Silverwing (9 page)

“Push!” he urged her. “Block the light!”

Together they sank their claws in and pushed. The shingle slid quickly across the floor.

“Take hold of them!” roared the captain. “Seize their wings!”

But the turret was plunged into total darkness. Shade knew now was their only chance. The pigeons were momentarily blind.

“Come on,” he hissed to Marina.

Slowly he lifted off the ground, drumming his wings frantically. With his sound vision he scanned the turret: the silver webwork of beams, pigeons fluttering blind in panic, their wings etching ghostly shadows in his mind’s eye. He spotted the nearest window: a beckoning rectangle of blackness. He plotted his course.

The pigeons fluttered in confusion, smacking into one another. Shade veered around one beam, then another, his wings jerking sharply from side to side. From behind, a pigeon knocked him in the side of the head, stunning him. He dropped to a wooden beam.

“Got one!” the pigeon cried.

“Shade!” he heard Marina cry beside him.

“Go!” he shouted. “I’m okay.”

But he felt the bird’s heavy wing press down on him hard, trying to pin him. Instinctively he sank his teeth into the feathers and hit flesh. The pigeon yelped and the wing snapped up.

Shade leaped from the beam, dropping several feet before his wings could lift him again. Where was Marina? He cast a panicked sonic glance around and saw her slender outline, making for the window above him. She flashed through and was out. A pigeon lunged to block his path, but Shade flipped sideways just in time, and soared through the window, back into the night.

Six pigeons burst after them from the turret windows.

Shade shot a look over his wing, saw the birds fanning out across the sky to hem them in.

“Can we outrun them?” he gasped.

“Don’t think so,” panted Marina.

“They’ve got to be half blind out here!”

“Plenty of light.”

She was right. It wasn’t like night in the forest. Light poured up from the city. They streamed over it, swinging wildly around towers, skimming rooftops, plunging down into deep canyons. His fear was shot through with exultation: He was back in the night, his own element. No bird could catch him. He was small, black as the sky, quick as a shooting star. Still the pigeons kept doggedly after them.

“Follow me,” Marina said.

He spun down into the city after her. Past walls of light, moaning machinery, Human vehicles on the glittering roads.

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere dark.”

She dropped down into a narrow alley between two low
buildings, and he plunged after her, piercing the deep shadows with his echo vision.

“Here!” she called out.

They rounded a corner and threw themselves against a sooty brick wall, clinging with their claws. For good measure, Shade spread his black wings over Marina’s body, making them all but invisible in the darkness. They stopped breathing as the pigeons thrashed past over the alley, then circled.

“Where’d they go?” said one soldier.

“That way, I think.”

“Go. We’ll check here.”

Two soldiers stayed behind and settled on the rooftop’s edge, listening, their heads ticking from side to side. Shade watched them with his echo vision.

“It’s too dark,” said the first soldier. “I can’t see a thing.”

“We’ve lost them,” said the second.

“Let’s head back.”

“The captain won’t be happy.”

“But what if those big ones come back …”

“Forget what Saunders said. He’s a liar. There’re no bats like that.”

“Then how’d they kill two of us? You saw that wound on Saunders’s shoulder.”

“Maybe they had weapons, how do I know?”

“He said they carried the bodies away in their claws.”

The other pigeon had no reply to this.

“All right. Let’s go back. Call the others. It’ll be light in a few hours. We can send another team at dawn.”

They lit from the rooftop and disappeared. When he could no longer hear them, Shade hungrily sucked in air. He felt like he hadn’t taken a breath in hours.

Marina pushed away his wings. “Nearly suffocated me under there,” she said indignantly.

“Yeah, well it worked,” he shot back with a grin. He was so glad to be free of the turret. Glad both his wings were still attached to his body.

“You can thank me for that,” she said. “They’d have caught us in the open.”

“Hey, I was the one who killed the light and got us out of that stinking turret!”

“That was quick thinking,” she admitted.

“Sure was.”

“And a lot of luck,” she added. “We’re lucky to be alive.”

Shade shrugged. His whole body was buzzing. “They weren’t so tough. They’re not great fliers, are they? I mean, they’re not as fast as us, and they’re noisy for one thing, and they can’t maneuver very well. What an escape!”

