Silverwing (7 page)

“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “I just don’t understand. Why do they think the bands are bad luck?” He looked at the silver ring around her forearm, and for the first time, felt a prick of uneasiness. “Something must have happened, more than just stories.”

“Maybe you should’ve gone with them,” she said tersely.

“That’s not what I mean.”

“Nothing’s stopping you.”

“I’m not leaving—”

“You think I need your company? I’m used to living alone. I don’t need you or your colony, Shade.” She stared at him, her eyes hard, then looked away. “I’m … forget it.”

“Maybe there’re different kinds of bands,” Shade said. “Good ones and bad ones.” His head ached, and his stomach felt queasy. “I don’t know.”

“And which have I got? Guess I’ll know when I burst into flames.”

Shade stared at her in alarm, and they both laughed, long and hard, until he felt the tears come to his eyes. But he still couldn’t shrug off his anxiety. If only they could reach his colony, and get some answers.

“Sorry they weren’t your colony,” Marina said.

“Yeah.”

“We’ll catch up. That map of yours is doing the job.” Shade smiled gratefully. Ahead of them he could see a ghostly brightening on the horizon, as if the sun were about to rise. Only he knew this wasn’t the sun. “Here comes the city,” said Marina.

Tonight he would be free.

Goth hung from a sinewy branch in the artificial jungle. It was hot here, but the heat didn’t come from the blazing tropical sun; it came from some hidden underground furnace. The drizzling rain and mist didn’t come from the sky, but from tiny sprinklers in the flat black ceiling. Goth could tell that even some of the plants were fake, their fronds stiff and odorless. Did the Humans really think he was so stupid?

This place was nothing like his home, the real jungle, where they’d captured him a month ago. This place was a prison—he could circle it in a few hundred beats of his powerful wings. When they’d first put him inside, he’d smashed into the invisible walls, foolishly trusting his eyes when he should have relied on his echo vision. These walls were strong as stone; but by some magic Goth didn’t understand, his eyes could see right through them, to the place where the Humans came and went, peering in at him.

Didn’t they realize who he was? A prince of the royal family, Vampyrum Spectrum, and a descendant of Cama Zotz, the bat
god, and ruler of the Underworld. All men and women were sent there when their bodies died. They came face-to-face with Zotz himself, and he would decide their fate, ripping off the heads of those who had displeased him during their earthly lives.

In Goth’s home, Humans worshipped Zotz. Women about to have babies would come to the royal cave and pray, asking that their children be strong and healthy and live long. They left offerings—food and flowers, and sparkling disks of metal.

But the Humans here … He glared at the band they’d fastened around his forearm. The mark of a prisoner. It was an outrage. When he escaped he would return to the royal cave and call upon Cama Zotz to punish them.

Especially the Man.

He wore white robes, and was tall, with spindly arms and legs. He had wiry black hair and an unkempt beard. One of his eyes was always half closed, giving his face, at first glance, a sleepy look. But the eyes themselves were anything but sleepy, bright and hard. Sometimes the Man flashed searing lights in his face; sometimes he came into the artificial jungle and stuck a dart into his side that made him plunge into a deep sleep. Mostly he just sat on the other side of the invisible wall and stared.

Restless, Goth tensed the powerful muscles of his massive chest and unfurled his wings to their full three-foot span. He had a large angular head crested with bristly fur. He had tall pointed ears, and a strange flat nose, which flared upward into a spike. His eyes were large, unblinking, and pitch black. A long snout, more like that of a beast than a bat, housed a set of glistening teeth. His entire body was taut, as if ready at any moment to slash down and attack.

The Humans fed him mice, tiny, cowering things. He was tired of the taste: meek and watery, as if they’d all come from the same brood. He craved variety.

Above all he craved bat, live, pungent bat flesh.

He longed to hunt again.

There was another prisoner here, a bat called Throbb. They’d been caught together, hunting in the same part of the jungle. Goth had never liked Throbb; he was not of royal blood—a weak, lying creature who fed on the rotting carcasses left behind by other animals. He probably hadn’t even struggled as the Humans took him.

Goth had quickly marked out his own territory, relegating Throbb to a small corner. Occasionally he fought Throbb for his mice, not because he was hungry, but because it was something to do, and it amused him to see Throbb back away, whimpering. From time to time he’d even thought of eating Throbb—that’s how desperate he was for bat meat. But even though he detested the other bat, he needed him. To help him escape.

