by Juman Malouf
“Wait!” Sonja said. She jumped down, picked up the two halves, and hurried after him. Maybe she had been too hasty. Wolf Boy unhooked Tatty from the wall, and she fell down into his arms. “Hang on to me,” he told her.
“What are you, a Changeling?” Tatty asked sluggishly.
Wolf Boy smiled. “Sure am.”
“Good choice, Sonja.”
“But—I—he’s—” she stammered. “Oh, never mind!”
Charlotte opened her eyes. “Sonja? Tatty?” she called out. The others joined her from across the room. She saw Kats von Stralen lying motionless. “Is he dead?” she murmured.
Wolf Boy nodded.
“I think it was me. I killed him.”
“It was the only way, dearie,” Tatty said, pushing back Charlotte’s hair from her face.
Sonja handed her one of the broken pieces of the locket. Charlotte clasped it in her hand as she looked up at the glittering cloud growing above them. She smiled. “The Talents and the magic. They’re free.”
Wolf Boy pointed. “Look! Something’s happening to them.”
The gold and silver dust was mixing and swirling into perfect, tiny orbs—each no bigger than a pea—some gold, some silver, some halfway between. The orbs began to move, whizzing and whooshing, diving and climbing. One zoomed around Tatty and the children, then hurtled straight at teenager Number One. He turned and ran, but the orb overtook him, circled around his head, and squeezed with a thump right up his left nostril. The teenager stopped in his tracks. He jerked from side to side as the bundle of energy bumped up and down inside him.
One by one, the little orbs popped into the other teenagers’ noses. They jumped and writhed and wriggled on the floor—and finally, the room went quiet.
Everyone could see it at once. Something was different. All of the teenagers’ eyes had come back to life. Their Talents had returned.
“Where are we?” asked a girl, looking down at her smock.
“I thought I was having a nightmare,” a boy with dimples said, “but I think I’ve been here the whole time.”
Number One approached the twins.
“I’m Nathaniel,” he said. “Are you rescuing me?”
“I’m Eloise!”
“I’m Augusta!”
“I’m Bartholomew!”
Tatty, Wolf Boy, and the twins enthusiastically shook hand after hand.
All at once, the multitude of orbs smashed out through the wall of windows, into the falling night, and over the Ship Graveyard. They cast a glow on the dusk-lit embers below.
The piles of dead were everywhere. Flyers and swans circled in the smoky sky. Enforcers and white beasts prowled the scorched landscape. The Protectors’ troops had retreated out of sight.
“We’ve got to do something!” Wolf Boy climbed out the window and started down a rope ladder.
Tatty and the twins called after him.
“Wait for us!” Sonja yelled.
The wind rustled Wolf Boy’s hair as he descended the twisting rungs. “No! Stay here! You have to protect the Key!”
They watched as he quickly reached the bottom and jumped to the sand. He was alone among enemies on the chaotic battlefield. He turned one way and then another. A hyena crept slowly toward him. He stood frozen.
“What’s he doing?” cried Sonja.
Wolf Boy looked up at them and smiled a strange, wild smile. He pointed to the shore.
A thousand giant beasts were pouring down into the Ship Graveyard. The riders gleamed—golden.
“The Albans!” exclaimed Charlotte. “They found their armor!”
The leader lifted a spear. Drums pounded. The boars charged into the fray while Enforcers fired their pistols and missiles flew in every direction. Sonja watched as the hyena gnashed at Wolf Boy with his bloody teeth—but in an instant, Wolf Boy clutched it by the neck and pinned it fast to the ground. He was strong, she thought, even in human form. Sonja felt her heart skip a beat. What was that?
The Protectors’ troops streamed out of the hulls of the surrounding ships and joined the Albans.
“More coming!” Tatty exclaimed, pointing.
An army of female foot soldiers emerged from the smoke at a steady walk, in perfect unison. Their faces were slashed and crisscrossed with black symbols, and red paint coated their hands. Glass globes hovered over their palms as they chanted.
“The Swifters,” Charlotte murmured under her breath. She remembered hearing their voices in her head. They had told her they were coming.
