Firewing (15 page)

Finally, exhausted, he could think of no more to say, and slept.

“We’re nearing the Oasis,” said Yorick with obvious relief. “Right on course.”

Shade saw how, in the distance, the badlands gently dipped away into a vast, shallow crater. After a few hundred more wingbeats, he made out the tops of trees. It was the first time he had seen any kind of living thing here—if you could use the word
living
at all—and the trees even looked familiar. His heart quickened. If he were a newborn—if he were any kind of bat—this place would instantly draw him in from the desert.

Yorick turned to him. “You can have a look around, but we won’t be stopping long, remember. If you want to travel with us, you leave when we say.” He grimaced sourly at Murk. “In any event, I shouldn’t imagine we’ll be very welcome with a Vampyrum in tow.” Shade nodded.

“Don’t worry,” Java told him. “I’ll help you look.” “My eyes and ears are sharper than most,” Nemo boasted. “I can hear a fish below the river’s surface and snatch him out before he feels the water ripple.”

“Thank you,” Shade said.

“Look, the tallest tree, do you all see it?” Yorick pointed. “That’s our rendezvous. We continue our merry little journey from there.” He studied the sky. “When that large star touches the horizon, we leave.”

Shade found the star. Already it was not far from the earth’s rim. Now that they were near the boundary of Oasis, he could see how large it was. A vast forest to search, and only a breath of time to do it in.

“If we split up we can cover more territory,” Java said to Shade. “Something you should know. The bats who live here, they will think they’re still alive.”

“Got it,” said Shade.

“So be careful if you speak to them. Usually, they’re not very happy to see Pilgrims. They think we’re loony.”

As Java and Nemo veered off, Yorick shook his head disapprovingly. “Just make sure you make it back to the rendezvous,” he called after them. “I’m not waiting for anyone! I’d help you look, of course,” he told Shade, “but my bad wing and all. I’ve got to rest it or I won’t last ten more strokes.” With that, he fluttered off to find a roost.

Shade wasted no time. Into the trees he plunged, not caring how much noise he made now.

“Griffin!” he bellowed. “Griffin!”

He was astonished to see that the forest was streaming with other Silverwings, and his spirits soared.

“Hey!” he called out. “I’m looking for someone! Can you help me!”

Not one of them stopped. And it wasn’t because they couldn’t hear him. He caught several of them making quick backward glances, and then beating their wings even faster, as if fleeing
a deadly predator. They evaporated through the branches so quickly he couldn’t keep up.

“Wait!” he called out in frustration. “I’m looking for someone! Griffin Silverwing!”

“You were calling that name when I first saw you.” Shade jolted around to see Murk fly down through the foliage towards him. He’d thought Murk had sailed off to the rendezvous point to wait. How long had he been trailing him? No wonder he wasn’t having any luck talking to the other bats.

“You’re scaring them all off!” Shade said sharply.

“Perhaps it’s your glow they’re frightened of,” Murk retorted.

“A glow is one thing, a cannibal bat is a whole new level of terror.”

“Did you lose Griffin in your travels?”

Shade said nothing, having no desire to share anything about his son with Murk. He hated the fact this creature even knew his son’s name. And he certainly didn’t want Murk to know Griffin was alive.

“Look,” said Shade, flustered, “maybe it’s best if you just wait for us at the rendezvous.”

“Did you want to talk to these bats?”

“That was my plan, yes.”

Murk grunted impatiently, then flew past Shade into a clearing, circling at treetop level.

“Hear me!” Murk blared. “You know my kind, you know that we live here in the billions. Shade Silverwing would like to speak with you. Answer his questions! Or I will send an army of Vampyrum who will enslave each and every one of you, and take you to a place of suffering too great to imagine! Speak now!” Murk flew up to a tree and roosted, gazing malevolently over the clearing. Shade circled in amazement, astounded at what
Murk had just done. Whispers flitted through the trees. Wings creaked in agitation. Then from the cover of a large pine came the uncertain voice of a Silverwing female.

“I am Corona, elder here. I will speak to you.” Shade could scarcely believe his good fortune. “I’m looking for a newborn,” he said eagerly. “Griffin Silverwing. Is he here?”

There was a brief pause and then she said, “We have seen a newborn, though he never told us his name. He was like you, though. With a glow to him.”

A glow. A life.

