Sky slows his forward movement. Have they made it out of the tunnel, and back into open water? Rumi props himself up as best as he can, waiting for the next bone-thudding propulsion. Instead they’re rising, gently rising. Rumi can’t imagine Sky swimming, but perhaps Banu is raising them with his bubble—or Sky’s dead body is floating to the surface.
But no, Sky is definitely alive. The macaw’s tongue vibrates as his muscles reengage, as the bones joining his wings to his rib cage shudder and pull. Rumi is lifted up and down in a soft rhythm. They’re flying. The soft movement continues, until Rumi’s stomach lurches, and he knows they’ve started to descend.
A slam and a shake, and then Sky’s skidding along the ground. A few steps, then the bird tumbles to his side, and his mouth parts.
Dizzy and gasping for air, Rumi picks his way out of the open beak.
Hot sand beneath his hands and feet. He cursed this beach before, how it burned his soft, porous skin, but now he feels like he could lie there for hours, soaking in the heat. His cold blood warms enough that he can finally think straight. “Sky, thank you, thank you,” Rumi says, rolling over to look at his friend. “You saved my life. I’d be dead without you . . . Sky?” Rumi props himself up on an elbow. “Are you okay?”
The scarlet macaw is on his side, beak open, vacant eye staring into the open sky. Rumi hops nearer. “Sky? Answer me! What’s going on with you?”
Once he’s close, he can see Sky’s tongue twitch, can feel the slightest hint of breath. But there’s white foam around that tongue, and there’s froth at the corner of Sky’s beak.
Poison.
Rumi’s stomach drops. He’s poisoned his best friend.
“Oh no, no no,” Rumi says, slapping Sky’s feathery cheek. “Sky. I was worked up by the explosion, I didn’t mean to envenomate, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!”
Rumi looks around the beach desperately. In the distance he can see the makeshift escape craft, the tapirs standing at the shore and staring out into the sea. They can’t see him, though—and what could they do to help if they could? Still, Rumi hops into the air and waves his little arms, using his magic to project his voice. “Help! Help us!”
Sobbing, he wraps his hands around Sky’s neck. “I’m so sorry, my friend. I’m so sorry!”
A voice comes from the tree line. “Move, Rumi, move!”
He snaps his head up to see a panther streaking toward him—Mez! “Rumi, get out of the way!”
“I poisoned him,” Rumi wails. “I didn’t mean to, it just happened. I’ve done it again.”
“Get out of the way, Rumi!” Mez shrieks.
Now Rumi sees why. Lima is tucked under Mez’s chin. The bat springs into the air as they get close, immediately zooming to Sky’s beak.
“I’ve never treated poison before,” Lima squeaks. “I don’t know how to start.”
“Just do something!” Rumi says. “Anything. Please, Lima, please help.”
“On it,” she says. “Mez, keep Sky’s beak pried open.”
Mez pulls Sky’s beak apart with a front and back paw, muscles straining with the effort. On her back, Lima inches into his mouth. “Ugh, parrot breath is the worst. Oh yes, I see some tissue damage in here, wow, more than some, hold on. . . .”
A few moments later, she’s back out. “I licked what I could in there, but I assume the poison is in his bloodstream now. I don’t know what to do next—I mean, I can’t get inside Sky.”
“Maybe not,” Rumi says. “But you could get in contact with his bloodstream.”
“How’s that?” Lima asks quizzically, head cocked. A glob of parrot slobber dangles from her ear.
After quickly checking his hands to make sure they’re no longer envenomated, Rumi parts the feathers along Sky’s thigh. His friend’s flesh already feels like it’s cooling. “Mez, I need you to slit the skin here.”
She doesn’t need to be asked twice. Mez extracts one claw and makes a single clean slice between the parted red feathers, down the white flesh of Sky’s leg. Blood wells up, more crimson than Sky’s feathers, made even more shockingly bright by the harsh midday sun.
“Now what?” Lima asks, looking down apprehensively.
“Drop a little saliva in,” Rumi says.
“You mean spit into his cut?”
“Yes, I mean spit into his cut.”
