Prince of Penance

Chapter Twenty One: Crimson And Clover

It wasn't quiet, but just the opposite. Gruffi couldn't escape the noise even in his rooms. The songs and chants of the people of Monteray reached him even here, the populace in the streets morning the dead in the way that only Gummi bears under the influence of human traditions would. But the Christian songs and prayers didn't comfort Gruffi, nor did the stars that twinkled in the sky outside his window.

He was angry. Not but a day, yet two after the death of his lover and they were already having the funeral. Not giving any time for the family and loved ones of the dead to prepare or make arrangements of any kind for the ceremonies, or give people time to rest. And it was not in the way that Gusto would have wanted his funeral to be. It seemed the entire town had come out in a frothing mass to mourn the dead with howls and prayers and chants and the choking smell of incense.

It was enough that they hadn't forced Gruffi, or any of the other Glen Gummis, to attend it. He occupied himself in his room as best as he could, doing what Glen Gummis traditionally did to send off the dead. Separating out the belongings of the deceased and wrapping them in black cloth. Storing them away until a year had passed to the day, then taking them out to remember and reflect when the occasion needed. Brewing sweet clover tea and sharing stories by the fireplace, their favourite memories of times spent with the deceased.

But Gruffi couldn't bear to wrap these paintings in the black funerary clothes. It seemed a sin to hide them away. Zummi had offered to help, but Gruffi wanted to do this himself. Some of these paintings were really really private.

Reaching under the bed he discovered a treasure trove of paintings. Little round portrait ones of all the Glen Gummis that Gusto had managed to paint during their time here. Landscapes and city portraits and all the great people of Monteray. Misti as she was now in her preferred plain clothes attire, and Misti as Queen, and Bryton and Sunni walking in the gardens, though Gruffi could swear that Bryton had never once come to him to ask permission to walk along with her.

He had this morning though. Coming to Gruffi and bowing low.

"I understand that she is a year yet from womanhood, and I intend to make this courtship a meaningful one. You will return to Glen Gummi with her, but I will have an entire year to wait before I have any proper excuse to leave Monteray to visit her."

His response had been simple.

"Sunni is growing up now, and she's fond of you. You treat her proper, and she'll decide if she's ready to be courted or not..."

It wasn't what his first response would have been, but Sunni was so miserable that Gruffi couldn't bear the idea of separating her in any way from Bryton, even though half the Island agreed that their relationship was probably inappropriate. She wasn't old enough, and she was a peasant.

Love just seems to get in the way, doesn't it?

He reached as far under the bed as his arm would go and pulled from the very back a large stack of paintings that were obviously meant to be hidden even from the servants. Gruffi unwrapped them from their dust cloths and stared.

These were the paintings Gusto had spoken about, of their life together in Gummi Glen that he had imagined. These were the windows of Gusto's heart.

Going fishing. Reading together. Sailing boats with Tummi, and playing games with Cubbi. Teaching Sunni how to dance like a real courtly lady. There was even a painting of Gusto painting a portrait of himself. It was kind of a funny thing really. Most of these paintings were invented ideas, and the quality of the characters was very low, just impressions of people really. Gusto worked the best if he had a model standing right next to him.

On the bottom was one painting that clearly had to have been painted with the living subject himself present, it was of that good a quality. In this painting, Gruffi lay in sleeping repose in bed, without a stitch of clothing on, laying on his belly on the sheets with a look of some temporary peace in his face. Gusto had painted himself in the bed with Gruffi, which must have been terribly hard to do, and his posture was one of rapt love and fascination, one hand on Gruffi's head, looking down at the sleeping bear with deep and well painted affection in his eyes. It was a painting of love, quiet love, in the stillness of night when the world relaxed and there was room even for a love such as theirs.

Dlip!

Gruffi jerked his head, and blinked. A drop of water had landed upon the painting. He gently soaked it up with his shirt sleeve, careful that it didn't ruin the painting.

Dlip!

"What on earth...?" He looked up to the ceiling, to see if there was a leak, and then felt a dampness on his cheek.

Gruffi found himself looking down at the painting again, and up at the ceiling, and putting a hand to his cheek and blinking in confusion as to where the drip was coming from. His chest was heaving, and he was having trouble breathing.

"Oh..." he said with a choke of startled panic. "I'm...crying..."

It was such a rare thing that he shed even a tear, or two in sorrow that he was surprised for a moment, and panicked. Here were many, raining down his cheek to his chin and flowing off the end of his nose in little dribbling waterfalls. Choking gasps of pain were coming up from his stomach into his throat and he could do nothing but give into them.

