Silverwing (12 page)

Goth ripped another hunk from his squirrel and chewed thoughtfully. He looked up at the sky. This was the second night he’d spent with Shade and Marina, and he was beginning to recognize a few of these stars now. It wouldn’t be long before he could navigate by himself, and then he could make a quick meal of these two little bats.

Still, they were useful in other ways. He didn’t understand the trees here, some with spindly leafless branches, others with sharp prickly needles. It was Marina who’d found a place for them to roost last night, in a deserted woodpecker’s hole. And Shade had shown him how to drink from the stream, by breaking through the frozen water. He called it ice. Ice. Never had he seen such a horrific thing. It was painful to touch, the cold seeping into him with a shock. He ruffled his wings and closed them tighter around his body. But the wind cut through anyway. The sooner he was free of this northern wasteland the better.

Throbb landed beside him with a sparrow in his jaws.

“I want bat,” he whined.

“Not yet,” Goth growled. “Wait. You’ll get bat soon enough. Have some self-discipline, and remember,” he added ominously, looking Throbb right in the eye, “I like bat too.”

Throbb shuffled back a few inches and ate his sparrow sullenly. “Who’s this Nocturna they keep talking about?”

Goth used a claw to pick out some meat between his teeth. “Some pathetic little religion, I suppose.” Shade had told him all about it: the battle between birds and beasts, the banishment, and this wonderful Promise. It was all ridiculous, but he said nothing, preferring to keep Zotz, the one true bat god, secret for the time being.

“Even if Nocturna does exist,” he said derisively, “she can’t be very powerful—just look at the puny creatures she rules over.”

Throbb hacked out a laugh, spitting up some gristle and bones at the same time.

They really were pitiful creatures, Goth thought. They couldn’t even defend themselves against pigeons. The owls, he’d admit, were somewhat more formidable—fighting more than two at a time would be a challenge. Still, these bats lived in total fear of them, afraid to show their faces during the day, and now even at night, according to Shade.

Goth smiled, pleased. It seemed he’d started a war.

And they needed him, these two bats. Shade wanted him to meet the leaders of his colony. Of course Goth had willingly agreed, knowing he’d be long gone by then. Once he could fly south alone, he certainly wouldn’t need the help of some mangy Silverwing elder.

Unless …

The thought slid into his head like a snake’s tongue. Unless Zotz meant for him to meet the Silverwing colony. Unless there was a design behind his capture by Humans in the jungle. It
made sense. Why would Zotz have let the Humans bring him north, if not for a purpose?

The dream. Hundreds upon hundreds of Silverwings flying around him in the jungle. And how did they get there? They got there, a voice inside his head told him, because you brought them there.

“In the jungle,” Goth was saying, “it’s never cold. The heat hangs in the air like rain. The landscape is lush, not like this rocky forest below us, but bright with flowers and plants and fruits, the likes of which you’ve never seen. And the insects there are so succulent—three or four would be enough to feed you for an entire night.”

Shade listened, rapt, as they flew through the cold sky. It was not the beetles Goth described, but the warmth that made his mouth water. Waking this evening, he’d been startled to find a faint dusting of frost on his outer wing tips, and he’d beaten it off anxiously.

This was the third night they’d spent with Goth and Throbb, and they were still navigating by the cathedral star. He wondered how long it would be before they caught up with the other Silverwings. The whole world was glazed with frost, the naked tree branches glinting silver. The sound of insects had dulled over the past nights, and hunting was becoming more difficult. Fewer living things came out at night now. From time to time he’d spotted huge flocks of birds in the distance, making their own migration south. So far, though, there’d been no sign of any other bat colonies, and this worried him.

“There’s a sheltered ledge over there,” Marina said, pointing to a rocky hillside. “We should probably find a roost, and then we’ll have about an hour to feed.”

Shade shivered and looked to the east. He hated stopping, always felt like he was losing time. But at least the sun meant it would be a little warmer soon. His ears ached, and his feet felt numb.

This was the third night they’d spent with Goth and Throbb, and they were still navigating by the cathedral star.

“How many bats are there in your colony?” he asked Goth as they circled the ledge, checking for roosts.

“Millions.”

Millions. It was hard enough to imagine two giant bats, much less millions.

