Silverwing (19 page)

On the ground Shade gathered up some dried leaves to press against Marina’s wound.

“I think the bleeding’s stopped,” he said after a few minutes. “I could go look for that berry Zephyr used.”

“But what about you?” she asked, staring at his wings. The membrane hung limp in two places.

“It’s okay, I can still fly.”

“I can too, then,” she said determinedly, shaking the leaves off. “Let’s finish what we started.”

Goth’s body lay sprawled across the branches, charred and tattered. Smoke wafted from his burned fur.

A curious magpie hopped closer, even though the smell was terrible. The bird wasn’t even sure what kind of creature this was, the wings and body were so singed. Whatever it was, it was certainly dead. The magpie wondered what had happened. Maybe a collision with one of those Human cables slung across the countryside—it was windy enough today, easy enough to get blown into them. Then again, there’d been lightning.

The magpie caught a flash of metal on the creature’s body. Some kind of sooty ring on the forearm. And look, there were more of them. He hopped closer. He’d never seen a head like that on a bird. What jaws! But his attention fixed back on the bands. That’s what he wanted. If he could just tug them off.

The stench from the creature was truly overwhelming. He dipped down with his beak and plucked at the shiniest of the bands. It was fastened tight. Mesmerized by its sparkle, he darted down again for another try and pulled hard.

Goth’s eyes and jaws snapped open simultaneously. The last thing the magpie ever saw was a double row of sharp teeth streaking toward him.

After feeding a little on the bird, Goth felt some of his strength return. Every movement was painful, but he was still alive.

Alive.

He was truly amazed: Zotz must have been protecting him from that bolt of lightning. He wondered if he could still fly. Slowly he unfurled his wings. They were seared and scarred in places, melted by the lightning’s heat. Still, he probably had enough wing surface to fly.

He rested, ate, rested some more. By midnight, he could wait no longer. He had to find out if he could fly.

Shrieking with pain, he spread his wings, tensed his battered muscles and flapped. He plummeted many feet before the air caught under his wings, and he soared upward.

He would return to his homeland. He would pray to Zotz. He would become strong again. And then one day he would return to this northern wasteland and take his revenge on Shade and all his colony—so help him Zotz.

The river surged, boiling over boulders.

He’d been following it with Marina for hours now, hoping that something would click in his head, telling him, finally, how to get to Hibernaculum. It was twilight. The lively burble of the water was building and, in the distance, Shade heard a low rumbling, which reminded him unpleasantly of ocean waves. Louder and louder, the water coursing faster between the banks until—

The river ended.

Shade gasped as it simply fell away in a sheer wall, plunging hundreds of feet to crash at the shore of a lake. He circled, staring.

“Waterfall,” Marina said. “I’ve seen one before. What do we do now?”

Shade had never seen such a thing. Roaring water falling straight down through the air. There was no more river, nothing more to follow … but in an instant he finally understood.

This
was his mother’s last landmark: a broad torrent of water crashing between rocky banks, sending up a spray and roaring. He’d just been thinking about it the wrong way around, sideways instead of up and down.

“We’re here,” he breathed, and then louder: “This is it!”

“It is?”

“This is Hibernaculum.”

“Where?”

“Follow me.”

He began a slow dive, straight for the waterfall.

“Have you flipped out, Shade?”

“Come on!”

Marina reluctantly trimmed her wings and followed him.

He could already feel the mist on his face. As he plunged closer, he saw that the waterfall wasn’t really a solid wall at all. The water fell differently all the way across, in fine sheets here, twisting cords there, misty plumes, heavy torrents.

“Shade? What’re you doing?”

And there, just what he was looking for. Like a knothole in Tree Haven: a tiny circular hole in the middle of an undulating curtain of water. He locked onto it with his sonic eye, making sure it didn’t close up.

“Stay right behind me!” he shouted to Marina.

He soared straight for the waterfall, folded his wings tight, and shot into the hole. Water thundered deafeningly in his ears—or was it his heart?—and even before he was through, he knew what he would see on the other side.

He burst into a vast cave. Hundreds of Silverwings swirled in the air, and hundreds more hung from the walls and giant stalactites that plunged from the ceiling.

Hibernaculum.

The colony had doubled in size, swollen by all the males who joined the females at Stone Hold. He could feel the warmth pouring from their bodies.

“Hey!” he shouted jubilantly. “Hello!”

He flew in tight circles with Marina, overwhelmed, his eyes
flicking through the cloud of bats, trying to see his mother, Frieda, any familiar face. All these new bats were staring at him in surprise, and he was instantly inundated with questions. “Where did you come from?” and “Were you flying in the daylight?” and “Are you crazy?” and then “Wait, that’s the newborn lost in the storm!” and “It can’t be!”

