Fullas. Together, the town council gave them coin from the tax treasury to take care of orphaned children. In return for the coin they were not to turn away any orphan who needed help. Elitha saw it as an opportunity to help those in need. Fullas saw it as extra coin for more drink. It seemed to be a constant war between the two on how to spend the money with Elitha losing far more battles than she won.

Had Brunaulf's parents not succumb to the Summer Fever, he might not be here. Had his Aunt and Uncle - who never had children nor wanted any - not packed up and left one day never to return, he might not be here. But here he was, only twelve years old and already two years into this miserable existence. He was a tall boy, taller than the other kids and almost as tall as Fullas, but the treatment he received at the orphanage was taking its toll, both physically and mentally. He was thin, so very thin, and he wanted to leave so badly and go anywhere, any place but here. The few times he was out in the fresh air watching carriages go by he would hear stories of people who had been to Adengaan. Today was one of those days where someone was passing through from this great city on their way to Iphale about three weeks to the north. It was a nobleman telling the people tending his horses about the wonders of Adengaan and how he wished to stay permanently someday. He described a city of wealth, where people had plenty to eat thanks to huge fields of grains, and wore well-made clothes and buildings rising high into the sky. The description of the food made his stomach rumble with hunger. It also sounded like it was about two weeks away south by carriage. To the boy, two weeks might as well have been two years.

His daydreams were interrupted by a searing pain in his back brought about by a leather strap. The boy yelped in pain.

"BRUNAULF! WHEN I CALL, YOU COME! WHAT I SAY, YOU OBEY!" Fullas half-bellowed, half-slurred, cracking him again with the strap.

"That was only two, you owe me eight more when you get inside for your disobedience!"

The boy slowly made his way to the door, knowing what awaited him once he was inside. It was a pain he never got used to, simply adapted as best he could and prayed it ended quickly. He never had any control over the beatings. Sometimes it was because he didn't listen, sometimes it was simply because the old man was drunk. Often he wondered why he deserved them - what he did to deserve to be in a place like this. The only way he could act in defiance to this treatment was to never cry. The boy would yell, scream, and sometimes plead for it to stop, but he would never cry. He wouldn't give the old drunkard the satisfaction of tears.

Brunaulf went inside and made his way to the punishment wall, placing his hands against it. Fullas lined the strap up carefully and with purpose laid out eight more lashes against his back. Each one methodical and harsh against the young boy's skin eliciting a scream each time. Finally, when it was over, the lad lowered his arms and gingerly made his way to the table where his orphan brothers were sitting. A small bowl of soup and a piece of bread was waiting for him. He was nearly the size of a grown man, and the meager serving was not enough food for someone his size. He was always hungry. No doubt though that Fullas' belly was full of alcohol though.

Later that night he was wakened out of a fitful sleep by Elitha crying. It sounded like she had been sobbing a while, begging Fullas about something.

"Please, no, you're drunk!" She pleaded. Other boys began to wake up from the voices.

"You're my goddamn wife, and you're going to fill your duty!" Fullas demanded.

The sounds of Elitha resisting and the struggle grew louder with the passing moments until there was suddenly a crash, followed by a thud, and then silence. At this point all seven of them were awake in their cots, scared to move.

"Stupid bitch," the drunkard cursed loudly as staggering footsteps could be heard coming toward their door, "well if you’re not going to do anything for me, one of the boys will have to do".

Brunaulf froze under his blankets. Did he really just hear what he thought he heard? He was old enough to know what the old man implied and the thought scared him more than the strap. The heavy door from their bedroom creaked open and the boy peeking from under the blanket could see the woman who tried to care for them unconscious on the floor. Blood was coming from her nose. The drunkard staggered from the door surveying the room in front of him. Never in his life had he been so afraid for what was going to happen next. Of the seven boys, luck would have it that Brunaulf's cot was closest to the door. A rough hand grabbed his arm through the thin blanket and tried to hoist him out of bed.

"You'll do" was all Fullas said.

Brunaulf tried to struggle to avoid this fate but it seemed to be of no use. Being entangled in the blanket he couldn't get his arms free enough to defend himself. He was thrown on the bed, blanket and all as the old man let his pants fall to the ground. Saying "no" wasn't an option as he looked over at the drunkard's wife, still unconscious. Time slowed down and it seemed to take an eternity for Fullas to lean forward and get on top of him.

