Braver Page 12

  “Lola!” A familiar voice bellowed her name as a plump bundle of baby feathers waddled toward her. Lola scooped Blue into her arms. “You wandered off again, you bad little penguin.”

  “I fly! I fly!” He flapped his flippers, then pointed at the basket. Lola and Melvin looked at each other with a mixture of relief and confusion. “I fly!”

  “Blue, I’m sorry, but you’re the kind of bird who can’t fly,” Lola gently told him.

  “Squwhaaaaat?”

  The trio looked over at the giant basket, ears and noses twitching as they noticed the strange new scent. A black-feathered head with a wickedly curved, black-tipped beak poked up from within the basket. Both Lola and Melvin gasped, startled by the bird’s sudden appearance. The bird’s black feathers ruffled indignantly as he scowled at the three travelers. “Who said I can’t fly?”

  “Um, sorry for the confusion,” Lola explained. “I wasn’t saying that you can’t fly. I was talking to Blue. He’s a penguin and, well, penguins can’t fly.”

  The head disappeared for a moment. Then a door opened in the side of the basket and a bird stepped out. Lola had to suppress a gasp of astonishment. The poor creature’s left wing was gone, leaving him so unbalanced that he used his right wing as a sort of crutch.

  “Are you saying there’s something wrong with a bird who can’t fly?” He puffed up his feathers again, eyes gleaming sharply in the light bouncing off his polished beak.

  “Lola didn’t mean to insult you,” Melvin said, stepping between Lola and the sharp-beaked critter. “She was simply stating a fact. Penguins can’t fly.”

  “That’s right,” Lola said, still holding tight to Blue.

  The bird narrowed his black eyes and pointed his good wing at Melvin. “Well I think yer fulla beans! Everyone used to tell me that I couldn’t fly ‘cause I only got this one good wing. But I proved ’em wrong. I flew all the way across this island, I did. So I say, instead of crushing that little fella’s dreams, why not give him a fair go? All he needs to do is get his pilot’s license like the one I got here.” He pointed to a tag that hung around his neck. Despite the bird’s ominous beak, Lola and Melvin leaned forward to read the tag:

  Ofissial Pilot Licens

  4 Captain Bogart

  to flie his hot air beloon

  It didn’t look official. It looked as if it had been written on a scrap piece of paper, and quite poorly at that. “What’s a hot-air balloon?” Lola asked.

  Captain Bogart pointed his wing at the large standing basket. “Yer looking at it. I invented it. Got tired of the other birds always picking on me ’cause I was grounded.” His expression softened. “I don’t expect you to understand. You don’t know what it’s like to be different from yer friends and family.”

  “Oh, believe me, we do,” Melvin said.

  Bogart cocked his head. “Now that you mention it, you don’t look like a typical swamp water rat. And you, young lady, you’re awful short for a wallaby.”

  “That’s because I’m not a wallaby. I’m a wombat. I’m Lola, by the way. And this is Melvin and Blue.”

  “How does your balloon work?” Melvin asked.

  Bogart began to strut around the contraption. “It’s a genius idea, if I do say so myself. I fill the balloon with hot air and when the balloon is fully inflated, it rises into the sky.”

  “Seems a bit dangerous,” Melvin whispered to Lola.

  “How do you steer it?” Lola wondered. There didn’t appear to be a wheel or oars.

  “I catch the wind. It takes great skill.” He pointed to his license. “But I don’t expect you to understand. You don’t have an official license like I do.”

  Melvin looked around at the strewn crates. “It looks like you crashed here.”

  “Squwhaaaaat?” The bird rustled his tail feathers. “I didn’t crash. I landed here on purpose. In this place called…” He paused, mumbling to himself as he glanced at the tall stalks of wheat on all sides.

  “The Mouse Farmlands,” Lola said, partially interrupted as he repeated what she said a split second after.

  “The Mouse Farmlands. Yes, of course. The Mouse Farmlands. Indeed, I knew that, of course. Right here, in the middle of this field, in this exact spot, is where I planned to land.” He was certainly making a big deal about it.

  Blue wiggled in Lola’s arms, so she set him down. He immediately waddled over to one of the crates and poked his beak inside. “Captain Bogart,” Lola asked. “Did you lose some baskets near the swamp?”

