“If the idea of living here troubles you,” Arcadia said to Shade, fixing him with her cold, flashing eyes, “perhaps you were not meant to come.”
Goth heard the Humans coming.
The sound of their flying machine throbbed in the air, and this time he locked on and flew headlong toward it. It didn’t take long before he could make out the machine’s bulbous outline, dead ahead, rimmed in light.
His wingstrokes faltered, but only for a moment.
Zotz had made him strong again; Zotz was looking over him. More than that: Zotz needed him to fulfill his designs. He would be king of all the Vampyrum Spectrum, and he would fill his mouth and belly with Shade Silverwing’s flesh.
The machine’s nose reared before him, sliding sideways through the air. Behind the open window, he could see the Man. He knew it would be him, and he hated the sight of his mangy beard and drooped eyelid. A long weapon was held close to his face and shoulder.
Goth gritted his teeth, waiting.
He felt the dart bite into the side of his chest, and had to fight all his instincts not to rip at the feathered tip with his teeth, not to fly. Then the horizon lurched crazily, and he fell.
A WAY OUT
Five nights in Paradise, and he was still trying to find a way out.
Every night Shade circled the entire forest, searching. Even now he had to admit it was wonderful, a mix of conifers and leafy trees, a soft floor of mosses, wildflowers, and grass. A pleasantly broad stream meandered through the whole length of the forest, but the water, he soon realized, had a hard, metallic edge to it. Craggy stone cliffs—it felt like real stone, he’d checked—bordered the forest on all sides, rising up to the glass roof high above the tree line. He’d discovered numerous small portals, just like the one he’d entered through, but they were all just as tightly closed and impossible to move.
But he wasn’t about to give up. There had to be a way out. He wasn’t sure he would use it yet, but he wanted to know it was there, anyway.
Now he skimmed beneath the roof, straining for a draft of cold air, anything that might lead him to a crevice, a vent, any possible exit. Nothing, as always. He looked across the forest. He knew it would take him months to scour all of it, and even then he could miss something.
If only he had help … but everyone else just wanted to sleep, and when they weren’t sleeping, they were hunting lazily and combing their fur. Ariel would invite him to roost beside her, or hunt, but he stayed away. He had things to do, and it made him angry she didn’t feel the same way as he did. She didn’t say anything, but he knew. She was happy here, like everyone else. Even Frieda spent most of her time on a favorite stone by a pond, warming her old bones in the sun’s path. Why wasn’t she more upset about the others back at Hibernaculum? And what about the owls? She should’ve been trying to get out too!
Marina had made friends with a group of Brightwings, and when she wasn’t with them, she was always with Chinook. It was unbelievable. When he heard that tinkly laugh of hers he wanted to bite through rock. At first she’d asked him to join them, but he always made excuses, and now she didn’t even ask anymore, just gave him a quick, tight smile and flew off with the others.
All around him, everyone was happy, and he felt like a soggy leaf.
“Still looking?” Marina had flown up behind him.
“Hmm,” grunted Shade. He glanced at her quickly, unsure whether she was just being friendly or quietly mocking him. But he was happy to see her, especially without Chinook trailing after her. He hadn’t seen her alone in nights.
“So how’re you enjoying Paradise?” he asked, unable to keep the sarcasm from his voice.
“It beats getting eaten by owls,” she said with a smile. “Come on, Shade, take a rest. If anyone’s earned it, you have. This place isn’t so bad.”
He wanted to believe her and, for a moment, felt himself relax. Maybe this was the end of the journey after all, and why shouldn’t he fold his wings up and have a good, long sleep? It would be so easy. A tiger moth fluttered inches from his nose, and he frowned.
“You know where the bugs come from?” he said distractedly. “These tiny little holes in the cliffs. They’re all over the place. Look, there’s one right over here.” He flew closer and jabbed with his wing tip. “Look at this. The bugs just shoot right out. Can you believe it?”
“Shade, what does it matter?”
“They don’t even taste that great.”
