Chapter Thirty-Eight

Cloverine

The axe swung swiftly and silently through the air. The tool felt like an extension of Leven’s body. The act felt so natural, which is why what happened next was such a surprise to Leven.

Frond pounced from the tree and onto Leven’s arm, throwing his swing downward and into the ground. Bits of glass and soil shot up as Leven fell to the ground rolling. The axe bounced and flew across the courtyard while the clouds above began to rain blue streaks down.

“What are you doing?” Leven yelled.

“I won’t let you do it,” Frond screamed, baring his small white teeth. He leapt up from the ground, aiming for Leven’s neck.

“No way,” Clover hollered, moving in from the right side and knocking Frond down. “Nobody bites my burn but me.”

Frond and Clover rolled across the ground swatting at one another.

Foo shifted, and Leven had to brace himself against the tree to keep from falling. The tree moaned and creaked.

Frond disappeared.

“Alderam Degarus!” Leven yelled.

Frond reappeared midleap, diving for Leven. Clover sprang up and grabbed Frond by the ankles, causing both of them to hit the ground inches away from Leven.

“This isn’t about you,” Frond yelled. “You filthy sycophant.”

“Do you sing to your mother with that mouth?” Clover yelled back.

Frond looked confused. He grabbed Clover’s arm and yanked it backwards. Clover yelped and twisted, falling onto his back against the ground.

“Chop the tree,” Clover yelled out.

Leven scrambled onto his feet and ran for the axe. He picked it up, spun around, and got a face full of Frond. Frond was on his head scratching away at his hair and pulling clumps out.

“Stop!” Leven screamed.

Clover scurried up Leven and attacked Frond from behind, desperately trying to pull the sycophant off of Leven.

“I speak for the tree,” Frond screamed.

“Who cares?” Clover screamed back. Clover ripped Frond from Leven’s head and the two of them flew to the ground, crashing into a protruding root. Clover cried out and tried to twist out from under Frond, but Frond was kicking madly. He grabbed Clover’s ears and pulled.

A high-pitched screaming, like that of a yodeler being branded, rang out.

“Clover!” Leven yelled.

“Just chop the tree,” Clover yelled back.

Leven looked at the axe in his hand and then swung. Frond barreled into Leven’s left leg, causing him to flip forward and land on his face.

The axe slid up against the tree.

Clover jumped onto Frond’s shoulders, grabbed Frond’s eyebrows, and yanked up as hard as he could. Frond screamed and threw his head forward, propelling Clover down hard against the ground.

“Stay out of this,” Frond demanded.

“No way,” Clover yelled.

“You have no idea what’s at stake!”

“I don’t think I’d act any differently if I did,” Clover smiled.

“I speak for the tree,” Frond insisted.

“I speak for myself,” Clover insisted back.

The two of them leapt forward simultaneously, smacking into each other and tumbling to the side. Frond wrapped his right leg around Clover’s waist and spun him like a top. Clover whirled away yelping.

Leven got up and looked around for the axe. Frond spotted it first. He picked it up and hurled it across the courtyard.

“What are you doing?” Leven hollered. “You told me to cut the tree down.”

“I changed my mind.”

“What does the tree think?” Leven asked. “Foo is falling apart.”

The clouds above broke up just enough to show the smallest sun falling from the sky. The wind up above the monastery was swirling madly and pushing down into the courtyard.

“The tree will live,” Frond said.

Clover dashed in from the side, wrapped his arms around Frond, and tackled him. Leven didn’t waste a second. He ran to the axe, picked it up, and threw it at the tree. The axe whirled through the air but was stopped by Frond, who had pulled away from Clover just in time.

Frond threw the axe away as the tree smacked him from behind. The axe flew across the courtyard and through one of the windows.

“Get it,” Clover yelled. “I’ll hold him off.”

Leven scrambled to his feet and raced across the courtyard and into the building. The axe had flown through a third-story window, so Leven had to find some stairs. He spotted some at the end of the hall. He ran quickly, took the stairs three at a time, and spilled out on the third floor.