Lima makes a hawking sound, and then she spits right into Sky’s wound, coating it in bat saliva. Rumi is amazed to see Sky’s wound seal together right in front of his eyes, the saliva trapped inside . . . hopefully in the macaw’s bloodstream.
He hops so he’s in front of Sky’s closed eye. Mez releases his beak so it half closes. Rumi can’t tell whether Sky’s still breathing, not with the hot air rising from the sand of the beach. There’s no motion under Sky’s eyes, and his claws are drawn up tight. They curl, like a dead bird’s.
Like a dead bird’s.
“Oh, Sky,” Rumi wails, hurling his head into his palms, so all he can see is his own moist amphibian skin. “I’m sorry. There was so much we still needed to explore together, and I . . . I . . . killed you.”
Sky’s body shudders. His crimson feathers lift and lower, rippling in a wave from his claws to the top of his head.
“Well, that’s an overstatement,” Sky rasps.
Rumi looks up, vision murky with tears. “What?”
“I might not be feeling so hot,” the macaw says, “but I’m pretty sure I’m alive.”
Lima claps her wings, and Mez cheers, but Rumi can’t take his eyes off his friend, brought back to life right here in front of him. Rumi hurls himself around the soggy flight feathers of Sky’s neck, breathes in their musty scent. “You’re okay, you’re okay,” he finally manages to say. “I can’t believe it.”
“That’s enough,” Sky says. “I’m not quite ready to hug all of this out. I’m in a bad mood. You did nearly kill me, after all.”
Rumi hops away. “Sorry, I get it.”
Sky scrunches his eyes shut and then opens them. “That was supposed to be a joke.”
Sky flaps his wings and extends his claws, but when he tries to get up, he just flops to his side. He manages to tilt his head so he can see Lima. “I can sense your magic in my bloodstream. Thank you, my friend.”
Lima squeaks. “Did you just call me ‘friend’?”
Sky’s eye opens wide. “Have I never said that before?”
Lima shakes her head.
“Oh,” Sky says. “I’m sure I meant to.”
Lima reaches out a wingtip and pokes Sky, as if testing to see if he’s still real.
Mez’s ears go flat. “Now that that emergency is over, we need to talk,” she says. “What happened down there?”
A thought strikes Rumi, and the moment it does, sudden panic sends him hopping into the air. “Where are Gogi and Banu? We got separated.”
Mez points down the beach, where the emergency escape raft is just visible on the horizon. “Lima and I passed them on our way in. They’re a little waterlogged, and Gogi’s complaining to no end, but they’ll be fine. Their air bubble popped out of the sea, and Zuza and the other tapirs mounted a rescue to bring them to shore. Banu’s magic kept them alive. We’d been waiting for you—we got here last night after dealing with Mist. Chumba’s the new leader of the panther family, by the way—”
“Yes!” Rumi exclaims. “I was watching.”
“Right, of course. Anyway, I just got finished fishing Gogi and Banu out of the water, and that’s—”
“I helped too!” Lima says.
“Lima helped, too. That’s when we heard you yelling, so we made our way right over here.”
Rumi shakes his head. “We have a lot to catch up on.”
“Yes,” Mez says. “So, are we all safe now?”
“I don’t know,” Rumi says. He looks toward the horizon. There’s still a tendril of smoke rising from the volcano at the rainforest’s center . . . but the tendril is much smaller than the plumes that had once been spewing ou
t into the sky. He thinks about Auriel’s dogged pursuit of the tunnels and chasms that led to the magma core, of his disappearing in a blaze of light and energy, of the collapse of the chasm where the hot lava had been rising, of opening the new release vent, far from land. He can see a geyser of water off at the horizon, sending sprays of steam high into the air.
Rumi lets out a deep breath. “I think . . . I think we are. I think we’re safe.”
THEY SET UP camp at the edge of the beach. Tapirs crush a lot of vegetation when they circle to make their beds, and they’ve generated enough flattened greenery to make a soft surface for all the shadowwalkers to sleep in. The friends huddle down in the center of a ring of softly dozing herbivores. Mez and Gogi are on the grass, Lima dozing on top of Banu’s butt while Rumi lounges in a freshwater puddle. Sky usually takes up a position on the edge of camp, but this time he’s right in the middle of everyone, looking mighty grateful indeed for his friends.
