Silverwing (8 page)

Pigeons. Plenty of meat on them.

He flexed his claws and plunged.

Shade and Marina flew over the city, dazzled. An endless latticework of light streamed hypnotically to all horizons. Machine sounds seeped up from below—metallic honks and grindings, and a pervasive throb, which seemed part of the air itself. For a dizzying moment Shade could almost imagine the Humans’ lights really were stars, and he was flying upside down.

He was exhausted. They hadn’t eaten much since entering the city. There were fewer insects here, and those he’d caught had a nasty taste, sooty and unfamiliar. All he wanted was to find the landmark, get his bearings, and get out.

They were crossing a black harbor now, and ahead of them on the opposite shore was a square stone tower, thrusting hundreds of feet into the sky. It wasn’t like the lighthouse. This tower was much more ornamented, with ledges and carvings, and numerous windows, some bright, some dark. On one side, near the top, was a massive white circle, bigger than the moon, and brighter. Black markings were inscribed around the inside rim, and Shade could hear a regular clicking from behind the flat circular face.
Capping the tower was a steep turret, rows of gabled windows set into the sides.

“Is this it?” Marina asked impatiently.

Shade conjured up his mother’s sound map and tried to make a match. A tower, a high-peaked turret—it seemed to fit …

From inside came a huge resonant bonging sound, making Shade and Marina both flinch.
BONG!
Then another.
BONG!
And another.
BONG!
Then silence.

“The sound from the map,” said Shade excitedly. “This must be the right place!”

They swung in toward the turret, and landed on some wooden slats nailed haphazardly across a gabled window. Hanging upside down, Shade frowned up at the turret, studying its sharp silhouette against the night sky.

“No,” he said, “there’s something missing.” And then it came to him. “The metal cross. There’s no cross on this tower. We’ve got the wrong one.”

“Shade …” said Marina softly. “Do you smell that?”

For the first time he noticed the thick unpleasant odor wafting out from the window. With a flash of plumage, a huge head thrust out from between the broken slats and closed its beak around his forearm. He stared in horror at the flashing eye, too shocked to feel any pain. The next thing he knew he was torn from his roost, and pulled through the window and into the turret.

Battered by wings, he was dragged roughly through the air. He saw and heard only glimpses of things: windows, wooden planks, the bodies of more birds, a kind he’d never seen before—all spinning as he was hauled down and down, his forearm pincered in the bird’s beak.

“We’ve got two of them!” a bird’s voice shouted. “Awake! Awake!”

Finally he was slammed against the floor and released, and
then Marina came crashing down beside him with a groan. They were in some kind of pit, covered with sticky bird droppings. The stench was so overpowering he almost retched. The two birds who’d caught them now dragged a tar shingle over the opening, trapping them.

“Wake the captain!” came another voice from above.

“Pigeons,” Marina breathed.

“You’ve seen them before?”

She nodded. “They run the city skies. They’re everywhere.”

“But … why weren’t they asleep?”

She was shaking her head. “It’s like they were waiting for us …”

“They can’t do this. We weren’t doing anything. The night’s ours.”

“Somehow, I don’t think they care. We’ve hit a patrol roost. Lucky us.”

The pit wasn’t very big. Between the wooden planks underfoot ran whiskers of light, and Shade could hear a rhythmic ticking from below. He knew the light must be coming from that strange bright circle on the tower.

He fluttered up to the shingle, and pushed gently. It didn’t budge. The pigeons were standing right on top of it, and he could see the points of their claws, pressing through. They’d never get out that way.

“What do they want with us?” he whispered, dropping back beside Marina.

Suddenly the shingle was jerked back and the heads of two pigeon guards plunged down and grabbed them. They were hauled from the pit and dropped onto the floor. He huddled close to Marina, hurriedly taking in the surroundings.

They were at the bottom of the turret. Wooden beams crisscrossed overhead like a giant web. And roosting on the beams
were dozens and dozens of birds, growling indignantly, angrily cracking their wings.

