“You’ll have to do better than that,” said Baron Dyer as he stopped just in front of Bobby. Then, with his razor-sharp claws, he gripped Bobby’s neck and began to strangle him.
Bobby rasped loudly. His eyes began to loll about in his head, when suddenly Baron Dyer screamed in pain. He dropped Bobby on the floor.
Behind the Baron, Smitten brandished his thorn sword. It dripped with crimson blood. Smitten had laid a long, shallow slice diagonally down Baron Dyer’s back.
“Is that any way to treat your uncle?” growled Baron Dyer as a very concerned Lady Blouse ran up behind him and started swiveling her knife at all of them, especially Cheska.
“It is the way to treat an uncle like you,” said Smitten, jabbing at the Baron’s legs.
But the Baron was ready for him this time. In a flash he had untucked a crystal dagger, and as Smitten went for his uncle’s left shoulder, Baron Dyer leaped up, spun in the air, and deftly punched his knife into the back of Smitten’s shoulder blade. With a grunt, Smitten fell to the floor.
“SMITTEN!” yelled Cheska, pushing Lady Blouse toward Mrs. Sox and running to Smitten.
Squirrel felt his stomach drop. Smitten was hurt. Bobby was on the floor. Akbar was . . . He did not want to know. He felt fear grip him as he saw Baron Dyer grin and start moving toward him.
Squirrel tried to get out of the way, but he was blocked by the twisting bodies of Mrs. Sox and Lady Blouse, who were lunging at each other—lurching and leaning, tilting and spinning—in what looked like a tango-to-the-death.
Squirrel stepped back. Baron Dyer moved closer, ignoring the blood leaking down his back. Squirrel felt his muscles snap as the Baron grabbed his shoulders, his perfect white teeth glinting in the red dusk. “Now you’re mine, you little rodent.”
“Not yet, Colonel,” said Azulfa.
In a flash, the black bird hurled herself at the Baron, her beak angled downward. Deftly she sliced at his arm with force, drawing a long gash of blood from his shoulder to his elbow. Baron Dyer winced, letting go of Squirrel for a moment. It was enough for Azulfa. She kicked Baron Dyer with her wiry legs, forcing him to lose his balance.
By the time Baron Dyer had picked himself up, Azulfa had wrapped her wings around Squirrel, using her tough, feathered body to envelop him completely.
“Zulf, your feathers are pricking me,” choked Squirrel as a clump of feathers thrust themselves in his mouth.
But Azulfa ignored him and continued to lock him within her body. He felt her muscles stretch with tension. Through her wings, Squirrel watched Baron Dyer swagger toward them, the dagger glinting in his wrist. The Baron was just about to try to wrench Squirrel out of Azulfa’s grip when Des, who Lady Blouse had knocked flat on the floor, crawled over and bit into his calf.
“Get away, mutt,” grunted the Baron, grinding his heel into Des’s stomach and flattening the pulp out of the dog once again.
“Des!” Squirrel heard himself scream. He tried to run over to his friend, but Azulfa kept him firmly in place.
“Just stay with me,” she whispered to him.
“Give him to me, you fetid bird!” said the Colonel, putting a strong arm on Azulfa and shaking her so hard that Squirrel felt dizzy.
“Not while I have breath in my body,” quaked Azulfa.
Squirrel saw the Baron’s eyes go pink with rage. With a savage growl he attacked Azulfa, digging his mouth into her neck as he tried to pry apart the wings and get at Squirrel. However, Azulfa had locked her wings together too firmly.
In his cocoon of feathers Squirrel got shunted left, shoved right, shaken front, and shuffled back. There were “meows” and “kaws” as the powerful crow and the strong cat tussled fiercely. Squirrel tried desperately to help, but he was stuck like a pea in its pod.
And, then, Squirrel heard a snap. The muscles in Azulfa’s body slackened. A groan died in her stomach.
“Aaaah . . .”
Azulfa’s wings loosened, and Squirrel knew something had gone horribly wrong. But before he could think, the Baron had peeled Azulfa’s wings apart. He stood there in front of Squirrel, his face taut with victory.
“I’ve got you now,” sneered Baron Dyer as he threw Azulfa off Squirrel like a useless shrug.
As Squirrel stared at the tall, muscular cat, he knew that it was time to fight. Squaring his shoulders, he took a deep breath, yanked a cord of courage from his gut to his throat, and announced, “I’m not going with you, Baron Dyer.”
