Brambleheart Page 7

  Wings vibrating, Char came at Burdock again. The weasel backed away until he was cornered against the wall.

  “Help!” Burdock screeched.

  Char snorted fire again, but suddenly the flames had faded a bit and were a pale yellow. Twig could sense that the dragon was rapidly losing strength.

  “Char! Stop!” Twig yelled.

  The dragon turned and looked at Twig, then back at Burdock, defeated. Thick smoke curled out of his nostrils, gray-green, blue, and brown. Char was breathing in harsh bursts. His eyes seemed slightly sunken, his scales ashy and dull.

  He had used up his last bit of energy and was now defenseless. He lay on the floor. Twig and Lily ran to the dragon; Lily cradled the creature’s head and neck in her lap.

  Olive was rounding a bend in the path when she heard the loud burst of flame, and then Burdock’s scream. She raced into the clock tower to see Burdock panting and seething. He glared at Olive.

  “Look what your son has been hiding from us!” he barked.

  Olive saw Twig and Lily crouched around a . . . she wasn’t sure what it was, but she knew immediately which side she was on.

  “A dragon?” she asked.

  “You mean you knew about this?” Burdock asked incredulously.

  Olive looked around the room. Although the chaos of the scene suggested the dragon was a menace, she sensed otherwise. She studied her son. Her eyes met his, and she felt in them the devotion Twig had for the dragon. She made a decision.

  “Why, yes,” Olive answered. “Of course I knew.”

  Burdock’s eyebrows arched up.

  “You’re telling me that you and Twig had a dragon in your house?”

  “Twig is quite devoted to him.”

  “Devoted? He’s a menace to our community. He must be contained immediately.” He rubbed his singed shoulder. “He is dangerous!”

  Olive glanced at Burdock’s raw patch of fur and could smell the burned hair. “The dragon did that?” she asked quietly, looking quickly at Twig. “He is really quite gentle, if you are gentle with him, that is.”

  “Of course it was the dragon!”

  A small group of residents had gathered outside, Beau among them. He hobbled up to the crowd, surveying the scene, and then saw Char, still collapsed in the corner. His watery eyes widened at the sight of the dragon, and he cast a look at Twig.

  Burdock growled, glaring at Beau. “That beast nearly killed me. Look at this!” He thrust his shoulder at Twig. Where the fur had singed off, you could see the red and swollen burned skin, raw and oozing pus and blood. “A few inches’ difference and this could have been my face!”

  “I—I—I’m sorry, Master Burdock,” Twig stammered. “Char is so protective of me, of the project . . . I guess he went a little crazy.”

  “He needs to be locked up. And his fire-breathing abilities can be utilized, for the good of the Hill.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Twig. “What are you going to do with him?”

  “The dragon’s fire can be harnessed. . . . We can use it. Imagine what I—I mean, what the Hill—can create with this beast. He’s something the Hill can use.”

  Twig’s heart raced, and he gulped with guilt. He thought of how he had used Char for his projects, and how Char had trusted in him and eagerly helped. Now it was his turn to come to Char’s rescue.

  “We can take this whole matter before the Council if you like, Professor Burdock,” Beau said calmly. “But let’s not lose our tempers and—”

  “Fine for you to say!” Burdock interjected. “You weren’t nearly roasted by this walking blowtorch. I’m using my authority as a Judiciary Committee member to imprison this beast before one more Hill member is harmed.”

  Beau raised his paws. “He looks to me to be quite a creature.” He nodded at Twig. “And the boy certainly has at least some control over him. Do you really think he needs to be confined?”

  “I can take full responsibility for him,” Olive suggested.

  Twig looked gratefully at both his mother and Beau. Beau gave him a reassuring wink.

  “I’m taking him away!” Burdock growled. He grabbed the rope and thrust it at Twig. “Tie this around him!” He winced and clutched his wounded shoulder. “I wouldn’t be surprised if a special meeting was called to decide if you should be expelled . . . permanently. I know that I am personally going to recommend just that.”

  Twig glanced at Lily, who looked on the verge of tears, as Basil looped the rope around Char’s neck.