The globes lit up with a powerful white light. The Swifters drew strands of lightning out of the clouds like swords and threw the bolts zigzagging back up into the sky. Flyers exploded. Metal and fire showered to the ground.
One small black Flyer zipped in and out among the others. A dozen swans flew alongside it. The Contessa’s voice reverberated out of its loudspeaker: “Launch all missiles, you idiots! Hit them with everything!”
The rest of the Flyers attacked again, firing bullets and shooting missiles, as the Swifters catapulted another round of bolts into the air. The ground boomed with every impact, and the sky was filled again with fireworks.
“Retreat!” a man’s voice yelled from one of the surviving aircrafts. “Retreat!” he repeated, but there was no one to answer him. The others were gone already. He followed the last of them full speed into the distance.
Only the small black Flyer and its escorts remained, circling above.
“Mongrels!” roared the Contessa. “Pigs! Brutes! Beasts!”
A panel slid open between the teeth of a swan’s face painted on the aircraft’s nose. A twelve-barreled Gatsploder locked into place and started shooting, rapid-fire. The deluge of corkscrew bullets ripped into the Tiffins and Gobos. They tried flying away as one after another fell to the ground. The Swifters’ chant grew louder. They threw more and more lightning at the small black Flyer, but the swans swept in front of the bolts and shielded their master. Their feathers turned black and burned to ash, but the wounded birds flew on.
The small black Flyer swooped down and fired on the Swifters. Their chants turned to screams as they scattered. The Contessa’s voice shrieked over the loudspeaker: “How do you like that, you freaks?”
A platoon of Enforcers ambushed the remaining Pearl Catchers. They shot one in the back. They stabbed one in the eye. A hyena leapt on another and grabbed her by the neck. Alexandria emerged from the chaos and kicked the creature in the head with the heel of her boot. It was dead before it hit the ground.
“Alexandria!” Sonja screamed. Charlotte watched over Sonja’s shoulder, eyes wide.
Clusters of dynamite dropped out of the small black Flyer and rained down on the struggling Pearl Catchers. They burst on the ground into balls of fire. Alexandria disappeared in the smoke.
Sonja picked up the brass flute and thrust her arms through the broken window frames. The edges of the shattered glass scratched her skin with bloody slivers. “It’s not over yet,” she muttered. She held her breath and closed her eyes. She squeezed her lips and pressed them against the cold mouthpiece. A piercing note sliced through the sky and cut into the small black Flyer. The doors exploded off the sides of the aircraft. The Contessa, in the pilot’s seat, looked out, confused. She pulled back on the yoke, climbed rapidly, and circled.
“Help me!” Sonja yelled sternly.
Charlotte was already at the piano. She whacked her hands down onto the keys, and her own furious music accompanied her sister’s. The ground shook. The wind blew. Charlotte’s fingers skipped and skittered while Sonja’s fluttered like a bird’s wings—and the twelve-barreled Gatsploder on the small black Flyer jammed with a crack and a jolt and burst into flames.
An Enforcer copilot sprayed the fire with an extinguisher as the Contessa angrily steered them through the buffeting winds. The charred swans were tossed in the
tempest, and black-and-white feathers spun like caps on a stormy sea.
Sonja’s eyes flashed open. She looked to Charlotte across the room. Suddenly, they could hear each other’s voices in their heads:
Is that you, Sonja?
Yes. It’s me.
It finally happened.
Alexandria was right.
You sound funny in my head.
So do you.
Well, shall we end this?
Most definitely.
A long, rusted cannon as thick as a tree trunk extended twenty feet into the air from the prow of the ship above them. It was covered with cobwebs and barely attached by a pair of creaky lug nuts. It looked like it might fall off at any moment.
They both stared at it and played like mad.
It groaned.
It growled.
It squealed and squeaked.
It began to shake as the gears inside fought, grinding and turning, and the barrel pitched upward into the sky.
Sonja ran out of breath with a gasp. The flute dropped from her hands.
Charlotte’s muscles seized up. Her fingers left the keys and froze in space.