Waiting for the inevitable, eyes squeezed shut, he felt the heavy body of Fullas land on top of him. At that point, Fullas passed out, motionless.

The young boy was stunned, unsure if this was real or a dream. Either way, it was that moment he decided he couldn't live like this anymore. Two years of beatings, two years of being half-starved, and now this bastard was going to violate him? No. He had to leave and he had to leave now. Carefully and quietly, he crawled out from under the snoring man and made his way out of the bedroom. He grabbed an empty flour sack and started throwing the few things he had in it: an extra pair of clothes, his prized stuffed toy - the only thing he had left from his parents, a couple of candles with matches, and a pendant. After that a quick inspection of the kitchen was in order. He tried locked drawer after locked drawer but the only supplies he could find unlocked were a loaf of bread, a small piece of cheese, and a bottle of water. It would have to be enough. With sack in tow, he unlocked and opened the front door and, with a final look at the carnage in the home, closed the door behind him to escape into the night.

The thin boy was lucky enough to find water to refill his bottle after the first day, but his meager food supplies ran out after the second. Wearily, Brunaulf continued down the road but every step got harder. By the end of the third day he was so hungry he could swallow his tongue. By midday of the fourth he stopped by the side of the road feeling like he couldn't take another step, and he still had so far to go.

A noise in the distance caught his attention. It was regular, steady. Horse hooves? His spirits soared in hope this was someone who could help him. The sounds were coming from the south and getting louder. It had to be someone coming from Adengaan! The carriage rounded a bend far down the road and a hopeful Brunaulf stood up. There seemed to be a rider on horseback on each side of the carriage, as well as one in front and one in back. As the caravan came closer the hungry lad started waving his arms trying to get the attention of the carriage.

"Please! Stop! Please!" Brunaulf pleaded.

"MAKE WAY! MAKE WAY!" the leader of the horse team cried.

"No wait! Please! Help me please!" the pleading continued.

"I SAID MAKE WAY!" the guard countered.

And so the carriage rode by. Whether they could hear him over the din of the horses and carriage or they simply chose to ignore him was unclear. The only thing that was clear was his hope of aid continued down the road while he occasionally yelled, pleaded for them to stop as they continued into the distance. The sounds of the carriage faded and the sounds of the forest returned as they rounded a turn in the distance.

Brunaulf put his hands down and stood there motionless. The boy was in the middle of the forest, absolutely starving, with no food and little water. If he somehow made it back to Ascot who knows if he could survive the beating he would surely get. Trying to continue would be a death sentence by starvation. Two years of pent up frustration - the beatings, the hunger, the hopelessness - all came to a head in that very moment. He did something he refused to do since his first beating at the orphanage two years ago.

He started to cry.

Something in the woods was watching the sobbing, tired, hungry boy at the side of the road with some interest. It wasn't clear just how the boy got there and the curiosity was too much to ignore. Carefully, the observer moved closer to the boy making as little sound as possible. It wasn't until a branch broke on the other side of the road that Brunaulf stopped crying long enough to look up. His vision, blurred from tears, focused on the large, reddish-brown bear on the other side of the road, staring at him intently.

Brunaulf heard stories of bears and their ferocity. If he was anywhere but here, he would have done something to get away, to survive, but there was no point here and now. The uncaring caravan was the last straw in his resolve and he resigned himself that this bear was going to be the end of him. In some ways he almost welcomed it. It would be a better way to end this miserable existence than being beaten or starve to death. The boy brought himself to his feet, hands at his sides, and closed his eyes to wait for the end as bravely as he could. He heard the bear pad closer, hearing his breathing as he got right next to the boy.

The end Brunaulf was expecting didn't come, and he started to wonder what was going on. Opening his eyes, he saw the bear's face inches from his own, staring into his eyes, motionless. The starving boy couldn't take it anymore.

"WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR? DO IT!" Brunaulf yelled as if the bear could understand.

The bear simply chuffed in the boy's face. A smell of licorice filled his nostrils as he began to feel sleepy.

"Finally," was all he could say as he passed out and fell to the ground.