  “And let’s not forget,” he snickered, his dark eyes staring into Twig, “how you lied and cheated to have this beast do all your work. No wonder your assignments were so much better than your classroom ones! You had help! Well, the Council and the rest of the Hill won’t stand for it. I wouldn’t be surprised if you are expelled on the spot. I’d start packing a bag if I were you. Come, Basil, help me get this creature locked up.”

  Basil cautiously gave the rope a short tug. Char looked at Twig, perplexed, and didn’t budge.

  Twig gave him a gentle pat. “It’s okay, Char. I’ll come to see you later.”

  Burdock snorted. “The only time you’ll ever see him is when you visit the Burrow of Confinement. Olive . . . Lily . . . be ready for an inquest into your part in this,” the weasel added with a cold smile.

  The dragon stood up, painfully, as Basil yanked him out the doorway.

  Lily’s father had arrived, and he grabbed her by the paw and pulled her away. The rest of the gathered throng parted, gazing and gasping at the sight, as Burdock and Basil led Char toward the Burrow of Confinement.

  chapter 19

  A Plan

  Olive studied her son. “Twig,” she said. “Maybe you’d better start at the beginning. Where did Char come from? Where did you find him? Why didn’t you tell us about him?”

  Beau nodded gravely. “Yes, Twig. I think you need to tell us everything. From the beginning.”

  Twig sat on the floor, relieved. It felt good to finally tell about all the events of the past few weeks . . . of nearly drowning in the giant river, of discovering the beautiful golden sphere that turned out to be Char’s egg, and of keeping Char a secret.

  “But why keep him hidden away?” Olive asked. “You can see how that turned out to be a bad idea. I might have been able to help you.”

  “I was afraid they’d take him away,” Twig answered quietly. “And . . . he was my friend.”

  “Twig, you were wrong to use Char as a way to get ahead in class,” Olive replied. “I agree, having him in the Burrow of Confinement doesn’t seem fair, but right now we have to think about you. There could be serious consequences . . . for you, me, Lily . . . but definitely you.”

  “I’m going to go before the rest of the Council and ask for leniency,” Beau said. “But Burdock has vengeance on his mind. I can only try my best to persuade them to let you stay.” He looked straight at Twig. “It’s doubtful that you’ll ever be part of the Naming Ceremony.”

  Twig nodded. He did realize that his chances of becoming Twig Metal Crafter were now next to zero. At best, he would be a Permanent Apprentice, or possibly Assistant. More likely was Errand Runner.

  “It’s so unfair,” he said, all at once exasperated and frustrated and exhausted. “So what if I can’t be a Master Metal Crafter? Maybe I just wasn’t cut out to be that. Maybe I am cut out for something else. I just don’t know what . . . not yet.”

  Beau picked up some of the debris on the floor. “Could you be an Errand Runner and be happy?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. I feel like one already,” Twig replied. “I think I’ve felt that way for as long as I can remember . . . always worrying about what everyone on the Hill thinks of me, how they think I’m a failure, or don’t fit in. And always, always comparing me to my father. Doesn’t anyone like me for being just . . . me?”

  Olive smiled. She smoothed out Twig’s furry topknot, gently brushed some bits of ash out of his whiskers. “You’re so much like your father in so m
any ways,” she said.

  “Like what?”

  “Your perseverance,” she replied. “Your devotion. Your gentle spirit. Those are all great, great qualities. So much more important than craftsmanship. At the end of the day, what really matters is the love others have for you. Great skill at something is a wonderful thing, don’t get me wrong, but there is no comparing it to being a great friend. I think you’re being just that. Your devotion and kindness to Char, and being a good friend to Lily . . . those are things that determine greatness. Those are things that come from you just being . . . you.”

  Twig looked at his mother. “I guess I should be worried about my possible expulsion, about never being Master anything, but right now all I can think about is poor Char!”

  Olive studied her son. There was maturity in his eyes she hadn’t noticed before. “The Committee is a powerful group,” she said. “But somehow I think you’ll be fine. Find your heart. You’ll do the right thing.”