“You’re complaining about the food? You’d rather be out scraping frozen fungus off a tree?”
“Admit it, Marina. The bugs don’t taste normal, and they all taste the same. The beetles don’t have the same crunch to them. You must’ve noticed that.”
She scowled. “Maybe I have, but is it so bad?”
“Too easy to catch,” he muttered. “Even the tiger moths are dopey. I haven’t missed one yet. Tiger moths should put up a bit of a fight….” He trailed off, feeling childish. Together they fluttered down to a tree and roosted side by side, saying nothing for a few moments.
“I’m sorry about your father,” she said.
“I just don’t understand how he can’t be here. It makes me think, I don’t know, this isn’t the right place, that we made a mistake.”
“Doesn’t feel like a mistake to me,” Marina said. “Why are you so suspicious? I see you flying around, looking for ways out. Why can’t you just enjoy it?”
“I can’t believe this is the right ending.”
“Shade, everything fits. The light of day, free from owls, the Humans helping us. The whole Promise.”
“I know, I know,” he said testily. He’d thought it through himself, over and over, like chewing on a stone until it had worn away to dust, to nothing. “But even the sun’s not the same. It’s brighter than this. You saw it with me, you remember.”
“It was too painful to look at outside. This way we get to enjoy it. Shade, why would the Humans go to all the trouble of making this place for us?”
“Come on,” said Shade, “I’ll show you something else I found.”
He led her skimming over the treetops, and realized he felt happy for the first time in nights. He was so glad just to have her beside him, all to himself, the way it used to be, traveling somewhere together. The journey didn’t last long, though. The forest, he’d realized when he’d first explored, was extremely long, but relatively narrow. Set into the cliff face, above the tree line, was a long window.
And behind the window were the Humans.
Shade roosted with Marina, just above the window so they could hang down and take a good look inside. There were five Humans: two standing, the others sitting. All of them wore white robes. Beyond the glass, they were only a few wingbeats away. He remembered seeing Humans, long ago, in the city cathedral, praying. He’d admired them so much, their size, their power. Here they seemed even more formidable.
The room was quite dark, and light washed over their faces and bodies from various gleaming metal surfaces. A couple were speaking to each other; Shade could see their mouths move. Even if he could hear them, their words would be meaningless to him. The others were looking out the window. Shade knew that from their high vantage point, most of the forest was within sight.
“They watch us,” said Shade. “Maybe they study us.”
“Maybe,” said Marina, noncommittal. “So what?”
“That’s the Man.”
He jerked his head at the Human Male standing in the centre of the room, tapping at some kind of machine. He was tall and gangly, with an untidy black beard, and one eye that always seemed half-closed.
“What do you mean, ‘the Man’?” Marina was saying.
“Remember Goth telling us about him? When he and Throbb were in the fake jungle? He said there was a Man who watched them all the time and flashed lights in their eyes and stuck them with darts.”
“You don’t know it’s the same one.”
“No, but—”
“Okay, let’s say he is. Any
Human who tries to capture Goth and keep him locked up sounds good to me.”
“They’re keeping us locked up, Marina.” She was silent for a moment, and when she spoke, her voice was impatient. “Why do you even bother thinking about Goth? He was a liar; he wanted to destroy us and your whole colony. For all we know, he made the whole thing up. Maybe there was no fake jungle, no Man.”
“Goth and Throbb were banded too. And the Humans came looking for them in their flying machine. I almost got hit by one of their darts, remember?”
“Of course I remember,” she said, annoyed. She sighed. “They’re not flashing lights in our faces, or sticking us with darts. Arcadia’s been here two months, and nothing bad’s happened to her. Everyone seems pretty happy, don’t you think?”
“Very happy,” he muttered. He looked at her intently. “Don’t you feel like a prisoner at all?”
“You’re so suspicious! Isn’t it enough they’ve made this place for us?”
He felt ungrateful, but he couldn’t help himself. “No, it’s not. I want to know why they’ve done it.”