“They’ll come back for us.”

He sighed. She was so sensible. It started to rain gently, and he felt suddenly very tired.

“We’ve got to find the right tower,” he said. But how would they ever find the right tower in this city of towers? All he wanted was to be out of the city, and on their way again.

“Let’s find a safe day roost first. I don’t want to be caught out by dawn, with every bird in the city hunting us.”

Closed skies. The owl’s words echoed in Shade’s head. They’d never be safe now. All his life the night had been his, now it was taken away. And all because the pigeons said bats had killed two of them. Giant bats.

“What are gargoyles?” he asked Marina.

“I don’t know. You thinking of what that pigeon said?”

“Maybe they just made it up.” But he knew he wanted it to be true. He wanted there to be bats so big the pigeons feared them. Maybe they were big enough to fight owls too.

With Marina, he dropped from the wall, and skimmed the buildings.

“Maybe we could roost on a rooftop?” he suggested.

“No. Too many pigeons around. There’s got to be a tree somewhere.”

They rose higher for a better view, and darted out over a large tree-lined square. In the center was a huge stone building. It didn’t look like the others. More like the skeleton of a vast, ancient beast, crouched, its head bent into the earth. At the front, two rough stone towers rose up like pointy shoulder blades. Stretching back was a high-pitched roof, supported by riblike stone arches. Then, at the end of the building rose the highest tower of all, tapering like an animal’s bony tail.

And there it was.

Crowning the tower’s spire was a metal cross, glinting silver in the city’s glow.

“Marina,” he said.

With relief, he swept up toward the spire, looking for a place to land—and then in horror, he slammed his wings back, braking furiously.

“Look out!” he screamed.

It was some sort of giant demon, crouched at the base of the spire. Spiked wings were unfolding from its back, and its huge eyes suddenly flashed. Hunched forward as if to lunge, its hellhound jaws were opened wide, spewing saliva.

“There’s another one!” shouted Marina, veering away.

Shade did a midair flip and chased after Marina, muscles screaming, waiting for jaws to close around him. One wingbeat and they’d be at his tail, any second now, any second … he couldn’t stand it any longer. He looked back.

“Wait,” he called out to Marina. “Why aren’t they moving?”

She circled warily. “Maybe they didn’t see us.”

“I almost flew into one!” Surely if they were dangerous they’d have struck by now. With his echo vision he took another look. There they were, hunched on the corners of the spire, motionless.

“They’re giant bats,” he whispered in amazement.

He made a wide pass and saw there were four of the creatures in all, one on each corner, glaring out into the night. Still as stone.

“They’re not alive,” he shouted back at Marina. He laughed at
himself. It was only the city lights that had made their eyes flash. And the saliva drizzling from their open mouths was nothing more than rainwater. Marina flew up beside him.

It was some sort of giant demon, crouched at the base of the spire.

“But what are they?” she muttered in wonder.

“They’re gargoyles,” said one of the creatures in a deep echoing voice. “Humans made them.”

Shade jolted back; the voice had definitely emanated from a set of gaping jaws.

“Come inside,” said the voice again, and Shade recognized it unmistakably as a bat’s.

The stone creature’s throat, Shade saw now, extended far back into the spire, like a sort of tunnel. He looked at Marina.

“You expect me to go in there?” she said.

“It’s the right tower. The cross and everything. And there’s definitely a bat inside.”

“Don’t be afraid,” said the bat’s voice from deep within the spire.

“Well, that’s good enough for me,” Marina said sarcastically.

“Look,” Shade said. “It’s got to be safe. Otherwise my colony wouldn’t use it as a landmark, right?”

“After you.”

He knew he’d have to go first. He took a deep breath. It wasn’t easy flying directly into the dripping jaws of the stone creature. He landed between rows of jagged teeth, half expecting them to snap shut. But they held, frozen, in their fearful grimace.

“Seems okay,” he called back to her.

She reluctantly landed beside him, and together they crawled along the trickling stone, farther and farther into the petrified gullet.

