Silverwing (13 page)

It snowed.

At first the flakes came down soft and slow, and Shade weaved his way around them, fascinated by their intricate patterns. He remembered the first time he’d been caught in the rain, and tried to fly between the drops until he was dizzy and exhausted, and very wet anyway. Now he looked up into the sky and was dazzled by the sight, as if the stars were gently falling.

“You can drink them,” Marina said. “Watch.”

He began catching the snowflakes in his mouth too, letting them melt on his tongue, drinking in midair. He laughed in delight, and the sound startled him. It was two nights since they’d left Goth and Throbb, and they’d flown steadily, keeping the same course, and not talking much. Tonight was warmer than the last, and there was a rising mist. For an hour or so he and Marina played in the snow, laughing and rolling through the silver sky. Trying to forget.

But a wind soon whipped up, driving the snow at a vicious angle so it stung his ears and wings. The stars had been completely
blocked out long ago, and it was impossible for them to keep their course.

“We’d better land,” Marina said. “We can’t see where we’re going.”

When, the next night, he poked his head out from their roost in a high birch, the whole world had been transformed. He was startled by how bright it was. Glowing in the moonlight, the snow blanketed the earth in gentle swells, forming hills around the bases of trees, and cloaking the branches so they looked soft and fat.

The landscape glittered fiercely. Even a second out of the roost he could feel the warmth being sucked through his fur.

“Have you felt cold like this before?” he asked, teeth chattering.

“Flying’s the only way to warm up.”

There were no smells. It was if they were frozen too, or maybe it was just the inside of his nose that was frozen. When he wrinkled it up, his nostrils took a few seconds to sink back into place. And it was so quiet. No insect drone. No frog’s croak or cricket’s thrum. Panic seized him. Of course the cold would kill and drive away the insects. Where did they go anyway? Did they migrate too?

“What’re we going to eat?”

“It’s okay, there’s still food.”

She showed him. Flying low around the base of the elm, she said, “See that?”

He thought it was merely specks of dirt in the smooth snow, until he saw some move—leap, more like it.

“Snow fleas,” Marina explained. There were lots of them, and he and Marina moved from tree to tree, snapping them up.

“They’re not bad,” Shade said. “Better than mosquitoes.”

In an open field she showed him a sac of praying mantis eggs hanging from a twig, which poked up through the snow. And in the spindly branches of a maple, a moth cocoon, coated in silver
frost. On a dead tree she showed him where the bark had been eaten away by engraver beetles and carpenter ants, and the insects were still there, you only had to scratch and dig down a bit.

But a wind soon whipped up, driving the snow at a vicious angle so it stung his ears and wings.

It wasn’t long before he had a full, warm stomach, and he felt much better.

“You’re amazing,” he said with admiration.

She laughed. “It’s just your first winter. You didn’t know.”

“How’d you learn all this stuff?”

She looked away. “My parents taught me.”

He was sorry he’d reminded her.

“Your mother would’ve taught you too,” she added. “It’s no big deal.”

“Well, thanks for showing me,” he said.

“Sure.”

He looked up into the sky and picked out their guiding star. It seemed brighter than ever, as did the others, cold, hard flares of light in the blackness. They flew on through the silver night.

He thought about his father more than ever now, and sometimes, when he didn’t think he could fly another minute, he’d force himself into a hypnotic rhythm, where every beat of his wings was one beat closer to finding him: there, and there, and there. Before, it had given him comfort to think he might be with the Humans; now that was almost as horrible as imagining him with owls.

“What is that?” Marina said suddenly. In the distance he picked out dark shapes draped over the bright treetops. He drew closer and his throat tightened.

Bat wings. Wings no longer attached to bodies. They were snagged on spiky branches, littered across the white snow. He started to count and gave up when he hit sixty. He could tell by the fringes of fur they were Graywings.

“Owls,” said Marina. “Must’ve been lots of them.”

She pointed out their pellets in the snow. Shade couldn’t bring himself to look closer. He knew what he would see there. He circled, staring as if hypnotized. They must have been migrating, and the owls had come and attacked, and who knows how many they killed. And then they’d eaten them right here, tearing off the wings first, because there wasn’t enough meat on them. He’d seen Goth and Throbb do the same to birds.