He pushed the painting away from himself and leaning against the side of the bed gave into the pain, covering his face in despair and sobbing.

Oh Gusto, Gusto I miss you! I hurt! Oh I hurt, and it will never end will it? You'll never be back! You'll never laugh at me, or whine when one of your paintings doesn't go right, or teach Cubbi all those fun things he likes to do with you. You won't show Sunni how to dance, or wear a pair of Grammis warm knit socks on your feet that you say itch horribly! You will never use Zummi's magic paints again...you'll never go boating with Tummi. You're gone. We'll never m-make love again...and I'll never wake up to see you looking down at me with those eyes...those beautiful eyes...

Gruffi choked and clutched his arms around his stomach, his whole body was quaking with a sobbing and convulsing that he couldn't stop. He hadn't cried this hard or this painfully since he was a six year old orphaned cub. It hurt! His chest was burning!

A hand on his shoulder startled him and he jumped. He hadn't realized he'd been repeating the refrain, "My love, my love," as he had been sobbing, and somebody must have heard him. He rubbed his face and pushed himself up and stared up at Grammi.

"Its all right hon," said Grammi. "I can help you finish...then we can share some clover tea and have ourselves a talk..."

"Yes...just...please don't call me 'hon'," Gruffi choked, and pushed the paintings towards her.

Grammi nodded, then hunkered down next to Gruffi and rubbed his cheek with her fingers.

"I remember when we were courting age, I had the biggest crush on you. And you used to hide in the pantry because you didn't have the heart to tell me you didn't like girls..."

"I didn't?" Gruffi swallowed. "I don't remember that..."

"Well you never showed any interest in me. Then my folks tried to push me after Zummi instead."

"I remember that disaster. Poor Zummi wouldn't come out of his room for two days."

Grammi chuckled and wrapped up the last painting and put them all in the empty crate he'd been putting paintings into.

"We'll bring this all with us, and I've told Misti we're leaving tomorrow. She wasn't surprised. This place has been nothing but pain for all of us."

"How'd Sunni take it?" Gruffi muttered, feeling somewhat better now that he had something sane to think about. "Was she upset?"

"Oh you can bet your boots she was upset. But she wants to go home now as much as we do. All those girls she was friends with in court are now snubbing her because of all this business. Cubbi says he's ready to wash his hands of Sir Wallaby and Zummi wants to get away from the library as soon as possible. Its too human here, is what he says!"

"I agree, and Bryton says he's putting a stop to the human court and all the human laws forever as soon as he Crowned...He has the approval of the Council too I hear, now that Venti is gone."

"But they didn't put a stop to the chanting."

"Couldn't yet, I suppose," Gruffi admitted, grateful for her calm rational presence. "Not until he's officially King and has that power. Its hard to get a bunch of block headed bears to change their minds on a thing after they spend forever at doing it. I should know, I'm just as block headed as the lot of them. Still not used to being an Ambassador. Probably never will."

"But you've changed lately..." said Grammi softly. "You're so patient now, a little calmer."

"Well...I am getting old." Gruffi scratched his head. "Is Arte staying here?"

"He says so," Grammi said sadly. "He wants to stay the Queen and Bryton. He's going to bring us messages from them."

"Ah...I see..." Gruffi nodded. "Which makes sense, if he's going to be courting Sunni he has to send her secret love letters some way. An official letter with the royal seal wouldn't be his style, really."

Grammi laughed heartily and Gruffi managed a smile. A small smile, and a tiny part of his heart warmed significantly. He felt so much better.

Mother was right...I need to clean up my heart's cupboards more often. I miss you Gusto, I really do. But...but I can survive. I just have to keep going...One day...when I'm an old gray bear and I'm ready to go...I'll see you again. I promise you.

He rose to his feet, blew out the candle by the window, and then stood to help Grammi carry out the crates.

-seperator-

It was fire, and it was agony. It was a burning in his flesh like nothing he had ever felt, and it was feted putrid air that choked him and brought the bile up into his throat. It was a darkness of unyielding prison walls that pressed in around him, suffocating and unyielding, leaving barely enough room to breath. It was hell.

He wasn't sure how long he had been there. A handful of days maybe. Two, or three, no more. But it seemed like so much longer. He would fall into unconsciousness, thinking, 'This is it...now I'll die...now I'll be free...' only to wake struggling and gasping and fighting for air and life as if he had any hope left at all. As if he had a prayer. Darkness surrounded him, and the vile liquids burnt his eyes, chafed his skin and caused tufts of his hair to fall out. It was a burning chemical that was slow and torturous in its process, and he was soaking in it.

