Sunwing

by Kenneth Oppel

  This was only one of the thoughts that made up the constant, low roar in his head now. His father, here, alive, just nights ago. It was too cruel, and he wished he could stop thinking about it. But, still, it tugged at his heart like a hook. For the first time since plunging into that stream back in the Human forest, he had time to think about things, and they came crashing over him like a violent thunderstorm, leaving him spent with sorrow and rage. He could barely summon the energy to speak to Chinook or Caliban. He retreated deep inside himself.

  Even his sleep was no escape. The bad dreams he’d had since returning to Hibernaculum had metamorphosed into something even more ominous. He dreamed of an eternal night, a night with no coming dawn, night without even the hope of the sun’s warmth. He dreamed of violent winds gusting across the earth, carrying the most horrible sounds he’d ever heard. Yesterday, he’d woken trembling from a vision in which the sun had been suddenly blotted out by a dark eye, but there was no center to the eye, no light in it. It was like a hole that only led to more pure darkness.

  Escaping the jungle was the only thought that gave him any strength. It was what his father had wanted to do, and he was right. He had to get back north, find the forest, warn the others. If only he could know if Marina had been caught like him, or somehow made it back to Ariel and Frieda. Even so, could they have escaped the building? Maybe even now they were loaded onto a flying machine, sirens in their ears, discs tied to their stomachs. He lived in dread of hearing the sound of explosions across the city rooftops, but mercifully, none came—yet.

  He was desperate to leave, and, most maddening of all, it was he who held back their departure. Caliban told him there was no way he could set out until his wound had healed a bit more. Chinook too needed time to recover. And no one left until they could all leave.

  Shade was healing, but slowly. A few days ago, he’d been alarmed to find his hair was falling out vigorously. Worried this might be the symptom of some horrible disease, he’d asked Caliban, and received a smile from the free-tailed bat. Shade had never seen him smile before; he didn’t suppose there was a lot to smile about down here.

  “It’s called molting,” Caliban had told him with a laugh. “It’s natural with the heat. Just that it usually happens in summer.” Shade nodded, wishing Marina were here. She could have told him that. He’d never molted before. Molting in the middle of winter, in the jungle. It was so hot here, he almost wished for a real northern winter.

  Shade caught another beetle, and glanced over at Chinook, who’d been hunting alongside him. For the past three days and nights, they’d never been far apart, roosting side by side, hunting together. They didn’t talk much, but Shade felt comforted just having him nearby. Part of it, he knew, was that Chinook was the only reminder of home he had right now. But what was home? he thought bitterly. And where? Tree Haven was gone forever. Ariel and Marina and Frieda were trapped in the Human building—or worse. You promised yourself you’d stop thinking about it, he told himself.

  “Do you think Marina’s okay?” Chinook whispered.

  “I hope so.”

  “Because I feel like it’s all my fault. I mean, it was me she came looking for, right? Back in the Human building? She took a big risk all for me.”

  “Well … partly, yes, but—”

  “So loyal,” said Chinook with a lovelorn shake of his head. And for the first time in nights, Shade felt irritated with him, and was almost glad.

  “She also wanted to find out what was going on,” Shade couldn’t resist pointing out. “In general.”

  “But she missed me. I knew she would. Did she ever say anything to you, you know … about me?”

  Shade ground his teeth. Handsome. She’d called him handsome, how could he ever forget that!

  “Can’t remember, to tell you the truth,” he muttered.

  “Hm,” said Chinook. “Well, she talked about you all the time.” Shade waited expectantly, but the other bat didn’t continue.

  “And?” he said after another few seconds of agony.

  “Oh, just about how puffed up you were.” Shade’s ears shot up indignantly. “Puffed up? What’s that mean, puffed up?” It sounded like something a vain pigeon did, fluffing up its feathers. It sounded ridiculous.

  “She just thought you were too important for everyone. A big hero. I tried to stick up for you, but she seemed pretty angry.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I’ve got to find her,” said Chinook. “Save her.”