“Sleeping in the middle of a ring of tapirs is the way to do it,” Gogi says, lying back with his hands behind his head. “This is the best rest I’ve had in a long time.”
“I’m glad too,” Mez says. “Sky, especially, needs a safe place to recover.”
“He saved my life,” Rumi says. He’s been used to being in control of his feelings, but now they feel like they’re gushing around him, like mud under a foot. “I would have been squished flat by that surge of water. Sky didn’t even think twice about taking me into his mouth, even though it was nearly the death of him. I’m lucky to have him as my best friend.”
“To think he used to be enemy number one,” Mez says.
“Well, I’d say Auriel was enemy number one in those days,” Lima corrects, “even if we didn’t totally know it yet. Sky was enemy number two.”
“And yet Auriel made good,” Rumi says. “He learned after his betrayal by the Ant Queen. It’s almost like his desire to redeem himself was what was animating him after death, and now he’s finally been released from his duty.”
“That’s a cheerful way . . . of looking at it,” Banu says, shrugging. It’s a sloth shrug, so it takes a while.
“Maybe no one’s a forever enemy,” Rumi postulates, wriggling into the cool nighttime sand. This salt-free water is doing wonders at getting the sting out of his layers of skin. That, and a quick once-over with Lima saliva. “Maybe it’s all about context.”
“Except in the case of Mist,” Mez says darkly.
Lima nods. “Except Mist. We gave him about five chances too many.”
“I’m sorry, Mez,” Rumi says. “It must have been so hard to witness what he’s done to the rest of your family. Then to have to fight him as well!”
“I’m not going to let him hurt me or my family anymore,” Mez says. “I’m sealing him off in my mind. I’m never going to think about him again.”
“You can do that?” Lima asks, amazed.
A self-mocking smile curls Mez’s lip away from her teeth. “No. But that doesn’t mean I can’t try.”
“It’s not so easy, keeping your mind off the ones who’ve hurt you,” Sky says.
Rumi startles and looks at his friend. He’d thought Sky was asleep. The macaw is still too weak to fly, but at least his breathing is deep and regular. Rumi picks his way out of the freshwater puddle and climbs onto Sky’s back. “Maybe we can help you heal that way, too.”
Sky’s feathers bristle and then relax. “Maybe you can. I had a rough start, but my feelings about being abandoned by my parents get more distant with every day. Thanks to you all.”
“Sort of like the volcano,” Rumi says, sitting up and looking toward the center of the rainforest. “It seems to have quieted down now that it’s found the right release.”
“I’m most definitely glad about that,” Mez says, a yawn exposing her long, sharp teeth to the night air.
“Yes, I think we’d all rather not have our rainforest go up in smoke,” Gogi says.
“Once we’re sure we don’t need the escape craft, I’m going to head back to my home jungle,” Mez says. “There’s a lot of work to do to restore the natural order there, and I don’t want Chumba to have to go it alone.”
“I’ll come with you,” Lima says. “I love hanging out with panthers.”
“And the rest of you?” Mez asks. “Will you join us?”
“I’ve been thinking about Auriel’s sacrifice,” Rumi says. “For every enemy that makes good, there will be new ones that crop up. I’m thinking we should create an order that keeps an eye on the whole rainforest, investigating trouble as it comes up. The Protectors of Caldera, we could call it.”
“Ooh. I like the ring of that,” Gogi says, nodding.
“We all exist in solitude,” Sky says. “I think it would be smart for the animals to be in better communication. I can use my magical abilities to help connect everyone. To stop other animals from having to struggle alone, like we all once did.”
“The Protectors of Caldera,” Lima says, weighing the words. “Ooh, what else could we call ourselves? Rainforest Squad. No, no . . . Shadowwalker Force. No, no, I got it! The Watchers of Caldera.”
“Nice, Lima,” Gogi says, giving her a high five. Or a high “one,” since Lima’s fingertips are spread along her wing.
“Who’s in?” Rumi asks.
Banu extends a claw. “Count me in.”
Two wings, a paw, and two hands join. “It starts now!” Gogi says.
