Sunwing (14 page)

“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.

“You should sleep,” Ariel told her. “We’ve been flying hard for a million wingbeats.”

“When can we continue south?”

“We’ll ask Frieda,” Ariel said, then frowned. “I’m worried about her.”

The Silverwing elder was not with them; she’d been summoned with Achilles Graywing to report to Halo Freetail, the chief elder of the bridge. Marina was worried about Frieda’s health too. More and more, over the nights, she’d had to rely on others to fly for her, and her breath rattled almost constantly. Even her bright eyes seemed slightly bleary, wandering off to the far horizons.

“This last journey was too much for her,” said Ariel. Marina shook her head, alarmed. “She’ll be all right. She just needs rest.” She didn’t want to hear about anyone dying. But Ariel said nothing.

Amazingly, Marina slumbered, despite the constant thrum of activity around her, despite the impatience coursing through her veins. Pure exhaustion won out. When she woke, Frieda was beside her, and Marina broke into a glad smile.

“The elders are holding a war council in an hour,” said Frieda, suppressing a cough, “and I would like you both to accompany me. You may need to be my voice.”

The war council was held in the highest of the bridge’s soaring towers. It was here that Halo Freetail and the other elders made their roost, and the location gave a sweeping view of the Human city, and the open skies above the flatlands.

Marina felt horribly out of place among the elders—and such a large collection she’d never seen. There were hundreds from all the different colonies, and their faces were all wrinkled and lined and awfully sober as they spoke. Like all the Freetails, Halo was an imposing figure, considerably larger than a Silverwing or a Brightwing, with a huge chest, and the distinctively long tail membrane which enabled her to be incredibly agile in flight. “We have now been joined by Achilles Graywing,” she said,
“and Frieda Silverwing, and for that we are extremely glad. Welcome to you both.”

There was a chorus of greeting from the other elders.

“Our scouts have told us that the owls are massing from the north and are within several nights’ journey of Bridge City. Much as it saddens me, we must now talk of war.” Her chest fell as she sighed. “I know that some of you put great faith in the teachings of Nocturna’s Promise, and had high hopes that the Humans would somehow come to our aid when it came time to fight. But I understand from Frieda Silverwing that these hopes have been disappointed.”

Marina listened as Frieda slowly, but with force still left in her aching voice, began the story of the Human building, and the forests it contained. When the Silverwing elder turned to her and asked her to continue, Marina’s heart beat so quickly, she thought she would faint. All the elders gazed at her, and she tried to quickly tell what she and Shade had seen in the Human building—the way the Humans had treated the bats, how they were carrying them south in their flying machines—and then what the hummingbirds had told her several nights ago, about the Humans using the bats to carry fire.

A defeated silence stretched out when she stopped talking, and she looked at her claws, wishing someone would speak.

“I won’t pretend that we Freetails ever put much faith in the Promise,” said Halo finally. “We’ve thrived in the night, and never had much appetite for the light of day—as I know some have.”

At this she seemed to look directly at Frieda and Achilles Graywing.

“We never thought it worth fighting the owls for the sun, and I know many of you resented us for it. As for the Humans, we’ve lived side by side with them for a hundred years, with no reason
to distrust, or trust them. They’ve not disturbed our roosts here, and few of us have been given the bands. But this news of yours, Frieda, does gravely disturb me. If they are using us to carry weapons, we must consider them our enemies, and be more vigilant here on the Bridge. But all our energies now, I think, must be turned toward the owls.”

There was a general rustle of wings in agreement to this.

“We could tolerate the banishment from the day, but these other atrocities we cannot tolerate. The seizure of Hibernaculums, the surprise attacks during the night. Their actions tell us they are intent on war, and we have no choice but to fight.”

Marina looked at Frieda and saw how tired she looked, not just in her face, but in her whole frail body. She looked away, frightened.

“The owls are powerful, but we have here an army the size of which has never been seen before, and we may now have to fight for our very survival.”

“It will be terrible,” said Frieda, and there was such sorrow in her voice that no one spoke for a few moments.

“You surprise me, Frieda,” said Halo, trying to chuckle, as if to wash away the sense of doom that Frieda had created. “You were one of the loudest voices in the rebellion of fifteen years ago. You’ve lost your appetite for battle?”

