GreenEmber-1 The Green Ember by S. D. Smith

Author:S. D. Smith [Smith, S. D.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy, Juvenile Fiction
ISBN: 9780986223501
Publisher: Story Warren, LLC
Published: 2014-12-12T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Two

Feet and Feats

Heather lunged ahead, knowing it was hopeless. Even with her considerable speed, she knew she could do nothing. Despair filled her, along with anger at Helmer’s grotesque, selfish folly.

Then she saw a flash of light. A sword sliced through the air, catching slivers of golden light as it sailed, point-first, toward the swinging blade-ridden false bird and the rope that it hung on. It would have to be a perfect throw.

Behind the sailing blade stood Uncle Wilfred, his arm extended and his face contorted by fear and determined concentration.

There was a moment when everything slowed down, and Heather froze in the unsettled middle ground between observer and participant. This was happening, really happening, and she could do nothing about it. Her hopes hung on a thin slice of cold steel.

The blade point found the narrow rope, unbinding the several cords in a beautiful snapping slice. Heather ran to Smalls as the last descending bird, cut loose from its propelling rope, fell to the ground and skidded, then sunk into the grassy ground, fixed by its disappointed blades.

Uncle Wilfred collapsed in relief just as Heather reached Smalls. He was wounded in his feet, both of them sliced by the knives of Helmer’s horrid creations. Behind them came Emma, along with a strange-looking rabbit dressed in white.

“Making way! Out of mine get it, you crazed lookers-on!” the strange rabbit in white cried.

“Please, everyone,” Emma said, motioning for the crowd to back up, “Dr. Zeiger needs room. Back up!”

Dr. Zeiger was a large brown rabbit with long wispy white hairs shooting out all over his head. One of his ears was bent sideways, while the other shot toward the sky. He wore glasses like Father, but these had large red frames that circled his huge wild eyes, one of which was determined to look the wrong way. Heather thought she wouldn’t trust him with sweeping up, let alone healing. He just looked too funny to be taken seriously. And his accent was nothing she had ever heard before. Where could he be from? Far away, she was sure. Beyond even Nick Hollow, Emma had said.

“Yes, yes,” Dr. Zeiger said, pushing some in the crowd away and bending to look at Smalls’ feet. “Out of mine ways, you rabble-crowders. Let’s having a looks at you crazy-tough fighter-kicker with your foots so discouraged by the cutting of the bird-blades.”

“Is he going to be okay?” Heather asked Emma.

“I don’t know. Let the doctor work,” she said, polite but firm.

Heather moved back then, helping to relieve the crush of people gathered around. She found Picket, who was staring off, away from the crowd. With most of the crowd focused on Smalls, few had noticed that Lord Rake and Helmer were having an animated conversation in harsh whispers.

“Picket, what are you—” Heather began, but he held up a hand for silence.

Heather turned and saw the angry hand gestures, the strained faces. It was clear that Lord Rake was giving Helmer more than a piece of his mind.

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