“They probably didn’t know anything,” he said, choking out the words. “Nothing about the closed skies, and the owls just came along and … slaughtered them.”

“I hate Goth and Throbb,” Marina said savagely. “This is their fault too. If they hadn’t killed those two lousy pigeons in the city, this wouldn’t have happened.”

He’d been afraid of this all along. But he’d lied to himself anyway, telling himself that all the bats would fly on ahead of the owl’s command to close the skies. They’d escape, for the winter anyway, sleeping safe inside their roosts. But not these Graywings. And who knew how far the owl messengers had gone now.

Maybe even to his own colony.

He ground his jaws together. “I wish I were like Goth. I’d kill them all, I really would. I’d just kill them …”

Marina flew in close, nudging against him gently.

“We should get out of here. They might come back.”

“I want them to come back,” he raged. “I want to get one, just one of them …” And he was suddenly sobbing, and all his words flooded together. He held his breath, clenching his whole body until it stopped shaking. He took a ragged breath. He wished she hadn’t seen him cry.

“I’m sorry.”

She shook her head. “For what?” And he saw that her eyes were bright with tears too. “But we really should go.”

After flying an hour, she asked him, “Do you think they’re alive, Goth and Throbb?”

“You saw that dart hit him.”

“It’s just … they know which way we’re going.”

The thought had never left the back of Shade’s mind—that they might be alive, and that they could follow Shade’s star.

“Even if they’re alive, they might have given up and gone due south.”

Marina nodded eagerly. “They’re not built for the cold. Remember how they shivered all the time? I don’t think their fur’s as thick as ours. They don’t need it in the jungle.” She paused. “You think we should change course, just in case?”

“I’d like to,” he said. “But we’d just get lost.”

“What’s the next landmark?” she asked. “You didn’t tell them that too, did you?” There was a hint of reproach in her voice.

“No,” he said, offended. “Sound maps are the secret of the colony.”

“Yeah, yeah. So what is it?”

Shade shut his eyes and tried to calm his tired mind. He watched:

The night world, scrolling out to the horizon.

The land slowly rising, the trees frozen in ice. Rock heaving up into the sky, white peaks.

“We go higher,” he said to Marina. “The land reaches way up.”

“Mountains,” she said grimly.

“There’s more …”

The baying of a wolf.

Then, from nowhere, something massive loomed up from the darkness, and all Shade could see was the beast’s two pointed ears, surging toward him.

“Wolves,” he said with a jolt.

“What d’you mean?” she asked impatiently.

“There’s the sound of wolves.” It didn’t make sense. Why would his mother tell him to seek out wolves? They were the most feared beasts in the north.

“We’re supposed to go where the wolves are.” He shook his head. “And it’s like we’re supposed to go close, because I see one wolf, all white, jumping at me, and the last thing I see is his pointed ears.”

“That’s the landmark, huh?” Marina said.

“I’m sorry—”

“It’s next to useless,” she snapped. “It doesn’t mean anything, unless your mother wanted you to get eaten.”

“It’s what she sang me,” he said firmly.

She sighed. “Okay, okay. At least we know we’re headed for mountains. We’ve just got to keep going and hope you recognize the right place. At least if Goth and Throbb are alive, they won’t last long up there.” She looked at him. “But neither will we.”

“There’s something wrong with my wing,” Throbb said. He folded it in, pushed it out. “It’s gone hard near the tip.”

Goth yawned. “It’s because you’re a miserable weakling,” he said. He wasn’t about to tell Throbb about the stiffness of his own wings. How every night he had to limber up before taking flight. Curse this cold. There was no getting away from it. It seeped through his skin and settled deep in his bones.

“It doesn’t look right,” Throbb whined, still staring at his wing.

Goth looked and saw that the membrane was slightly mottled, like a blister. In the jungle, he’d seen wings rot and fall off, but never anything like these raised sores.

“I don’t see anything,” he grunted. But he quickly checked his
own wing tips. They were fine. Throbb was weak, that’s why his wings were blistering.

