by Lisa McMann
Whispers of “It’s Ol’ Tater!” went around the lawn. Within seconds the mastodon came alive and began stomping around on the pirate ship. Simber grabbed Alex by the robe collar before he could get flung off Ol’ Tater’s back, and they cleared the area, flying over to Artimé’s ship and pausing on board for a moment to see what would happen next.
In a mad rush from the four vessels nearest Artimé, pirates and Warblerans began to abandon ship at a remarkable pace. Once in the water, many of them cried out for help because they couldn’t swim. The pirates on the lawn stopped fighting and watched what was happening, and as the sun set behind the ships, they began running for the small boats on shore that hadn’t been crushed by Simber. Shoving off in a panic, they retreated to their ships to rescue their drowning people.
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The Artiméans would sleep that night.
But the ships didn’t go away.
Death Be Not Proud
When all the pirates had retreated, Aaron caught his breath and decided he’d pushed his luck with Panther about as far as it could go. As the other Artiméans moved slowly back to the mansion, Aaron made the trip back to the jungle with her. And with his arm aching and no longer fit to throw endless amounts of vine spiders, he thanked her and said good-bye, promising he’d visit again when the war was over.
When he returned to the mansion, he went straight to his room, completely exhausted. And with the absence of the adrenaline came the growth of the aching from his multitude of wounds. He hadn’t died. But he hurt so badly he almost wished he could. At this moment he was especially glad not to be the head mage, with all the responsibilities that went with it. He poured himself a bath.
Alex’s first duty once quiet had descended on the island was to extend the hospital ward to a size it had never been before, adding fifty more beds so those injured who’d been deposited in the entryway for lack of space would finally have one. Even with the extra beds, the ward was nearly filled, and all non-injured and visitors were sent out of the crowded ward so the overworked nurses could do their best to handle everyone who needed help.
Carina came into the mansion, dropped her sword and shield, cleaned up, and started a shift in the hospital ward with hardly a blink of an eye. She knew the hospital workers were in trouble without Henry there, and she dove in to help.
Samheed, having been banished by the nurses from sitting at Mr. Appleblossom’s side, retreated to the grand marble staircase. Lani sat with him.
Alex, unable to retire to his disastrous private quarters, and frankly not wanting to be there without Clive, got cleaned up in his old room in the boys’ hallway and then joined his friends on the stairs.
Before long Sky came in search of them and sat down too. Weary, all four eventually stretched out and fell asleep on the stairs. Sky slept on the stair below Alex, Lani on the one above, and Samheed on the stair above Lani. Simber watched over them, pacing through the rubble, going from window to window to watch for movement and checking in with Florence, who patrolled outside.
During the night, Carina, finishing her shift and heading for bed, stopped at Alex’s side. She watched the sleeping mage for a moment, then slipped a folded piece of paper into his hand. She shook her head sadly and continued up the stairs.
The feeling of the paper in Alex’s hand woke him a while later. He sat up, forgetting for a brief, blissful moment about all the tragedy that had struck Artimé. But his stiff, aching body soon reminded him.
Alex held the folded note up and studied it, bleary eyed, until the words on it came into focus.
Dear Alex,
I am so horribly sorry to tell you this . . . Mr. Appleblossom has died. He left the enclosed for Samheed. Stay strong, my friend.
Love, Carina
Alex couldn’t comprehend it. He read the words again. It couldn’t be true. He leaned forward and put his head in his hands. Mr. Appleblossom was gone. The genteel, sensitive, passionate, iambic pentameter poet and instructor. The writer of many plays and musicals, like Perseus! Perseus! and And Then Everyone Dies, The End. Now he was dead. Alex couldn’t process it.
After a minute, Alex looked up at Simber, a question in his eyes.
Simber bowed his head. It was true.
Alex stood and moved up to where Samheed was sleeping. “Sam,” he said, nudging his friend.
Samheed groaned. “What?”
“Wake up. I have some bad news.”
Samheed’s eyes fluttered open, and a moment later he was shoving himself upright, wide awake. “What happened?”