  “Maybe. But I didn’t crash up there, if that’s what yer insinuating, missy.”

  “And did you happen to visit Penguin Bay before you landed, on purpose, near the swamp?”

  “Yep. Bought myself some fish at the Penguin Fish Market.” He eyed them suspiciously.

  Lola smiled at Melvin. “Blue must have climbed into the hot-air balloon to eat some of that fish. And then he probably fell asleep.”

  “Squwhaaaaat? That little bloke was a stowaway?”

  Melvin shook his head in amazement. “Blue was telling us the truth after all. He did fly.”

  “I fly!” Blue pecked at the crate. “Hungry!”

  Bogart seemed to have warmed up to the three travelers. He opened the crate and Blue hopped up and down with delight, for it was full of anchovies. “I gotta wait for the wind to change. Yer welcome to join me for lunch. I got some bikkies around here somewhere.”

  Lola remembered seeing the biscuits and she hurriedly collected that crate. Melvin was so hungry he didn’t worry about the lack of napkins or utensils. The biscuits were dry, but neither complained, for the food was free and they were starving. Bogart and Blue shared the anchovies. Lola ate quickly, eager to get back to the Royal Road. No one said a word, too busy stuffing their faces, when Bogart suddenly stopped eating and put his good wing in the air. “You feel that?”

  “It might be a flea,” Melvin said. “I had one earlier.” Bogart glanced worriedly at his wing for a second, before shaking his head and squinting at Melvin, annoyed.

  “No, it’s the wind. The wind’s changing. Time to leave!” Bogart swallowed a herring and hobbled back inside the hot air balloon. Then his head popped up. He held a stick in his beak. The end of it was bright red and smoking.

  “Watch out!” Lola cried. “That stick’s on fire!”

  “Squwhaaaaat?” Bogart held the stick with his wing. “I know it’s on fire. It’s supposed to be on fire.” He disappeared into the depths of the basket.

  “I just realized what kind of bird he is,” Melvin told Lola. “He’s a firehawk.” When Lola looked at him with a puzzled expression, he continued. “Firehawks carry fire with them. It’s how they hunt. Well, it’s how they used to hunt. They used to carry burning sticks so they could set fields on fire. They’d wait at the edge of the fire for insects and lizards to flee the flames. Then they’d feast. But firehawks aren’t allowed to spread fire anymore, not since the Great Burn.”

  “If he’s not supposed to spread fire, then why does he have it?” Lola asked. Was this another law that Queen Myra had changed? She and Melvin crept up to the gondola and peered over its rim.

  A potbelly furnace sat in the middle of the gondola. Bogart had set small pieces of kindling inside the furnace and was lighting them with his burning stick. A red flame flared for a moment, and then the kindling caught fire. The space above the furnace began to shimmer as hot air flowed out the top. At the sight of the flame, Lola’s heart began to pound. “Why are you making fire?”

  “Can’t have a hot-air balloon without hot air,” Bogart told her. He set his stick inside, then closed the furnace. The fire appeared to be trapped, held captive in the metal chamber. “Now I’ll fill the balloon and be on my way.”

  “Where are you going?” Lola asked.

  “To Dore.”

  “You’re going to Dore?” Her eyes widened and her heart pounded even faster. This was amazing news. “Can we go with you?”

  “No.” The reply was quick, cli
pped, as Bogart began to gather the large piece of piecemeal fabric.

  “Please, Captain Bogart. Please can we—”

  Melvin nudged Lola aside. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to fly with him. He obviously crashed this thing.”

  “I didn’t crash,” Bogart insisted. “I never crash. I just land unexpectedly.” A metal ring had been sewn into the center of the fabric. Bogart held this ring over the furnace, and as he did so, the fabric began to billow.

  “Why are you going to Dore?” Lola asked.

  “To show my invention to the queen. If I can get her Royal Seal of Approval, then I can get a loan to make more hot-air balloons. I’ll have a whole fleet of them flying around the island, giving tours and such. Think of all the critters who’d love to see Tassie from a bird’s-eye view.”

  It sounded like a great idea, but Lola couldn’t wait for the fleet—she needed a ride now. “Captain Bogart, my uncle is an ambassador. If you take us to Dore I’ll introduce you. He knows the queen. He can help you get a Royal Seal of Approval, I’m sure of it.”