How long did the winter last? Four months, isn’t that what Shade had said? He knew they wouldn’t survive out in the open for much longer. They’d have to find a warm place. They’d have to reach Hibernaculum.

Food was harder to come by. The land was frozen. All Goth had managed to find in the past two nights was a squirrel, which he’d rooted out of its hollow in a tree. His eyes strayed to Throbb. He’d lost weight since they’d left the false jungle, but there was still plenty of meat on him. Saliva gushed into his mouth.

“What?” Throbb asked nervously.

“Nothing,” said Goth. Throbb might still be useful to him.

Zotz would not let him freeze. He was being tested, and only his cowardice would be punished. Every night they set course by the star Shade had shown him. It was only a matter of time before they overtook him. Tomorrow night they’d catch up, he was sure of it.

Then he’d get the rest of the sound map from Shade.

And then he’d eat him.

He would arrive at Hibernaculum with the sad news of Shade’s death, and befriend the Silverwings.

He would have a warm place to get him through the rest of the winter.

And all the food he needed.

Shade was almost always cold now. He tried to remember Tree Haven on a hot summer night, and couldn’t.

The ground had been rising steadily for the past three hours. In the distance rose bony mountains, with gaunt icy summits.

“I don’t like it,” said Marina. “Why would your colony go this way? It’s so cold.”

Shade stared miserably at the landscape. There were fewer trees and shrubs now, and the ground was rockier. A roost would be hard to find. There were certainly wolves around too. He could hear them now, sending up their mournful and terrifying howls.

Without warning a gale came screaming down from the mountain, and suddenly the world was a white swirl.

“Marina!” he shouted above the noise. “Where are you?”

“Here, here!” she said, and he could see her shadow as she struggled to pull alongside him.

Eddies of snow drove into his eyes. His echo vision was nothing but a painful silver haze. He desperately shook his wings, heavy with snow, but it was no use.

“I can’t stay up!”

“We’ll land.”

But where? he wondered anxiously as they veered clumsily to the ground. It was all snow and ice—and wolves. Searching desperately for a good tree, he caught sight of a snowy ridge jutting out from the hillside.

“There, over there!” he shouted, angling his wings. There was no time to make a pass and check for birds. He stretched out his claws and landed up to his chin in snow. Shivering, he lifted his head clear and scrambled over to Marina.

“I thought maybe there’d be a cave,” he said.

“It’s not rock,” Marina told him, tapping with her claws. “It’s wood. It’s a roof.”

In surprise Shade peered over the edge, and could now make out wooden walls, caked with snow.

“There’s no light coming from the windows,” he said. “You think there’s anyone inside?”

From somewhere on the mountainside rose the long howl of a wolf.

“We’ll have to take our chances,” said Marina. “It’s too late to find anywhere else. Dig.”

Together they shoveled down through the snow until they found a warped wooden plank with a gap big enough for them to squeeze through. Inside, Shade gratefully shook the snow from his fur. It was a large dark space under the rafters, surprisingly warm, and filled with boxes, piles of old blankets, and other Human objects he didn’t recognize. A tiny window set in one wall let in a pale swirling light. Outside the wind moaned.

He wondered if his mother and the rest of his colony were trapped in the same storm, or whether they’d moved beyond it, and were just leaving them farther and farther behind. He sighed. There was nothing he could do about it.

His fur suddenly tingled, and he looked at Marina. She was holding herself stiff, her chest barely moving.

They weren’t alone. With his eyes he found the exit crack in the roof, ready to fly at any moment. There was a leathery creak of wings, the scratch of a claw gripping wood.

“One of us,” came a faint whisper, “… one of us …”

Shade’s flesh crawled. He tensed, ready to spring for the exit. He’d rather take his chances in the storm than face some whispering ghoul …

“Wait,” Marina hissed to him.

The creak of wings was all around them now, and then another voice, near the ceiling—

“Yes, she’s one of us.”

And another at the far end of the loft—

“You’re right, she’s one of us!”

“Who’s there!” Shade demanded.

All at once, a hundred bats were in the air, fluttering up from their hiding places under the rafters and along the walls. He’d never seen so many different types. He spotted Graywings, a few Silverwings, but mostly they were completely new to him. Bats with black faces and small, mouse-shaped noses; pale bats with enormous ears that seemed in danger of toppling over; bats with flamboyant crests of fur; bats with huge snouts, dappled fur, small sad eyes.