“More light!” roared one of the guards.

Across the floor Shade saw two pigeons dragging at another tar shingle, and suddenly a shaft of blinding light surged up into the turret. He narrowed his eyes to slits, listening to the terrifying flurry of activity, listening for ways out.

Even if they could get airborne fast enough, they’d have to weave their way through all those beams. And get past all the birds. Shade could hear pigeons barring the windows, wings flared, beaks snapping. They weren’t as big as owls, but they were still many times larger than him, with huge chests and muscular wings—and those eyes, those weirdly sparkling eyes.

Overhead, every beam was lined with birds now, peering down at them malevolently. The whole turret throbbed with the sound of their low ominous growling—
coorrrr, coorrrr, coorrrr
—making Shade’s ears twitch.

Then, on one low beam, the line of birds parted respectfully as a big pigeon strutted forward, chest thrown out, head held high. An angry raised scar ran from his face down the length of his throat.

“Make your report, Sergeant.”

“Yes, Captain, sir!” said the pigeon next to Shade with a smart jerk of his head. “We caught these two bats just outside the turret!”

“Good work, Sergeant.” The captain glowered down at Shade and Marina. “Are these the two you saw, Private?”

Another lean soldier pigeon fluttered down to the beam and peered at them. There was a gash in his right shoulder, which was still oozing, and he seemed extremely nervous, his head flicking from side to side. His eyes burned.

“No,” he said instantly, and then started laughing frantically.
“These two? No. No, no, no. They’re too small. The ones I saw were …” The pigeon twitched violently, and he stopped laughing. Fear poured from his haunted eyes. “Huge, Captain, sir. They were huge, their wings spanned at least three feet …”

“Enough,” snapped the captain angrily, and after a few startled grunts, the other pigeon fell silent, his head ticking back and forth.

Shade felt sick. He looked helplessly at Marina. What were they talking about? Bats with three-foot wingspans …

“Where are the other bats?” the captain shouted down at them.

Shade didn’t know how to reply. Which bats? Was he talking about Silverwings?

“I don’t know what you mean—”

The pigeon guard pecked him sharply with his beak, and Shade cried out.

“What were you doing around our roost?”

“We’re migrating,” Marina said. “We’re trying to find a landmark to help us on our way south. We thought this was the right tower but—”

“Who killed my two guards earlier tonight?”

Bats killing pigeons? Shade swallowed. They couldn’t … but three-foot wingspans? It was a mistake. No bat was that big.

“We don’t know.”

“Where are they roosting?”

“We don’t—”

“How many are there?”

Shade looked at Marina. He knew it was pointless to talk now; they weren’t listening, and he felt afraid. Afraid of their sparkling beaks, the anger that seemed to be welling up inside the turret like a thunderhead.

A pigeon guard fluttered down to the captain.

“Sir, the ambassador has arrived.”

“Excellent.” He turned back to Shade and Marina. “I think you’ll find the ambassador is less patient than me.”

High in the turret, a dark shape loomed in one of the windows, and Shade saw the outline of a she-owl. Behind her, two other guard owls circled outside.

“Things just got much worse,” he muttered to Marina.

He watched as the owl ambassador entered the pigeon roost slowly, almost disdainfully, her head swiveling slowly from side to side. Her nose twitched. A hush fell over the roost, and the captain flew up to greet her.

“Ambassador, welcome. Thank you for coming on such short—”

“You’ve caught the killers?” came the low terrifying voice.

“No, Ambassador, they’re too small, but—”

“Where are they?”

The owl dropped to a perch close to the floor. Her flat eyes took in Shade and Marina. Shade trembled.

“They’re spies,” growled the she-owl.

“No!” Shade protested.

“They deny it!” cried the captain angrily, and the other birds cracked their wings in outrage, their growls deepening.

“Then why were you caught directly outside the pigeons’ roost?” the ambassador asked.