The axe was in the third room he checked. He picked it up and shoved the handle down the back of his pants. He then ran down the stairs and outside. Clover had just thrown Frond down against the glass path, and Frond was now picking glass from his fur and calling Clover names.

“Nit lover,” Frond yelled. “We have served for too long. Our moment is now.”

“I don’t even really know what that means,” Clover admitted, jumping on top of Frond and punching him directly in the face.

Frond’s small nose began to bleed. Clover looked at his fist, amazed by what he had done. Frond used the moment to flip Clover back over and pin him to the ground.

“No axe?” Clover yelled out as Leven came running up.

“I couldn’t find it,” Leven lied. “You’re faster.”

Clover rolled out from under Frond’s hold and shot toward the building. Frond followed after him. Leven moved to the tree and pulled the axe from the back of his pants.

The tree moaned deeply.

“Man, I hope you’re telling me to chop you down,” Leven said seriously. He then drew the axe back and with all his strength threw his arms forward. Leven spun in a circle and stumbled to the ground.

Frond had stolen the axe from his grip at the last moment.

“I’m not stupid,” Frond wailed.

Leven leaned up on his hands. “Well, you’re confusing.”

Clover was back. “I couldn’t find . . . hey, I thought you . . . oh.”

The sky turned red.

“I have obeyed every wish this tree has ever whispered,” Frond said. “But I’ve decided that I can’t let you chop it down. I love this tree.”

Leven closed his eyes. It had been some time since he had felt the kind of calm he needed to rest his eyes and look to the future.

There was nothing there. It reminded Leven of the scene he had witnessed when the Dearth had shown him the future. It was so dark and depressing Leven could barely breathe.

“Are you okay?” Clover asked. “Your eyes are wigging out.”

Leven stood up and looked down at Frond. “Give me the axe.”

“No.”

The tree jabbed Frond hard enough in the back to cause him to throw the axe forward. It landed at Leven’s feet. Leven picked it up and turned it in his hand.

“Move,” Leven commanded.

“I won’t let you do it,” Frond raged. He sprang toward Leven’s arm with his teeth bared. It was greatly forbidden for one sycophant to bite another sycophant’s burn—especially if it was out of anger. But Frond’s mind was warped, and the bit of his brain that showed him right from wrong was buried by a much larger, angrier bit that was looking to protect the tree.

Clover pulled one of the sticks he had refused to burn from his void and, holding it with both hands, shoved it toward Frond. Frond’s teeth bit down, hit the stick, and snapped it in two.

“How dare you?” Frond screamed. “If you had any idea of position and rank, you would bow to me and do my bidding.”

“Well, I guess I’m lucky I have no idea,” Clover yelled back.

Frond jumped forward and pushed Clover’s shoulders back down and against the ground. “This isn’t your fight.”

Clover closed his eyes and threw his hands to the side as if to deflect the blows. No blows came.

Clover opened his eyes.

Frond was sitting on him looking baffled. There were dark red marks across Frond’s chest, and the marks seemed to be oozing. Clover looked at his hands and marveled.

“Finally,” Clover whispered.

Leven looked down at Clover and smiled. “You got your claws.”

Most sycophants’ claws grew in when they were posted as guards on the shores of Sycophant Run. The claws would stay for the few years they served and then fall off. Clover, however, had never gotten his claws. It was a source of great embarrassment to him. Now, right when he needed them most, they had finally appeared.

“Claws?” Frond said, confused. He jumped off of Clover as quickly as he could.

Clover sprang to his feet and swiped his claws though the air. Frond looked like he had just swallowed something disgusting.

“Leven,” Clover said calmly, “chop down that tree.”

Frond turned as if to make a move, but Clover simply scraped his claws together. The sound was full of pain and portend. Frond began to sob.

“Do you cry for the tree as well?” Clover asked.

Leven gripped the axe, stepped forward, and swung. The axe sliced into the tree’s trunk, sending out sparks of fire from bits of metal in the wood. Leven fell down unconscious next to it.