  Twig smiled, then thought for a moment. “I’ve got to go to Lily’s,” he said. “I won’t be long.” And with a swoosh of his tail, he was gone.

  LILY WAS AT HER DEN, SITTING WITH HER PARENTS, WHEN Twig rapped on her door.

  “Excuse me,” he said, embarrassed. “I’m sorry . . . but Lily, can I see you for a minute?”

  Lily’s father looked at Twig a little sadly. “Twig,” he said. “Lily has been telling us about what happened, this incredible story about a dragon, practically killing Master Burdock, setting fire to . . . well, I’m sure it was all an accident, but to tell you the truth, we’d rather not have Lily involved in this. She’s guilty by association, you might say. I’d prefer if Lily didn’t see you, at least until this whole thing blows over.”

  “What?” Twig exclaimed. He looked at Lily, who sat, miserable, at the table, as though she had just been fed skunk cabbage.

  Lily returned his glance and then spoke. “Dad, Mom, could I just talk to Twig for one minute? I promise I’ll be right back.”

  Her father nodded sternly. “Just for a minute,” he relented. “I’m sure Twig will be wanting to get back home. Am I right, Twig?” He looked at Twig suggestively.

  Twig nodded. Then he and Lily slipped outside.

  “I can’t believe this,” Twig said.

  “Poor Char,” Lily whispered. “The thought of him in the Burrow of Confinement . . . we’ve got to get him out.”

  Twig stared at Lily. “Get him out? Like, break him out?”

  “If we don’t, who will? And if no one does, what will happen to him?” she replied emphatically.

  “You’re right, Lily. It wasn’t right for me to keep him here. It’s up to us. We’ve got to get Char back home. He’ll be like a slave if he stays here.”

  “Back home? Back home where? Where’s home?”

  “Well, I don’t know, exactly. But it must be somewhere near where I found his egg. I can get us that far at least.” He looked questioningly at her. “Lily, would you come? All the way to the big river?”

  Lily’s eyes flashed with anticipation. “Of course I will! Look, I’m in this, too. And Char . . . Char is like family now. We can’t let him down.”

  “What will you tell your parents?”

  “They’ll be okay . . . the important thing now is Char.”

  Twig nodded. “Meet me at the prison as soon as you can,” he whispered. “And bring some supplies . . . you know, food . . . whatever you can bring.”

  Just then Lily’s father poked his whiskers out the burrow door. “What are you two up to?” he asked. “Lily, time to come inside.”

  “Just one more second, Dad,” Lily answered.

  “No, now,” her father said.

  “Okay.” Lily glanced knowingly at Twig and flicked her tail.

  chapter 20

  Escape

  The Burrow of Confinement sat at the edge of the Hill, in an area seldom used. Tall weeds surrounded an old metal box.

  Twig and Lily looked around cautiously.

  “Coast is clear,” Twig said. “Now the hard part. . . . How do we break Char out?”

  He tapped lightly on the giant metal door and heard the muffled stirring of Char inside.

  “Char?” Lily whispered. “It’s okay . . . we’ve come to rescue you.” She looked doubtfully at the huge padlock. “Twig, I don’t know how we can break through this. If we had Char and his flamethrower, we could work on the lock, but he’s on the wrong side of the problem.”

  Just then a voice spoke behind them.

  “You need this?”

  Twig and Lily pivoted on their toes. There stood Basil, smiling nonchalantly, dangling a large silver key on a long chain.

  “Basil!” they said in unison.

  “Who else?” replied Basil. “Obviously you two need some help, somebody with the right connections.”

  Twig clenched his paws and frowned. “Basil, you can’t stop us from helping Char escape. He’s done nothing wrong, really, and—”

  Basil swung the key in the air. “Do you see this?” he asked. “This, my friends, is the one key—the only key—to the lock that holds Char behind bars.”

  Lily blinked, and then her eyes widened. “Basil, you’re actually helping? You want Char to escape?”

  “Maybe,” Basil replied.

  Twig knew they had to act quickly to free Char. It was possible that the Council members would be there any minute.

  “How did you get the key?” Twig asked.