  “Yer uncle, eh?” Bogart let go of the fabric as it fully expanded into a giant balloon. It was an amazing sight as it rose into the air, inflating into an immense structure. As it filled, the seams began to stretch, revealing the stitching that held it together.

  “Yes, my uncle Tobias, ambassador to the Northern Forest and the Realms Beyond.”

  Using his sharp beak and single wing, Bogart began to untangle the ropes until they hung in straight lines, attaching the balloon to the basket. “If you promise to get me a meeting, then you can come with me.”

  “Thank you!” Lola said.

  “The wind doesn’t wait. Hurry up and get into the gondola.”

  “What’s a gondola?” Lola asked.

  “This right here.” He patted the large basket. Then he held open its door. Blue, who’d finished the last anchovy, waddled inside.

  “Home!”

  But Melvin stood frozen in place, wringing his paws nervously. “Rats aren’t meant to fly.”

  Lola could tell he was scared. She was scared, too. There was fire on board, after all! “Melvin, this will get us to Dore much faster than walking. But if you’re not going, then I’m not going. We’re a team, remember?”

  “Hurry, hurry, the wind, can’t miss the wind!” Bogart hollered as he began to untie the hanging stones. One side of the gondola lifted a few inches. But Melvin didn’t move. It appeared he had made up his mind.

  With a disappointed sigh, Lola reached in to retrieve Blue, but Melvin suddenly pushed her inside. Then he stepped in and closed the door. She looked at him with surprise. “We’re a team,” he said. “But if we crash, I may never speak to you again.”

  “Deal,” she said with a grateful smile.

  She pressed against the gondola’s side, keeping as much distance from the furnace as she could. Bogart hopped onto the gondola’s rim, then pulled the pickaxe free. With a jolt, the balloon began to rise. A wave of panic rolled over Lola’s body. Had she made the right decision? They were actually lifting into the air! Wombats, swamp water rats, and penguins didn’t belong in the air. What had she done?

  “Captain Bogart, you’re forgetting all your crates,” she told him.

  “Can’t add any more weight, not with a short, fat wallaby on board.”

  “Wombat,” Lola reminded him again.

  “Lola!” Blue climbed into her arms. Holding him tight, she held him up to get a better view. “I fly!”

  “Yes, Blue, you fly,” Lola said with amazement.

  17

  BIRD’S-EYE VIEW

  Lola sat, wide-eyed and openmouthed, as the world below revealed itself. To her surprise, the height didn’t bother her. Nor did the realization that fire was making this possible. She never would have guessed that she’d take so well to flying. After all, she was a burrow-dweller—a broad-shouldered, thick-bodied critter of the earth. But at that moment, gliding through the air, she felt as light as a feather. Her adventure was like one of the stories in her beloved book. And such was the excitement that she momentarily forgot that her book had been stolen by the overseer’s rats.

  The rolling patchwork of fields disappeared as the balloon floated southwest. Lola hoped that the long-tailed mice hadn’t suffered much from the raid. Even if the rats had taken every piece of produce from the warehouses, fruits and vegetables were still growing in the fields, so surely the mice wouldn’t starve. Would they? Lola would tell her uncle about the situation. She’d tell him how Stella had helped her and how unfair it was for the queen to take all the harvest. It was another part of the puzzle that didn’t make sense.

  “Melvin, look!” The balloon floated over a dense carpet of green. Lola had lived beneath a forest canopy her entire life, but to see it from a bird’s-eye view was breathtaking. The treetops rustled as songbirds took off and landed. This world that existed between land and sky belonged to them.

  I wish I had wings, Lola almost said, but then she remembered that the pilot only had one wing. She didn’t want to offend him.

  “Lola!” Blue tapped his flipper on her leg. He was eager to take in the view, so Lola picked him up so he could see. He spread his flippers wide, feeling the rush of the wind pass between his feathers. Lola laughed and moved him up and down, making him coo in happiness.

  But Melvin did not look at the luscious scenery, for he was clearly not faring well. “I’m dizzy,” he announced as he sat on the gondola floor, a grimace frozen on his face. “This thing feels so wobbly.”

  “You’ll get used to it,” Bogart said.

  Melvin leaned back against the gondola’s wall. “You sure this is safe? How long have you been flying, exactly?”

