by Dan Davis
‘The ones from the middle are the nicest,’ Keeper said, with cabbage juice running down his chin.
‘I will take your word for it,’ Archer said. ‘I’ll just have a piece of your bread, if you don’t mind.’
Keeper waved a cabbage leaf in his direction to say it was fine with him and fed the rest of the cabbage to Burp.
Archer went to the table. He tore off a bit of the stale bread and chewed it. It was quite dry but it had all herbs and bits of cooked vegetables in it. It was the nicest thing he had eaten for ages.
‘Right, then, probably best get down, Archer,’ Keeper said, loudly, and then he rolled the other two cabbages into Burp’s claws and then waved his hands at Archer, running towards him.
‘What was that?’ Archer asked, glancing up.
‘I said get down, Archer!’ Keeper pushed Archer under the table. He was a heavy lad and he barged Archer right over. Archer cracked the back of his head on the floor.
‘Steady on,’ cried Archer, holding the back of his head and seeing stars. ‘What are you doing, Keeper?’
Archer started to get up but Keeper reached out and grabbed Archer by the arm.
‘Stay down!’ said Keeper.
Burp made a sound a bit like when a cat is bringing up a fur ball.
Archer peered at Keeper. ‘Is he alright?’
A huge jet of flame shot from the dragon’s open mouth into the air right across the room.
The heat was fierce and the noise was like a roaring wind. A bright light filled the room, blinding Archer in the glare. The sudden heat was intense.
As soon as it was there, it was gone.
Archer realised he was shouting. He stopped.
There was a funny smell in the air. Archer peeked out from under Keeper.
Nothing was on fire.
Archer checked himself. No, he definitely was not on fire.
Keeper crawled out from the table and Archer followed him.
‘He does that every time he eats a cabbage?’ Archer asked, tasting the burnt air as he spoke.
‘That’s right,’ said Keeper, grinning from ear to ear. ‘Is it not wonderful?’
‘Perhaps you should feed him something else?’ Archer said. ‘Cabbage obviously doesn’t agree with him.’
‘But that’s what dragons eat,’ Keeper said. ‘
‘How do you know that is what dragons eat?’ Archer asked, thinking that it did not seem like a diet that made sense.
‘Because that’s what the Alchemist feeds him,’ said Keeper. ‘Obviously.’
‘Perhaps the Alchemist is wrong?’ Archer suggested, hesitantly.
‘How can he be wrong?’ Keeper said, frowning. ‘He’s the Alchemist.’
‘I suppose so,’ said Archer, shrugging.
Anyway,’ Keeper said. ‘I’ve tried giving him bread but he won’t eat it.’
‘Come on, we have to get on with this. I have a feeling there’s still a long way to go.’
Archer took his arrow, checked again that it was not cracked or bent and that the rope was tied on properly.
He stood in the fireplace.
Keeper came and stood next to him and looked up. Burp watched them warily from across the room. Archer pulled back on the bowstring, bent the bow as far as he could and shot it upwards into the dark. It clanged into something up there Archer heard it bounce a couple of times.
That could only mean one thing.
‘Look out, it’s coming back down,’ he cried and pushed the stocky Keeper out of the fireplace half a second before the arrow came clattering into the fireplace where they had been standing.
Amazingly the arrow had not broken. He felt proud that he had made them so well.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Archer. He felt like a fool for missing.
‘No harm done,’ said Keeper, smiling.
‘Perhaps you should stay over there with Burp this time.’
Archer aimed straight up, as straight up as he could and loosed the arrow. There was another clang but this time the arrow did not come down again. Archer pulled the rope and it slithered down towards him for a moment, then he heard another clang from up the chimney, then the rope stopped.
‘Sounds like we did it, Keeper,’ said Archer, enormously pleased with himself. ‘Sounded like the arrow went through to the other side. It’s probably caught on something up there in the room above.’
‘I’m still not sure I can climb up a rope,’ Keeper said from outside the fireplace. ‘I’m not built for it. I’m mostly cabbage.’
‘You will be fine,’ Archer said.
