And that realization gave him an idea.
He concentrated on it, keeping it in the tiny part of his mind that was still just Peter, and not Ombra/Peter. He could not let Ombra know there was any of him still free. He would hide inside himself, waiting for his one chance to make his plan work, if it could work at all.
The rocket pointed straight up. Peter saw his right hand reach for the red starstuff-release lever.
Get ready…
His hand grabbed hold of the lever and pulled. As before, there was a blinding flash. And as before, the light flash forced Ombra away. He detached from Peter’s shadow and shrank back into the dark bowels of the rocket. The instant he felt Ombra leave, Peter focused his mind on his right arm and shoved the red lever forward. With a clang the starstuff hatch slammed shut. Peter heard Ombra’s angry roar and an instant later saw the tentacle coming at him in the cage, reaching for his shadow, touching it.
But this time Peter did not try to shift his shadow away.
This time Peter separated from his shadow.
He didn’t know how he did it—not exactly—it was more of an intense feeling than a conscious thought. But suddenly he was on one side of the cage with the screeching Franklin, his shadow on the other. Ombra’s tentacle still grasped the shadow. But now Peter no longer felt the cold.
He was different in other ways as well—very different—but he had no time to consider the changes. He had something else to think about. He stuck his head out the opening, saw the meteor-filled sky above him, the dark desert below, and…
There.
He grabbed the levers, shoving them forward, turning the rocket in a stomach-churning dive. He heard another roar from Ombra, who knew what Peter planned to do. Franklin’s screeches grew suddenly louder. Peter glanced over his shoulder and saw that the dark shape, despite the bright starstuff glow, was billowing into the cage. He turned back to the window, forcing himself to concentrate on steering the rocket…lower, lower, almost to the desert floor and now leveling off, hurtling along the dune-tops toward the target.
“It’s useless, boy.” He heard the hideous groaning voice in his ear, over the howl of the wind. Ombra, unable to get inside Peter through his shadow, was now enveloping him like a cloud. “If you stop this rocket, we will build another.”
Peter said nothing, concentrating on holding the rocket level as it hurtled forward, closer, closer…
“You will not be free of me,” said the groaning voice. “No matter what happens, you will not be free of me.”
Closer…closer…
NOW!
Peter grabbed the shrieking Franklin by the arm and, with all his strength, heaved against the rocket hatch. It came open; he and the monkey flew out, followed an instant later by what looked like a puff of black smoke.
The wind caught Peter and hurled him backward, head over heels. He almost slammed into the sand before he got his bearings and righted himself, just in time to turn and see the rocket.
Its fuel finally expended, the rocket coughed out its last tongue of flame as it hurled directly into the huge, gaping, dark mouth of the Jackal.
And then the desert night exploded.
CHAPTER 60
BRIGHTER THAN DAY
LEONARD ASTER WAS SURE the flash meant the end of the world.
He had watched the rocket launch, standing with Molly and Bakari on either side of him, their faces pressed against the bars of the jail-cell window. As the rocket climbed, they heard anxious shouting—Viktor Glotz’s voice especially—and saw a hundred palace guards running around in the torchlight. But they couldn’t tell what was happening. All they knew was that the rocket had gone up.
Peter had been unable to stop it.
A short while later, they once again heard shouting. They’d looked out to see the rocket cross the sky directly above the palace. For a few minutes, nothing; the three of them had stood by the window watching, listening, waiting….
Then the sky grew brighter than day, illuminated by a blinding white light that seemed to come from everywhere at once.
This is it, Leonard thought. This is what Ombra described.
He held his daughter close and looked over at his friend, awaiting the end of the world.
The brightness dimmed. Night returned, the sky still streaked with meteors. The palace walls still stood. Men were shouting from the courtyard, their voices tinged with panic.
The world had not ended.
But something had happened.
Leonard stared out the window, wondering what it was.