“It’s Mr. Appleblossom,” Alex said, his voice cracking. “Here.” He handed Samheed the note, unable to find the words to tell him that his beloved theater instructor was dead.
Samheed stared at the folded paper for a minute, unmoving, barely breathing. And then he shook his head. Slowly at first, and then faster and faster he shook it, and began whispering. “No,” he said. “No. No, no, no, no, no!” He sank back against the marble stairs and covered his face with his hands.
Alex wiped the moisture from his eyes and sat there, not sure how to help Samheed. Not sure it was even possible to do so. Like Mr. Today had been for Alex, Mr. Appleblossom had been a substitute father for Samheed when he needed it most. There was no comforting that loss.
After a while, Samheed sat up and looked at the paper again. The note was folded into fourths. He took in a steadying breath and unfolded it. Inside was another piece of paper, which had a barely noticeable pencil sketch of Mr. Today imprinted on it. “This is from Mr. Appleblossom’s notebook,” Samheed said. He looked at the words.
For Samheed, it read.
Below it, a few lines written in a shaky hand.
Good night, my son, and dream of victory. A man of greatest honor, you are he. Rise up and lead, and take these reins from me. A master of the theater you will be.
Samheed read the words. At “my son,” the tears came and began to drip on the paper. Hastily he dried it so the ink wouldn’t smear.
Alex, doing the only thing he could think of, reached into his nearly empty vest pocket and pulled out one of the few components he’d had no use for that day—a preserve spell.
“Shall I use this?” Alex asked quietly, showing Samheed the tiny ball of rubber.
Samheed stared numbly, then nodded.
“Preserve,” said Alex, casting the component onto the note. It melted and spread, covering the paper in a nearly indestructible film, preserving the words forever.
“I wish there was a preserve spell for people,” Samheed said after a while.
“Me too,” said Alex.
Eventually their grief was overtaken by exhaustion, and they lay down on their steps and slept again.
Chaos Returns
Just before dawn, Alex was having a weird dream about the chef slapping him in the face with a salmon. It was slimy and wet, and try as he might, Alex couldn’t get away from it. He shook his head and brushed his cheek with his hand.
“Ax,” said a little voice. “Ax!”
Alex vaulted from the tumultuous depths of sleep and opened his eyes.
“Hi, Ax,” said Fifer. She was sitting on the step next to his head, slapping her jammy hand on his face.
Alex sat up, dazed. “Hey there, little Fife.” He wiped his face on his robe, trying to make sense of what was happening. “What are you doing here?”
She held up her fig-jam toast and grinned. “Toes,” she said.
“Toast,” said Alex automatically, emphasizing the t at the end of the word.
“Tote!” said Fifer.
“Close enough,” said Alex. He gathered her onto his lap and looked around. Crow was nowhere to be seen. “How did you get here? You need to stay in the lounge.”
“She came up thrrrough the tube,” said Simber, whose head was completely outside the front window.
“All by herself?”
“Indeed,” said the cheetah. “Made a beeline for the kitchen. I’ve had my eye on herrr.”
Simber backed up and swung his head around inside the mansion. He nodded at the nearest tube. “She had a little help.”
On the floor of the tube was a small step stool that Kitten often sat on when playing her triangle in the lounge band.
“You’re pretty tricky,” Alex said to Fifer, shaking his head admiringly. He knew he should get her back down to the lounge for safety, but her presence was somehow comforting, so he held her a moment more.
Fifer munched happily on her toast.
“Has anything changed?” Alex asked Simber after a bit.
“Somewhat,” said Simber. “All the ships that werrre stationed on the norrrth and west sides of the island have moved to this side. They eitherrr don’t carrre about the Quillens, orrr they don’t want them. They know we’rrre all herrre.”
“They also know we’re all that’s left for them to kill,” Alex said bitterly. He drew in a sharp breath, acknowledging the fact that the war would inevitably continue. He shook his head and absently smoothed Fifer’s staticky hair. “I suppose I’d better get you back,” he said to her. “Sunrise isn’t far off.”