  Basil smiled. “My uncle had the key, as head of the Guild Judiciary Committee. I just found the right moment to slip it out of his desk drawer . . . easy as pie.”

  “May I have it, Basil?” Twig asked directly. “Will you give it to me, please?”

  “Why should I?” replied Basil.

  Twig knew that Basil was just playing with them. The padlock was high-grade steel and looked formidable. Twig and Lily looked at each other.

  “Char is sick,” Twig said. “We’ve got to get him back to where he’s from. Soon. Before the Committee takes him. We need the key. Will you help us, Basil?”

  Basil hesitated, then tossed the key to Twig. Twig shot him a look of gratitude.

  The silver key opened the padlock with a click, and they heaved open the heavy door. Char scrambled out, his wings flapping weakly.

  Twig hugged him gently. “Hey, buddy!” he murmured.

  Char’s tongue darted out, tickling Twig’s ear. Then he began sniffing Basil’s whiskers.

  “Hey! Stop it!” Basil said. He started giggling as Char’s snout covered his face.

  “See? He likes you,” said Lily. “He knows a friend when he sees one.”

  “He’s a maniac!” Basil squeaked, obviously enjoying Char’s attention.

  Twig glanced around anxiously. “We’d better get moving,” he said. “Are you coming, Basil?”

  The weasel smiled. “Of course I’m coming, Woodpecker Toes.”

  Twig grinned back. “We need to make one quick stop before we head out. This way.”

  They raced to his house and found it empty. Twig scampered into his room, grabbed his beloved Dragons book, and turned to his favorite page. He left the book open, where he knew Olive would see it, and quickly penciled a note. Home soon. Love, Twig.

  Hurrying back outside, he gestured to his friends. Then they quickly slipped beneath a grove of mayapples and were gone.

  chapter 21

  The River

  Twig turned, looking in all directions, orienting himself.

  “This looks right,” he said. “I know this is the way. See that poplar tree? The one with the split trunk? I remember that tree.”

  “What’s that prove?” Basil questioned.

  “The poplar wasn’t far from the river. There was a large rock on the other side of it. We head this way, the sun to our backs. I’m betting that we’ll be at the river before dark.”

  They scrambled beneath the spicebush and wild ginger to the base of the ancient poplar. The three friends arched their heads
back, looking up, up, up to the very distant branches, high above the forest floor. The tree, strikingly massive, was an excellent landmark, with a smooth, gray trunk that stretched a hundred feet above them. Twig hurriedly skirted the roots of the tree to the other side.

  “Yes! It’s here!” he called out. “The rock, the large patch of ferns . . . it’s all here, just like I remember!”

  Lily hopped over one of the massive roots and joined him. “Good job, Twig,” she said.

  From their vantage point, out from beneath the brambles and wild ginger and mayapples, he could sense they were getting close. With the green-yellow dappled sunlight warming his whiskers, Twig felt exhilarated. He lifted his nose into the sweet-smelling breeze. Something foreign, yet familiar, tickled his whiskers and pulled at his heart.

  “This way!” He pointed. “Can you smell it in the air? That’s the river. We’re not far now!”

  They set off, the sun behind them, heading east. The tall trees, mostly poplar and beech, stretched above them like canyon walls, their highest branches in another world of sunrises, sunsets, lightning storms, drifting clouds, and soaring hawks.

  The air grew saltier, carried on a breeze in little puffs that glided across the marsh grasses. Suddenly, just as Twig remembered from before, the trees opened up to a vast, late-afternoon sky, and the three friends found themselves high up on a cliff. The unobstructed breeze rushed at them, rippling their fur, blowing their whiskers back, and they looked at one another, amazed, laughing and pointing. The sky was an intense cobalt blue, with puffs of white that slid across the blue like skaters on ice. Circling gulls called out, banking and gliding on the fresh wind.

  “I’ve never . . . wow!” stuttered Lily. “You can see . . . everywhere!”

  Even Basil couldn’t control his excitement. “It’s amazing!” he exclaimed. “Look, there! You can see the river bending. Where does it go? And look . . . as far as the eye takes you . . . so much sky!”