Island of Graves (42 page)

Artimé would never be the same without him.

The Artiméans mourned together, and then alone, leaving Alex by himself next to the pile of sand, not wanting to intrude on the mage's intense grief. The young man had lost so many
loved ones in his short life. It didn't seem fair that Simber had to die too. No one quite knew what to do to offer comfort to the brokenhearted leader.

After a while, Lani and Samheed came and knelt by Alex's side.

“Al,” said Samheed gently, “I'm sorry.” He stared at the sand, numb.

Lani was crying. She hugged Alex for a long moment, but he could barely feel anything at all. They sat together, the three of them, while Aaron looked on in silence.

Finally, Samheed got up and sighed wearily. “Stay here if you like, Alex. Lani and I will go with Sean and Carina to help Florence get back to Artimé. We'll take Sky and Kaylee, too, and as many others as we can find. Maybe all together we can lift her. And . . . we'll have to tell her the news about Simber.”

Alex closed his eyes. He nodded numbly. “Thank you.”

They stayed a minute more, but Alex didn't say anything. Finally they embraced Alex, and then Lani took Samheed's arm and they limped off together down the hill, with the rest of Artimé following. Aaron stayed with Alex.

The brothers remained next to the sand in the shadow of
the vacant palace, the smell of smoke and death lingering in the air and choking them.

“I get it now,” Alex said dully, when all his tears had been cried. “No wonder he was so weird about Gondoleery and the fireballs. He knew. He knew that fire would destroy him. All this time he knew, and he didn't tell me. Why, Simber?” He became insistent. “Why didn't you tell me?”

But the pile of sand didn't answer. There would be no more answers from the wisest cat in the land.

» » « «

As Alex lamented hour after hour, Aaron stared at the sand until his sight wavered. He closed his eyes and went to the jungle in his mind, all the way back to the day he first fixed Panther's tail. When he opened his eyes, he stared at the sand some more for a very long time.

Eventually, Alex got to his knees and pushed his aching body to a standing position. “Come on, Aaron,” he said. “I can hardly stand to leave him, but I have to help back at home. My people . . .” He faltered.

Aaron didn't get up. He didn't even hear Alex. Instead, he crawled forward, reached out, and picked up a handful of sand.
He held it, feeling its heartbeat in his hand, then let it slide through his fingers.

“What are you doing?” Alex said, alarmed. “Don't! Don't touch him. It's . . . it's too soon.”

The sand was warm. Aaron breathed deeply, picked up another handful and closed his eyes. Careful not to disturb the pile, he stood and held the sand high, as high as he could reach. He thought about Simber, picturing the creature's face and body in his mind. “Be alive,” he whispered. “Live.” He let go of the sand, and it hung magically in the air, taking the shape of a small triangle. Aaron didn't notice. He simply reached down for another handful and stood up again.

“Aaron, please,” Alex said angrily. “What are you—” He stopped short when the second handful of sand hung in the air in the shape of another triangle. His mouth fell open. “Ears?” he whispered.

In the air, the ears twitched.

Alex held his breath, not wanting to make a sound to disturb his brother.

Aaron paid no attention. Eyes closed, he worked tirelessly, pulling up sand by the handfuls and letting it fall and cling to
an invisible outline that only Aaron could see. Within an hour Simber had a streamlined neck and back. The front legs came next, then the rear and the tail, and then the expansive wings, spreading wide across the road.

Aaron worked through the long, hot day, with Alex watching it all, completely in awe, until finally Aaron poured the front of Simber's face, filling in the cat's great teeth, nose, and jaw.

When there was only a tiny bit of sand left, Aaron drizzled it over Simber's face. It spread out into eyelids and whiskers. And then Aaron stood still for a long moment, his hand against the cheetah's side, feeling the sand harden and turn to stone, and the pulse of the beast inside it.

Aaron opened his eyes and stepped back.

The cheetah's eyelids fluttered. He rose to his full height and shook himself from ears to tail, as if he had just been given a bath he wasn't keen on taking.

“Simber?” breathed Alex. He choked on a sob and ran to the giant cat and flung his arms around his neck. “I thought I'd lost you again!”

The cat looked at Alex with love in his eyes. “And I, you,”
he said. And then he lifted his head toward Aaron and bowed. “Thank you, Aarrron,” he said.

Aaron's lip quivered as he watched them, a tremendous ache swelling inside him. He nodded quickly, not trusting himself to speak.

Alex hung on to Simber, not wanting to let go, while the enormous cat began licking his paws, trying to smooth out some of the rougher patches of his body that hadn't landed exactly right.

And then Alex turned to Aaron. He opened his arms wide to his exhausted brother and embraced him, whispering the same words over and over and over. “Thank you.”

Aaron froze for the briefest moment, and then he relaxed and hugged his brother back. “I didn't know I could do that,” he admitted.

“I'm extremely glad to know you can,” Alex said, wiping his tears away.

With the brothers having a moment together, Simber went back to what Simber did best. He snorted some stray dirt from his nostrils and sampled the air, and then stood on his hind legs, peering out over Quill as the sun began to set. “Alex,” Simber growled.

Alex turned. “What is it?”

“Both of you get on my back. We need to have a look at something.”