  “A week, give or take a day.” Bogart perched on the gondola’s rim, his single wing sticking out into the air. He swept the wing from side to side, working simultaneously as rudder and sail.

  “Only a week?” Melvin said with squeak. He grabbed the end of his tail and began nervously wringing it.

  Captain Bogart cocked his little head and gave Melvin a long look of pity. “Scared of flying, are ya? Well, nothing to worry about, mate. The most natural thing a bird can do is fly, and that’s what I’m doing. Just because I’ve only got one wing doesn’t mean I don’t have the instinct.”

  This made sense to Lola. Instinct was a powerful force. She’d never seen fire before this journey but she still had the instinct to avoid it. Her gaze darted to the furnace, which held the flame and its sparks within, like a monster trapped in a box. As long as no one lets the monster out, everything will be okay, Lola thought. And she had to admit that the warmth coming from the furnace felt nice against her back, especially as the air was growing colder the higher they flew.

  “Hello!” Blue cried, waving his flipper at a passing pigeon. He pushed against Lola’s arms, leaning over the gondola’s rim so he could wave at more birds.

  Bogart jumped onto the gondola’s floor. “Since yer my first official passengers, this is a fine time to practice the safety announcement.” He straightened himself to full height, cleared his throat, and hollered. “Attention passengers!” Lola, Blue, and Melvin all turned to look at him. “This is your captain speaking. Once we reach our cruising altitude, you will be free to move about the gondola, but until that time please remain seated with your arms, flippers, and legs inside at all times.” He gave Lola a disapproving look. She pulled Blue away from the gondola’s rim. “Also, please maintain an even weight distribution or we will tip over.” He motioned for Lola to move a bit to the right. When she did, the gondola leveled. “During this journey we will be flying over water. Should the need arise, you may use one of the crates as a flotation device.”

  “Should the need arise?” Melvin asked with another squeak. “What does that mean? Do you expect us to crash? Is that what you’re saying?” He wrung his tail faster.

  “Don’t get yer tail in a knot,” Bogart said. “It’s just a precaution.”

  “B
ut there’s only one crate,” Lola pointed out, spooking Melvin into a new round of mumbles. “And there are four of us.” Indeed, he’d left the other crates behind in the Farmlands.

  “Aye, that does seem to be the case.” Bogart scratched his head. “Well then, I reckon you’ll need to swim.” He shrugged. “Anyhoo, our destination is Dore and our traveling time depends upon the fairness of the wind. Should we encounter any unexpected turbulence and you need to upchuck, please do so over the side. Thank you and enjoy your flight.” He jumped back onto the rim and stuck out his wing again.

  “Unexpected turbulence?” Melvin mumbled. “You know, I think I’ve changed my mind. I’d like to get off as soon as possible. I’ll walk to Dore. Yes, that’s what I’ll do, I’ll walk to Dore.”

  “Can’t stop now. The wind’s in our favor,” Bogart said.

  Lola wasn’t sure how to help Melvin. He looked so frightened, his eyes wide, his nose trembling. He’d been so brave to join her and now he was miserable. She was about to sit next to him when Blue began to shiver.

  “Cold!”

  It was cold. Very cold, all of a sudden. Little Blue, with his downy baby feathers, wasn’t prepared for the chill. And even though Lola had a thick coat of fur, the cold managed to pierce through to her skin. Melvin’s teeth began to chatter. “It is cold,” she said, her jaw trembling.

  “Brrrrrr!” Blue hollered.

  Lola wished she still had her cloak, which would be big enough to wrap around all three of them. Blue pressed against her, trying to burrow into her fur.

  Then a lovely scent tickled her nose. It smelled like fresh rain. They’d reached the clouds. What would it be like to touch one? She reached up, on tiptoes, but the cloud was just a wisp of cold.

  “Blimey, we’re a bit high,” Bogart said. His tone of alarm caught Melvin’s attention. “No worries, I can fix this.” Bogart opened the furnace so hot air was no longer flowing directly into the balloon. The gondola slowly leveled off, then began to descend. As it did, Lola’s ears suddenly felt as if they were filled with something that was expanding and pressing deep within. She gulped, and when she did, there was a little popping sound in each ear and the feeling dissipated.