Silverwing

by Kenneth Oppel

  And there it was.

  Crowning the tower's spire was a metal cross, glinting silver in the city's glow.

  "Marina," he said.

  With relief, he swept up toward the spire, looking for a place to land—and then in horror, he slammed his wings back, braking furiously.

  "Look out!" he screamed.

  It was some sort of giant demon, crouched at the base of the spire. Spiked wings were unfolding from its back, and its huge eyes suddenly flashed. Hunched forward as if to lunge, its hellhound jaws were opened wide, spewing saliva.

  "There's another one!" shouted Marina, veering away.

  Shade did a midair flip and chased after Marina, muscles screaming, waiting for jaws to close around him. One wingbeat and they'd be at his tail, any second now, any second ... he couldn't stand it any longer. He looked back.

  "Wait," he called out to Marina. "Why aren't they moving?"

  She circled warily. "Maybe they didn't see us."

  "I almost flew into one!" Surely if they were dangerous they'd have struck by now. With his echo vision he took another look. There they were, hunched on the corners of the spire, motionless.

  "They're giant bats," he whispered in amazement.

  He made a wide pass and saw there were four of the creatures in all, one on each corner, glaring out into the night. Still as stone.

  "They're not alive/' he shouted back at Marina. He laughed at himself. It was only the city lights that had made their eyes flash. And the saliva drizzling from their open mouths was nothing more than rainwater. Marina flew up beside him.

  "But what are they?" she muttered in wonder.

  'They're gargoyles," said one of the creatures in a deep echoing voice. "Humans made them."

  Shade jolted back; the voice had definitely emanated from a set of gaping jaws.

  "Come inside," said the voice again, and Shade recognized it unmistakably as a bat's.

  The stone creature's throat, Shade saw now, extended far back into the spire, like a sort of tunnel. He looked at Marina.

  "You expect me to go in there?" she said.

  "It's the right tower. The cross and everything. And there's definitely a bat inside."

  "Don't be afraid," said the bat's voice from deep within the spire.

  "Well, that's good enough for me," Marina said sarcastically.

  "Look," Shade said. "It's got to be safe. Otherwise my colony wouldn't use it as a landmark, right?"

  "After you."

  He knew he'd have to go first. He took a deep breath. It wasn't easy flying directly into the dripping jaws of the stone creature. He landed between rows of jagged teeth, half expecting them to snap shut. But they held, frozen, in their fearful grimace.

  "Seems okay," he called back to her.

  She reluctantly landed beside him, and together they crawled along the trickling stone, farther and farther into the petrified gullet.

  "That's right, keep coming," came the voice from the darkness, and Shade, casting a quick sonic glance, caught the outlines of a bat, fluttering out of sight at the tunnel's end.

  SlLVERWING 95

  Overhead, a pipe spewed rainwater onto them, and they hurried past onto the drier stone beyond. The tunnel opened out. Listening intently as his echoes came back to him, Shade saw that they were inside the spire, and the vast space housed several enormous metal objects, like giant pears or flower bulbs, but hollow inside. They were suspended on a system of elaborate ropes, beams, and notched metal wheels.

  "My name's Zephyr/'

  Hanging from a wooden strut was the strangest bat Shade had ever seen. He was of normal size, but his fur was a brilliant white. His wings were pale and completely translucent, so you could see the dark outlines of his forearm and long, spindly fingers. Even the latticework of his veins stood out.

  "It has nothing to do with age," the bat explained, as if aware of Shade and Marina's amazement. "I'm an albino— my fur and flesh lack pigment. Even my eyes, when I still had the use of them."

  Shade looked into Zephyr's eyes now and saw that they were glazed ghostly white with cataracts.

  "Come roost here with me."

  Shade and Marina fluttered up and dug their claws into the wood beside Zephyr.

  "Those stone creatures," asked Marina, "what are they?"

  "They're called gargoyles."

  "So that's what the pigeons were talking about!" Shade said. "What are they for?"