‘What about Burp?’ Keeper said and he knelt and threw his arms around the dragon’s long neck.
‘When we’re both at the top I will climb down and tie the rope around Burp, then I will climb up again. Together we will pull Burp up.’
‘Come on, let’s get on with this,’ Archer said.
‘Who are you down there?’ A strange voice called from the chimney.
Echoing down from above.
‘Are you deaf or something? I said who are you?’ It sounded like a girl.
Archer and Keeper stared at each other, both their mouths hanging open.
Who was that?
Weaver
‘Who’s that up there?’ Archer called up into the black space.
‘I asked first,’ the voice up there said, sounding strange from the echoing down the chimney. It definitely sounded like a girl.
‘I’m Archer and this is Keeper,’ called Archer.
‘And Burp,’ Keeper whispered.
‘And Burp,’ called Archer. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Why are you shooting arrows through my floor?’ The voice said.
‘I’m sorry,’ Archer said. ‘We’re just trying to get out of the Tower. The only way is up the chimney.’
The voice did not respond. Archer and Keeper looked at each other. ‘You can’t escape,’ the voice said after a moment. ‘It’s not possible.’
‘It is,’ Archer said up the chimney. ‘I got out of the ground floor up to this one. Now we’re coming up to your one.’
‘The Alchemist will catch you,’ the girl’s voice called down at them, echoing.
‘He hasn’t caught us so far,’ Archer called. ‘Don’t you want to get out too?’
There was no reply.
Archer waited a bit longer then called up into the silence. ‘That means you do want to. So I am coming up.’
Archer nodded to Keeper, who was smiling at him and looking excited. ‘Is my arrow secured?’ he called up. ‘Will it bear my weight?’
There was a pause.
‘Not really,’ said the voice.
‘Well, then tie it up to something,’ Archer said, feeling a gust of anger rise up in him.
There were scuffling sounds and the rope jerked about.
‘It’s tied up now,’ the girl said.
He climbed the rope.
His arms ached from his earlier climb. As he pulled his way into the darkness and got higher, his heart raced and he forgot the soreness.
He pulled up with his hands, pulled himself higher, lifted up his knees high, gripped the rope with his ankles and pushed himself higher. Then he did the process again. And again.
His breathing got heavier from the effort. The sound of his breath echoed in the closed-in space around him. The skin on his palms got hot and sore from the rope. After a while, his knees bashed into the chimney wall and he put his feet on the sloping stones and half-walked his way up the rest of the way to the top.
It was not a wooden trapdoor this time. It was a metal grate.
There was faint light coming through the bars above his head. The light was very faint but he could see his rope disappearing between them into the room above.
‘Hello?’ Archer called. ‘Could you let me through, please?’ He held tight to the rope.
A face appeared right above him. It was too dark to see exactly what they looked like but Archer thought it was definitely a girl.
‘Please,’ said Archer, his voice strained. ‘It’s quite a long way down.’
‘What’s in it for me if I do let you through?’ she said.
Archer tightened his grip. ‘Look. You are a prisoner, too, aren’t you? You could escape. With us. Come on What else have you got to do today?’
His arms were shaking. His hands were sweating. They started to slip.
‘Fine,’ said the girl through the grate. ‘But I bet you this doesn’t end well.’
She pulled the grate up with a creaking and screeching of the hinges. Archer pulled himself up through the hole in the floor.
The room he was in was very dark indeed but the girl on her knees by the hole was holding a lantern gave off a pale light through dirty glass.
‘Thank you,’ said Archer, breathing heavily and rubbing his arms. ‘I’m Archer.’
‘Yes, yes, I’m Weaver,’ said the girl. ‘Now, how do we get out of here?’
Archer looked at her.
Weaver was skinny and pale under her green tunic. She had a long face with her mouth turned down at the edges. She had a long nose with a big ridge at the top.
Even in the dim light, Archer could see that they were a fantastic bright green, shining like the light through a leaf on a summer’s day. They were striking, even with bags and dark circles under them.