Dappled sunlight through the trees warmed his face and woke him up. He wasn't dead, or so he thought. Was it a dream? Bolting upright he looked around. The surroundings were the same, the only exception being a pack next to him. Pulling the heavy pack closer to him by one of the straps, Brunaulf undid the single clasp. Quickly glancing around to make sure no person or animal was going to come at him, he lifted the flap and peered inside.

Food.

The hungry, thirsty boy stared at the bounty in disbelief. Dried meat, fruits, nuts, bread and cheese were just some of the things in the pack. Immediately he grabbed an apple and started eating, finishing it at record pace. Next he grabbed a piece of bread and stuffed it into his mouth, gulping it down with some water. The young boy started to rummage around and take inventory of what he had. He was still so very hungry, but if he was careful, this might be enough for him to make it to Adengaan. Resisting the urge to feast he closed the flap, stood up and donned the heavy pack. It burned against some of the fresher welts on his back, but he didn't care. Carefully looking around one last time, he quickly started south down the road again toward the city that would hopefully be his salvation, oblivious to the bear who had been watching from a distance the whole time. After the boy disappeared from view the bear, seemingly satisfied, turned to head west.

As the fortnight ended, since leaving Ascot, Brunaulf's spirits were full even though his belly and pack were empty. The abandoned house he slept in last night he took as a sign of good fortune. If someone would live here, then more people may be nearby. Slinging the empty pack over one shoulder and gulping down the last of his water, he set out on the road again. Hunger gave way to determination that he would make it to his goal. Even though it was hardly more than two weeks since he left the torture of his old life, that past seemed such a long time ago already. The forest seemed to distort time, soothing wounds and making them feel distant, almost unreal. He wondered how the others left behind were doing, but quickly pushed the thought out of his mind after thinking about the fate he narrowly escaped the night he left.

Day turned to afternoon, and afternoon turned to evening. The sun yielded its place in the west to a full moon ascending from the horizon in the east. It would be dark but he could keep going if he wanted. Sitting on a rock to catch his breath he opened his pack just in case he missed any morsel of food. He hadn't. The boy's stomach growled in anger at the lack of food when he thought he heard a noise in the distance. Brunaulf froze, keeping his body still and holding his breath, straining to see if what he thought he heard was real. He heard it again, still very faint. He heard it again and finally his brain was able to put together exactly what was making the sound: It was a bell. A large bell ringing, announcing something.

He was close.

His breathing came sharp and fast as he quickly donned his pack and hustled down the road bursting with excitement and anticipation. All of his thoughts turned to the city of Adengaan. He looked forward to seeing the friendly people and the bounties of food he had been told about. He ran many scenarios in his mind for the first meal he would have in his new home, each more lavish and extravagant than the last. As he left the forest for the clearing he stopped in awe at the sight before him.

Fields of grain moving lazily in the night breeze could be seen under the full moon on each side of the road. The city - even larger than what he imagined - was alight with torches, sconces, and candles in homes rising well over the height of the tall city walls, giving the brown stone an almost gold appearance. He could make out a few people milling about the two gates he could see and started running down the road toward his new home. Brunaulf was over the moon with excitement. The young boy had survived a journey that seemed like a death sentence over two weeks ago, and he couldn't wait to get inside as he stormed the gate.

"Woah there, young man!" an old guard chided as his black armour blocked the boy's path to the closed gate, "where do you think you're going?"

Catching his breath, Brunaulf looked up at the man. The guard was a rather large figure. He could have been quite imposing, but the look on his face was friendly, almost jovial.

Brunaulf put his pack on the ground and pointed to the gate with one hand while putting the other on his knee trying to catch his breath, "to Adengaan".

The guard looked the boy up and down.

"Citizen card?" the man questioned.

"What?"

"Citizen card. You need a citizen card or a citizen must accompany you to enter the city. Either that or a letter of invitation from His Majesty. No exceptions."

Brunaulf fought through a mixture of hunger, rage, and despair. The place that could save him was on the other side of this gate, a place he struggled to reach, and now a stupid card was stopping him from his goal. In desperation he tried to run past the guard but the big guard was surprisingly fast for his size. Two large hands grabbed him by the arms and lifted him in the air. He noticed the boy was light, just skin and bones as he turned around holding him, putting himself between the boy and the gate once again.

"Sorry," the bearish guard said softly, "rules are rules".