  "This is a cathedral," Zephyr continued, "a holy place to Humans, constructed long ago. I think they made those gargoyles to frighten away spirits and demons, which only Humans understand. As it turns out, they've served us well here in the city. No bird or beast dares come near the spire. For hundreds of years we've claimed this place as a safe haven, and there has always been a bat sentry posted here, to help travelers in need. And for the

  past twenty years I have been Keeper of the Spire."

  "You live here?" Shade asked.

  "Oh yes, all year round."

  "Then you must've seen my mother," Shade said excitedly "With Frieda, and the whole colony!"

  "Silverwings, yes," replied the albino bat. "Two nights ago. They didn't stay long, just enough time to take their bearings."

  "Told you this was the right place," Shade said to Marina. "Were they all right?" he asked Zephyr.

  "You're the bat they lost in the storm."

  Shade nodded, surprised. "They told you?"

  "They think you're dead."

  Shade swallowed. His mother. "Well," he said, "I'm trying to catch up with them. Do you know which way they were going?"

  "Don't you have a sound map?"

  "Yes, but—I'm not sure I understand it." It would be so much simpler if someone could just explain it so he didn't have to puzzle it out. Two nights ago they'd been here. The gap was widening. They'd have to hurry. He looked hopefully at Zephyr. "If you could tell me—"

  "I'm afraid I don't know anything. A colony's sound maps are a great secret. You must know that."

  "Oh. Right." He didn't know.

  The albino bat frowned and turned his blind gaze on Marina.

  "You're not a Silverwing, are you? I can hear the different shape of your wings; even the texture of your fur is different, longer, fuller ... A Brightwing, am I right?"

  "Yes," she said, glancing at Shade in amazement. "But I don't belong to any colony anymore, because—"

  "—of your band," Zephyr finished for her, head cocked slightly. "Yes, I can hear it now . . . strange markings . . . I've not heard one quite like that before."

  "You've seen others?"

  "Of course. May I?" He reached out with one gnarled

  claw and touched Marina's band. "You were given it recently, yes?"

  "This spring."

  "It's newer than any I've seen so far."

  Shade looked enviously from Marina to Zephyr. The albino bat seemed more interested in talking to her than him.

  "Do you know what it's for?" Marina asked.

  "That," Zephyr said, "is a great mystery. It's a link connecting you to the Humans, and—"

  "Frieda said it was a sign of the Promise," Shade cut in impatiently. But the albino bat quietly turned his clouded eyes on him, and Shade felt chastened.

  "Frieda knows a great deal. But I rather think it's more than a sign. The Humans have a part to play in whatever Nocturna is planning for us. I believe they'll come back to the bats whom they banded. They've been marked for a reason. There's something the Humans want to give them, that's certain, but I think there's something they want from you as well."

  Shade looked at his own thin forearms. Naked. No band. Why hadn't he been chosen? And what if he brought Marina back to his colony and suddenly she became the special one. And all those things Frieda had said to him—about him having a brightness—were forgotten. He didn't want to be just a runt again.

  "Why are so many bats afraid of the bands?" Marina wanted to know, and she told Zephyr about the Brightwings, and the Graywings they'd me
t on the way into the city.

  "It's right to be wary of the Humans," Zephyr said. "Their customs are mysterious, and they've been known to attack bats, thinking we were pests, or worse, evil spirits, something to be destroyed. And I know for a fact there were bands that killed their wearers. And whether that was the band itself, or the nature of the bat who wore it, no one can say."

  "My father had a band," said Shade, "and he discovered something important about it, but—"

  "He disappeared this spring in the south, I know," said Zephyr.

  "They said owls killed him. We've got to catch up. There're friends of his who might know something, they can tell us where he went ..."

  "Did you know you'd been injured?" Zephyr asked him calmly.

  As if on cue, Shade was suddenly conscious of a pain in his left wing. When he looked he could see a tiny puncture in the membrane, slowly oozing dark blood. He felt a little sick.

  "One of the pigeons must have pecked you."