CHAPTER 61
THE CELL DOOR
THE BLAST OF BRILLIANT LIGHT sent Peter tumbling through the desert air like seaweed tossed by a giant wave. There was no sound and no sensation of wind; it was as if the light itself swept him along.
The brightness disappeared as suddenly as it had come, leaving Peter lying on his back on the sand, temporarily unable to see. He felt something clinging to his chest, and he realized that he was still holding the whimpering form of Franklin the monkey. He sat up, blinking. “Tink!” he called.
I’m here, came the chimed response, and he felt wings fluttering against his cheek. Tink said something in Monkey to the frightened Franklin, who relaxed his grip. As Peter’s eyes readjusted to the night, he stood, slipped out of the golden suit, and checked himself for injury. He was unhurt, but he felt quite strange—different, although he didn’t know exactly how. He looked up; the moon hung high in a sky still alight with meteor streaks. In the distance he saw the spires of Zarboff’s palace rising over Maknar. He turned around and scanned the desert—once, twice, then a third time to be sure.
The Jackal was gone. He studied the spot where it had once stood; there was nothing, not even a hole in the sand. Just desert.
Tink saw this too.
Good riddance, she chimed.
“We’ve got to get back to the palace,” said Peter.
Wait, said Tink.
“Wait for what?” said Peter.
For you, said Tink.
“What do you mean, ‘for me’?” Peter said. “I’m right here.”
Not all of you, said Tink. She pointed out at the desert. Peter looked, and at first saw nothing. But Tink kept pointing, and then he saw it, sliding swiftly across the white, moonlit desert sand—a shadow.
Peter tensed, as the first thought in his mind was Ombra.
No, said Tink. It’s you.
The shadow slid to his feet and as it touched Peter, he instantly felt right again. He looked down at his attached shadow for a moment. Then he said to Tink, “Let’s go.”
Don’t forget Franklin, said Tink.
Peter sighed and scooped up the monkey, which shrieked—from delight or fear, Peter couldn’t tell which—as Peter launched himself from the sand. With Tink at his side, he swooped across the desert, his moonlit-cast shadow keeping pace on the sand below. Within minutes they reached the palace compound. Peter alit gently on a shadowy section of the massive outer wall. The torch circle was still burning around the rocket-launch site; dozens of figures milled about. Most of them were soldiers, but in the middle of the throng Peter saw Viktor Glotz and King Zarboff engaged in an angry exchange, both of them shouting. Peter looked toward the dungeon but saw nobody near it.
“Come on, Tink,” he whispered. Keeping low in the shadows, they flew along the wall to the dungeon, landing by the big wooden door. Peter released Franklin, who, recognizing the building where he and his fellow monkeys lived, scampered inside. Peter and Tink followed more cautiously, alert for guards. Seeing none, Peter ran down the corridor.
“Molly!” he called as he neared her jail cell.
“Peter!” she cried, rushing to the cell door. “You’re all right!” She reached through the bars and touched Peter’s arm.
“Yes, I’m all right,” he said, putting his hand over hers for a moment, then pulling it back, blushing.
“What happened to the rocket?” said Leonard.
“It flew into
the Jackal,” said Peter.
“Was that what caused the flash of light?” asked Bakari.
“I think so,” said Peter. “I’m not sure what happened. But the Jackal isn’t there anymore.”
Now it was Leonard’s hand reaching through the bars, resting on Peter’s shoulder. “You stopped Ombra,” he said. “It seems grossly inadequate to say this to a person who just saved the world—but thank you, Peter.”
Peter blushed.
He had help, noted Tink.
“Thank you, too, Tink,” said Leonard.
“We need to get you out of here before the guards return,” said Peter. He rattled the door lock, to no avail. “Do you have any starstuff left, Molly?”
“I’m afraid not,” she said.
There was shouting from the courtyard.
“I’ll go find the guard with the keys,” said Peter. “He’s got to be around somewhere.”