The battlefield went silent.
A thick steel pin went click inside the antique weapon, and it fired. With a deep, reverberating boom, a cannonball shot out, arced through the air, and perforated the small black Flyer dead-on.
It exploded into a thousand pieces that each disintegrated into a thousand more until there was nothing left but dust. One swan, flapping in the pandemonium, found itself alive and alone. The last of the Enforcers stared up into the empty sky. They sprinted back into their vans and skidded away. The remaining white animals raced after them. The lone swan hovered, puzzled.
Finally, it turned around and flew off in the opposite direction.
Now it’s over, Sonja said in Charlotte’s head.
Charlotte nodded as the two girls stood side by side, looking down at the destroyed landscape. The Protectors’ troops of every variety—the Tiffins and the Swifters, the Albans and the Changelings, the Pearl Catchers and even the boars—all stared up at the two young girls above them.
A joyous cheer erupted. They all began to yell and dance and cling to one another in sheer jubilation. Charlotte and Sonja fell into each other’s arms, exhausted. Tatty embraced them both. “The Protectors always told me what you would be capable of one day. I always believed them—but I’m still astonished.” She wiped away a tear. “I’m so proud of you two.” Charlotte and Sonja gave her little kisses all over her face and neck. She laughed heartily. They could not be happier to have their Tatty back.
“Come on!” Wolf Boy shouted up to them.
They hurried down the rope ladder. Flyers were still ablaze, and smoke hung heavy. Shoes and weapons were strewn all over the place. Tiffins and Pearl Catchers and Changelings were scurrying to and fro, bringing water and healing ointments to the injured.
“Hello,” uttered a small voice. Ansel stood behind them, covered head to toe in gold armor. He held a boar by its reins. It wore a charm of herbs around its neck. “Thank you for the message. We found the armor at Jagged Rock.”
“Your brother,” Wolf Boy’s voice faltered. “He died. I’m sorry.”
Ansel lowered his eyes. “One of the Alban guards confessed that it wasn’t a boar who killed my father. It was Edgar. Even so, I don’t know why, but I mourn his loss.”
“Me too,” Charlotte said sadly.
Wolf Boy gave Ansel the Golden Knot. “This is yours.”
The Alban clasped it in his hands. It glowed through the spaces between his pale, slender fingers. “Somehow,” he said, “I thought it might be mine.”
Hooves padded through the sand. A flash of salt-and-pepper hair caught the twins’ eye.
“Uncle Tell!” they cried in unison.
Mr. Fortune Teller waved his cane. He slid off Rhubarb’s back. The girls hugged him so hard, they nearly knocked him over.
He chuckled. “Don’t forget, I’m an old man!”
“Not that old,” Tatty said, approaching.
Mr. Fortune Teller stretched out his hand toward her. His eyes glistened like two white marbles. “I see you found our Tatty,” he said in a whisper.
“Oh, Hieronymus!” Tatty cried. He pulled her to him and they held each other with the twins smashed like a sandwich between them. Rhubarb whinnied and licked their heads with his thick tongue.
Wolf Boy cleared his throat. “Hello, Hieronymus.”
The old man quickly straightened. “Wolf Boy,” he said, shaking his hand. “Good to see you, my boy.”
Two Pearl Catchers shuffled by, murmuring to each other in hushed voices.
“Where is she?” Sonja said loudly. The Pearl Catchers turned. “Where’s Alexandria?”
“A Protector has died,” one of them said. “We must help with the pyre.”
Charlotte looked at Sonja. It’s her. It’s Alexandria.
In shock, the twins followed the Pearl Catchers into the crowd forming up ahead. Tiffins, Changelings, and Albans gathered around the dead body. The girls pushed through, hearts pounding. They wished they had told Alexandria they forgave her. They wished they had told her they were happy she was their mother.
Charlotte and Sonja saw two long feet splayed out on the ground.
It was Staghart.
A green leaf covered each of his eyes. His hair had been pressed back from his forehead. There were sixteen bullets in his chest. Alexandria, kneeling beside him, began to pull them out carefully while the others watched with tears in their eyes. Hester crouched next to them with handfuls of sand in her fists. She said quietly, “Sorry, my dear. Sorry, I never got to say goodbye.”