Then, with all the force he had in him, Squirrel thrust himself forward, driving his acornlike head into the Baron’s solar plexus. Squirrel winced as his skull crashed into an abdomen that could have been forged from construction steel.
“That’s your defense?” sniggered the Baron, grasping Squirrel’s acorn-shaped head and pinning it under his arm like a basketball.
Squirrel slid helplessly on his sweaty heels. He tried jerking his head out of the Baron’s grip, but before he could, he felt four claws pierce his right shoulder, tear through his fur, and cleave four deep gashes into his muscles. Squirrel swallowed a howl as four blistering streaks of pain seared his mind.
The damage was done. As Squirrel’s energy dripped onto the cobblestones, he knew that his handicap was complete. He had just enough strength to either strike the Baron once more or try to free himself from the grip. Either way, the Baron would incapacitate him with a couple of swipes of his wolverine-like claws.
Trying to decide what to do, Squirrel eyeballed the battlefield. From the corner of his eye Squirrel saw Cheska. It seemed as though she had tucked both Smitten and Des behind one of the pillared arches. He could not see what state each of them was in, but his stomach lurched as he heard a sob burst from Cheska’s lips.
Forcing his eyes away from the pillars, Squirrel saw Mrs. Sox and Lady Blouse still dueling, both covered in webs of runny red gashes. Akbar was crumpled on the far side of the yard, his body snapped on itself like a horseshoe. Bobby lay still with a smattering of thick, ruby-colored beads glistening on his neck. Azulfa lay right next to Squirrel, her sharp, strong face looking empty as it rested on a slab of cold stone.
Squirrel forced the prickly lump of fear down his throat. Then, gritting his teeth, he decided, Well, if I’m going down too, I’m causing as much damage as I can.
With a jerk of his jaw, Squirrel turned his chin toward the Baron’s forearm that gripped his head. Opening his mouth as wide as he could, Squirrel dug his strong, nut-cracking teeth into Baron Dyer’s arm. With sadistic satisfaction, Squirrel heard Baron Dyer yelp with pain and he felt bones crunch under his teeth. His mouth filled with the Baron’s hot, bitter blood.
Resisting the urge to spit, Squirrel dug his teeth deeper into the Baron’s flesh. He began to count each glorious moment he made the Baron squirm with pain—one, two, three, four, five, six . . .
The Baron had stopped writhing. Squirrel braced himself, preparing for the Baron’s revenge.
A muscular cord coiled itself around his neck. Squirrel let go of the Baron’s mangled arm as the snakelike rope slithered around his gullet three times and began to squeeze it. It took Squirrel a moment to realize that the cord was Baron Dyer’s tail.
This is how I will die, thought Squirrel as a tizzy of stars burst on his pupils. The veins in his neck stiffened and his lungs became hollow lead cases. His brain was just being lulled into a coma when the noose slid off his neck.
As a gush of air inflated Squirrel, he realized that the Baron had taken a small step back. Forcing his mind to attention, Squirrel balled his fists, getting ready to defend himself against the Baron’s next attack. He hopped from one foot to the other, imitating what he had seen boxer dogs do in fights.
That’s when he realized that the Baron was wincing.
“Thought you were invincible, did you?” sniggered a voice behind the Baron. As the Baron turned around to face his new opponent, Squirrel saw a whip around the Baron’s neck and a blade buried into the tall cat’s lower back. Behind him, Mrs. Sox stood,
drenched in sweat and blood. Lady Blouse lay panting on the floor next to her, her blade nowhere in sight.
Squirrel felt a soft hand grip his uninjured shoulder. He turned around and saw Cheska next to him. Silently she guided him over to the pillar against which Smitten and Des were propped up.
“Reckon we were done for,” croaked Des.
Squirrel threw his arms around the injured dog. “Ouch. Careful, Squirrel!”
Sorry, sorry, mouthed Squirrel, untangling himself from his friend and looking over at Smitten. Smitten gave Squirrel a small smile, and Squirrel sighed. They were alive.
“Squirrel, look,” whispered Cheska, pointing over to where Mrs. Sox stood facing the injured Baron, a smug smile pasted on her face.