“There’s probably not much in the sky you’re afraid of,” Shade said enviously.

“Nothing,” Goth told him. “The vulture and hawk are the only birds of any strength, but they don’t dare attack us.”

Shade wondered what it would be like not to be afraid. He’d never know: He was a runt. Practically everything in the sky was bigger than him. But if he could convince Goth and Throbb to join them … maybe that would count for something.

He’d agonized over how to ask them, and given up the whole idea more than once. What did he know? Who was he to ask these giant bats to join their fight? Maybe he should leave it all to Frieda or the other elders.

Marina found a tunnel in the stone face, big enough for Goth and Throbb to fit through. Inside, it was dry and protected from the wind, and small enough so their body heat would quickly warm it up. Shade scanned the floor intently.

“What’re you doing?” Goth asked.

“Checking for owl pellets. To make sure they haven’t been nesting here.” Marina had taught him how to do it. Owls swallowed their prey whole; they didn’t chew, and their pellets contained all the bones and teeth of whatever they’d eaten. He was afraid one night he’d find a part of a bat’s wing-fingers or jawbone. This place was clean, however.

“You live in constant fear of them, don’t you,” Goth said.

“We’re too small to fight them.”

“But if five of you attacked one …”

Shade had never thought of that. “Maybe,” he said.

“We can’t allow our bat brothers and sisters to be treated this way,” Goth said fiercely, looking at Shade, and at first Shade thought Goth was angry with him, thinking him a coward. He looked at the floor.

“Come with us to the jungle,” Goth said, “you and all your colony, and I’ll call upon my family for help.”

“You will?” It was more than Shade could have hoped for.

“We can muster an army, and return to the north to fight the owls.”

“You’ll really fight with us?”

“It would be a great honor to help you return to the light of day, just like Nocturna promised.”

“All without the Humans’ help?” Marina asked.

Shade looked at her in surprise. She’d gone almost the whole night without saying a word. He knew she was angry, at Goth, and at him. She was staring at Goth belligerently.

“I wouldn’t count on any help from Humans,” Goth snorted. “They’re more interested in imprisoning us than setting us free.”

Shade felt Marina staring hard at him, but he couldn’t meet her gaze. The Humans … he just didn’t know what to think about them now. They seemed unreliable. Marina thought they were good; Goth and Throbb thought they were evil. As for the bands, there were ones like Frieda’s, and others that burned bats alive. How could they count on Humans?

“Maybe Goth’s right,” he said, still avoiding Marina’s eyes. “Maybe the Humans aren’t going to help us.”

“What do you know?” she snapped bitterly. “You aren’t even banded.”

Shade looked at her, stung.

“Maybe I’m not, but—”

“No. You don’t know what it was like. How it felt. It was special, I don’t care what any of you say. It means something.” She paused. “And your father thought so too, Shade.”

He was aware of Goth, watching him intently.

“I know what my father thought,” he said coldly. “Maybe he was wrong.”

“So you’re just going to give up on him? Go off to the jungle without looking for him?”

“Of course I’ll look for him—”

“So it’s just me you’re giving up on.”

Before he could even fumble for words, she flew out from the stone hollow into the night.

“Marina!” he shouted, and was about to dart after her, but Goth spread one of his massive wings.

“Don’t worry. She’ll be back. Let her calm down.”

“I didn’t want to hurt her feelings.”

“You didn’t. She’s put too much hope on these bands. Now she feels angry and foolish. She’ll get over it.”

“Yeah,” said Shade, looking after her. He should have felt deliriously happy, knowing that Goth and Throbb were going to help him form an army. But he felt a deadweight of disappointment in his stomach.

“We know the stars well enough by now,” Throbb said. “What use are the bats? Let’s eat them.”

“Keep your voice down,” Goth hissed, looking across the treetops to where Shade foraged alone for insects. He turned back to Throbb. “You’ll do as I say, when I say. Without me you’d still be back in that prison, eating those watery little mice. Remember that.”

He hadn’t told Throbb about his plan, and he wouldn’t. Everything had become so clear to him, once he’d managed to unlock the dream’s meaning.

He would travel with Shade and Marina until they met the Silverwings. Then, he would convince them to come to the jungle, thinking they would raise an army.