Before Alex could get up, someone else arrived in one of the tubes. It was Crow, carrying Thisbe and looking fearful. “Simber,” he said even before he stepped out of the tube, “have you seen—”
“She’s with Alex,” said Simber. “On the stairrrs.”
Crow dashed over to the stairs, relief clear on his face. “I’m really sorry,” he said to Alex, keeping his voice hushed because of the ones sleeping. “We were all asleep, and then I woke up and Fig was gone. How did she get here?”
“She used Kitten’s stool to reach the tube buttons,” said Alex. “I’m not sure if she pushed buttons randomly until she found the right place, or if she knew which one to push to get to her beloved jam and bread, but she found it.”
Crow blew out a breath. “She’s very clever. I’m afraid I taught her which one gets her closest to the kitchen, as I let them take turns pushing the buttons themselves. They love it so much.” He smiled apologetically. “Sorry again. I’ll take her down now.”
“It’s no problem,” said Alex, reaching out and tickling Thisbe under the chin. “It’s really nice to see them, actually.” He considered telling Crow about Mr. Appleblossom’s death, but he couldn’t bear to. The news would travel soon enough once daybreak hit. He wanted to savor this moment—it would help him get through whatever was coming, he was sure of it.
Crow looked around. “Wow. This place is a mess,” he said. “How did all of this happen?”
Alex gave him a rundown of the events of the previous day. Before he could finish, Sky awoke. She sat up and stretched, and then added a few details that Alex had missed.
Crow stared, wide-eyed. “So is Ol’ Tater still out there stomping around on that ship?”
“He is,” said Simber from the window, “and enjoying himself immensely. I’m about to go out and do a flyoverrr to see what’s going on. I expect something will happen since the pirrrates and Warrrblerrrans rrrefuse to leave.”
“Go and check it out,” Alex agreed. “They probably just needed sleep like we did.”
Simber left, and soon Lani sat up, sleepy-eyed. After a moment she stood. “I’m getting food,” she announced, and made her way down the steps. “I’ll get some for everyone.”
“Me too?” asked Crow.
“Of course,” said Lani. “And Thisbe. Toast with jam all around.”
A moment later, as the group talked quietly and Samheed woke up, Alex paused mid-sentence and listened. “Did you hear something?” he asked.
Everyone was quiet. From outside, they heard a low growl.
Sky grabbed her sword and stood up. “What was that?”
“It sounded like Simber,” said Alex. He reached automatically for spell components, but his pockets hung loose and empty. He shifted Fifer to his other arm and picked up his sword, then went cautiously to the window.
“Should I take the girls to the lounge?” said Crow nervously.
Alex peered outside. “It looks like storm clouds are rolling in. I don’t see anything else.” He turned and walked back to the stairs. “But I suppose we should say good-bye now,” he said reluctantly. He propped his sword against the banister and planted a kiss on Fifer’s cheek, and then leaned over Thisbe and kissed her, too. “It was very good to see you,” he said softly to the girls, and brushed Thisbe’s hair out of her face. “Thanks, Crow.”
Crow smiled, and then he hugged Sky and took Fifer from Alex. “Stay strong,” Crow said. “We need you.”
Alex and Sky nodded solemnly. As Lani returned from the kitchen with a tray overflowing with food, Crow turned to let the girls pick up their toast so they could go back to safety.
From outside, Florence shouted. “Look out!” she yelled. “Incoming!”
Everyone turned to look outside, where the sky had turned dark as night again. Before anyone could run for cover, a silent sea of black poured in through all the windows, filling the mansion.
Crow gasped and his face filled with horror. Everyone ducked and began yelling. The black mass separated into individual creatures that began flying all around Artimé and throughout the mansion, filling nearly every corner and space.
Lani’s tray of food went flying. Sky, Alex, and Samheed grabbed their swords and began swinging them wildly through the air, trying to hit whatever it was that was flying at them. Crow dropped to the ground with the girls, trying to protect them, and then he began to scream in panic.