The water fell differently all the way across, in fine sheets here, twisting cords there, misty plumes, heavy torrents.

“Yes it is!” he called out. “It’s me! Shade! I got lost. But I found you!”

“Shade?” His mother’s voice pierced the din. “Shade!”

His heart leaped, and he locked onto her with his echo vision. He wanted to fly to her instantly, but he couldn’t leave Marina by herself.

“Come on,” he said to her. “Come meet my mother.”

With Marina at his side, he went to Ariel. They swirled around one another in amazement and glee before roosting on a ledge. Shade pushed his face into her warm, fragrant fur. Her wings enfolded him.

“We thought you were dead!”

“No,” he said happily. “I’m alive. Mom, this is Marina. I met her after I got lost in the storm. Without her I probably would be dead.”

Marina had settled a little ways off, watching awkwardly. Ariel stretched out her wing to her. “Come closer,” she said gently. “Thank you.” She nuzzled the Brightwing in gratitude.

“Well, it worked both ways,” Marina said. “We helped each other out.”

Ariel turned back to Shade, shaking her head. “Tell me what—” she broke off, seeing the punctures in his wings. “You’re hurt!”

“It’s not bad, really.”

“And you are too,” she said to Marina, looking at her bloody forearm. “We need to have that tended to—”

“It’s not important right now,” Shade said impatiently. He was about to explode with words. “Mom, Cassiel’s alive!”

Her eyes narrowed in disbelief. “But … how do you know?”

“Zephyr told us, the albino bat, you know, the Keeper of the Spire, in the city. He can see into the past and the future and—” He took a deep breath, let it out in a rush.

“Start from the beginning.”

It was Frieda, fluttering down to roost beside them. “Welcome back, Shade.”

“I made it!” he told her gleefully.

“So I see.” The bat elder’s eyes crinkled with a smile as she reached out and touched Shade’s head. “And I’m sure you have a lot to tell.”

Starting from the beginning was agony for Shade.

He wanted to keep leaping ahead; he wanted to say everything at once. But he forced himself to go slowly. His wings were spread flat, his wounds covered with soothing berry juice. It wasn’t just Zephyr who knew about potions after all. Frieda had insisted on tending to their injuries before she allowed them to begin. And now, Shade and Marina told their story together, each filling in any incident or detail the other missed out.

The whole colony was listening, spellbound. Even though it was well past twilight, and they could have been out hunting, preparing for their big sleep, the Silverwings chose to stay and hear what this young Silverwing and his Brightwing friend had to say.

As he spoke Shade picked out Aurora, Lucretia, and Bathsheba, roosting above him, and to one side, the four male Silverwing elders, whose names he didn’t even know. They were very old,
their fur bristling with silver and gray and white, and they peered down at him intently. He had a flash memory of himself in the upper roost at Tree Haven, stammering and afraid, but this time he was too deep inside his story to feel nervous.

Finally, he and Marina were finished. He had no idea how long they’d been talking, but he felt spent, his mouth parched. Mercury, the elder’s messenger, brought them a leaf covered with water from the waterfall. Shade drank gratefully.

“We were lucky,” said Frieda. “We kept just ahead of the owl’s order to close the skies. If it had caught up with us …”

Shade thought of the slaughtered Brightwings and shuddered.

“Now there
will
be a war,” said Bathsheba bitterly. “Thanks to these jungle bats.” But her steely eyes were fixed on Shade, and he knew that she also blamed him somehow.

“The owls have been waiting for an excuse to wage war for centuries,” said one of the male elders. “If Goth and Throbb hadn’t appeared, they’d have invented some other excuse to close the skies.”

Shade’s spirits plunged. Only hours ago he’d felt elated as he’d shot through the waterfall and into Hibernaculum. Now he realized how serious their situation was.

“At least the winter will halt any fighting,” said Aurora. “The owls will be hibernating soon.”

“True, but when spring comes,” said Bathsheba grimly, “the owls will wipe us off the face of the earth.”

“When spring comes,” said Frieda levelly, “we must go to all the bat colonies and explain what has happened. And we must send envoys to the bird and beast kingdoms, in the hopes of stopping this madness.”

“If they listen,” said Bathsheba.

“If they don’t, we must fight!” said another of the male elders.

A ragged cheer went up from some of the Silverwings. But Shade saw his mother’s face harden.

Frieda sighed wearily. She seemed suddenly very old. “If the birds and beasts don’t listen, and are intent on war, then, yes, we must fight.”

“What about Nocturna’s Promise?” came a voice. A male bat lit from his roost and swirled through the air. Shade caught a flash of metal from his forearm. “Have we given up all hope that Nocturna, or the Humans, will help us?”