They must have come from a dozen different colonies. But they had one thing in common.

They were all banded.

A female with bright fur settled beside Marina.

“Another Brightwing,” the bat said happily. “I’m Penelope.”

“Penelope,” Marina murmured, staring in amazement. “I heard about you. But they said you’d been banded and it killed you. Three years ago.”

Penelope shook her head, smiling. “No. They made that up. They just expelled me from the colony, because they were superstitious. There’re dozens of us here, and the bands haven’t hurt anyone.”

Marina nodded, and Shade could see her eyes fill with tears. She cleared her throat. “You’re the first Brightwing I’ve seen in a while.”

“We’re so glad you came. It’s amazing you could find us in this storm.”

“Just luck.”

“No,” Penelope said, “the band drew you to us. That’s how we all found our way. We’re connected. That’s one of the reasons the Humans gave them to us. So we could all gather together—”

My father. The thought leaped into Shade’s head. Was this where his father had come? To be with all the other banded bats?

“Is there a Cassiel here?” he asked urgently. “A Silverwing?”

Just by the blank look on Penelope’s face, Shade knew the answer, and he felt himself sag with disappointment.

“There’s no one here by that name,” came another voice. Fluttering over to them was an older male with the longest ears Shade had ever seen. They shot high up in the air, making his face look small by comparison. His echo vision must be incredible, Shade thought. He wondered if this bat could see into the past and future like Zephyr.

“I’m Scirocco,” said the bat, roosting beside them. “Welcome.”

Shade couldn’t help noticing that this greeting was directed mainly at Marina, and Scirocco gave him only the quickest of nods. He looked intently at Marina’s band.

“Yes, by the shape and markings I’d guess not a full year has passed since you received the band. Am I right?”

She nodded. “I got it last spring.”

“And do you know the importance of it? Do you know it’s part of Nocturna’s Promise?”

Shade looked at Marina, and her eyes fell away sadly. She said nothing.

“What’s the matter?” Penelope asked.

“I used to think that,” she said softly. “That it meant something. But it’s not true.”

“Why do you say that?”

“We met other banded bats, not from here, but from the jungle. They were big, much bigger than us. They could kill birds, even owls. And they ate bats.”

Penelope looked aghast, and a murmur of horror passed through the loft.

“Go on,” Scirocco urged her gently.

Marina told him everything that had happened since they’d met Goth and Throbb. The long-eared bat listened attentively as she spoke, occasionally interrupting with questions. After she’d told him about the flying machine that had come, and the Humans who had tried to kill them with darts, he nodded.

“The Humans imprisoned those bats for a reason.”

“Goth said they were studying them,” Shade offered. He was starting to feel left out. He had a part in this story too, and he didn’t like it that Marina got to tell everything. But Scirocco only looked at him briefly before turning back to her.

“That’s what they told you, but you know they’re liars. The Humans knew what a danger they’d be to the rest of us. They wanted to keep those bats locked out of the skies. They weren’t meant to escape.”

“No,” said Marina. “But why were they banded, then?”

The same question had been on the tip of Shade’s tongue, but she beat him to it.

“You said their bands were black. I was struck by that detail. Not a single bat here has been banded in black. Our bands are bright silver, like the sun, because we are meant to return to the sun. Any bat who wears black can never leave the night. Those bats have been marked, certainly, but not as part of Nocturna’s Promise.”

Marina looked quickly at Shade, and he could see the spark of hope in her eyes. What Scirocco said did seem reasonable. But there were still a few things that didn’t make sense. He cleared his throat.

“But why did the Humans try to kill us?” he asked quietly. “One of their darts nearly hit me.”

Again, Scirocco gave him the quickest of glances. It was just like being back at Tree Haven again, and Chinook ignoring him, and nobody listening. He felt unpleasantly small. He had no band. He was an outsider here, and it rankled him. He’d seen the echo chamber, he’d been told by Frieda he had a brightness. He was searching for the answers too.