But once they reached his homeland, all the Silverwings would become slaves to his family. Year after year they would breed, creating an endless supply of living bat flesh for them to devour.

They would become eternal sacrificial offerings to Zotz—who had sent his servant Goth to the north to prove himself, and bring the Silverwings to the jungle.

Shade hadn’t suspected his purpose; it had been so easy. The Silverwing was spirited, yes, and intelligent, but he was also
desperate for glory—as if he could ever have it, the scrawny little thing.

But Marina … he was more worried about her: She doubted them, he could tell. It seemed like Shade was safely on his side now, but he wondered how loyal he would be to his Brightwing companion. He couldn’t afford to lose Shade, and if she should sway him …

He turned to Throbb.

“You want bat so badly? Find the Brightwing and kill her.”

“Marina!”

Shade was getting worried now. He’d fed alone for half an hour, and still she hadn’t come back. She shouldn’t be off alone, not now of all times. There might be owl sentries nearby, a clutch of crows …

He flew past the stone ledge where they’d found a roost. He hadn’t seen Goth or Throbb either. Panic fluttered through him. Had a squadron of owls struck without him knowing? Taken all of them?

He wanted to shout out, but knew that would only mark him if there were owls nearby. He began a wide circle around the roost, staying high enough above the trees, but peering down into them with his echo vision. He finished his first circle and started again, wider.

In the branches of an oak he spotted Throbb, hunched over, his back to him. With relief he flew down closer and could hear the raw, sticky sounds of feeding, of things being wrenched and chewed. Splayed to one side of Throbb’s shoulders and head, he could make out the outline of a lifeless wing.

His usual revulsion suddenly gave way to horror. His echo
vision flared at the edges, and he was seized with a terrible weakness, afraid he might faint.

There were no feathers on that wing.

It was fringed with bright fur, leathery, with the ridges of long fingers beneath the surface.

Throbb was eating a Brightwing bat.

Shade wheeled, and dived into the trees, but he was too late.

“Shade? Is that you? Shade!”

Crouched in his hiding place, he could see Throbb, turning slowly, seeking him out with beams of sound. The Brightwing’s head fell from his jaws and lolled to one side, so Shade could see the face. He almost cried out in relief. Not Marina. He had to find her. He released his grip, opened his wings, and flew.

“Shade!”

He’d stick below the tree line. Throbb’s wings were too wide to follow him. Through the tight weave of foliage he flashed, flipping from side to side, almost over onto his back sometimes, to avoid getting impaled on a pointy twig, or dashing himself against a trunk.

Overhead, he could hear Throbb curse, then send sound piercing down through the leaves and branches, trying to get a fix on him. Wings pulled tight, Shade flew headlong, trying to keep track of Throbb’s position. Silently, not grazing even a single leaf, he banked tightly, darting back the way he’d come. Then, twice
more he made quick changes in direction, until he could no longer hear Throbb’s crackling wingbeats above him.

He peered up through the leaves, and pieced together a bit of the sky. Where would she be? It was almost dawn, she couldn’t stay out much longer.

She’d go back to the roost.

Choking for breath, he burst from the cover of the trees and streaked toward the stone hollow. He sent out a quick spray of sound. No sign of Goth—he must still be out hunting. But he pulled back from the entrance at the last moment, circling. What if Throbb had beaten him back? What if he was waiting inside?

“Marina?” he called out quietly.

“In here,” came her voice from the roost.

He was lucky. He shot through the tunnel and into the stone hollow. There she was, grooming her wings, and he was so grateful to see her, even though she looked up at him coldly, still angry.

“Marina, we’ve got to—” His flesh crawled.

Goth was perched silently at the back of the hollow, still gnawing on a bone. It seemed impossible to him that he’d felt safe with this bat, just hours ago. Now, the sight of him chewing made him sick to his stomach. Meat-eater. Bat-eater.

“Got to what?” Goth asked.

Shade forced himself to land, take a few deep breaths. He was covered with sweat and dust. “Oh, I was going to tell Marina she should come see this big icicle near the stream.”

“I’m tired,” Marina said with a yawn. “And I’ve seen icicles before, Shade.”

“Not one this big.” He stared at her, and she looked back at him strangely before giving a quick nod.