“How’s that going to happen? You want them to walk through that glass wall and talk to you?”
“That would be nice,” Shade shot back. “If they’re so smart, why don’t they explain everything to us, once and for all. For all we know, maybe they’re just collecting us. Maybe they want something from us.”
“No one forced us here,” Marina reminded him. “We chose to come. We didn’t have to fly inside. You went first, remember?”
“I thought I’d find my father.”
She sighed. “I’m sorry, Shade, but I’m happy here. I’ve been an outcast for so long, I just want … look, I feel like I’ve got a home here, a family. Ariel’s been really kind to me. And so have you.”
“Let’s not forget Chinook.”
He regretted it the moment the words left his mouth.
She was looking at him carefully. “You don’t approve of me spending time with Chinook?” she asked, with a faint but dangerous edge of anger in her voice. “Forget it.”
“It’s not as if you’ve been around much, Shade. You’re always off flying, looking for cracks in the walls. Or sulking.”
“I don’t sulk,” said Shade. “Whatever you call it, then.”
“I’m thinking. I do that sometimes. Unlike Chinook.”
“I’ll admit, he’s never going to be an elder. He’s not special”—she gave the word contemptuous emphasis—”but I think he’s got a good heart.”
“Well, if you can’t have a brain, it’s great having a good heart.” Beneath his fur, his face burned with jealousy and anger. “And let’s not forget how hilarious he is. Why else would you spend so much time with him?”
“Well, he’s also handsome,” Marina said carelessly.
“Really?” Shade said, his anger giving way to genuine surprise. Chinook, handsome. He was certainly big; strong, of course; a good flyer and hunter. But Shade had never thought of him as handsome.
Am I handsome? he wondered, and knew immediately he wasn’t. He was too runty to ever be handsome. Sometimes, beside Marina, with her luxuriant fur and elegant face, he felt positively ugly.
“You’re right,” he told Marina coldly. “He’s very handsome.” She looked at him strangely, then shook her head. “You know what? He likes you. He’s jealous of you too. Surprised? Maybe you’ve been too busy to notice.” There was a sharpness in her voice that surprised him. “You’ve been too busy for all of us.”
“What d’you mean?” he asked, frowning.
“Take a break from being a hero, Shade. And guess what? You’re not the only one who’s lost a father.”
And she flew off.
Shade hung from a low branch, angrily snapping off oak leaves with pellets of sound. He took aim at another stem, blasted it, and watched with satisfaction as the leaf snapped neatly off and fluttered downward. Still, a leaf was not an icicle. Too easy. He turned his attention to the ground and spotted a small stone, about seven feet away. But he couldn’t concentrate. You’re not the only one who’s lost a father.
He winced as the words echoed in his head. Marina was telling him to get over it, reminding him she’d lost a father too, and a mother, and life went on. Well, maybe she could live like that, but he couldn’t. Cassiel might be lost, but Shade was going to find him. Was he supposed to apologize for that? Not giving up? Not wanting to float around here forever like a sun-stroked moth, eating bad bugs?
Take a break from being a hero. Now that really spiked his fur up! He was just doing what needed doing—since no one else seemed to be taking care of things. What about the other Silverwings back at Hibernaculum? What about the owls and their plans for war? What about the fact they were shut up in this artificial forest? If he didn’t worry about these things, who would? Someone had to make things happen around here!
No wonder Marina liked Chinook better. He had both his parents, he never wondered about anything, never worried about anything. He was just so contented, he made Shade sick to his stomach. Must be great being Chinook.
He glared at the stone on the ground.
Move, he told it, and slammed it furiously with sound.
To his surprise, the stone flipped over on the grass. He tried again and managed to push it along a few more inches before he gave up, breathless.
“Very good,” Frieda said, and Shade turned in surprise to see her hanging beside him. “You’re getting better.”
“Well, I’ve got lots of time to practice.”
She smiled. Shade had always liked the way her gray fur crinkled around her eyes. There was something gently expectant about the way she was looking at him.