“Where is he?”

“No longer here.”

“How long ago did he leave?” Shade asked, dismayed.

“Not long at all. Perhaps a full rotation of the stars.”

“Did he say where he was going?”

“He spoke with the Pilgrims and left for the Tree they talk of.” Here her words took on a scornful tone.

“He went alone?”

“No. He convinced another bat to go with him. Another newborn called Luna. Foolish child.”

Luna. Why was that name familiar? Then he remembered it was Griffin’s friend from Tree Haven. The one injured in the fire, he realized with a cold jolt. She must have died and come here. He felt relief, though, that his son was not alone. That was good news. It would keep his spirits up, and they would help each other. One of them must have the map.

“Was he well, the boy?” Shade demanded. “Not injured?”

A dreadful silence seeped out from the trees. Shade’s heart contracted in fear. What were they hiding?

“Tell him what he asks!” roared Murk from his branch.

“Yes,” stammered Corona. “He was fine.”

“Tell the truth,” barked Murk, “or I will be back to confront you with your lies!”

“Some were suspicious of his glow and wanted him gone. They tried to drive him off.”

Shade’s heartbeat pounded in his ears so he could barely hear. Rage threatened to choke his voice.

“You attacked him?”

“He wasn’t hurt. They simply wanted to scare him away.”

“Because he
glowed?
”

“Because he wanted to poison this colony with lies! Telling us we were dead, that we should go to the Tree. But I promise you, the newborn was not harmed. I have answered your questions. I’d ask you to be on your way now.”

With a rush of wings, the bats were gone. Shade circled, relief sapping his anger. Griffin was alive, and now Shade knew where he was going. He would catch up with him. If there was time, they could escape through the tunnel in the stone sky. If not, they would have to take their chances in the Tree.

“So. Your son is already on his way,” Murk said, flying over.

“Yes,” Shade said, then frowned, a peal of alarm sounding through his head. He looked at Murk. “I never said he was my son.”

Murk gave a hoarse laugh. “You didn’t need to. I too had children once.”

“Oh,” Shade said, unable to meet Murk’s eye, unable to thank him. Never had he imagined he’d get help from a cannibal. Still, he was suspicious, but his suspicion was barbed with guilt. Perhaps here in the Underworld, it
was
possible for Silverwings and Vampyrum to live in a kind of amnesty; yet he didn’t know if he could ever stop thinking of them as vile enemies.

Shade called out across the treetops for Java and Nemo. He told them his happy news as they made their way to the rendezvous together. The tree—some weird hybrid Shade had never encountered, half oak, half cedar—was near the crater’s rim. From the top branches, Shade looked out at more interminable badlands. Yorick was already there waiting for them.

“You’re late, all of you,” he snapped by way of greeting. “I was just about to strike out on my own.”

“Spare us,” said Nemo. “You’re about as likely to strike out on your own as get struck by a shooting star.”

“Shade’s son was here,” Java told Yorick with a smile.

“He’s gone on to the Tree ahead of us,” Shade added. “Any chance of catching up with them?”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, shall we,” said Yorick. “I’ve got to plot our next route, and my wing is still killing me, by the way—not that anyone has ever shown the slightest bit of concern.”

“We’ve put up with you, haven’t we?” Nemo remarked. “Not many would, I reckon.”

Yorick didn’t reply to this, only flapped from the tree and circled, taking his bearings. Shade waited impatiently.

“It’s all wrong,” Yorick muttered, his voice rising. “The wretched Pilgrim must have made a mistake. There should be a clear furrow in the earth for us to follow, but it’s not here.”

Shade looked down at the spiderweb of cracks in the mud plain; certainly there wasn’t any one gouge that cut a straight path.

“It’s like the landscape has changed completely!” wailed Yorick.

“Frieda told us the map could change,” Java said. “I remember that.”

“That’s why we were to hurry!” Yorick moaned, shooting a
resentful look at Shade and Murk, “and not waste time on
distractions
. Remember? She warned us all. Now look at the mess we’re in!”

Shade flew up from the tree. “Sing me the map,” he told Yorick, and immediately regretted the harshness of his tone.

“Certainly not,” said Yorick. “The map is mine and mine alone.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s for everyone who needs to get to the Tree.”

“I won’t tell you, and you can’t make me,” Yorick said petulantly.