No. Brunaulf refused this answer. There was no way he was going to get by this man. He had no choice but to try and plead his case. He HAD to get into the city.

"Sir," Brunaulf started, "please help me. I have no family, no friends for help. I've come all the way from Ascot. Please let me in. I have no food left and I haven't eaten today. I can't stay outside another night. Please!"

The guard contemplated the boy's incredulous story, stroking his salt and pepper beard with one hand. Ascot was over two weeks away. Maybe it was possible, just maybe. He was quite thin and his clothes were dirty so he may have been travelling, but from Ascot? His mind was conflicted. If the boy was truthful, he needed help. If he was lying, he would be violating code.

"I'm sorry. Rules are rules."

Defeated, Brunaulf turned around and slowly bent over to pick up the pack behind him. The old guard watched as his too-small shirt rode up revealing a few inches of his back. What the man saw shocked him.

"Stop!" The guard said, softly but authoritatively, "Stand up, and don't move!"

The boy obediently complied as the guard took a step forward to close the gap. With a strong hand in a quick motion, he lifted the boy's shirt from the back. A crisscross pattern of welts covered the entirety of the embarrassed boy's back. Some of those welts were made a while ago, others were fresher. He had seen many torture victims in his years as a soldier on the battlefield, but those were grown men. His mind reeled at what a boy his age must have gone through. The gruff man stared for a few more seconds before throwing the shirt down to cover his back. His decision was made and decided on a plan.

"What's your name, son?" The big man asked.

The boy turned around. "Brunaulf" came the reply.

"Wait here, Brunaulf" was all the old guard said before leaving his post. Another immediately came as he left, blocking the boy's path. He returned a few minutes later with a parcel and handed it to the boy.

"My shift ends in one hour," the guard said as the boy began to open the parcel, "go over by the wall over there next to the gate where I can see you." The starving boy's eyes lit up at the contents of the parcel. It was a virtual treasure to the boy - sausages, cheese, bread, and a flask of water.

"Stay there and eat this. You'll be safe. In one hour, you're coming with me."

"Thank you, sir," Brunaulf said gratefully.

"Call me Karn," the big man smiled, "When I'm done you'll come in the city with me. I'm a citizen so we won't be breaking the rules." The big man winked, "Now eat."

Brunaulf obediently went to the spot he was told and greedily ate the bounty offered to him. The guard returned to his post next to the gate, eyes forward but studying the boy in his peripheral vision. He contemplated what the boy must have endured and the raw determination to make such a journey with so little in provisions. Someone with that kind of drive was one in a thousand. If the boy was taught the discipline to channel that determination he would make a fine soldier. There was something else about the boy that he couldn't quite put his finger on yet. He had his suspicions, but it would be a few years before his suspicions bore any fruit. First things first; this boy, who he decided in that moment to adopt as his own, needed food and shelter.

One hour later, the only sound made as the two walked in silence to Karn's house was the clanking of armour against cobblestone. The house was a modest one on a small side street in the west quarter. The big man turned the lock on his front door and ushered the boy inside the foyer. As he closed the door behind him, he lit a lamp and began his orientation of the house. The light of the moon and the street torches bleeding into his house assisted his own lamp.

"It's not much, but its home," Karn began, "to the left through that door is where you'll sleep. There's only a few things in there for now but it should do for the night. To the right is my room. If you need or can't find anything that’s where I'll be. Through the arch in front of you is the dining room. Turn left from there and you'll see the kitchen. Help yourself to anything you want in there."

Brunaulf's face brightened, "You mean I get a key?"

"Key?" Karn questioned, confused.

"To the cabinets where you store your food."

Karn was shocked. In which, if not all, of the nine hells had this boy been through that food would be locked from him? His emotions quickly flashed from pity to rage, but settled on sadness. Sadness for his existence of beatings, starvation, and loneliness the boy was forced to endure.

"No," the big man said controlling the waver in his voice, "there's no key. Just get what you want."

Brunaulf dropped his pack where he stood and started to race for the kitchen when Karn's big hand grabbed him by the upper arm. His soldier composure returned.

"Just to let you know, there are rules to staying here. Rules bring order, and order brings success. You're welcome to stay as long as you wish, but you MUST obey the rules while you're here. We can go over them later,” he released the boy, "now go and eat."