“Is there something wrong with me?” he asked the elder. “I mean, we’ve got the sun, lots of food, and summer even though it’s really winter. No owls to worry about. And everyone seems so happy.”
“Except you.”
Shade nodded. “Except me.”
“What troubles you?”
He didn’t know where to start. “It’s not like I imagined.”
“Our imaginations are limited.” He nodded, feeling humbled.
“You sought the Humans,” said Frieda, “we all did. We believed they were linked to us in some way, through Nocturna’s Promise. We believed they would help us.”
“I guess I just expected more.”
“Some kind of marvelous transformation, perhaps? Or a war to defeat the owls and reign over the earth?”
He looked away, embarrassed, remembering how much he’d wanted to fight great battles and take his revenge on the owls. A big part of him still did.
“It seems the Humans have done so much for us here,” Frieda said, watching him carefully. “And yet you’re not content to trust them?”
“But it’s like we’re in a cage,” Shade blurted out. “It’s a nice, big cage and everything, but still, the bugs don’t taste very good, and even the sun is all pale, and I just don’t see the point.”
“I agree.”
Shade fell silent. He just looked at Frieda, feeling a smile soar across his face. “You do?”
“Yes.”
He’d felt so alone since they’d arrived, thinking he was the only one who didn’t believe they’d found Paradise. And all along, Frieda had felt the same. His relief was boundless. “Then you’ll help me find a way out!”
Now Frieda sighed. “There’s not much journey left in these wings,” she said. “I think, for me, this might be the last destination.”
With a jolt, Shade saw her through new eyes, not as the elder of whom he’d always been in awe, but as an aging bat who’d flown countless summers and winters. She looked tired, her shoulders stooped, her fur listless. Only her dark eyes retained their brightness.
“I don’t think this is the fulfillment of the Promise,” she said.
“But I don’t understand why—why didn’t you say anything to the others? To Arcadia?”
“I’m not sure Arcadia would listen.�
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“But you’re an elder!”
Frieda smiled. “Arcadia has already made up her mind, and I don’t think I could persuade her. She has a strong hold on the bats here, that’s obvious. They believe what they want. And I suspect this place is more powerful than my words. They think it’s a Paradise, and in many ways it is. But not, I believe, what Nocturna meant for us.”
“I’ve tried everywhere,” said Shade wearily. “The walls, the roof. I’d crawl through those stupid insect pipes if I were smaller.…”
“You’ll find a way,” Frieda told him simply. “I know you will.”
“How?” he said tiredly.
“Sound. It’s the tool of all bats, but it’s also your special gift. Remember, I always said you were a good listener, that you’d hear things no one else could. You’ll listen your way out of here.”
That night, his dreams were polluted with the sounds of Goth breathing, the beat of his heart, as if Shade were inside his belly. Silvery images, like sound pictures, flared in his sleeping mind, and they were somehow so familiar, he knew he must have dreamed them before. A two-headed serpent with feathers, a sleek jaguar, and then, most horrifying of all, two eyes without a face, just twin slits cut in the darkness, blazing blacker than any night. He wanted to wake up, but he couldn’t.
His dream was suddenly suffused with a strange smell, sweet and slightly sickening; he fought to open his eyes and maybe he did, because he thought he saw the forest, and through it moved tall, two-legged shapes. Humans? They had no faces. They slipped amongst the trees like specters, and he watched them in horror, unable, in his dream, to shift. They had arms, long skeletal arms that moved jerkily up into the air, into the branches of the trees, toward sleeping bats….
And then he could keep his eyes open no longer, and a horrible darkness swallowed him up again.
He woke to the sound of anxious voices, all talking over one another.
“… can’t find him anywhere …”
“… where’ve they gone?”
“… she’s disappeared.…”
His heart kicked up. Disappeared? He lit from his roost, flaring his ears wider. Bats were streaking through the forest in all directions, calling out names with increasing desperation. “Daedalus … Hecuba … Miranda?”
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