“That’s right, keep coming,” came the voice from the darkness, and Shade, casting a quick sonic glance, caught the outlines of a bat, fluttering out of sight at the tunnel’s end.

Overhead, a pipe spewed rainwater onto them, and they hurried past onto the drier stone beyond. The tunnel opened out. Listening intently as his echoes came back to him, Shade saw that they were inside the spire, and the vast space housed several enormous metal objects, like giant pears or flower bulbs, but hollow inside. They were suspended on a system of elaborate ropes, beams, and notched metal wheels.

“My name’s Zephyr.”

Hanging from a wooden strut was the strangest bat Shade had ever seen. He was of normal size, but his fur was a brilliant white.
His wings were pale and completely translucent, so you could see the dark outlines of his forearm and long, spindly fingers. Even the latticework of his veins stood out.

“It has nothing to do with age,” the bat explained, as if aware of Shade and Marina’s amazement. “I’m an albino—my fur and flesh lack pigment. Even my eyes, when I still had the use of them.”

Shade looked into Zephyr’s eyes now and saw that they were glazed ghostly white with cataracts.

“Come roost here with me.”

Shade and Marina fluttered up and dug their claws into the wood beside Zephyr.

“Those stone creatures,” asked Marina, “what are they?”

“They’re called gargoyles.”

“So that’s what the pigeons were talking about!” Shade said. “What are they for?”

“This is a cathedral,” Zephyr continued, “a holy place to Humans, constructed long ago. I think they made those gargoyles to frighten away spirits and demons, which only Humans understand. As it turns out, they’ve served us well here in the city. No bird or beast dares come near the spire. For hundreds of years we’ve claimed this place as a safe haven, and there has always been a bat sentry posted here, to help travelers in need. And for the past twenty years I have been Keeper of the Spire.”

“You live here?” Shade asked.

“Oh yes, all year round.”

“Then you must’ve seen my mother,” Shade said excitedly. “With Frieda, and the whole colony!”

“Silverwings, yes,” replied the albino bat. “Two nights ago. They didn’t stay long, just enough time to take their bearings.”

“Told you this was the right place,” Shade said to Marina. “Were they all right?” he asked Zephyr.

“You’re the bat they lost in the storm.”

Shade nodded, surprised. “They told you?”

“They think you’re dead.”

Shade swallowed. His mother. “Well,” he said, “I’m trying to catch up with them. Do you know which way they were going?”

“Don’t you have a sound map?”

“Yes, but—I’m not sure I understand it.” It would be so much simpler if someone could just explain it so he didn’t have to puzzle it out. Two nights ago they’d been here. The gap was widening. They’d have to hurry. He looked hopefully at Zephyr. “If you could tell me—”

“I’m afraid I don’t know anything. A colony’s sound maps are a great secret. You must know that.”

“Oh. Right.” He didn’t know.

The albino bat frowned and turned his blind gaze on Marina.

“You’re not a Silverwing, are you? I can hear the different shape of your wings; even the texture of your fur is different, longer, fuller … A Brightwing, am I right?”

“Yes,” she said, glancing at Shade in amazement. “But I don’t belong to any colony anymore, because—”

“—of your band,” Zephyr finished for her, head cocked slightly. “Yes, I can hear it now … strange markings … I’ve not heard one quite like that before.”

“You’ve seen others?”

“Of course. May I?” He reached out with one gnarled claw and touched Marina’s band. “You were given it recently, yes?”

“This spring.”

“It’s newer than any I’ve seen so far.”

Shade looked enviously from Marina to Zephyr. The albino bat seemed more interested in talking to her than him.

“Do you know what it’s for?” Marina asked.

“That,” Zephyr said, “is a great mystery. It’s a link connecting you to the Humans, and—”

“Frieda said it was a sign of the Promise,” Shade cut in impatiently. But the albino bat quietly turned his clouded eyes on him, and Shade felt chastened.

“Frieda knows a great deal. But I rather think it’s more than a sign. The Humans have a part to play in whatever Nocturna is planning for us. I believe they’ll come back to the bats whom they banded. They’ve been marked for a reason. There’s something the Humans want to give them, that’s certain, but I think there’s something they want from you as well.”