  "Yeah," said Shade dully, and then: "How'd you know it was the pigeons?"

  "Good ears," said Zephyr with a small smile. "I hear a great deal of what goes on in the city skies. And there's been a commotion tonight, let me assure you. A visit from the owl ambassador is not a regular occurrence."

  But before Shade could launch a barrage of questions, the albino bat cut him off.

  "Now, let's see what we can do about your wound. It's not serious, but it does need some attention. This way."

  He led them to a long stone ledge underneath a window, and settled down on all fours among a pile of dried-up leaves. At first Shade thought they'd somehow blown into the tower, but then he realized there were many small neat piles, all different kinds, arranged nearby. Some were so fresh they still had droplets of moisture on them, others so old and wizened they crackled as Zephyr nosed through them. And there were other things too on that cluttered ledge: bright berries, bits of twig, and large bulbous roots with the soil still clinging to them. Insects, long dead and dried up, beetles Shade had certainly never seen, and would have thought twice about eating—scaly armor and horny spikes around the head. There were

  "What's he got all that stuff for?" Shade whispered suspiciously to Marina.

  "I collect them," Zephyr said, obviously overhearing. "There's no need to be suspicious. They're very useful, believe me. Try to keep an open mind, I've been around this earth somewhat longer than you."

  Shade grunted, embarrassed. He should've known Zephyr would hear. With his sonic eye he'd seen halfway across the city to the pigeon roost. He could practically read your thoughts.

  After a moment the albino bat returned with a berry in one claw and a leaf in another.

  "Unfurl your wing," he told Shade. He proceeded to chew the berry, working it over thoroughly in his mouth.

  "What're you doing?" Shade asked.

  Without answering, Zephyr leaned over Shade's wound and drizzled the finely mulched berry juice onto it. It stung and Shade flinched.

  "Hey!"

  "This will prevent an infection from spreading through your wing. And it will heal faster." Zephyr gently spread the oily fluid with his tongue.

  "A berry does all that?" Marina asked.

  "It's a common enough potion," said Zephyr. "Now, sleep is the best thing for you."

  "No," said Shade, "we can't stay. I mean, we need to get going, we've lost so much time." But he felt exhausted, and now the rip in his wing was beginning to hurt, sending sharp jabs into his shoulder.

  "Believe me, Silverwing, you need the sleep," said Zephyr. "And you couldn't find the route you need right now, even if you wanted to."

  Shade didn't understand. He was about to ask him to explain, but Zephyr had already taken a very small nibble of the leaf he'd carried over. This one had a distinctive shape and dark veins, and Shade couldn't remember ever

  ioo Kenneth Oppel

  having seen it before. But then, he'd never paid much attention to the shapes of leaves. You couldn't eat them— at least that's what he'd thought before now.

  "Open your mouth/' he told Shade.

  Shade hesitated.

  With a hint of impatience Zephyr said, "It will help you sleep."

  Reluctantly, Shade opened his jaws, wincing as the albino bat drizzled the leaf juice down his throat. At least it didn't taste terrible—in fact, it had almost no taste at all.

  "You should sleep on all fours tonight, with the wing spread flat."

  "They were going to peck off our wings," he told Zephyr, not without pride. "They said giant bats killed two of their soldiers earlier tonight."

  "Yes, I overheard one of the owl guards."

  "And they're closing the skies!" Shade said, remembering in a rush. How stupid: He should've told Zephyr all this earlier. It was important. But with all the other new things, the gargoyles and meeting an albino bat, and finding the right tower—

  "I know about the closed skies too," Zephyr told him gently.

  "Oh, right," said Shade. He yawned, then perked up again. "There're no bats that big really, are there?"

  "Get some sleep," Zephyr told him. "We'll talk more tomorrow night."

  Already Shade could feel a heavy, delicious warmth spreading through his body, and a wonderful sense of safety overtook him. That sense of being home, a place like Tree Haven, close to his mother. He looked groggily at Marina.

