Ep.33 - The Year Of The Bear
(Start at the beginning)
Two lots of men stood in tight groups flanking the entrance to the main hall. They spoke in low conspiratorial tones as Carmel walked by, their heavy furs and armoured exterior making for an imposing sight. Glances were exchanged but no words, nothing to be brandied but a certain level of mistrust that was obvious through their eyes. Fortunately the presence of Brown Beard meant there was no cause for concern, but still they stared.
“The welcome only seems warmer the deeper we go,” Carmel opined aloud.
Brown Beard gave a dismissive grunt, “Don’t mind these boys, a lot of them have been called up from gloomier places than here, and most of those have been in hibernation for many seasons. The grim business of late hasn't made them any cheerier.”
“I can’t help but feel somewhat responsible on account of taking my shining personality south,” Kodiak said, making light of the mood. It took Carmel back to the day he’d met the Bears on his journey through the High Northern Pass. They’d been just about as grim and mistrusting, yet warmed by the presence of Bears like Kodiak. Maybe there was something to Kodiak’s being gone, or maybe in their absence things had just grown to a point where it no longer made a difference.
“I’ll say it, you’ve been sorely missed,” Brown Beard began as he swung wide the heavy door to let everybody inside. Carmel stepped through with Dolev on his arm, Julia next with Kodiak at the rear, whom Brown Beard offered one last thought too, “but not for the reason you might think.”
The high hall was filled with a host of warriors milling around in the dim light. The fog filled air of the exterior was replaced with the smokey warmth of the in. The fire from a distant hearth, the torches scattering the wall, and the closely packed bodies mixed to make a pleasant temperature change for those just come in from outside. While at the same time for those who’d lingered inside a bit to long, the heat was almost unbearable. If the tone of the men outside had been quiet, sullen, or dour, here it was anything but. Bears spoke openly, and loudly of their opinions and descents, anger flared where cooler heads might prevail, debates raged as accusations flew, and all around question upon question was being asked. There was a certain chaos to it all not so unlike the first council Carmel had taken part in at Ipswitch, where the Maul of Bears there had gathered to debate their course of action in the face of the Yos threat. Only now, unlike then, there was a grating, biting, disturbing tenor of malcontent. Hatred, not of an outward threat, but directed towards those in this very room.
“What’s happening?” Dolev asked.
“There’s a gathering, a lot of arguing.” Carmel replied.
“Closer to a sword drawn fight,” Julia added as she produced her notebook.
“A late breakfast is all,” said Kodiak, looking concerned but seeing the potential sunny side.
They followed Brown Beard deeper into the room, one voice sounding suddenly louder and clearer over all others, causing the din to drop in volume as men all around stopped speaking to listen. A tarry of words began trading back and forth, the voices unfamiliar and argumentative.
“Fighting!? I’ve been fighting for months. I might as well be swinging my sword at water for all the good it’s done. The Yos pick and probe, commit to nothing, while their agents spread their malady through my home. What am I fighting for if not for those at my hold? What good is a defense at the border when I’m needed outside my very door!”
“It’s cowardice is what it is. As if every man doesn’t share the risk of leaving his door undefended. Without the numbers to patrol the borders, to weed out the Yos camps, and cut the supply lines, your home will be dealing with soldiers, not agents. The malady will be the least of your concerns, that’s if it doesn't turn you mad too.”
“Madness?!” The first speaker spat, “What do you know of it? You’re likely already suffering it. Maybe the Yos want us here so that they can do their busy work behind our backs, maybe you’re just one of them, keen to convince me to stay for that very purpose.”
The murmur of descent that rolled through the room seemed to drop the temperature a peg. Carmel felt a shiver roll through him, the cold sweat that accompanied a bar room after a brawl, and at the same time reminded him of a similar situation that had unfolded at his home in the Wilds. Brown Beard broke into the inner circle as the conversation hung, the two men at it’s heart locked in a staring contest, breathing long and heavy, dark complexions fronting darker thoughts. Whatever Carmel was feeling must have been double for Dolev as the grip of her fingers were stabbing daggers into his arm.
“Madness is throwing around accusations like that in a place such as this,” The second man, slender, with dashing features and a tuft of auburn hair said in a low, level voice, “Someone’s likely to get killed.” It sounded like wisdom more than a threat, and somehow of no less concern. He had his hand on the pommel of his sword ,as did the other man, and all around edgy fists balled tightly to hafts, or hilts, or where none were available clenched the meat and bones they were naturally adorned with.
Brown Beard stepped in between them, “Cut it out, the lot of you! It’s no secret these are dark times, there’s no need to be making them any darker.”
The men didn't relent, not a one, but no one advanced either. Brown Beard looked suddenly very tired, like a dried and withered thing, heavy burdened and past his ability to continue holding anything up. Without warning his anger flared, he straightened his back, brought his shoulders to their full height, bellowed in a burst of rage and shoved one man away from the other. “Enough I said!” He roared, the echo of his voice reverberating from the high ceiling, shaking the senses of all those around him, pulling all attention appropriately to him, and forcing all to obey on the merit of his status. Cowed, the loud dessenter withdrew into his surrounding fellows with a grumble, and the other departed with a deeply furrowed brow. Brown Beard sunk back into his shoulders and turned to the nearby table. He motioned with his hand signalling Carmel to come. No sooner than he had the questions began. Despite the culling of the argument, the words had been spoken now, and more level headed Bears wanted to wrestle with the merits of what had been said. Brown Beard, replacing the heart of the conflict, was suddenly expected to provide the answers.
“This is madness,” Dolev said quietly in Carmel’s ear. “I’ve not seen the Bears like this, ever.”
Carmel had not the experience with the Bears that Dolev did but even he could see it, perhaps on account of having just entered, his eyes fresh. That and his knowledge of his own past afflictions.
“Where is the Big Bear?” Dolev called aloud to Brown Beard.
Brown Beard took a seat and gestured with his hand. The men standing around the opposite end of the table shuffled back, clearing a narrow window of space where a wooden chair covered with a heavy fur rested. “He’s right in front of you,” Brown beard replied.
Carmel looked, missing the man for the sea of bodies at first, not even realising what was in the chair beyond the fur. There, seated, his face gaunt and sickly, looking half asleep from the energy necessary to stay upright, the Big Bear was seated, laid as low as such a monumental figure could be.
“Hello, Dolev,” Came his rasping voice, and he smiled.
(Continue to Ep.34)
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