Firewing (13 page)

“Pilgrims, aren’t you.”

The Vampyrum’s face was taut with fatigue, and his flanks heaved as if from a long flight. He glanced out the cave opening, anxiously scanned the skies, then swung his gaze back inside, eyes sparking with fear.

Shade wondered what he was so afraid of. Surely not them. True, the cannibal was outnumbered and half the size of Java, but Shade could tell that the old Foxwing would be no match for the Vampyrum. Her fruit-eating jaws and teeth, all her instincts, made her ill-equipped to battle a savage carnivore. Shade wondered what power the dead still had in them, then remembered the strength of Java’s cold wing around him. Strong enough to fight. And kill? Surely the dead couldn’t be killed a second time. But what about him? He looked at Nemo and Yorick, frozen in mute shock. In the cramped cave everyone was now within a wingspan, eyes locked. Not even the Vampyrum seemed certain of what to do, and Shade didn’t want to give him the time. For all he knew, the cannibal was waiting for reinforcements to ensnare them all. Shade inhaled
silently and prepared to sing out an echo illusion—a vulture, an owl—that would terrify the cannibal into retreat. He opened his mouth, closed his eyes, ready to paint with sound.

“Take me to the Tree,” said the Vampyrum. His words were such a surprise and his tone so beseeching that Shade faltered. He looked at the others.

“It’s a trap,” growled Nemo. “We lead him to the Tree, and he’ll send for an army to wait there and capture every single Pilgrim that reaches it.”

“No. I want the Tree for the same reasons as you. Escape.”

“Why should we trust you?” Shade demanded.

“I’m an advance scout for the convoy that just passed.” He nodded at Shade. “I heard you calling out someone’s name. I could have captured you.”

“This is your fault,” Yorick muttered bitterly to Shade. “Cawing out there like a raven, it’s no wonder he found us!”

“I could’ve had you all taken prisoner,” the cannibal continued. “But I didn’t. Because I hoped you would lead me to the Tree.”

“And if we don’t,” said Shade “you’ll have us chained up like the others?”

The cannibal took another anxious glance out at the sky. “No. I’m a deserter. If I get caught by the Vampyrum, I’ll face the same fate as you.”

“And what is that?” Yorick asked, trying to sound bold. The cannibal’s mouth clenched tightly shut.

“Tell us,” Nemo said. “You want what we know, better tell us what
you
know.”

“Above the Vampyrum city,” the cannibal said with some reluctance, “they’ve started digging through the sky.”

A tremor rippled Shade’s flesh. Already he had a terrible premonition of what he was going to hear next.

“What for?” asked Java.

“To tunnel out,” Shade answered dully. “To the Upper World.” The cannibal looked at him, surprised, and nodded. “That’s why the raiding parties have begun. We need more labour to speed the work. They say it will take millennia.”

“It’s disgusting,” said Java, sounding angry for the first time since Shade had known her. “You can’t make slaves of us all! That’s not the way it’s meant to be! How are we supposed to reach the Tree?”

The cannibal nodded. “The Vampyrum know nothing of the Tree. Cama Zotz keeps it secret from us. The little I have learned is from listening to the Pilgrims, and from rumours. Zotz does not want us to leave his kingdom, either.”

“But it’s not you slaving in the mines,” Shade said.

“Many of my kind do. Those who have displeased our god.” He had lowered his voice to almost a hiss, and Shade’s skin crawled at the idea of Zotz everywhere, listening.

“I want to come with you, to the Tree,” the cannibal bat said again.

“What if they’re searching for him!” said Yorick to the others. “He can’t come with us. It’s worse than having Sparklywing over here!”

“I won’t travel with this meat-eater,” Nemo spat.

“Finally, we agree about something,” said Yorick gratefully. Java sighed. “He has as much right to the Tree as us.”

“What?” Shade said, aghast.

“Frieda Silverwing herself said so. The Tree is something Nocturna created for all bats, Vampyrum included. We can’t stop anyone from making the journey.”

“Does he have to make it with
us
, though?” Yorick moaned.

“There’s no point talking about it,” Shade said impatiently. The
idea of this cannibal being entitled to Nocturna’s Tree appalled him, too. But right now his whole body had become a clock, every thump of his heart a reminder of time lost in his search for Griffin. “I don’t trust him, either,” he said, “but we have no choice. If he wants to follow us, he will. We should just go.”