And tonight he would be free.

From his roost he watched as the Man approached the invisible wall and opened a secret door. Goth had been watching him do this, night after night. At first he’d thought maybe this was his way out. When he was sure he was alone, he’d found the whisker-thin outlines of this secret door, and many times had tried to open it himself, battering it with his head, trying to sink his claws into the hard, slippery surface. But it was hopeless.

Then, one night, he’d noticed a current of cool air moving through the jungle. Circling, he’d found the source. In the black ceiling was a small metal grate, through which he could feel a draft. He’d tried desperately to squeeze his body through one of the slits, but he was too large, even with his wings folded tight against his sides. He’d have to move the whole grate. And it would be much faster with help.

“Do you want to get out of here?” he’d asked the other bat.

“Of course,” replied Throbb warily. “But how?”

“Work with me, and you’ll soon be free in the jungle.”

So, night after night, when the Humans had left, the two bats flew up to the grate and, with their claws and teeth, chipped away bits of cement and plaster around the edges. Every night the grate was a little looser.

Now, he watched as the Man tipped a dozen white mice onto the ground. He shut the door and sat down behind the invisible wall, watching. Goth stared back at him, hating him. Why didn’t he go away? Did he have to watch everything?

Throbb was already pouncing down on the mice, trying desperately to eat as many as he could before Goth showed up. Goth had no appetite, but knew he would need all his strength tonight. He fed quickly, sometimes breaking their necks with a quick chop of his jaws, sometimes swallowing them whole, so he could feel them wriggling down his throat.

“Go back to your roost and pretend to sleep,” he hissed at Throbb.

Hanging upside down, one eye open just a slit, Goth waited in agony. He tried to think of his coming freedom. He would fly back into the jungle and rejoin his family. He’d become a great hero, escaped from the Humans’ prison!

Finally the Man stood and walked away, and darkness fell behind the invisible wall. Goth lit from his roost.

“Now!”

Together, they flew to the ceiling, locking claws around the metal grate. They strained with all their might to drag it loose, but still it held fast.

“Put your wings into it!” growled Goth.

They unfurled their wings, and began beating them furiously, driving back from the ceiling. Dust showered Goth’s fur.

“Harder!” he roared at Throbb. “Harder if you want your freedom!”

They heaved again and Goth felt the grate give way in a cascade of rubble. It was heavier than he’d bargained for, and his wings buckled. He plunged backward with Throbb, the grate riding on top of them. Throbb twisted out from underneath and swooped clear, but Goth’s claws were still caught around the metal slits.

“Zotz!” he roared. And suddenly his claws ripped free and he flipped over onto his side and away. The grate pounded into the damp earth.

Goth clung to a vine, waiting for his heart to slow. Zotz had come to his rescue.

“Are you all right?” he heard Throbb call out.

“No thanks to you.”

But he was in too much of a hurry to waste time beating Throbb. He flew to the hole, clung to the edge, and poked his head up. A cool breeze played on his slick fur. He sang out and let the returning echo draw a picture in his head.

It was a metal shaft, leading straight up. It was too narrow for them to even spread their wings. Walls too smooth for their claws.

“We’ll have to fly straight up.”

Throbb whimpered doubtfully.

“Stay behind if you want,” Goth said, folding his wingtips in. The strain on his bones was tremendous as he pounded the air furiously, wings a blur, fifteen, twenty, twenty-five beats a second, his heart beating just as fast.

And he was rising up into the shaft, rising like a dark angel from the Underworld, up and up, jaws grinding in exertion, saliva bubbling at the corners of his mouth. He heard nothing
but the volcanic roar of his heart. Just when he thought his wings would snap, the shaft suddenly opened into a horizontal tunnel. He dropped gasping to the flat metal surface.

No time to rest. Turning his face into the wind, he began to crawl quickly along the floor, not even waiting for Throbb to catch up. The breeze was stronger here, and he strained to catch the familiar scents of the jungle, but couldn’t. Never mind—he was almost there.

There was a sound, a fast, deliberate chopping, getting louder.