The Changelings wept. The Great Tiffin stood over them, mouthing a silent prayer.
Wolf Boy jolted past the twins. “Staghart!” he cried. He dropped to the ground, horrified. He buried his face in his hands. “He knew he was going to die,” he said. His voice cracked. “He knew.” Sonja wanted to comfort him, but instead she stood frozen. She was not sure what to say. Moritz appeared behind Wolf Boy and put his arm around him. Monkey jumped from Moritz’s shoulder onto Charlotte’s. He hopped from her to Sonja and back again.
Alexandria turned to the twins. Her face was caked with dirt, and one eye was black and bloody. She smiled sadly. “Give me a hand, will you?” she said. Charlotte and Sonja pulled her up. She wrapped her lanky arms around them. For the first time, she held them tightly, and they squeezed her back.
“We did it,” Sonja murmured.
Alexandria nodded. “I knew you would.”
Dottie hovered down from above them. “I didn’t!” she said. “Scrawny girls like you? I can’t believe it. Frankly, I’m impressed.”
Charlotte grinned. “Thanks, Dottie.”
Mr. Fortune Teller and Tatty joined the crowd. Monkey jumped onto Tatty’s shoulder, barking. Tatty brushed her fingers over his missing ear.
“When we get home,” she whispered, “I’m going to make you as many pancakes as you like.”
“Tabitha,” said the Great Tiffin. “I delight in seeing you.” He kissed her hand, setting her tattoos in motion. Images of all the creatures around them came to life and danced across her skin. Everyone gasped, dazzled by the images. Some murmured, “The Key.”
“I failed you,” Tatty said softly. She looked up at the winged Protector. “They would have had the map if it wasn’t for the girls.”
“You brought them up, didn’t you?” he said, smiling. “I think you succeeded marvelously.”
The Great Tiffin placed a hand on each of the twins’ shoulders. He smelled of honey, and his slender fingers ended in long, iridescent nails.
“You have fulfilled the prophecy. You have saved the Key. You have defended the Seven Edens.” The Great Tiffin’s violet eyes twink
led like little jewels. In a squeaky voice, he said, “We thank you humbly!”
Everyone cheered and clapped and yelled. Two larger Tiffins lifted Charlotte and Sonja onto their shoulders and bobbed them up and down through the crowd.
Alexandria and Tatty looked at each other timidly.
“Hello, Tatty,” said Alexandria.
Tatty smiled. “Hello, Alexandria.”
Alexandria said softly, “Kats von Stralen?”
Tatty paused. “Dead.”
A murmur swept the crowd as the Three Swifters moved to the center of the group. One pointed at Charlotte: “She tore his heart apart! She has the power against the living!”
The Tiffins brought the twins to the ground gently.
Alexandria looked at Charlotte. “Is it true?”
Charlotte swallowed and whispered, “Yes.”
“This is for you.” Wolf Boy gave Alexandria the photograph he had found in Kats von Stralen’s hand.
Alexandria’s face went stony. Without a word, she turned and walked away. Dottie looked to the others, then flew after her. Charlotte and Sonja started to follow them, but Mr. Fortune Teller held the girls back. “Let her have a moment. Good or bad, he was her brother.”
The middle Swifter raised her pale, thin eyebrows and stared hotly at Charlotte. “She drew us here! She’s got Swifter blood in her!”
Charlotte looked around wildly. “No, I don’t!” Of course, she already knew deep inside: the Swifter was certainly right.
The Three Swifters hovered closer to Charlotte. They reached for her with painted red hands. “She must come to the Lost Desert!” they said in unison. “She must live with the Swifters!”
That unknown something inside Charlotte urged her to go, but she quelled the impulse again and clung to her sister, wide eyed. Something else inside her was stronger. “I won’t,” she murmured. “I won’t.”
The Great Tiffin stepped in front of Charlotte and ruffled out his wings, hiding her. “She’s made her choice,” he said to the Swifters.