“Thank you,” said the cannibal. “My name is Murk. You’ll see that you need not fear me. I can make sure we have clear passage through the skies.”

Shade just grunted. Murk. What kind of name was that, anyway? Goth. Throbb. Murk. Who named these bats?

Murk peered cautiously through the cave opening, and then flew. Shade and the others followed. Outside, Yorick cleared his throat importantly.

“If everyone could just be silent a moment while I take my bearings.” He circled above them, muttering to himself. “Now where were we …. Ah, yes, I remember this part now … yes … or was it this way … very tricky, very tricky …”

Shade looked worriedly over at Java. “Does anyone else have the sound map?”

“Not me,” Java said. “I’m blind in both ears. My whole species is. No echo vision for us. Good eyes, though,” she said with a blink. “Can see just fine by day or night. When the Pilgrims came to my Oasis, they described the map in words. But it’s not as clear that way, I guess. Easier to forget than when it’s sung right into your head. I was actually lost when Yorick found me, flying way off course. He said I could travel with him.”

Shade looked over at Yorick, surprised by this act of kindness.

“And Nemo,” Java went on, “he never even had the map. He’d been travelling in a big group of Pilgrims, and all but him were taken by the Vampyrum. So Yorick’s the leader. He’s taken us on the right course so far. At least, I think he has.”

In dismay Shade watched Yorick flitting about, wondering if he had any sense of direction at all. Maybe he should offer to help….

“Got it!” announced Yorick proudly, taking the lead. “This way!” His crimped wing gave him an odd lopsided flight, but he was nimble enough. Relieved, Shade flew after him. Off to his left flapped Java, giving herself ample room so she didn’t swat anyone with her massive, leisurely wing strokes. Even from a distance, Shade felt himself buffeted by their turbulence.

“You might want to pull ahead,” she told Shade with a smile. “I stir up a bit of wind.”

Shade nodded gratefully, climbing to smoother air. Up front, Nemo flew alongside Yorick. Shade looked back to see Murk in the rear, keeping pace several wingbeats behind. He didn’t like it at all. When he’d last travelled with Vampyrum, it had not ended well.

For a long time they flew in silence over the badlands, Shade burying his anxiety and impatience in the simple labour of flight, plunging his wings down, lifting them high, over and over, all the while looking for Griffin. The landscape was so flat, there seemed few places where a bat could be concealed, though occasionally Shade would swing away from the others to investigate a mound of boulders, an outcropping, probing with sound but reluctantly keeping to his promise not to call out Griffin’s name. What he wanted was to shout it with all his might.

“If your son is alive, I think perhaps he will glow like you,” Java said quietly.

Shade nodded in surprise; he hadn’t thought of that. Then he frowned. “But
I
won’t see that, will I?”

“I will, though. And I am watching for him, too.”

“Thank you, Java.”

Looking up at the stone sky he could not find his circle of stars. They must still be below the horizon, perhaps shining down on the other side of the Underworld. How long had he been down here, anyway? In his mind he shuttled through all that had happened, trying to add up the minutes. Twelve hours, maybe. A single night. His body told him he should be sleeping, so above, it must be day. If he didn’t find Griffin soon, their only escape route would be blocked. Unless …

“How far is it to the Tree?” he asked.

“Well, of course, the map doesn’t really give distances,” Yorick said over his shoulder. “Half a million wingbeats, maybe.”

Half a million wingbeats. That was two nights’ journey; less if they didn’t take time to rest or sleep. “Can the living enter the Tree?” he asked Java.

“That I don’t know,” she replied apologetically. “It’s not something Frieda Silverwing talked about amongst the dead. She said Nocturna made the Tree for all bats, and that it would take us where we most needed to go.”

If only Frieda were here now, Shade thought. She would be able to tell him whether the Tree was an escape route for Griffin and himself, or simply a dead end. But:
It will take you where you most need to go.
Well, where they needed to go was home, and if his crack in the sky got blocked off, the Tree might be their only hope. Part of him wasn’t even convinced there
was
a Tree. What if it was just another legend—a rumour started by the dead, desperate for life?

“You’re sure about the Vampyrum?” he whispered to Java. “About them being allowed into the Tree, too?”

“You find the idea repellent, don’t you,” said Murk, and Shade turned in surprise to see the cannibal flying alongside him. Shade made no reply.