“All right, all right, show me this icicle. Then let’s get some sleep.”

“Okay. We won’t be long,” he told Goth.

“I’ll come too.”

Shade tried to keep his face from tightening. “Great.” He’d tried to pick something that Goth wouldn’t be interested in, and Shade knew he despised ice, thought it was some kind of personal insult. Goth must know.

Numb with dread, he led the way down the stone tunnel.

“It’s over here,” said Shade outside. At least if he led them away from the roost, he’d have more time before Throbb found them. Time to maybe make an escape, lose Goth in the undergrowth. And sunrise not more than twenty minutes away.

“Do you hear that?” Goth asked.

“Yeah,” said Marina. “Sounds like a horde of insects.”

It was getting louder now, but it had a regularity that made Shade think it wasn’t insects at all, but some kind of Human machine. Whatever it was, it was coming their way.

“There’s Throbb,” said Goth.

Shade looked. Throbb was beating his way toward them, fast. He’d be there in less than a minute.

“What is that?” Marina gasped.

Bearing down on Throbb was some kind of Human flying machine, wings a blur, lights blazing. Throbb started to bellow, but the machine flew over him, drowning out his voice. Shade stared in horror as it came straight for him, and reared overhead. Wind exploded around him.

A dart whistled through the air, grazing his tail, and slammed into a branch. A second dart plunged into Goth’s chest. Roaring in anger, the giant bat spiraled down, thrashing as he tried to wrench it free.

“Let’s go!” Shade shouted to Marina.

Throbb started to bellow, but the machine flew over him, drowning out his voice.

They veered away from the flying machine, hurtling back down into the forest. Shade flew low to the ground, even though he knew it was dangerous. Raccoons, wild dogs, even snakes, could leap up and snap at them. Owls waiting in branches could drop on them like forked lightning. But above the tree line, they’d be easy prey for the Humans, and their deadly darts.

Birds were starting to rise from their nests, and a dawn chorus cut into the icy morning air.

“Where?” he asked Marina urgently. She was the expert.

To his alarm she landed on the ground.

“What’re you doing?”

At the base of an elm was a thick bed of rain-matted leaves. Marina quickly nosed around in them, and then started burrowing with her claws and head, pushing her way deeper into the mulch. Shade understood, and instantly followed her lead. Working quickly, they soon hollowed out a deep nest. Scuttling back up to the opening, Marina dragged some leaves across, covering their tracks.

Inside it was damp and cold, and they huddled close together. Shade was so tired his whole body was shaking.

“What happened?” she asked him.

“I saw Throbb eating a bat.”

“You’re sure?”

He nodded, teeth chattering. “I think the Humans killed Goth. Those darts.” He remembered the one that had narrowly missed him, and shivered.

“What about Throbb?”

He shook his head. “When that machine came, I lost sight of him.” The image of the limp Brightwing in Throbb’s jaws shimmered in his mind again, and he winced. “I hope they got him,” he said vengefully.

“I had a feeling about them, you know,” she said.

Shade said nothing.

“A couple of nights ago, I woke up in the roost, and Throbb was staring at me, and there was just something about his eyes, hungry. Like I was food.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“What would you’ve done?”

He sighed, ashamed. “Laughed. Said you were seeing things. I’m stupid.”

Bats who fed on their own kind. They were monsters. No animal he’d ever heard of, not even the owls, did such a thing.

He felt a sudden rush of self-loathing. He’d trusted Goth, believed every word he’d said. Go to the jungle, raise an army, defeat the birds and the beasts once and for all. He’d thought they were going to be allies. He’d thought it was all part of the Promise.

“You wanted to be like them,” Marina said.

He nodded miserably. Look at me! he shouted inwardly. Look at how small I am! Who wouldn’t want power like that, the power to kill an owl? The power to stop them from burning your roost down, to help your colony and find your father …

“But why didn’t they just eat us right away?” he asked.

“They needed us at first—to give them directions. After we showed them how to read stars, they didn’t need us anymore.”

“I thought it was you, Marina. When I first saw him eating that bat, I thought it was you.”

“Must have caught a straggler,” she said in a dull voice.

He shivered again, and they shuffled closer, enfolding each other in their wings.