Chomp-chomp-chomp-CHOMP-CHOMP

He rounded a corner and was blasted by air, making him squint. At the end of the tunnel, beyond a mesh screen, was a huge twisted blade, spinning.

“What is that?” Throbb asked, hurrying after him.

“Do you think I know everything about Humans? It’s some kind of trap to keep us inside.”

“It’ll cut us to pieces!”

Goth ignored him. Beyond that blade was the night. He could smell it. Zotz would not let him be defeated. He focused all his attention on the revolving blade, listening carefully. The metal mesh was not finely woven; they could get past that with their wings closed. But the blade …

It spun in a circle at the end of the square tunnel, leaving a small crescent of free space in each of the four corners. Goth quickly measured the distance in his mind.

“Squeeze through,” he told Throbb.

“What?”

“In the lower corner, you can squeeze through. The blade won’t hit you.”

He wasn’t absolutely sure of this, which was why he wanted Throbb to go first.

“Maybe there’s another way out,” said Throbb. “The other tunnel …”

Goth shoved his bared teeth close to Throbb’s face.

“You’ll do what I say,” he hissed.

Slowly Throbb slunk down the tunnel. Wings squeezed tight against his shaking body, he neared the mesh screen. He pushed halfway through, and came to a sudden stop, staring at the whirling blade as if hypnotized.

Chomp-chomp-chomp—

“It’s too fast,” he called back over his shoulder. “It’s going to suck me in.”

Chomp-chomp-chomp—

“Do it!”

“I can’t.”

Goth darted forward and bit Throbb’s tail. With a yelp, the other bat lunged forward. Goth listened as the huge blade cut swiftly through the air. Throbb cried out in terror as the tip sang past him, slicing a patch of fur from his shoulder. But he was through.

Goth’s heart leaped. He hurried forward, squeezed through the mesh, and let out all his breath. The blade was so fast it created a whirlwind effect. He stiffened against its pull, listening to the blade in his mind’s eye.

He sprang forward.

Chomp—

The blade’s passage was like a thunderclap, blinding him in one ear.

But he’d made it through unharmed.

And he was suddenly outside.

He unlocked his wings and lifted into the night air.

“Free!” he roared in triumph, but his cry caught in his throat.

“Free!” he roared in triumph …

Where was the jungle?

A galaxy of bright lights spread out dizzyingly before him, steep canyons and deep glowing rivers of sound. Huge stacks of stone and light towered all around him. Goth wheeled in tight circles, not knowing where he was. He’d expected the jungle to greet him, the familiar sights and smells of dense rain forest, the cry of his bat brothers and sisters.

But this landscape was utterly alien to him. The noise from below was almost overwhelming, making his vision blur and pulse. He could make out only a haze of movement.

He shivered violently, and only then did he notice how bitterly cold it was. The jungle was never this cold. His hatred of the Humans doubled. Where had they taken him? In panic he gazed up at the stars.

He did not recognize a single one.

They were all different.

And where was the moon? He spiraled higher, hoping he would see the jungle just on the horizon. But the lights spread on endlessly. He could not even see the glow of the sun. That would at least have given him a sense of direction.

Maybe, he thought in panic, there was no sun here, no west or east, north or south.

“Where are we?” wailed Throbb, flapping alongside him.

But all at once the moon appeared from behind a bank of clouds, and Goth’s heart surged with relief. This was something he recognized, with all its familiar bumps and creases.

“The Humans must have taken us out of the jungle,” he told Throbb. “They’ve taken us north.” He’d heard stories, terrible stories.

“It’s so cold. Let’s go back inside,” said Throbb.

“What?” hissed Goth in disgust. “To our prison?”

“It’s warm at least.”

“No, I’m going back to the jungle.”

“But who knows how far that is?”

Goth looked at Throbb contemptuously. Originally, he’d planned to eat Throbb after they’d escaped. A little victory celebration. But now, in these strange surroundings, he didn’t think it wise to kill Throbb just yet. He was in a foreign land, and he was not at all sure of himself. He might need help again.

“We’ll find a way back,” he said through clenched teeth. “And we’ll get there, one wingbeat at a time.”

“We’ll freeze.”

“Shut up!” snapped Goth.

He was cold and he needed more food. Food to keep him warm.

He cast his powerful sonic eye over the peaks of the city. The echo brought him back an image of birds roosting on the ledge of a high square tower.