“I don’t think the Humans had any intention of harming you,” Scirocco replied. “They shot Goth, yes, and we can only hope they also shot Throbb. They weren’t hunting you. They were protecting you.”

Shade let out his breath slowly. Could it be true?

Marina nodded slowly. “We were stupid to fly away. They might have helped us.”

“Don’t worry,” said Scirocco. “Nocturna’s Promise is about to come true. We will return to the light of day. And we will become Human.”

Human.

Shade listened, dumbfounded. Never in his life would he have
guessed. Whenever he’d thought of Nocturna’s Promise, he’d always assumed they would return to the light of day as bats. But Scirocco said there would be a transformation first, and all those who had been banded would become Human. That’s how they would finally win back the sun. They’d never have to live in fear of the birds and beasts again.

He watched Marina as she listened. Since leaving Goth and Throbb, she’d been gloomy, locked inside her own thoughts, but now her face shone with excitement, and when she caught his eye, she gave him a brilliant smile.

He had to look away. Why wasn’t he happier? He’d come to find out the secret of the bands, and now he had it. What Scirocco said had the ring of truth. So why did it bother him? Maybe it was just shock, this new idea of leaving one body for another. Human. How he’d envied them in the cathedral. He’d wanted their strength, their size, but did he want to
become
one of them? They seemed slow, heavy. They couldn’t see at night.

They couldn’t fly.

Shade summoned up his courage. He felt like he was back before the elders in the upper roost at Tree Haven.

“How do you know for sure—about the transformation, I mean.”

“Because it’s already started,” Scirocco replied.

“Human … Human …” came an excited whisper from the rafters.

“Watch,” Scirocco said.

He moved to a clear space in the middle of the wooden floor. “It’s coming soon. I can feel it in my bones,” he said, closing his eyes, his brow wrinkling with concentration. “My bat bones will soon become human bones. My legs will stretch and grow long and become Human legs …”

With a quick thrust of his wrists, the long-eared bat jerked upright onto his hind legs, swaying slightly for only a moment before achieving balance. His tail dragged the ground.

“Transform!” the bats overhead chanted. “Transform!”

Ponderously, Scirocco took a few steps forward on his hind legs, wings folded tight against his sides, head thrust forward. Walking, like a Human.

A weird energy was filling up the loft, and Shade looked at Marina in alarm. She was staring at Scirocco, amazed, her eyes blazing.

“My claws will be blunted, my fingers shrink!” Scirocco was saying. “My fur will thin, my face will smooth and flatten. My wings will wither and fall from my shoulders like a snake’s useless skin!”

“Transform! Transform!”

Shade swallowed, his heart racing. Scirocco’s steps were more confident now, and his wings were folded in so tight they seemed to have disappeared … and his face looked paler, less furry …

Shade’s echo vision wavered. The very air in the loft seemed charged with light and sound. He shook his head, gazing in wonder at Scirocco. What was happening?

“I’m telling you all now,” Scirocco cried out, “that I will grow tall and strong and powerful and walk into the light as a Human!”

“Transform!”

Scirocco’s body shuddered and suddenly burst its own skin, towering up into the air.

“Transform!” wailed the bats in a fever, and when Shade glanced at Marina, he saw that she was chanting too. He felt intensely alone, and afraid. He whirled back to Scirocco, and cried out in alarm.

Standing in the middle of the loft was a Human. But he still had bat eyes, and pointed ears jutted out from his head. And when he smiled, the teeth were still bat’s teeth, with sharp fangs plunging down from the upper jaw.

Scirocco’s body shuddered and suddenly burst its own skin, towering up into the air.

“Human! Human!”

Shade clamped shut his eyes, overcome. There was something not right about it, something unnatural. When he looked again, the Human had disappeared. Scirocco was back on the ground, a large-eared bat with pale fur on four legs. The others in the loft had fallen into an exhausted silence. All he could hear was the sound of their panting.

“You see,” said Scirocco triumphantly. “We are very close. It won’t be long before the Humans come for us, and Nocturna lets us be fully transformed forever!”

Scirocco looked kindly at Marina.

“Join us,” he said. “Wait with us for the coming of the light. It won’t be long.”

“Stay,” said the other Brightwing, Penelope. “Please stay.”