'Sophraea, I think the bush is moving again,' said Gustin.
'It's just a hedge, they used to plant hedges like this around certain gravesites, mostly to keep people from getting too close,' said Sophraea, moving closer to take a better look. Moss covered a metal plaque set halfway up the trunk of the stone tree.
'I swear that bit looks like a snout, a dragons snout,' said Gustin.
'Where?'
'That bit hanging over your head.'
Sophraea looked up. The wizard was right. The long leafy branches overhanging her head looked amazingly like a long nose. Whiffs of mist clung to the branches, giving the impression of smoke curling up from a dragon's nostrils. Smooth, curved thorns resembled fangs. The longer she stared, the more teeth seemed to appear, rather as if a large mouth was opening wide above her head.
'Sophraea!' Gustin yelled. The wizard rushed forward, only to be swatted aside by the twiggy spikes of the creature's tail.
Sophraea leaped away from the hedge as the giant jaw snapped closed above her. As she stumbled. backward, a leafy paw sprang out and caught the edge of her cloak. She tripped. and fell. The shrubbery pounced on her like a large cat on a very small mouse.
SEVEN
Sophraea squirmed under the leafy paw holding her effortlessly down. The pressure was firm on her back but not painful. She pushed her hands into the muddy ground and shoved back. Twigs and branches curled around her, flipping her over effortlessly.
Sophraea blinked at the long and definitely draconic face looming above her. 'Let me up!' she commanded.
The creature curled up its long neck and twisted its head to one side. Large and leafy ears waggled back and forth. Sophraea found herself staring into a bright red berry eye.
'Go on,' she said in as firm a voice as possible when sprawled on the ground and pinned down by a bush. 'Get off me!' The eye blinked but the paw did not shift and she was held fast by the creature. 'Please!' The nostrils twitched and the head dropped. Long slender vines sprouting on either side of its mouth tickled under her chin.
'Oh, how perfectly ridiculous,' said Sophraea, recognizing this gesture as something similar to the way that the baker's dog begged to have its ears scratched.
'You're a very nice bush, a good shrub,' she said. 'Now, get off of me!'
The creature rustled its leaves in a pleased manner but kept Sophraea pinned to the ground.
Out of the corner of her eye, Sophraea saw Gustin stalking forward. Something burned between the loosely closed fingers of his hand. His eyes were blazing emeralds under his long black lashes.
'Don't set it on fire!' Sophraea yelled. She hated to think of this beautiful if inconvenient creature being destroyed.
'This should just sting a little,' Gustin said, neatly leaping over another sweep of the long spiky tail. 'But cover your face.' 'No!' cried Sophraea.
'Stop!' the shout reverberated through the clearing. 'Leave the guardian alone.'
'Not if it keeps holding her,' responded Gustin, lifting his arm to throw his spell.
'Stop! At once!' A tiny green-skinned man sprang forward, stabbing at Gustin's knee with a long thorn that he wielded like a sword. Although he only came up to the wizard's waist, this diminutive fighter obviously had no fear of the bigger man. He lunged again, attempting to stab Gustin.
The wizard yelled and jumped to one side, narrowly avoiding a skewered knee. Sophraea swatted her basket at the nose of the creature holding her down. 'Bad bush!' she scolded, no longer willing to coax it. Gustin was under attack and needed her help.
The leafy head swung up. Sophraea's basket missed it and flew through the air to hit the little man in the back.
'Ouch!' he cried, tumbling to the ground. He dropped his sword, which Gustin scooped up and held high above the little man's head.
'By the vine and twisted bramble, I hate big people!' cried the small but ferocious warrior, kicking out at Gustin's ankles.
'Let her go!' Gustin dodged this way and that, trying to fend off the little man while Sophraea yelled encouragement from where she was trapped.
'Only if you promise not to hurt the guardian,' huffed the little man.
'Absolutely. Certainly. Just let her go.'
The little man whistled three notes in a descending trill, more like a birdsong than any language, and the leafy paw lifted from Sophraea.
With a sigh of relief, the girl scrambled up, grabbing her basket and shaking the worst of the mud off her skirt. Around her, she could feel that heavy silence that meant somebody or more likely several souls were listening hard. The usual almost unnoticeable whispers were gone. ¦
'Give him back his sword,' she gestured at Gustin. 'Quickly.' Out of the corner of her eye, Sophraea noted that the stone hand of the warrior woman had shifted slightly, so she was no longer weeping but peeping at the small group assembled before her.
'I beg your pardon? And have this mite hamstring me?'
'I am a guardian of the tomb,' declared the little man.
'You heard him, they are guardians.' She turned to the small warrior. Now that she wasn't lying under a bush, she could see that he was clothed from head to toe in dark green leaves, overlapping each other in the same manner as a warrior might wear armor. Brambles curled around his wrists and waist as further protection. With his green skin and dark brown hair, he blended perfecdy into the shrubbery around them.
'I apologize, I should have known better than to go so close to that monument. Have you been guarding it long?' Sophraea asked.
'You're a Carver, aren't you?' The litde man retrieved his thorn sword from Gustin. He made quite a flourish as he sheathed it by his side. 'One of Fidelity's?'
'Great-granddaughter.'
'Realty. Fidelity was the last one that I spoke to, but that has been more than a few seasons. So Fidelity's great-granddaughter? A short one like you. Who'd have thought it?' The little man pointed a thumb at Gustin. 'And who's the long shanks? He's too skinny to be a Carver and your line never ran to magic.'
'I've either been insulted or complimented,' observed Gustin.
'His name is Gustin Bone. And yours?' asked Sophraea, ignoring the wizard.
'Briarsting.'
Sophraea walked up to the leafy creature that had retreated to curl around the monument. 'It's a topiary dragon,' she told Gustin, gently stroking the quivering long branches that served as the creature's whiskers. 'I thought these were all destroyed long ago.'
'This one is the last,' admitted Briarsting. 'We used be a full' Honor Garden, a complete thirteen of petals, thorns, and topiary beasts. But now there's just this old boy and myself.'
'Do you know what he is talking about?' Gustin asked Sophraea.
'Some tombs, important ones, have guardians. This one must have been very special, a memorial garden filled with more than just the usual shrubbery.'
'She was a great hero,' said Briarsting, looking at the stone tree that once marked the center of the Honor Garden. 'And died in the defense of Waterdeep. But she was a druidtoo, and it was thought a living memorial was more fitting than an ordinary tomb. So we came, and the elves set such magic here as to give us both a task and good living.'
'I'm sorry that we disturbed you,' said Sophraea. 'I didn't think that there was a topiary beast left in the City of the Dead.'
The little man seemed mollified and even inclined to chat. 'We don't have any visitors these days,' he said.