“No,” said Leonard, his voice grave. “You could be caught, and then we’d all be stuck here. You must leave immediately and get back to England, so you can tell the rest of the Starcatchers about Glotz’s rocket and the Others’ plans.”
He’s right, said Tink.
“I’m sorry, sir,” said Peter, “but I won’t leave without you.” He shot a glance at Molly. “All of you.”
“I appreciate that,” said Leonard, “and I expected you to say it. But this is not a time for heroism. You cannot risk being caught. It is absolutely vital that this information be passed along to the Starcatchers before the Others can mount another threat. This is far more important than our lives, or anyone’s. Please, Peter, go.”
“He’s right, Peter,” said Molly. “You must go.”
Even she’s right, for once, said Tink.
Peter looked from Molly to Leonard, then shook his head. “No,” he said. “I’ll get you out somehow.”
The shouting in the courtyard grew louder. There was a gunshot, then another. Bakari went to the cell window and peered out.
“Peter, listen,” said Leonard, his voice desperate. “Even if you do manage to get us out of here, we’ve no way to get out of Rundoon.”
“Yes, you do,” said Peter. “George and the others went to the harbor to get a ship.”
Leonard shook his head. “I’m sure they’ll try,” he said. “But I seriously doubt that a group of boys will be able to commandeer a ship.”
“You are mistaken, Lord Aster,” said Bakari. “It seems that the boys have, indeed, obtained a ship.”
“How could you possibly know that?” said Leonard, turning to his friend.
“Because,” said Bakari, pointing out the window, “it’s just now coming over the palace wall.”
CHAPTER 62
UNDER FIRE
THE FLYING SHIP THE De Vliegen approached the palace wall, leaving a trail of chaos on the streets of Maknar, where crowds wailed and scattered in terror at the sight of the massive, dripping, barnacle-encrusted hull passing overhead. George, at the helm, was frantically trying to learn how to pilot the ship. He was getting a feel for the steering, but having little luck controlling the altitude. He saw now, as the De Vliegen reached the palace compound, that it was too low. He felt a lurch and heard a grinding sound as the hull scraped the wall, knocking some stones into the courtyard below.
The crash of the stones drew the attention of the men in the courtyard, who shouted and pointed in alarm. Their shouts interrupted the heated argument between Glotz and Zarboff, who looked up at the flying ship, gaping in amazement. Zarboff’s surprise turned to wrath when, by the light of moon and meteor, he saw heads poking over the ship’s rail, looking down. With a roar of rage, Zarboff recognized his slave boys.
He whirled and, with spittle flying from his mouth, screamed an order to his soldiers. Immediately they raised their rifles and began firing at the ship. As muzzle fires flashed, the slave boys jumped away from the rail.
Bullets thunked into the ship, splintering the woodwork. George spun the wheel hard. The ship began to turn, but it was now below the top of the wall; unless George could gain altitude, they would be trapped inside the courtyard and eventually cut to pieces by the riflemen. Bullets struck the hull and whistled through the rigging, some puncturing the sails. George looked high overhead and had an idea.
“Take in the topsail!” he shouted up to James, who was crouching high up on a yardarm.
“Do what to the topsail?” James shouted back.
“Make it smaller!” shouted George.
James flew up to the highest sail and, as bullets zinged past him, began trimming it. Slowly, ever so slowly, George felt the bow of the ship rising. As more bullets zinged past, he yelled commands to Slightly, Prentiss, Thomas, and the other boys, ordering them to pull in this sail, let out that one. The ship was rising more quickly now and moving with greater speed. George got it high enough that he felt reasonably safe from the bullets, though the occasional shot still came close. Using both rudder and sail, he put the ship into a gentle turn, such that it circled high above the palace. He assessed the damage; there was a good deal of splintered wood and a few tattered sails, but, incredibly, nobody had been hurt.