“I suppose I have, yes,” said Frieda, “because I realized this is not a battle we can win, not alone….”

“But there is no help,” came a bitter voice, another elder. “You yourself have said the Humans are not our friends. So what are our alternatives?”

“We must at least try to talk to the owls. We may find they are our allies.”

“Allies against whom?” asked Halo.

“It seems to me that the most powerful creatures on this earth are the Humans, and they have used both of us for evil ends.”

“Perhaps, but the Humans are not systematically forcing us from our homes,” said Halo impatiently. “As for speaking to the owls, I sent a delegation to them some weeks ago, and they had to flee for their lives before they could even get an audience with King Boreal. We will speak to the owls, yes, if we can, but we must prepare to fight, and fight alone.”

A Freetail swept up from below, breathless from his rapid ascent to the tower. “Halo Freetail,” he said, “a rat envoy has tunneled up beneath one of the piers. They bring offerings of peace, and say that King Romulus is eager to meet with you.”

Hearing the name, Marina felt a surge of surprise and joy. Was it the same Romulus she and Shade had met last fall? Back then, he was far from being a king. Imprisoned in a muddy dungeon by his brother, Prince Remus, he’d managed to save them from being drowned as spies. If Romulus was now indeed king, that could only be good news.

But a tremor of alarm and anger spread through the assembly.

“How dare they tunnel beneath our pier!” said one elder.

“They must be in collusion with the owls,” said another.

“Will you talk to them?” Achilles Graywing asked Halo. “It may be a trap.”

“A preemptive strike to weaken us before the owls come!” cried yet another anxious elder.

“No,” Marina blurted out, and had to shout louder to be heard, “no, I don’t think so. I know him.”

“You
know King Romulus?” Halo’s bushy eyebrows shot up dubiously.

“I think so.” Quickly she told Halo Freetail and the others about how she and Shade had met Prince Romulus. “He saved our lives;

he showed us the way back to the surface from the sewers. And I think he’s a friend to all bats.”

“Come with us, then,” said Halo. To her messenger she said, “Summon five of my best guards to accompany me, and alert the garrisons. If this is a trap, we’ll not be taken by surprise.”

As Marina spiraled off the tower, down and down, their group was joined by five formidable Freetail soldiers. They swept beneath the underside of the bridge, and skimmed the water toward the south pier, a huge mountain of stone slammed into the earth.

There, at its foot, was a deceptively casual heap of sticks and straw, but as they neared, a rat appeared, crouched watchfully. Marina realized the sticks must cover the hole they’d tunneled out from. The rat’s whiskers twitched as the bats found roosts overhead on the stone, a safe enough distance from the ground. Marina felt a tremor of dislike and suspicion. Apart from Romulus, Marina’s memories of rats were not pleasant.

“Halo Freetail,” said the rat, “thank you for coming. King Romulus is here to speak with you.”

With no further fanfare, a solitary large white rat appeared from the shelter of the sticks and looked up at the assembled bats. And as he raised himself on his legs and spread his arms in greeting, Marina saw, with relief, that this was indeed the same Romulus she remembered.

For it was as if he were half a bat himself. A fine membrane of skin stretched between his upper arms and chest, making it look like he had some kind of malformed wing. And on his legs too, you could see these strange flaps of skin between limb and belly, hopeful wings again.

“Halo Freetail, my thanks for giving me an audience, and to all the other elders, my sincerest greetings.”

“What brings you to us in Bridge City?”

“We’re aware of the owls’ rage against you,” said Romulus, “and there seems little reason for it. We will add our voice to yours during any talks.”

“King Romulus, this offer is most kind, and we will gladly accept, though the owls, so far, do not seem inclined to diplomacy.”

Romulus nodded. “If they will not listen to us, we will fight with you.”

A moment of stunned silence burst apart with happy exclamations, and Marina broke into a smile.

“This is a powerful pledge of friendship,” said Halo. “Are you certain you wish to bring this upon your fellow rats?”

“We’ve fought each other too long, the rats and bats,” said Romulus. “It’s time to lay claim to our common past”—and with this he spread his arms again to show his strange half-wings—”for at one time I believe we creatures were fashioned from the same materials.”

“Have you any idea why the owls have embarked on this course?” Halo asked.