“They wanted to kill all of us, the Humans, didn’t they,” Marina muttered darkly. “My colony was right all along. Humans are evil.”

Shade clenched his teeth, not knowing what to say.

“That machine came straight at us,” Marina went on. “They knew where we were.”

“How?”

“The bands,” she breathed. “It must be. They tell them where we are.”

Shade’s fur bristled. The idea of that machine coming back, those darts plunging into him.

“The bands don’t mean anything, do they?” Marina said savagely. “All it does is mark me, so they can come kill us. No wonder my colony drove me off. They were right. I am cursed.”

“Don’t,” Shade said hoarsely.

“And you were right too. The Humans aren’t going to help us. And as long as I’m with you, you’re in danger too.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, wishing he could drive all thoughts from his head. Everything had collapsed. He didn’t know what he had left to believe in. He’d felt so sure when he’d left the echo chamber at Tree Haven. And now, what did he know? The bands meant nothing. What had his father risked his life for? What did Frieda know? Maybe there was no Promise at all. It was a story, a lie, and Bathsheba was right all along. There was only night and day and the law, and that’s all there ever would be.

“We’re going to find my colony,” Shade said grimly. “And we’re going to find the truth about the bands. About everything.”

Goth fell, the dart deep in his side, limp wings knocking frozen leaves. He hit the ground in a heap. His vision swam, and it was an effort to lift his head. One last try. Drunkenly twisting his neck, he clenched the base of the dart in his teeth and jerked back. The dart ripped clean and blood flowed from the wound. His flanks
heaved for air. Some kind of poison in the dart, like those needles they used to stick in him. Fight it, fight it. He was so tired, so heavy.

Blackness, then—

Dry leaves crackling, the ground vibrating, and a pair of gloved hands picked him up. He kept his eyes closed, but he was suddenly, totally awake. He concentrated on the hands, gauged the strength of the fingers, where the grip was weakest. He opened one eye just a slit, and saw the Man from the artificial jungle looking down at him, his face protected behind a plastic hood.

Goth closed his eye, took a long slow breath, and then struck.

He flared his wings, knocking the Man in the face, and making him stumble back with a long, slow moan of surprise. The Man’s grip loosened, and Goth wrenched his body free, launching himself into the air. He plunged at the hood, sinking his claws into the fabric and ripping it up and off the Human’s head.

The Man was reaching for something at his side, lifting it, trying to aim. Goth darted down, claws lowered, and raked him across the face. The Man dropped the object in his hands, and clutched the gash in his cheek.

“Zotz curse you!” Goth shrieked as he lifted himself up through a gap in the trees, high into the sky. In a nearby field he caught a glimpse of the flying machine, resting on the ground, and two more Humans running into the woods toward the Man.

“Shade!” he cried. “Marina! Throbb!”

“Here! I’m here!”

Flapping toward him was Throbb, and Goth was almost glad to see him.

“I thought they’d killed you!” cried Throbb.

“It was another sleeping potion. Keep flying, this way, we’ll get away from them. Where are the other two?”

Throbb’s eyes flickered guiltily.

“Throbb?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why didn’t you kill Marina like I told you?”

“I thought I did …” Throbb faltered. “It was a Brightwing, all alone, and I killed it, and then I realized it wasn’t her. And …” He trailed off miserably.

“And what, Throbb?”

“And the runty one saw.”

“You idiot,” said Goth with quiet loathing. “No wonder he was acting so strangely. I thought they were trying to escape.” He looked contemptuously at Throbb. “You let them get away.”

“There were darts everywhere, I couldn’t see—”

“Shut up.”

“But we don’t need them,” said Throbb. “We can find our own way south now. We’ll get back to the jungle faster without the little bats to slow us down.”

“We needed the runt. For my plans.”

Goth fell silent, furious. He should have done it himself. Killed Marina, made it look like an owl had struck her. Then he would’ve had Shade safely all to himself.

Now it was ruined. Shade knew they were bat-eaters. How could he possibly win back his trust? But he wouldn’t turn back now. He wouldn’t be defeated by these little bats. He’d made his promise with Zotz. And so help him, Zotz, he would not fail.

“We’re going to follow them,” he told Throbb. “We’re going to find them.”