  “She’s pretty good at saving herself,” muttered Shade.

  “I was going to ask her to be my mate,” Chinook confided. “I think she would’ve said yes, don’t you? I mean, you and she have been friends for a while, so I thought I’d ask.”

  Shade swallowed wrong, and tried to choke back his cough, water streaming into his eyes. Marina, Chinook’s mate? It was incredible! Didn’t Chinook have any clue at all that he, Shade, the runt, might be interested in Marina too? Well, he’d been missing the old, thickheaded Chinook, and here he was back in full force.

  “I don’t know, Chinook,” he said finally. “It’s hard to predict what she’d say. She’s kind of difficult.”

  “Really? I’ve never noticed that.”

  “Give it time.”

  “Hey, she’s got a great laugh, doesn’t she? It’s so—”

  “Tinkly?”

  “Yeah, tinkly.”

  “Beautiful,” nodded Shade.

  Caliban flew alongside and signaled that they should be heading back to Statue Haven. An hour was all they risked for hunting now, and it was scarcely enough time to keep Shade’s stomach from gnawing itself hungrily through the day. And how could they hope to keep their strength for the long journey north? All the bats here were so thin; at least he and Chinook were still relatively fat after gobbling the piped-in bugs in the Human forest. But hunger, he knew, would probably be the least of their problems. All that stood between them and the cannibal bats was Statue Haven—and without that, they would be horribly vulnerable in the night skies.

  Shade banked and started back toward the giant metal Human. But in the trees that crested the cliff, he saw a blur of wings through the branches. He threw out sound, and a picture of an owl flared in his head. That was all he needed to know. By now he’d caught glimpses of a few southern owls: They had blazing circles of white plumage around their eyes, and a screech that was, if anything, more terrifying than that of their northern cousins.

  He hunched his shoulders and started flying hard, hoping he hadn’t been spotted.

  “Wait!”

  It was impossible not to look back, the voice was so desperate. He turned and saw the owl rising above the tree line: a young owl with lightning bolts across his chest. And from his stomach hung a large metal disc.

  “Shade, fly!” he heard Caliban call out up ahead.

  “I know him,” Shade called back.

  “Don’t be a fool!”

  The owl wasn’t giving chase, just circling, and looking after Shade forlornly. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the disc. It was the same size as Goth’s, and he knew what it could do if it exploded.

  “Help me,” said the owl.

  “Shade!” Caliban said warningly, anger flashing in his eyes. Shade faltered. He didn’t want to disobey Caliban; he trusted and respected the mastiff bat. And he’d promised himself just two nights ago he would follow orders from now on, stay out of trouble. But he just couldn’t desert the owl. “I’ll catch up.”

  Without waiting for a reply, he banked sharply and flew toward the owl. “Listen,” he called out. “That thing, the metal disc, it’s—”

  “I know. It doesn’t work.”

  “What?”

  “It didn’t explode. I’ve already landed where I was supposed to, and nothing happened. Not like the others. I saw what happened to theirs.”

  Shade stared at the disc, still not trusting it. He started as Chinook suddenly pulled up beside him.

  “Go back with Calib
an!” he said impatiently.

  “I’m staying with you.”

  “Go on!”

  “No!”

  Shade was surprised at the determination in his face. “Why not?”

  “Feel safe,” mumbled Chinook, then, almost angrily, “I feel safe when I’m with you, all right? It’s the only time.”

  Shade’s irritation melted away. It seemed almost impossible that Chinook could be saying these words, that Shade, the eternal runt, made him feel safe. He grinned gratefully.

  “Likewise, Chinook. Believe me.”

  Behind them, he heard Caliban say, “I hope you know what you’re doing, Silverwings. Whatever it is you plan to do, be quick about it. Dawn’s not far off.” And he was gone.

  Shade turned back to the owl. “Why’re you alone?” he asked.

