Island of Graves (5 page)

“How did your parents react?” Alex asked. The numb feeling inside him was still there when he thought of his own dead parents.

“They didn't really react at all. It's just the kind of behavior you'd expect from people in Quill,” Sean said. “It's maddening, but I shouldn't have thought it would go any differently.”

“I'm sorry.” Alex swallowed hard. “I miss Meg, more than I know how to say. It's a loss I don't understand no matter how hard I try.”

Samheed stared at the floor, eyes full of pain, but he didn't speak. She'd died saving him. Lani reached out and rested her arm around his broad shoulders.

“We all miss her,” Lani said. “She was terribly brave. Braver than anyone I know.”

Others murmured or nodded, and a few wiped away tears. Simber remained still, head bowed.

“She died protecting Artimé,” Alex said. After a moment, he sniffed hard and cleared his throat, and went on. “I invited you all here because I want to make sure we are doing everything we can to continue protecting Artimé.”

He told them about his conversation with Liam and what little information he'd gathered about Gondoleery Rattrapp. “No one seems to know much about her,” he said. “We need to change that.” He looked at the team before him, all smart and competent. “And . . . I think we're doing something wrong.”

Eyes around the room met Alex's. “What are we doing wrong?” Carina asked.

Alex looked at her. “We're waiting to be attacked again.”

The group was silent, either puzzled or contemplating.

The head mage hopped off the corner of the desk and elaborated. “Mr. Today taught us not to fight unless it's to protect ourselves. And I still believe his method is the right one. However, each time after we've been attacked, we work on defense so that when the next attack comes, we can handle it.”

“What's wrong with that?” Claire asked, sitting up in her chair. “We
should
keep working on that.”

“I agree,” said Alex, “but that's not the only thing we should be doing. High Priest Gondoleery has made her intentions known. She told us clearly that she intends to take over Artimé. And she
has
attacked us, with ice. Isn't that enough? Are we going to wait for her to get stronger and attack us again? I don't think this was what Mr. Today had in mind. So let's start with this, like we've always said: We will not be taken without a fight. True enough? Can we all agree on that?”

Everyone nodded or voiced their agreement except Claire, whose face was concerned, but she continued to listen quietly to see where Alex was headed with this.

“Good,” Alex said. “And do we all agree that Gondoleery
has attacked us with ice, thus starting our next battle already?”

A few in the group frowned along with Claire, but eventually they agreed once more.

“So,” Alex said, “by Mr. Today's method, do we have grounds to retaliate?”

Almost everyone eventually came to the same conclusion. “Yes we do, Alex,” Florence said, speaking as the head warrior trainer.

“I'm not so sure about this,” Claire said under her breath.

Alex didn't hear her. “I agree, Florence,” he said. “I believe it's time to switch things up and go on the offensive, friends. And I think we must do it now, or we will soon find ourselves mourning dozens and dozens more deaths. It's frightening, and I can't stand the thought of it. Frankly, I'm quite scared of losing more of
you
, my friends and advisors.”

Simber lifted his head. “What exactly do you prrropose we do, Alex?”

Alex looked around the room and took a deep breath. “I propose we take Gondoleery out and end the attacks for good.”

Claire lifted her head, alarmed. “What?”

“Do you mean you wish to kill her?” Simber asked.

Alex hesitated. It sounded horrible to put it that way. They could try putting her in a permanent freeze spell. But all it would take was one person with magical abilities to release the spell, and that could be any number of people—surely Gondoleery had supporters in place by now who could do such simple magic as release spells. It was too risky. So Alex stood firm. Gondoleery Rattrapp was dangerous, unpredictable, and way more powerful than anyone they'd ever come up against. Potentially, she had the power to destroy Artimé if she chose to do so.

Finally, Alex nodded. “Yes, Simber. We need to kill her.”

The room was silent.

Only Simber spoke. “Well, it's about time.”

Y
ou want to assassinate Gondoleery Rattrapp?” Claire said, shaking her head slightly. “That's not going to be an easy task. Do you realize what could happen if you fail?”

Alex had thought plenty about it. “Yes. It means we'd be in deep trouble.”

“Alex,” Claire said, leaning forward, “Artimé has seen enough trouble in the last few years. Gondoleery has power and magic we've never faced before. If you attempt this and fail, she's not going to give you a free pass. It could mean the end!”

“The end . . . of what?” asked Alex, confused.

“The end of Artimé,” said Claire. “The end of us.”

Alex, taken aback, was silent for a moment. Then he frowned. “I understand your concerns, Claire,” he said. “Thank you for voicing them. But if we attempt this, we cannot allow ourselves to fail. And if we
don't
attempt it, we also risk losing Artimé. The stronger she gets, the more danger our people are in. It's only a matter of time.” He paused for breath, then added, softer, “I think we need to take her out as swiftly as possible before it's too late to stop her.”

Claire considered that for a long moment, frowned over it as she ran through it once more in her mind, and then reluctantly nodded. “All right,” she said, giving up. “All right. I see your point. Do what you have to do. You have my support. And I'll continue to work on defense with the Artiméans as always.”

Alex gave her a solemn look. He didn't need her permission, but he respected her greatly and wanted it. “Thank you.”