“You think we evil flesh-eaters should stay here forever and that only you small, good bats deserve to travel to a new world.”

“Exactly,” muttered Nemo from up ahead.

“We are Nocturna’s creatures, too,” Murk said matter-of-factly. “She made us what we are. That’s why the Tree is for us, as well.”

“How convenient for you,” Shade said, bristling. It seemed completely wrong. Unfair. Why should these flesh-eating fiends have a share of anything perfect? Especially when their god, Zotz, was only intent on feeding off the living and creating eternal night so he could reign.

“Aren’t you betraying Zotz by leaving?” Shade asked coldly.

“Why would you want to leave the kingdom of your own god?”

For a while Murk said nothing, and Shade felt disappointed the conversation was over. In an odd way, he was enjoying it, interested in what Murk had to say. It was rare to have the chance to talk to a Vampyrum.

“Down here is like life, only less,” Murk said. “We only pretend at life here. We have no more need of food or even sleep really. We do not dream. We are biding our time here, mimicking the world above. And I feel there must be more to eternity than this.”

“Yes,” said Java eagerly. “That is exactly the feeling I have. It’s not
more
of my old life I want. It’s something
new
in the next world.”

“Fine for you,” snapped Yorick. “You got to live your full life. I was just flying along, nice and cheerful, taking my time, and got blasted against a tree during a storm. I had another twenty years coming to me.”

“At least nobody
ate
you,” muttered Nemo, looking darkly at Murk.

“I make no apologies for my species,” said Murk. “I doubt you grieve for the fish you eat.” He glanced over at Shade. “Or you for the insects you devour.”

“I eat fruit,” said Java. “No one’s feelings get hurt that way.”

“We do not choose our appetites,” Murk said. “We are born with them.”

“You eat your own kind,” Shade said bluntly.

“Why is that evil? Many other creatures in the Upper World eat their own kind. It is simply the nature of things.”

“You sacrifice living creatures,” Shade said.

“Because it is pleasing to Zotz. What more precious gift can you offer your god than the gift of life? Would you not give your god whatever was asked of you?”

Shade faltered. Nocturna had never asked for anything, as far as he knew. She was infuriatingly quiet. But what would he do if she asked him for another life? It wouldn’t happen, he told himself, because she was not barbaric, like Zotz.

“Then, he is an evil god,” Shade said.

“Who should say what is good or evil, but a god?”

“We have our own god.”

“Yes, and was it not she who gave us our appetites? Who made us what we are? We are not monsters,” said Murk. “We obey our natures, and our god. Like you.”

Shade sighed, disconcerted by Murk’s logic. “It means we will always be enemies.”

“In the world of the living, yes. But not here, perhaps.” Shade laughed bitterly. “You ate us in the Upper World, and now you use us as slaves in your mines! I don’t think there’s a very good chance at peace.”

Murk grunted. “No. You are right. But it wasn’t always like this here. The mines are recent. Before then, Zotz was content to let us inhabit his jungle paradise.” For a moment Murk looked off
wistfully. “A glorious city of pyramids, and rainforest the likes of which we never knew in the Upper World.”

Shade sniffed. A paradise! It seemed outrageous that the cannibals got a paradise and the other bats were made to wallow in this gloom.

“Sounds great,” said Shade irritably. “Why do you want to leave, then?”

“I’m not the only one,” Murk said. “There are many like me who have already made their escape. More would leave, I’m sure, if Zotz told them of the Tree, and weren’t so greedy to swell his kingdom. A paradise without choice is tyranny.”

Shade said nothing, thoroughly unsettled by Murk. He sounded far too reasonable.

“You mistrust me,” said Murk, “and I understand that. But rest assured, the only appetite I have now is to escape this world for the next.”

“I’d hoped for better neighbours,” Nemo muttered. Shade turned his full attention back to the sky and land. What a fearful place this was, all scarred earth and rock, a landscape never formed, never named. Murk continued to fly alongside him, and Shade wished he’d go back to the rear. Did he think they were all on friendly terms after their discussion? In the Upper World, this creature would have seen him with only one thought in his mind: Food. Shade didn’t like him being so close.

“Why do you glow?” Murk asked, and Shade tightened. He’d been worried this moment might come. He caught the worried flick of Java’s eyes.