“Sing it to him,” said Nemo. “Maybe he’ll have some luck with it.”

“I won’t!”

“Why not!” demanded Shade. “You want to get to the Tree, don’t you?”

“Of course, but—”

“What is it you’re afraid of, Yorick?” asked Java in her mellifluous, gentle voice.

“If I sing it to you all, how do I know you won’t fly on without me? It’s not like you need a crippled bat slowing you down.”

He looked so crestfallen and pathetic that Shade instantly felt sorry for him.

“Of course we wouldn’t do that,” said Shade. “I just thought I could help. I’m good with maps, too.”

But Yorick, despite the reassurances pouring from Java and Nemo, was still unwilling to sing the map. Shade looked out to the horizon desperately.

“Look,” he said with sudden realization, “my son must have got a map just recently, right? So all we have to do is follow him.”

“Granted, but how?” Yorick demanded, as if Shade had gone crazy.

“If he was nearby, I’ll be able to hear his echoes.”

“You can do this?” Java asked, incredulous. “With your ears?” Shade closed his eyes and listened, shutting out the other sounds, swimming back through time. He heard the trace of an echo image ahead of him and flew after it over the desert. Closer, he saw that it was a Silverwing newborn, a female—and off to her left was a second vaporous flash of wings. Griffin.

Shade listened as their echo residues wisped towards the horizon, then opened his eyes and superimposed their sonic trajectory against the landscape, plotting their course.

“I’ve got it!” he called out to the others. “We’ll follow them.”

Yorick looked unconvinced, muttering glumly under his breath.

“You’re assuming, of course, that they’re going in the right direction.”

“It’s the best we’ve got,” said Shade, intent on following his son, wherever it might lead.

“Good, then,” said Murk. “Let’s go.”

“I need to know our course!” said Yorick petulantly. Shade paused, circled back to him, and showed him their destination on the horizon.

“This way!” said Yorick, and pulled ahead. Reluctantly Shade let Yorick take the lead. They flew. After a few hundred wingbeats, Shade listened again for Griffin’s echo traces. Still on course. He was about to open his eyes when his echovision caught a faint trace of something else, a more recent noise, but on the same course as his son.

Shade pulled away from the others for a moment, hoping for a clearer image. As he’d thought, it was the blurry silhouette of another bat. He listened harder, urging the silver image to crystallize.

A wing, a face. Goth.

Griffin was dreaming of bugs. Too many bugs. His sugar maple was covered with tent caterpillars and he could see the leaves being devoured before his eyes. The caterpillars swarmed over the branches and trunk, burrowing into it, eating the tree into a skeleton of itself. And there was nothing he could do. Too many caterpillars—how was he expected to eat them all? Why weren’t any of the others helping him? At least Luna should be helping him. Suddenly the bugs weren’t just on the tree, they were on him, all over him, thickly coating his fur, and he couldn’t shake them off fast enough, and they were eating
him
now, boring into him
.

Luna, he was shouting.
Luna, Luna, Luna!

“Luna!” He wrenched open his eyes. She was watching him.

“Did I shout your name?” he asked.

“Yes. What’s wrong?”

“I … I had a … hey, am I still alive?” he blurted in panic.

“You’re still very sparkly,” she said with a grin. “I’d say yes.”

“Just a bad dream,” he said uncertainly. “Sorry if I woke you.”

“I wasn’t sleeping.” He frowned. “Not at all?”

“I guess we don’t need sleep anymore,” she said a bit wistfully.

“You were just hanging there the whole time?” Her face looked a bit pinched, and he wondered if the pain was still there.

“I was thinking,” she said. “Remembering bits of things.”

“That’s good,” said Griffin, hoping she wouldn’t ever remember how he’d dropped the firestick on her.

He noticed that the earth was finally still, gelled into a plain of hardened mud.

“You rested enough to get going?” Luna asked. She seemed as eager as he was to get out of here.

“Yeah. We just need to set our new course.” He flexed and was ready to fly to the hole, when Luna cried out. He looked over and saw her dangling in mid-air, an inch below the branch, thrashing indignantly.

“Something’s got my leg!” she shouted, swinging wildly.

Astonished, Griffin stared for a moment before he understood. He started laughing. “It’s just a little shoot from the cactus. It got kind of tangled around your left ankle.” Luna jerked her leg hard, but the tendril held tight.