“So, Colonel,” began Mrs. Sox, “what do you have to say to this fat carcass now? Any last words before I finish you off?” As she spoke, Mrs. Sox placed her hand on the handle of the blade she had won from Lady Blouse and used to skewer the Colonel. Slowly she drew it out of his back.
“Yes,” managed the Colonel, gritting his teeth in agony. “Madame, don’t count your kittens before they purr . . .”
And before Squirrel could shout out a warning, Lady Blouse—who had crawled over to the Madame’s feet—bit into her chubby ankle.
A blood-chilling screech clanged through the courtyard as Mrs. Sox kicked at Lady Blouse, and toppled—butt-first—onto the hard cobblestone.
Her moment of imbalance was enough. Getting up, Lady Blouse wrapped the Colonel’s arms around her shoulder. With a tender expression, she licked the Baron’s wound. Then, with what seemed like all her might, Lady Blouse began to run toward the thicket of trees, with the Colonel leaning against her.
Squirrel watched as they fled across the yard, leaving a trail of blood behind them. It took him a moment to register what was happening. When he did, he whooped with delight. “They’re running away!” yelled Squirrel, jumping out from behind the pillar. “They’re running away! We won!”
But, just as they were about to disappear into the woods, the Colonel called out, “This is far from over, Squirrel. You walnut-brained buffoon, you have no idea what you have. You won’t even recognize Brittle’s Key if you see it! But you wait and watch, one day soon, one day very soon, I’m going to come back for it. I’m going to come back for you!”
With that chilling promise, Colonel Baron Dyer and Lady Blouse plunged into the eerie shelter of the trees.
“After them!” cried Mrs. Sox, pointing to the spot where Lady Blouse and the Baron had disappeared. As she yelled, the five Kowas who had melted away during the battle materialized again. With a quick nod of their chins, the black birds spread their wings and took off into the clump of trees.
Turning to Squirrel, Mrs. Sox said, “You should’ve tried to stop them!”
“With all due respect, Mrs. Sox, I thought that—” But before Squirrel could continue, the fat Persian cat bit into his words. “Whatever! You’re just an empty bucket full of nothing but excuses, Squirrel! I should never have expected more from you. Now, because of you, that devil and his pretty little mistress are still on the loose. And neither you nor I is safe while they are.”
Though Squirrel nodded as Mrs. Sox ranted, his attention shifted to the remnants of the battle. Three bodies were strewn on the stone yard. Squirrel felt a dark haze swirl around him. He watched Cheska wrap a handkerchief around Bobby’s neck and put her ear right above his heart. He watched as her limp expression brightened and tears of relief coated her eyes. She smiled weakly, propped Bobby up, and gently shook him till he awoke.
Squirrel sighed. Bobby would be fine, but what about the other two? Squirrel’s eyes panned over to where Akbar lay, broken like a twig. Smitten, who was weak but able to move, leaned over him. Squirrel watched Smitten rearrange Akbar’s limbs and begin to frantically pump the Alsatian’s chest with his palms. Squirrel looked away. He could not watch anymore.
Instead Squirrel walked over to Azulfa, his throat drying like ash as he saw the bird. He kneeled down beside her and turned her around. He placed his paw on her chest.
Azulfa’s feathers were still warm. Her muscles were still strong. Her face was still sketched with determination. But she was still.
Squirrel looked into her hollow eyes and choked. Azulfa would never move again.
He wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her wing. As her smell filled his lungs, he hugged her tighter and tighter. Tears from the pit of his stomach spilled down his face. Desperate to make her move, he shook her like a baby.
Somewhere, far away, he felt someone trying to pull him. He ignored them. He grasped her black feathers and buried his head deeper in her chest. This could not be good-bye.
He clutched the lady who had given her life for him. And as they swayed together on the cold cobblestone yard, Squirrel closed his wet eyes and made Azulfa rock him like a child for the first and last time.
A Send-off
Squirrel insisted on carrying Azulfa home. The others let him. His shoulders crumbled under her weight. He did not care. He had to take Azulfa back to Bimmau—he owed her that at least.
“Reckon we’ll be home by the time the sun rises?” asked Des, his feet slapping the dark street.
Squirrel could not speak. All he could focus on was the weight of the body on his shoulders.
They trudged on in silence until Des whispered, “What are you going to do with her?”
Squirrel looked straight ahead and swallowed the lump in his gullet. “I don’t know.”