Brunaulf resumed his excitement for the kitchen, taking the lamp and turning the corner quickly. Karn took a moment to mentally compose himself before walking to his room. The heavy footfalls of his armour clunking echoed through the mostly dark house. The brute of man wiped his misty eyes before closing the door softly behind him, and started the ritual of removing his armour.

Karn had many rules the boy was to follow. They were simple at first - make your bed after you wake up, clean up your mess in the kitchen, and to check in three times a day on the days Karn was on duty. As structure came into the boy's life, he added more rules. He was to be educated to learn to read and write because "a man who cannot read and write is no man at all." Another rule was physical fitness. Once the boy got his strength back from sufficient food, he was to train every day.

"Rules bring order, and order brings success" was a mantra burned into young Brunaulf's brain. When he followed the rules, he was rewarded. When he broke the rules, he was punished with physical training. Karn vowed the boy would never feel the strap again, and instead chose "punishment with purpose". If it was good enough for a soldier, it was good enough for his boy.

Weeks turned to months and months turned to years. Brunaulf celebrated many milestones in his life with "Uncle Karn" as he would come to call him. The young man jumped his first horse over a fence just after his fifteenth birthday, and shot his first deer with a bow a little more than a year after that. Karn watched with pride as his protégé grew from a boy to a strapping young man equipped with the skills he would need to forge a positive, prosperous path in life. In three years he would be eligible to be a recruit in His Majesty's service should he wish to go. The big man hoped he would.

Brunaulf came through the door after archery practice on his seventeenth birthday to a houseful of people. Uncle Karn had invited all of Brunaulf's other "uncles" to come and celebrate. Young Brunaulf was introduced to many "uncles" since coming to Adengaan five years ago. Some were soldiers, others were tailors or blacksmiths or carpenters. About fifteen were packed in the small house blocking the entrance to the dining room to celebrate The Fealty.

Uncle Karn was in his immaculately polished parade armour. It was a traditional black metal armour polished to the point where it almost shone like a mirror. He opted to trim back his bushy beard to a meticulously even collar length and was wearing a half helmet hiding his short hair. The big man cleared his throat before beginning to speak.

"A man turning seventeen is a great day," Uncle Karn began, "and it’s also a day that gives His Majesty great joy. For today is The Fealty for..." motioning to his adopted son "...young Brunaulf here. Later this day you will stand before His Majesty and swear fealty. It shows His Majesty and all who witness you are an adult in the eyes of the community and are willing to, at his decree, serve and defend the city of Adengaan."

Cheers and congratulations erupted from the crowd, many patting the stout young man on the back in celebration. It was a time honoured tradition for centuries in Adengaan that at 17 as a sign of being a man, you could be called into service to defend the king, and at 19 you were allowed to join His Majesty's Service formally.

Uncle Karn continued... "Now a man cannot go before His Majesty looking like a boy, so I've arranged for a few things for you."

As if on cue, Uncle Karn and the other guests parted like a sea letting Brunaulf see into the kitchen. On the table was an ornate doublet in gold with green accents to bring out the young man's eyes. Black pants finished the outfit. What his eyes were really drawn to were an ornate bow and a ceremonial sword in its embossed leather scabbard. He gingerly picked up the sword and unsheathed it about six inches letting the afternoon sun coming through the window glint across the silvery blade. It was gorgeous. Uncle Karn came over to his adopted son and put his hand under his chin lifting his head up to see him eye to eye.

"Now go clean up that scraggly beard of yours!" The big man smiled, "We must be presentable when we see His Majesty."

The party formed a line on each side of the his path from the dining room to his bedroom, cheering and congratulating him again as he took the clothing to his room to change for his big day, grinning from ear to ear as he went. The guests began mixing among themselves, talking, eating, and drinking, remembering their own Fealty days and how special it is to a young man. Below the din of conversation, one of Karn's friends approached him. It was another large strong man. He had a huge red beard and bald head.

"You did well with that, cubby!" The big man said softly, smiling.

"Thanks Garret,” Karn replied to the man, smiling.

"You're right though. It's pretty clear he's a candidate. I could smell it on him too."

Karn's smile evaporated, "I know."

"Are you going to tell him?" the bald bear asked, concerned.

Karn thought many times about doing so. After a long pause, he answered his red companion.

"No."