“Before we go . . . ,” Alex began. He scrambled to pull out
all of his preserve spells that hadn't melted. Quickly he pelted the cat with a layer of them, like Mr. Today had done when the cat was first created. When Alex was finished, the brothers climbed onto Simber's back, Aaron trying not to be sick with fear.

As soon as the boys were settled, Simber took a running leap over Gondoleery's dead body and rose high into the air. And as the sunlight weakened, Alex and Aaron could see it.

“Therrre,” said Simber, pointing. “Smoke, rrrising frrrom the Commons and all arrround it.” The enormous cat looked over his shoulder at the two exhausted mages. “Quill is on firrre.”

A
pirate ship stood in the silent lagoon of Warbler Island, and the pirates aboard it didn't have to worry about being shot with sleep darts as they rowed in to shore in their fishing boat. Queen Eagala was expecting them.

The captain with hook hands and his first mate made their way down a hole in the ground to a tunnel and weaved through the orange-eyed, thorn-necked slaves of the queen. They headed toward her throne room, finding her just where they expected to—just where they had found her many times in the past when they needed slaves.

But this time the pirates weren't there with bags full of gold pieces to trade for workers. Queen Eagala didn't need any more gold—her people had made enough thornaments to last them a lifetime.

No, Queen Eagala had called the pirates there for a different reason entirely. This time she needed their help.

“Greetings, Captain Baldhead. First Mate Twitch,” she said. She waved at the chairs near her throne, inviting the pirates to have a seat.

They sat.

“It seems my people have tricked me,” said the queen, pressing her long, curling fingernails up to her lips. “And now all of Warbler's children are in Artimé.” She uttered the island's name with a sneer.

“What's Artimé?” Captain Baldhead asked.

“It's the fringe group on the south end of Quill,” Eagala said. “My brother's people.”

“How did you manage to lose an entire generation?” Twitch asked.

Queen Eagala leaned forward and snapped at him. “That doesn't matter. I want them back.”

Captain Baldhead narrowed his eyes at the queen of Warbler. “Why can't you go get them?”

“Because the Artiméans are magical people,” Eagala said. “Much more magical than I am. And I need your help.”

“Magical?” the captain asked. “We already got rid of their leader after he destroyed our reverse aquarium. He was weak.”

Twitch looked at the captain. “But, Captain, the bloke we got was on the west side of the island, not the south,” he said.

“Silence!” Baldhead said, striking at the other man with his hook hand and leaving a small gash in his cheek. “The whole island is nothing but trouble!”

The first mate sank back and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to press against his wound.

Queen Eagala looked at the captain. “If you've gotten rid of their leader, I won't have to pay you as much as I expected to get my children back.”

Baldhead frowned. “What are you offering?”

The queen smiled. “I thought you'd never ask.” She got up off the throne. “Follow me,” she said. She led the pirates down the hallway toward an exit and climbed the steps that led outside to the shipyard.

The pirates followed, and when they emerged from underground, they could see the silent Warbler workers putting the finishing touches on an enormous new pirate ship. “Designed with you in mind,” Eagala said.

Baldhead and Twitch stared at the beautiful ship. The captain swallowed hard. “That's quite a beauty,” he said.

Eagala smiled. “Yes, it is. Go have a look inside if you like.”

The pirates nearly stumbled over their feet trying to get to it.

The queen waited patiently as they looked around, a smile playing on her lips. She knew it was an offer they couldn't refuse.

When at last the pirates returned, starry-eyed over the ship's elaborate design, Queen Eagala folded her hands in front of her.

“Well, gentlemen,” she said, “are you ready to discuss a plan for the complete obliteration of the Island of Quill?”

Greatest thanks to you, the faithful readers who have picked up this book. Some of you started reading at the very beginning in 2011, and others came along a bit later, but you are all ridiculously important to me. I have met or heard from many of you. You come from all age groups—from beginning readers all the way to teens, parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents. I am absolutely thrilled that this series is reaching across so many generations. Thank you for telling your friends and parents and grandparents and teachers and librarians and coworkers and children and grandchildren about Alex and Aaron and their stories. You are awesome!

These books wouldn't exist without the hard work of many people. Thank you, Michael Bourret, for nine years of wisdom, guidance, and friendship. Thank you, Liesa Abrams, for your kindness, expertise, passion, and brilliance, and for caring about these books. Thank you, Mara Anastas and Mary Marotta, for publishing me and for being so smart and
thoughtful and diligent for the sake of kids' books.

Thank you, Jodie Hockensmith, Carolyn Swerdloff, Matt Pantoliano, Teresa Ronquillo, Lucille Rettino, Michelle Leo, Candace McManus, Anthony Parisi, and Betsy Bloom, for the long hours you put into publicizing, marketing, and introducing my books to the retail, education, and library worlds—your work is infinitely valuable, and I appreciate each one of you so much. You have done and continue to do tremendous work in a multitude of ways. Thank you once again to Lauren Forte—I miss you! And thanks to Julie Doebler, especially for the extras in the back of this book.

Thank you to the amazing S&S sales team for placing the Unwanteds series into good bookseller hands all around North America, and thank you to all the good booksellers for welcoming me into your stores and for finding homes for these books with your customers. I am so grateful.

Thank you to Owen Richardson and Karin Paprocki for the amazing Unwanteds artwork and design. I am in love with every cover in this series and you keep surprising me with more and more incredible work.

Readers, I hope you love the Island of Graves as much as I do.