Her hair was brown and sticking out all over the place from where she must have hacked it off with a knife. She was giving off a strong smell of crisp leaves and conkers and earth, as if she had just come in from a long walk.
However, the girl did not look very well at all. There was a green tinge on her bone-white skin. Like she had not been outside, not seen the sun at all, for a very long time.
‘Hold on, Weaver,’ said Archer. ‘We have to get Keeper and Burp up here with us. Then we can be on our way.’ He looked up at the next chimney. ‘Probably.’
‘How many of you are down there?’ Weaver asked, crossing her arms. ‘How come you all get to live together but I’m stuck here by myself?’
‘I just met them while I was escaping. Now we’re all escaping together.’ Archer put his hand on the girl’s shoulder. ‘You’re one of us, now.’
Weaver flung her shoulder back. ‘I don’t want to be one of you,’ she said. ‘I just want to get out of here. So what’s the plan?’
‘Fine then,’ said Archer. ‘Just help me pull Keeper up. He’s heavy.’
He called down to Keeper to tie the rope round his chest and to hold on. Together Archer and Weaver slowly pulled Keeper up.
It was not too bad at first but after a few pulls they were both breathing heavily, especially Weaver who was panting, her throat rasping and her narrow chest sounded like it was gargling. She did not stop or complain.
Soon enough they had Keeper at the top of the opening. They pulled him through.
‘Thank you,’ said Keeper, slapping Archer on the back as he bent over getting his breath back.
‘What are they feeding you?’ Weaver said, panting.
‘And thank you, too,’ he said to Weaver. ‘I’m Keeper, is this where you live? Look at all this stuff, this is wonderful. This is better than my room. Where did you get all this from?’
Archer looked around properly for the first time.
It was dark but the lantern threw off enough light to see a fair way. It was full of stuff. On one side it was big bales of wool. On the other it was enormous rolls of cloth, bigger than any Archer had ever seen.
In the middle of the room was an enormous great device. It was all string and bars and pedals. It was huge. Twice as tall as Archer was and many paces long.
‘What on earth is that thing?’ Keeper asked.
‘It’s called a loom,’ said Weaver, her arms crossed, frowning.
‘What is it for?’ Keeper said. ‘Can I have a go?’
‘No,’ said Weaver. ‘It’s for weaving wool into cloth. That’s why I’m called Weaver. That’s what I do.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Archer. ‘That sounds like a hard job.’
‘It’s the hardest job there is,’ said Weaver. Her green eyes seemed to shimmer in the light.
‘I’m sure it is,’ Archer said. ‘Right then, let’s lower the rope back down and I’ll go tie it on to Burp, then we can pull him up together.’
‘Do you need more time to get your breath back?’ Keeper asked.
‘No time to waste.’
They threw the rope down the chimney.
Archer looked at his hands.
The palms were red and shiny where all the skin had rubbed away. They would soon turn into two enormous blisters. But that would not happen until he stopped scraping the skin away so he swung himself down and lowered himself into the chimney. Hand over hand he went down and down, walking backwards down the wall until it sloped away. He had to grip the rope with his ankles from there all the way to the bottom.
With relief he felt the floor under his feet again.
The dragon was waiting for him, sitting up expectantly.
He hissed.
‘Hello, Burp,’ Archer said, ‘I’ve come to tie you to the rope so we can pull you up with us into the room upstairs. We met a girl called Weaver,’ he said, lowering his voice, ‘but she’s not very nice.’
Burp growled and looked up.
‘Don’t worry,’ Archer said to him. ‘Keeper’s is just up there.’ The dragon allowed himself to be led over to the fireplace. He let Archer tie the rope securely under his scaled underside and up over his back underneath Burp’s wings. ‘I am taking you to Keeper, do you understand?’
Burp hissed, growled, and looked up the chimney.
Archer grabbed Keeper’s sack of cabbages and slung the looped drawstring over his shoulder.
‘What’s happening?’ called Keeper, down the chimney.
Burp rumbled and his tail swished back and forth.