“It’s the birds!” screeched Crow, his eyes filled with pure terror. “It’s Queen Eagala’s birds! They’re here for us!”
The Birds
There were thousands of black ravens, and they were eerily silent, opening their mouths to screech but no sound ever coming out. Each wore a tiny gold collar of thorns.
Crow shook and cried hysterically, unable to do anything in his fear except crouch on the floor, covering his face. Thisbe escaped from his numb grasp and ran screaming to Alex, who hastily scooped her up and slipped her inside his robe, while Fifer stared at the birds, mesmerized, oblivious to the shouts and screams around her. She didn’t make a sound. The ravens didn’t touch her.
Sky battled the attacking birds with her sword, and Lani dove for the pile of shields, doling them out so the others could protect themselves from the pecking.
“Outside!” Samheed shouted. “Everyone, come on! They’ll be less concentrated out there!” He picked up Crow and carried him out the front door. Alex, with Thisbe, grabbed Fifer and followed, hoping Samheed was right.
It was dark as pitch outside, though the sun had been rising thirty minutes before. The air was thick with ravens circling Artimé and diving down to peck at anything they saw moving. Florence was fighting off a hundred or more, and Simber was flying erratically above, trying to get them off him. Only Fifer continued to watch them, unaffected.
Soon the birds permeated the residential hallways, pecking at the doors until curious Artiméans opened them to see what was happening. They were pelted by seas of ravens swarming in. The birds filled the tubes and pecked at the buttons, which sent them to all sorts of places the pirates hadn’t discovered yet. They flooded the lounge and the theater and library, sending the nonfighters running for the tubes to escape the confines of the mansion.
Over the course of the next hour, every last Artiméan who was able to move found his way outside to the lawn, trying to get some reprieve from the attacking birds. Most found that there was little they could do to stop it, so they crouched on the ground like Crow had done, making themselves as small as possible. But then the ravens began to try to lift the orange-eyed Warbler children into the air.
“Help!” the children cried, wresting themselves free. “They’re taking us away!”
Aaron dashed out of the mansion, his wounds and pain so vastly improved from a night of sleep th
at he was almost like new. Desperately he searched the crowd. Finally he found Alex and his sisters amid the chaos. “This way!” he said. He guided them toward the rock, taking Crow from Samheed along the way. When there was a moment of peace, the rock opened his mouth, and Alex and Aaron quickly shoved Crow and the girls inside before any birds got in. Then they set out to gather up the smallest of the Warbler children and put them inside the rock’s mouth too before they got carried off to the ships.
Sky and her mother, Copper, refused to go into the rock, preferring instead to fight, though they were being harshly attacked. Thatcher and Scarlet stayed outside of the rock as well. They beat off the ravens quite desperately at times to keep the birds from lifting and carrying them off.
On Artimé’s ship, Sean and Ms. Octavia and the rest of their team took on the fewest ravens, for they’d hidden their orange-eyed Warbler fighters in the lower cabins overnight for safekeeping. But from their vantage point they could only watch helplessly and try to use freeze spells on as many of them as they could. It was such a small number of spells compared to the thousands of birds that it barely made a dent in the population. But they, too, had run out of deadly spells, leaving them with little in the way of ammunition.
Now that every Artiméan was fully occupied outside the mansion except for the helpless injured and nurses in the hospital ward, the ships emptied out into their tenders once more, and this time both pirates and Warbleran people filled them. They began rowing to shore without anybody in Artimé noticing. When they reached land, they streamed out of their boats and began to make a human wall all the way around the bird-fighting Artiméans.
Soon every tender had reached the shore and unloaded, and Warblerans and pirates stood armed in a giant circle around the panicked people of Artimé, watching the birds do their work for them.
A single raven managed to get inside the rock’s mouth. It went straight for Crow’s face and began pecking. Fifer reached out, grabbed the bird, and screamed at it.
The scream rose above all other sounds in Artimé and reverberated through the land. Everyone, even the birds, froze and listened.