“Ooh,” Lima says, wriggling. “That moment just gave me the shivers.”
“We can use the panther forest as a home base,” Mez says excitedly. “And we can recruit other animals from around the rainforest to join our ranks.”
“It depends,” Gogi says. “Is Chumba going to be a nice queen?”
“The very best,” Mez says.
“I figured as much,” Gogi says. “Maybe we can pick up Alzo on the way. I miss that guy.”
“Travel to the panther rainforest will take us near the ziggurat ruins, where the lava was threatening to erupt,” Rumi says. “We can confirm once and for all that this danger is past us.”
Sky nods—or tries to nod. In his weakened state it’s more like a heavy wink followed by a beak clack. “That’s wise.”
Banu yawns. “You all go ahead . . . I’m going to rest around here . . . for a while . . . I’ll catch up . . . I know where . . . the panther forest is.”
Rumi nods. “Your help was invaluable. We’d all be dead without you.”
“I’m very glad . . . that you’re . . . not all dead.”
Gogi ruffles Banu’s hair. “Aww, that’s sweet, buddy.”
“I’m glad about that too!” Lima squeaks. She gets to work smoothing her wings over Banu’s head. “Banu looks much better with his hair parted the other way. Well, he looks super handsome either way, to be honest.”
Banu peers up at his two stylists, eyes wide. “I’ve never really thought . . . about my hairstyle . . . thank you.”
Mez stares at them incredulously, as if wondering how Caldera could have ever possibly been saved by the likes of them. She lets out a low whistle. “Oookay. Should we get started?”
“Yep, first thing after the Veil rises,” Gogi says, stretching out his long, furry body.
“No. Now,” Mez says, looking up at the dark new-moon sky. “I want to start back toward Chumba now.”
Gogi cracks his knuckles. “I should have known you were going to say something like that.”
“It’s wise to travel by night, and there’s nothing keeping us on this beach anymore,” Rumi says, nodding.
“Night flying is the best. But I don’t think Sky can even stand right now,” Lima points out.
Sky scrunches his eyes shut, flutters his wings once, twice, then rises into the air. He soars up to a branch and lands there, unsteady at first, but then poised and unmoving. “I’m good, don’t worry about me,” he caws.
“Wow,” Gogi says. “Just a moment ago, you were totally stricken. How do you do that?”
; “Willpower, my friend,” Sky says, winking.
“Yep. That was never a strong suit of mine.”
“Okay, everyone,” Mez says. “Let’s go.”
AS THEY TRAVEL inland, Rumi becomes more and more convinced that Caldera will recover from its near miss with destruction. The volcanic smoke has mostly disappeared. There’s still a charred scent to the air, still a haze to the distant horizon, but the day skies right overhead are clear and blue, the night skies black and untinged by the red glow that was once at the horizon. The shadowwalkers’ frantic plan—and the long-ago work of the two-legs, when they built that tunnel for their hunched wheeled creatures, and then carved their cryptic advice—prevented disaster.
“Hey, can we pass by the ziggurat while we’re on our way to the panther forest?” Gogi asks. “It might be nice to stroll down memory lane.”
“It will cost us zero point seven extra days,” Rumi replies, “but if Mez is okay with the delay, I’d like the opportunity to examine the old ziggurat carvings again.”
“We’ll see,” Mez says as she picks her way over a particularly muscular liana vine. “We’ve only just started. We have a long time yet before we’re near Caldera’s center.”
“I’d vote for visiting the ziggurat too,” Sky says, his voice still weak from his brush with death. “It’s fitting, I think, to visit the place where Caldera’s worries began, now that they’re over.”
“Let’s not speak too soon,” Mez warns, eyes scanning the jungle.
Rumi nods at Sky. “I remember when we all first came together. We were so nervous and suspicious of one another.”
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure Mez peed her fur when she first arrived,” Lima says.
“I did not!”
“I miss Niko the catfish,” Lima says. “It must have been so hard for him, a fish around so many land creatures. I was impressed he even made it to the ziggurat.” She pauses, thinking. “And getting his bones crunched by Auriel, until he died. That must have been hard for him too.”
Rumi's Riddle Page 18