‘We’re fine, Keeper,’ Archer called, and then turned to the dragon. ‘I just need to climb up the rope again. Then we will pull you up and you’ll be with Keeper again.’ Archer rubbed him on his scaly head, feeling the warmth of him. ‘Wait here,’ he said, ‘like a good dragon.’
Archer took a deep breath and pulled his way up the rope again, with the sack of cabbages over his shoulder. His arms were burning in pain right away but it was easier in one sense because he knew now what to expect.
When he got to the top, Keeper helped to pull him through. Weaver stood over Keeper with her arms folded.
‘How was he, was he afraid? Did he seem like he missed me?’ Keeper asked. ‘Did he look hungry?’
‘Come on let’s hurry and pull him up, shall we?’ Archer said, between deep breaths. ‘Weaver, lend a hand, there, would you?’
They all took hold of the rope, Archer, Keeper then Weaver at the back and started heaving on the rope.
‘Quite light, isn’t he,’ said Keeper as they yanked him up bit by bit. ‘Lighter than you’d think.’
‘Perhaps he is like a bird,’ said Archer. ‘Hollow bones?’
‘What you two on about?’ said Weaver, just as Burp’s head came over the top of the hole.
She cried out, jumped back, letting go of the rope.
Archer and Keeper fought to keep their grip. They held on and pulled Burp up over the rim.
Weaver hopped back across the room. ‘What is that thing?’
‘It’s a Burp,’ said Keeper. ‘And he’s my friend.’
Keeper threw his arms round Burp’s neck and Burp hissed in pleasure, his tail snaking back and forth.
Weaver looked at Keeper as if he was mad. ‘But what is it? Why is it here? What’s wrong with its legs?’
She held a knife in her hand and looked ready to use it.
‘It’s a dragon, of course,’ said Keeper. ‘He’s a prisoner like us. That’s why his wings are chained closed. The Alchemist made it my job to look after him. I came to the Tower to ask the Alchemist if I could see a dragon.
He just laughed. You know that big laugh he does? Ever since it’s been me and Burp together in that room down there.’
Weaver stared at them. ‘Since when are there dragons in the Vale?’
‘There aren’t,’ Keeper said, chuckling. ‘Just in the Tower.’
‘What about you?’ Weaver asked Archer.
‘I came here to ask we could keep more of our wheat this year. But the Alchemist did a spell on me and put me in the kitchen. Told me I had to bake five loaves of bread every day. But I am escaping instead. What about you, Weaver?’
She paused for a moment before speaking. ‘I didn’t come wandering up to the Tower like an idiot,’ Weaver said, looking down. ‘I was going up the Vale. For a walk. Only I got lost in a blizzard and couldn’t see anything through the snow and wind. So then what I did was I sheltered against a wall. Turns out that the wall was this Tower.’
Weaver wrapped her scrawny arms around herself, her green-white face gaunt and miserable. She stared through them, at nothing.
Archer did not believe that the girl had gone for a walk in a snowstorm.
She kept talking.
‘The Alchemist spelled me into this room. Like he did with you, probably. And he laughed at me, too, like he did with you, dragon boy. He laughed when I demanded a blanket so I could dry myself and get warm. Then he told me I had to be his weaver. Now I have to sit here all day every day making cloth for him on this stupid loom. Whenever I refuse to work he stops giving me bread.’
She stalked over to the loom. She kicked it, hard. The strings vibrated. There were dozens of them and they made a strange humming sound.
‘My fingers are always sore. They bleed, look. My back aches. And the Alchemist will not even let me have a fire. He does not trust me. He says I would accidentally burn all his precious cloth. So I have to do it all by the tiny flame in my oil lamp. At night I have as many blankets as I could want but the air in here is always cold and damp. I have a cough all the time. And it’s boring.’
‘You’re right. That sounds like the worst job there is,’ said Archer. ‘You must really want to get out of here.’
‘I’d rather find the Alchemist and stick him with this knife,’ she said, clutching it.
‘We don’t want to go anywhere him,’ Archer spluttered. ‘If he sees us then we’re done for. We can’t fight him. I don’t think the Alchemist could be taken down by one girl with a knife.’