But there were moments of respite when he could think and reflect, and remember who he was. He had forgotten things, his memory seemed skewed in this twisted place of pain, but sometimes he'd awake in the dark screaming names, names that meant something, names that were important somehow. Names that were layered with the many years of his past, his unyielding youth and the crime of murdering his brother. A crime that he was now paying his life's penance for. He now understood the horror of his greed and arrogance.

I was never innocent...I may have let myself be used but I was just as defiant as my Master...I was just as ready to kill...and we created a Monster that nobody can destroy. I deserve to suffer.

A passage he had read in his youth stood out to him now, from that strange book that the humans were so interested in which they believed governed the life and death of the world. He had studied this book extensively as a youth, but had not followed its doctrines the way his mother and father and the rest of Monteray had. Its words came back to him now...and he closed his eyes and let them roll through his agonised mind.

'And all the world wondered after the beast. And they worshipped the dragon which gave power unto the beast: and they worshipped the beast, saying, Who is like unto the beast? who is able to make war with him?'

It was right. That book was right. Who could fight this monster? Who could destroy it? None could...and there was only one way to destroy it.

He had to surrender. He had to drown. He had to allow death to take him. It was his power that gave the beast strength. It was his life that gave it power. It was his power alone that could destroy it in the end.

I will make a war with the Kraken unlike any war. I will face death unafraid. My magic and my fear feeds it, then my death should destroy it.

Death shouldn't have to be so easy. He felt his body loosen and relax, his heart slowed to a steady rhythm and tranquility filled his mind. Peace would come, peace for him and for the people of Monteray. Even now he could swear he heard their final chants, the throbbing hum of their voices lifting higher and higher into the streets of Monteray, lifting his soul to the clouds in a great thunderous chorus of...

Humming. It was in his ear. It was vibrating up his leg through his spine, and into the flesh of the beast causing the mammoth creature to twitch. It was burning through his eardrums. It seemed to echo in this small space like a canon blast in the night. It was strong, so strong that his ears rang and his eyes popped right open and watered.

Its that damn compass! he realized in fury. Damn, can't I have some peace even in death?!

One of the sailors on their ship had laughingly told him that the compass didn't hum when it was in the direction of west, rather it was spelled to sing whenever it neared the main island bell compass in the center of Monteray square upon which it was magically tied to. It was a reflection magic which he had been unable to figure out, but Monteray was vaguely west so the sailors said they were going west when it hummed. It helped them plot their course.

But the closer it got to the main compass, the more it would sing its piercing song, and the more its throbbing notes would burn into his brain like a fiery chorus of death. He struggled to locate the compass in order to switch it off, but his hands fumbled trying to locate it. It was possible that it had fallen out of his pocket and that he would never locate it where it lay within the body of the beast. Undaunted, he searched frantically around him, he struggled and twisted...

...and then he suddenly felt a hardness digging into his hip.

What's that...?

He reached down to his side and fumbled along his belt to find the little leather sheath there and his hand grasped around the handle of some implement that he vaguely remembered.

And then it clicked. He remembered.

Gruffi's dagger!!

A thrumming song in his head reminded him of the compass. They were so close...so close to Monteray now that the compass was going insane. The beast was going insane with it, driven by a mad compulsion now to move at alarming speeds that he could feel all the way through his spine.

It would attack the city. It would sink ships and bring storms that would torment the little island with its fury. Gruffi was in danger now, and his friends, and the people of Monteray, and he felt helpless to do anything to stop it. He was so near, yet so far.

Then he realized that there was something he could do. One last act of defiance he could have against this monster that had held his mind and his people in tormented captivity for fifteen agonising years.

'It'll cut through anything, really...wood, leather and even bones...'

The will to live filled him now, an urge to act that burnt its way through his belly and throbbed in his brain in chorus with the humming of the compass, whose song gave him strength now to fight back, to struggle, to survive.

Hang on Gruffi, I'm coming,! I'm coming! I'm gonna give this Kraken a severe case of indigestion that would rival even Grammi's cooking!

He pulled the dagger from its sheath, pulled his arm back as far as it could go, then buried the blade to the hilt deep into the monster's flesh.

And then his world swam crimson.

---MWAHAHAHA! I so love a cliffhanger, especially with a plot twist. And I have the urge to chant 'Fight! Fight! Fight!' in my head now, heheheh. What'll happen next? Heck, we're getting close to the end of the story now. Its all downhill from here. Hope you've been enjoying the ride. ;)