“My house is that way,” said Mrs. Sox as they entered Bimmau.
Squirrel nodded, not knowing what to say to this cat. What could he say after what they had all just been through? How could he thank her for fighting for him?
Not finding any words, he managed a small smile. She jerked her neck back at him, turned on her heel, and plodded off. Just before she turned off the road, she looked back at Squirrel. “Till we meet again,” she said, giving him a small, awkward wave of her fat hand.
With all his energy, he lifted his arm and waved back at her. As she disappeared out of sight, he could not believe that a few sunrises ago, he was just the PetPost slave, Mrs. Sox was waiting for an invitation, Smitten and Cheska were not married, and he had never met Des. Or Azulfa . . .
Bobby’s voice cut into Squirrel’s thoughts. “I think we’d better get Akbar home. He needs to rest.”
“He’ll be all right, won’t he?” Des asked as Bobby and Smitten supported a semi-awake Akbar between them.
“He’ll be fine; Aubry will have him back to normal in less than half a moon cycle,” said Cheska with a watery smile. “But we should take him home now. Why don’t you come with us, Squirrel? You shouldn’t be alone right now.”
Squirrel knew she was right. But he also knew he would not go home with them. He had something very important to do first.
“Thanks, Cheska. I’ll come over later,” he said. As though in a vacuum, he turned toward his own home in Wickory Wood with Azulfa slung on his shoulder.
He was about to set off when he felt Azulfa’s weight lighten. “Mate, did you actually think I’d leave you alone? I’m coming with you.” Des wedged himself under Azulfa’s wing. “Now, where’re we off to?”
Despite himself Squirrel smiled. Suddenly he did not feel all that empty anymore. “To put Azulfa to bed.”
Squirrel ripped the last bit of bark off and handed it to Des. With the vine Des tied the strips of wood together. When he was done, Squirrel wiped his hands on his torn PetPost uniform. Azulfa’s raft was ready.
Gently they placed Azulfa on the wooden bed. They tucked a pillow of blue petals under her head, sprinkled her feathers with salt, and wrapped her cold body in Squirrel’s softest quilt. Squirrel almost smiled—Azulfa had never looked so peaceful.
It was dusk by the time they got Azulfa to the ocean, and Squirrel was glad for it. The dipping sun tinted her black body with gold and pink. The balmy breeze ruffled her feathers, making her
look younger than ever. The water lapped around her, promising to wash away her troubles forever. Squirrel breathed deeply. It was time to say good-bye.
Squirrel waded into the ocean. He looked at Azulfa for the last time, knowing he would think about her every day he lived. He began to shake.
A paw touched his shoulder. It gave him strength; Squirrel pushed the raft into the sea.
As Azulfa drifted into the sunset, Des said, “She was a good lady at heart.”
Squirrel whispered, “Go well, Zulf. Thank you.” Slowly he turned around and stumbled out of the water.
In silence, he and Des walked back to Wickory Wood. Only when they were about to enter his cottage did Des say, “Mate, are you ready to go upstairs and find Brittle’s Key?”
“Not today. I’ll wait till tomorrow. Today . . . let today just be Azulfa’s day.” And with that, Squirrel crawled upstairs, got into his bed, and tumbled into sleep, with Des following him.
In the Nook
It was still dark when Squirrel got out of bed. He went over to his desk and removed the only blue book from the nook above it. He stared at the big, blocky words on the front, not reading them. He felt the air rush through his teeth.
He looked at Des, who was snoring like a rocket engine. He felt a stab of guilt. Des would have wanted to find the key with him, but Squirrel knew that this was something he had to do on his own.
Squirrel peeled the glossy blue paper jacket off the book. He threw it on the floor.
He ran his paws across the leather cover of the book, feeling for a bump, a lump, or anything that could be a hidden key. He found nothing.
His heart ticked like a time bomb. Where was it? He checked the bottom of the book. Nothing. He flipped through each page. Nothing. He was about to rip the book apart to look for the key in the binding when a glint from the floor caught his eye. He looked down. Something glimmered on the back of the book’s blue jacket.
Squirrel snatched the glossy blue flap and flipped it over. A blur of squares and scribbles swam on the page. Squirrel blinked. He was staring at a crossword puzzle with three rows of circles outlined in gold. Next to it was a sea of words.
The Tale of a No-Name Squirrel Page 20