“Who is that?” Shade whispered to Frieda.

“His name’s Icarus. He was a friend of your father’s.”

Shade’s pulse quickened.

“Don’t speak of Nocturna’s Promise,” roared Bathsheba. “It’s brought nothing but misery to the bat kingdoms. Have you forgotten the rebellion of fifteen years ago?”

“But maybe this Scirocco was right,” said Icarus. “Maybe we
are
meant to turn into Humans.”

“Only some of us,” Shade said quietly, but his voice carried through the entire cave. “If Scirocco’s right, only the banded bats will transform. That means almost all of us get left out.”

Marina turned to Frieda. “Have you heard anything about a human transformation?” she asked.

“Yes, a long time ago, but I could never believe it was true.”

But what if it was, Shade thought, feeling sick. He saw Marina look at her wounded forearm. What if she’d had her chance at the light of day, and given it up forever? Her band was gone now. But did that count? She was given it by Humans, and it was taken away by bats, but maybe …

She met his anxious eyes and smiled. “Don’t worry,” she said. “If I’d stayed with Scirocco, I’d probably be dead like the others.” In a louder voice, so the whole of Hibernaculum could hear, she said: “I don’t believe it either.”

“It seems no one knows what the bands mean, then,” said Bathsheba scathingly.

“But we have to find out,” said Shade. “My father might know.” He turned to Icarus. “Do you know where he was going when he disappeared last spring?”

Icarus said nothing.

“I’m his son,” Shade said. “And I want to find him. I want to know what the bands mean, and if the Humans are going to help us or not. We all have to know.”

“The boy’s right,” said Frieda. “Icarus, you knew Cassiel well. If you know where he went, tell us.”

“There was a Human building,” Icarus said uneasily. “Hanael saw it from a distance last spring. He said it had strange metal masts on the roof. But when he went back for a second look he didn’t return. Cassiel went next. He made me promise not to tell anyone, it was too dangerous.”

“He’s there,” breathed Shade with utter certainty. “I’ve got to go!” He looked at his mother. “You understand, don’t you?”

She nodded. “I’ll go too,” she said.

“You will?”

“And me,” said Frieda. “I’m old, but this is one journey I intend to make before I die.”

“This is absurd!” shouted Bathsheba.

“Count me in as well!” said Icarus.

“And me,” said a second banded male.

“Me too,” cried another bat, and Shade recognized Chinook’s voice. But he had no time to call out a greeting because a small avalanche of voices had started and his eyes flicked around the cave in delight as each bat called out, male and female, young and old.

“Bathsheba,” said Frieda, “I take it you will not be joining us.”

“Certainly not,” said the elder. “I have no desire to end my life yet.”

Shade suddenly realized something. Marina hadn’t said a word. He turned to her worriedly, and there was a wistfulness in her smile that made his throat clench.

“You made it, Shade,” she said. “You got home.”

“You’re not leaving are you?”

“I wonder if my own colony would take me back. Now that my band’s gone.”

“But … do you really want to go back?”

She sounded exasperated. “Well, I mean, I’ve got to go somewhere, don’t I?”

“No. You don’t,” Shade exclaimed. “You can stay right here with me! With us! Can’t she, Frieda?”

“Of course she can,” said the bat elder.

“Really?” said Marina. “You don’t mind having a Brightwing around?”

“Silverwings!” Frieda cried. “Do we have a home for a bat who has distinguished herself by such daring, loyalty, and heroism?”

“Yes,” said Ariel eagerly, “stay!” And her invitation was echoed by a dozen, and then hundreds of Silverwings until the cave reverberated with the sound of bat wings clapping the air in approval.

“This is your new colony,” Shade told her, “for as long as you want, that is.”

“I’m coming with you, then,” said Marina. “I’m coming to find your father. And the secret of the bands.”

That night the Silverwings hunted near the waterfall, keeping a careful watch out for owls. But it was hard for Shade not to feel secure in the midst of hundreds of his fellow bats.

He’d convinced Frieda and the others they should leave right
away. Some had wanted to wait until spring, but what if his father were in danger? What if he were dying? And now that winter had set in, the owls would start their own hibernation. It was the safest time to make the journey. After all, it was only two nights’ flying. It was all Shade could do to keep from setting off this very moment. But even he could see he’d need a few days’ rest, for his wing to heal, to regain his strength.

His mother had told him he’d grown. He was genuinely surprised. He’d stared at his outstretched wings, his chest and arms. He
did
look bigger. In fact, with Marina close by, he saw that he was the same size as her now, maybe even a little larger. He was still nowhere near as big as Chinook, but that didn’t seem so important anymore.