“We were lost!”

“You know nothing of the bats who killed the two pigeons?”

“No,” Shade insisted.

“They were probably gathering information for another attack,” the owl told the captain. “I suggest you ready your soldiers.”

“Yes, Ambassador.”

“Have they told you the location of the others?”

“No.”

“They’re spies” growled the she-owl.

“I see.”

The owl turned her gaze back on Shade.

“Silverwing,” said the owl thoughtfully. “Where are you from?”

Shade said nothing.

“Answer!” shouted the captain.

“The northern forests.”

“Yes, I thought so. One of their bats broke the law and looked at the sun.”

Muttered outrage swept through the turret.

“We burned their roost to the ground several nights ago. I suspect the same bats are responsible for this latest atrocity, Captain. Some pathetic act of revenge, perhaps.”

“We will crush them!” said the captain.

“Not if there’s more like the others I saw,” muttered the soldier pigeon with the gash in his shoulder. And he laughed, a quick strangled laugh.

“That’s enough, Private!” snapped the captain.

“I’m not going back out there to fight ‘em, Captain … I’m not … they’ve got claws, sir, and teeth like—”

“Silence!”

“It’s the gargoyles, that’s what they is, them gargoyles on the cathedral come to life … I know it …”

“Guards, take him away!” The captain turned apologetically to the owl. “Private Saunders has a tendency to exaggerate.”

“No bat can be a match for birds,” said the owl calmly. “I bring an order from the king of the Northern Realms,” the owl announced. “Hear the king through me. The skies are now closed. This murder of birds by bats is an act of war, and we will respond in kind. The law is broken.”

The owl turned her baleful eyes on Shade.

“You bats are no longer protected in the night. Any bat seen
in the sky, night or day, is subject to death. We will not tolerate these actions. Our messengers have already been dispatched to all nests in the city, and will travel beyond as fast as our wingbeats.”

“You can’t do this!” Shade shouted in fury.

The nights, closed. That meant none of them were safe now. He thought of his mother and the rest of his colony. Were they far enough away, or would the owls’ decree catch up with them? More than ever, he knew he had to reach them.

“It has already been done, little bat,” said the owl. “And if you value your life, you will tell us where we can find the killers.”

“We don’t know anything.”

The owl turned to the captain. “I must go make my report to the royal assembly. Torture these two until they talk, then send for me.”

“Yes, Ambassador.”

The owl flared her wings, and the pigeons cleared a path for her as she rose regally through the turret and disappeared into the night sky.

“Prepare the bats for amputation,” the captain told his guards.

Shade felt all his joints turn loose and watery.

“What does that mean?” he asked Marina. “Amputation?”

“I don’t know,” she stammered, “I don’t—”

“Peck!” came the low ominous chant from the birds. “Peck, peck, peck, peck.”

Scriiiiiiiitttttcchhhhhh!

Shade’s ears twitched in terror. A group of pigeons were dragging their beaks against the stone.

Scriiiiiiiitttttcchhhhhh! Scriiiiiiiitttttcchhhhhh!

Shade suddenly understood. They were sharpening their beaks.

“Your punishment will be the loss of your wings!” decreed the captain. “You can crawl back to your bat friends and tell them
that the pigeons of this city will not forget this outrage. Take hold of them!”

“Take their wings!” cried the guard on the ground. “Pin them down!”

Pigeons dropped from their perches and began to crowd in. They were going to take away his wings, peck them off so he could never fly, never reach home. He felt powerless and naked in the bright light. The light.

“Follow me!” he hissed to Marina.

He sprang forward, leaping over the ring of pigeons and landing on the floor beyond them, very near the blinding shaft of light. He shut his eyes. Flaring his wings, he tripled his size in an instant, and bared his teeth with a blood-curdling shriek. Three pigeons scattered in astonishment. Marina landed beside him. Shade felt for the rough surface of the tar shingle.