Claire nodded. “Just . . . get it right. The first time.”

Alex nodded. “We will.”

» » « «

“So you're really for it, Sim?” Alex asked later, after Claire and the others had gone and only Florence and Simber remained
to help Alex plan the attack. “You believe we should take down Gondoleery?”

“Yes,” growled the cat. “We prrrobably should have done it weeks ago.”

“Why didn't you say so before?”

“You didn't ask.”

Alex blinked. For a moment, he was speechless. He looked at Florence, who seemed just as surprised. “What?” Alex asked finally. “You're saying now I have to ask you every time I want your opinion? Even if you have something vital to say, you won't say it unless I ask the right question? When did this start?”

Simber sighed. He'd been quiet during the meeting and seemed more grumbly than usual now. “It's how you learrrn best,” he said. “If I speak up too much, you count on me morrre than you should.”

“Oh, come on. That's ridiculous.” Alex shook his head, more frustrated than ever. “I haven't done that since before Mr. Today was killed and you sank in the sea. You're full of yourself.”

“And you'rrre too comforrrtable,” roared Simber. He got to his feet. “I might not be herrre foreverrr, you know!” The windows shook.

Florence watched the two, fascinated. They rarely fought.

Alex stared at the cat. “What's
that
supposed to mean? Are you leaving Artimé?”

“What?” Simber said. “No! Of courrrse not. But I can't keep telling you what to do. If you want my opinion, ask me. Otherrrwise don't expect it.”

Alex raised his hands, completely confused. “I don't even understand what's happening right now,” he muttered. “I just transported an entire party of Artiméans off Shipwreck Island—safely, mind you—virtually without you. What's your problem? Did I do something to offend you? If this is about Sky and me being stuck there, and the Florence thing with not enough magic carpet components, we would have figured it out without you, I'll have you know.”

“I should hope so.” Simber's chiseled jaw creaked as his stone teeth snapped together. He stared at Alex, nostrils flaring.

Alex stood tall and stared back, growing more defensive and angry as the seconds passed. He had no idea what had set Simber on edge. And he wasn't going to back down without an explanation.

Florence leaned forward on her sofa, propped her elbows
on her knees, and rested her chin in her hands, fascinated by the sudden flare-up and standoff.

After a minute, Simber relaxed his stance and turned his head. “Sorrry,” he said gruffly. “I'm worrried about Gondoleerrry.” He turned and paced toward the door, restlessly shaking his head. “Herrr ability to crrreate firrre is morrre dangerrrous than anything we've everrr been up against. Ice is bad enough, but firrre . . .”

Alex rested his gaze on the beast, trying to figure out if Simber was speaking the truth about what was bothering him. He couldn't tell. “We'll be careful,” he said softly. “How hard can it be to take down one person when we have all of Artimé on our side?”

Simber stopped in his tracks and turned his head back to look at Alex. “That's exactly the wrrrong way to look at herrr. If therrre's anyone you should be afrrraid of in this worrrld, it's Gondoleerrry Rrrattrrrap.” He paused, giving Alex a hard look. “And you should feel it in yourrr bones, Alex. Like I do. I shouldn't have to tell you.” He paused. “
That's
what my prrroblem is.”

Alex watched, jaw slacked, as Simber walked out of his office. “You don't even have bones!” Alex called out. Simber didn't answer.
When he had disappeared, Alex turned to Florence with a questioning look. “Didn't I just say I wanted her dead? I don't get it.”

She tilted her head and raised an eyebrow. “Don't ask me,” she said. “I think there's something deeper bothering him, but I don't know what.”

“I can still hearrr you,” came a gravelly warning from the balcony.

Alex sighed and shook his head. “Good night, Simber,” he called. “We'll plan the attack in the morning.”

“Harrrumph,” said Simber, and soon the mansion trembled as the giant cat loped down the stairs to his spot at the front door.

T
he next time Aaron awoke, he was drenched in sweat and shivering profusely. He lay on his side, facing a rocky wall with no window, his blanket flung off him and just beyond his reach.

Every muscle in his body ached, and every bit of his skin hurt. His head pounded endlessly, and when he reached up to touch it, he found that it was wrapped in a bandage of some sort.

When he became aware that he was in a very strange and unfamiliar place, his stomach clenched in fear.
The pirates,
he thought. Had they brought him here? What were they going to do to him?

This time his memories were more distinct. He recalled the way the pirates had burst into his office and captured him. The way they'd thrown him into the boat. The way they'd starved him and spit on him and dragged him through the stormy sea for days with no water. And now, here, the storm still raged all around. Where was he? He had to get away. He had to escape!

With all his strength, he pushed against the mattress and tried lifting himself up, only to fall back again. He breathed hard, the air slicing his lungs, and tried again. Once more his strength gave out and he landed, twisted, on the cot.

A wave of nausea interrupted his efforts, and he began sweating again. He tested his voice, crying out for help, but it came out grainy and weak, nothing like the commanding voice of a high priest. He gave up.

When a shadow fell over his face, Aaron was too tired to open his eyes. But when someone slipped his arm around Aaron's shoulders and hoisted him up, putting a cup to his mouth, the boy lashed out blindly, slapping it aside. The back of his hand connected with the jaw of the one helping him, sending the man sprawling.