George wasn’t sure what to do. He didn’t know how long the ship would keep flying. He also didn’t know where Peter was, or even if Peter was still alive. He had no idea how to go about trying to rescue Molly and her father from the hornet’s nest of angry, shooting men below. He peered over the side: the soldiers had dragged a catapult onto a rampart and were busy setting a burning cauldron into its sling. They were going to try to burn the ship out of the sky!
We can’t stay here, George thought. But Molly was down there somewhere. Lord Aster. Possibly Peter. How could he just fly away and leave them? But what choice did he have?
Waving urgently, Prentiss shouted at him from the bow. “To the right! To the RIGHT!” He and Thomas and Nibs had a large crate of nails, which they were hoisting onto the gunwale.
George looked down: the boys meant to bomb the catapult. He spun the wheel to port and steered directly over the rampart. The boys heaved the heavy box up and over the gunwale and let it drop. It fell directly onto the catapult, smashing it and hurling the cauldron of fire down the wall and into the courtyard, scattering the soldiers. The boys on the bow whooped in triumph.
George, allowing himself a brief smile, steered the ship back over the courtyard, still pondering a rescue attempt.
Maybe…
He jumped as a hand tapped his shoulder. He whirled and saw…
“Peter!”
They had never been great friends, but in that moment they came very close to hugging each other, each stepping hesitantly forward before stopping and settling for a manly handshake.
“I know I asked for a ship,” said Peter. “But this…” He gestured at the flying vessel, grinning. “Well done, George!”
“Your wish is my command,” said George, with a mock bow. His face became serious again as he asked, “What about Molly?”
“She’s still in the dungeon, with her father and Bakari. I couldn’t get them out. Aster demanded we leave them here, but of course we won’t do that.”
“I should say not!” said George.
Idiots, observed Tink, sitting on Peter’s head.
“What did she say?” asked George.
“She says we need a rescue plan,” said Peter, as a volley of gunshots rang out below.
“I agree,” said George, ducking away from the gunwale.
“Peter!” The shout came from James, who was high up on the mast and had just spotted his friend. As Peter watched in delight, James flew down to him; the other boys quickly followed, flying to the quarterdeck.
“Peter!” shouted Prentiss. “We can fly!”
“So I see!” said Peter.
“Although I think it’s wearing off,” said Thomas, who had hit the deck a bit hard.
“No, it’s not,” said Ted. He jumped upward, then came right back down, landing on his rear. “Yes, it is,�
�� he amended.
The boys gathered around Peter and began to pepper him with questions about the rocket, the starstuff, and Ombra. He waved them off.
“There’s no time,” he said. “We need to get Molly out of the dungeon. The door’s locked, and I’ve no idea who has the keys. Does anybody have any ideas?”
“What about that black powder, for the rocket?” said Prentiss. He pointed down at the powder wagon, still in the courtyard. “Could we use it to blow open the cell door?”
Peter, looking at the soldiers milling in the courtyard, shook his head. “We can’t get near it,” he said. “They’d cut us down.” As he spoke, another volley of shots forced the boys to move away from the gunwale.
“I wish we had guns,” said Thomas.
James frowned. He poked his head back over the gunwale.
“What about those?” he said. Cautiously, Peter leaned over the rail and looked where James was pointing. He smiled at James, and James smiled back. Then Peter stood up.
“George,” he said, “do you know how to fire a cannon?”
CHAPTER 63
THE GOLDEN MOON
MOLLY’S FACE HURT from pressing against the cell bars as she strained to see what was going on in the confusion of the courtyard. Behind her, also looking out, were her father and Bakari. They didn’t see much, other than soldiers shouting and firing their rifles at the sky. Every now and then they caught a glimpse of the flying ship, but usually it was too high overhead, clearly trying to stay out of range of the bullets.
The three prisoners speculated about the ship, concluding that it must have somehow become infused with starstuff. Leonard grew increasingly agitated as the ship sailed back and forth, a fat target for Zarboff’s soldiers.
Peter and the Secret of Rundoon Page 24