  “The others, the owls who live here, they won’t get near me. They nearly killed me when they saw the disc. They’re worried it will explode.”

  Shade didn’t blame them. For all he knew, it might erupt in flames at any moment.

  “They did it to me too,” said Shade. “To all the bats. Look.” He tilted steeply so the owl could see the still-healing wound on his belly. “That’s why we were all there in that building. The Humans have been using all of us.”

  “I want to go home,” said the owl miserably. “But I don’t know where that is.”

  “There’s a group of us who survived,” Shade told him. “And we’re leaving tomorrow night. Come with us.”

  He saw the frightened glance Chinook shot at him, and he knew he was taking a chance, maybe a fatal one. But he wasn’t just being kind. There was a self-serving side to his invitation. A group of northern bats in these skies was easy prey; but with an owl as escort, they might avoid attacks by other owls—and even cannibal bats. Caliban would see the logic in his plan.

  “You know the way north?” the owl asked.

  “Yes.” It occurred to Shade that owls didn’t have as much experience reading stars as they did.

  “But this disc weighs me down so much,” said the owl. “I nearly got eaten by a snake last night. Barely had time to light before its jaws closed around me.”

  “You’re sure it’s dead?” asked Shade, nodding at the disc.

  “I hit the building, hard, and nothing happened.” Shade took a deep breath. “Listen. I can get it off you. It’ll hurt. I’ll need to rip out the stitches in your stomach. I’ve done it before, though. All right?”

  “Why’re you helping me?”

  “You saved my life.”

  “You saved mine first. Why?”

  “You looked scared,” said Shade simply.

  “That monster, the giant bat in the human building, was that the one you said killed the pigeons in the city?”

  “Yes,” said Shade with a sigh, as if finally a huge weight had been lifted from his wings. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you all along. It wasn’t we who started killing the birds, it was these jungle bats.”

  “I believe you now.”

  “Can you land in that tree?” Shade said. “It’s easier if you keep still.”

  Watching the owl roost in a high branch, Shade’s muscles tensed as the metal disc knocked repeatedly against the bark. It did seem to be dead, though he’d feel a lot better when it was off the owl, if he was coming with them.

  With Chinook, Shade landed nearby, still grappling with the strangeness of being so close to an owl, his deadly enemy for millions of years. He couldn’t say he liked its smell, but he supposed it might not care for his, either. The feathers made his nose itch.

  “Here we go,” he warned the owl. “It’ll hurt, but I’m not doing it on purpose, all right?”

  “Go on,” said the owl.

  “You just keep an eye out for anything that might want to eat us. You too, Chinook.”

  “I’m watching,” said Chinook.

  Shade began, sinking his teeth delicately into the bare patch the Humans had shaved on the owl’s belly. “What’s your name?” he heard the owl ask, his voice strained. Shade pulled back for a breath. “Shade. This is Chinook.”

  “My name’s Orestes.” After a moment he asked, “You don’t know who I am, do you?”

  Shade grunted no. There was owl blood on his nose; amazingly, it tasted almost identical to bat blood. “I’m King Boreal’s son.”

  Shade faltered. Not only was he gouging his teeth into an owl, he happened to be the prince of the most powerful bird king in the northern forests.

  “Where’s your father now?” he asked, pulling back to see how he was making out. “Was he in the building with you?”

  “No, luckily. He sent me away while he … “

  “What?”

  “Organized his armies for war,” said Orestes quietly. Shade looked away. War with the bats. He felt a sudden impulse to leave. Let Orestes fend for himself; why should he help him, when his father was getting ready to wipe out every bat in the sky?

  “Do you want a war too?” he asked Orestes coldly.

  “I don’t know. Do you?”

  “No, but I don’t want us to be banished to the night forever.” He sighed. It all seemed so far away, somehow, like someone else’s life. Right now he was in the jungle, and that was all he knew. Staying alive, making it out alive. And for that, he needed this owl.