  "I think, probably, I'll just have a quick nap—"

  The inside of the tower seemed to become very dark— even his sound vision faltered, silvery lines fading—and then pure, silent blackness swallowed him up.

  Goth landed beside Throbb on a ledge in the metal shaft. Foul fumes rose up from the darkness below, but at least they were warm. It was the best roost he could find in the rooftops of this cursed city. He didn't know much about Human buildings, and he hadn't had much time before the sun came up.

  The sun. That at least had shown him where east was, and from there he could guess at south. But he knew he'd need more than that to stay on course for a whole night.

  He'd have to understand these new northern stars.

  "We need a guide," he said to Throbb. "Someone to show us how to read the sky—that's the only way to get back home. We have to find a bat."

  Star Map

  Shade opened his eyes, as if he'd just blinked, and saw Zephyr looking down at him.

  "Oh," he said, "I thought I'd fallen asleep."

  The albino bat laughed. "You did. You slept through the whole day. The sun's just gone down."

  Shade frowned. It seemed he'd just closed his eyes, but he certainly felt refreshed and alert. He remembered the tear in his wing and looked: The berry oil had formed a pale opaque film over it, and the pain was now only a dim ache.

  "I guess that plant stuff really works," he said, tentatively flexing his wing. "Where's Marina?"

  "Down in the cathedral. She wanted to look at the Humans." Zephyr pointed the way to a wide shaft in the center of the floor.

  "What do they do down there?" Shade asked a little uncertainly. He'd never seen a Human.

  "They meet here in the evenings sometimes. They talk and sing. I believe they pray as well. Go see, if you like."

  Shade lit from the stone ledge where he'd slept, and circled the spire several times to test his wing. A little stiff, and sore on the downstroke, but not bad at all. He cautiously spiraled down the shaft and felt like he'd entered the belly of a giant beast.

  Never had he been inside such a colossal space. Huge pillars stretched from the floor to the vaulted ceiling. High windows glinted darkly in the walls. Cold seeped across his wings. Suspended above the floor on long chains were lights in circular metal holders. He thought of the Promise: that ring of light, and felt impatient. There was so much he wanted to know.

  Beneath the lights were Humans, sitting in neat rows, all facing a raised platform on which stood a single male in robes. Shade kept his distance up near the rafters, shooting out quick tendrils of sound.

  So this is what
they looked like.

  Of course they'd been described to him by his mother, and there were always stories going around. But they were huge, much taller than he expected. Their limbs were thick and powerful. What was it like, he wondered, not to fear anything? To never be scanning the horizon all the time, even when you ate, making sure nothing was sneaking up on you.

  They were wingless, of course. He stared at their backs and shoulders quite a long time, just to make sure. He felt a quick pang of pity. How horrible, to be stuck on the ground your whole life, while other creatures got to soar above you. He couldn't imagine not flying. He supposed he shouldn't feel sorry for them, though. Maybe they didn't mind. Anyway, he remembered Frieda once saying they had metal machines that let them fly. They had machines for practically everything it seemed. They were geniuses.

  He found Marina intently watching the Humans. She didn't look at him as he roosted beside her.

  "I've never seen so many all in one place," she breathed, a look of anticipation on her face. As if something wonderful was about to happen.

  Suddenly the Humans all stood, and began speaking in unison, their deep slow voices filling the cathedral. What were they saying? Strange music spiraled crazily from a set

  of pipes high in a loft. Shade wished he understood what it all meant. The Humans' intense concentration charged the air, and Shade's fur lifted.

  "I want to go to them," Marina said, and Shade was stirred by the longing in her face. He twitched his nose awkwardly. He didn't feel her passion, and it bothered him. The band—it was all to do with the band, and he didn't have one.

  "After my colony left me," she said, "I was always looking for the two Humans who banded me. Once I thought I saw them. It was stupid, I mean, it's not as if I got a good look at them. But I flew toward them anyway, and it was just like with the bats. They were scared. They waved their arms, and shouted, and covered their faces." She gave a quick laugh. "Not exactly overjoyed to see me."