  “Can I trust you?” he asked Orestes. “When I take this off, you’ll escort us back north, and you’ll protect us from any owls we might meet?”

  “Yes.”

  He looked into the owls’ huge eyes, and knew there was no way of knowing whether he was telling the truth. But he chose to believe he was. What more could he do? He went back to work, slashing at the stitches until there was only one left.

  “When I cut this one, catch the chain with your claws,” said Shade. “I don’t think we want it hitting the ground. Just in case.”

  Orestes nodded. Shade sliced through the thread quickly, and the owl, with amazing agility, hooked the chain with his talons. “Put it down slowly, on the ground.”

  He waited up top, while Orestes flew down through the tree with the disc.

  “You trust him?” Chinook whispered. “We have to.”

  “He might just go back and gang up with the other owls now. Tell them where we’re hiding.”

  “Maybe,” said Shade, needled by Chinook’s possibility. Orestes returned to the branch, free at last from the Human explosive. “Thank you.”

  “Let’s go. I’ll show you where we’re staying.” He measured the owl with sound. “You should be able to just squeeze inside Statue Haven.”

  “You’ll have some convincing to do beforehand,” said Orestes. Shade grinned.

  A set of claws sliced down from the sky and sank into Orestes’ feathered back. Shade’s eyes snapped up to see a huge cannibal bat dragging Orestes up off the branch. A shadow fell over him, and he could only drop away instinctively as a second set of claws whistled past him. Instead, they plunged into Chinook’s shoulders and heaved him up into the sky. “Shade!” he heard Chinook cry out in confusion and pain.

  Peering through leaves, Shade watched as the two cannibal bats flew off, Chinook and Orestes gripped in their claws.

  He watched them disappear, his heart pounding. You did nothing, nothing. There was nothing to do.

  I feel safe when I’m with you, Chinook had told him.

  He was shaking, and for the first time since the Humans had captured him, he was crying uncontrollably. He was stupid and weak and he’d lost everything, everything. He lurched back toward Statue Haven, blinded by his tears.

  A wide river cut the city in two, and spanning the water was a soaring metal bridge. Even from this great distance, Marina could see the flicker of movement around its underside, and then, huge, long, shimmering tendrils twisted into the sky in all directions, turning, arcing over the city like dark rainbows.

  Bats. Millions of them.

  They had arrived at Bridge City.

  Marina felt a wave
of pride: She never thought she’d actually visit this place, this legendary city where the bats filled the skies, and seemed more like the rulers of the place than the Humans who had built it. Relief too flooded through her. They were nearing the greatest of all bat strongholds, home to the western free-tailed colonies, the biggest of all northern bats. If there was any place left on the earth that was still safe for them, this was it. Still, the sight of the Human city set off a queasy swirl in her stomach. The idea of living so close to them seemed disgusting to her now. And how could the bats be safe from the Humans’ hideous plans?

  As they flew closer, she saw how the bridge could be home to so vast a number of bats. Its length was immense, a latticework of metal beams, supported at intervals by thick, stone piers that plunged deep to the river’s bottom. The top of the bridge served, Marina could see, as some sort of Human roadway, lit now by their noisy machines, going to and fro. But the bridge’s underside, with its multitude of ledges and niches, provided roosts along its entire span, from one side of the river to another.

  As they approached they were met by gleeful squadrons of bats encircling them, and Marina felt something close to exultation. To be in the midst of such a throng! How could they be defeated? Anything was possible now.

  Beating the owls.

  Rescuing Shade.

  The next few hours passed in a whirl as she and Ariel and the other newcomers were led to different parts of the bridge and shown where they could rest. She learned that the population of the bridge had swollen hugely over the last two months, and it was now home to bats of all species, from the west coast to the east. The roosts were crowded, and everyone seemed to be in high spirits, telling the stories of their own adventures, their narrow escapes from the owls, sneak attacks, and desperate flights for freedom.