Island of Fire

by Lisa McMann

  Sky flushed too.

  Florence squelched an ebony smile and saved them by saying, “They’ll have to get past Simber and me first. But let’s turn our thoughts back to Lani and Samheed, and how we’re going to find them in that maze.”

  “Right.” Alex looked back at the map and studied it some more. “Thousands of people hidden above and under the ground,” he mused, rubbing his temples. “And some of them act as guards, shooting sleep darts.”

  Sky and Crow nodded.

  Alex frowned and shook his head—how could they possibly take on thousands of people and find the two they wanted at the same time? They’d need a whole army of Artiméans. At most, Simber could carry four on his back. Claire’s boat, which was now ready and waiting, could hold at most fifteen normal-size people. . . . Florence would sink Claire’s boat just by stepping into it. But Alex needed her. He needed anybody and everybody who wouldn’t be harmed by sleep darts.

  Slowly Alex lifted his head, and the frown washed away. He thought for a second more, tapping his fingers on his knee, and then he turned. “Florence,” he said slowly, as if the idea was still in the process of coming to him, “can you please clear the lawn, and then round up all the statues? Every last one of them, from the library to the lounge and all through the mansion, and send them to the theater?” He pushed his chair back and stood up, rolling the map into a tube. “I’ll meet you there shortly. But first,” he said, a slow grin spreading across his face, “we’re going to need a bigger boat.”

  More Plans

  As Florence headed outside to clear the lawn, Alex raced up the steps to the somewhat secret hallway, said the magic words “Door number one,” and entered the Museum of Large. He went straight to the pirate ship and studied it, walking all the way around it, with his hand tracing the perimeter, feeling its solidness.

  It had come ashore one day, Mr. Today had said. There had been just two sailors aboard, both dead. As Alex remembered Mr. Today’s story, he recalled that the old mage had said that the sailors wore strange things around their necks.

  “You’ve been to Warbler before, haven’t you,” Alex murmured. “Perhaps you’re one of the ships from Queen Eagala’s fleet.”

  The ship whispered and whispered. Alex strained his ears, but he couldn’t understand it, not even a word.

  “Are you ready to have at it again?” he asked.

  The ship seemed agreeable.

  “I’ll be right back.” Alex strode out into the secret hallway and down to the end of it, to the window, and he looked out. The lawn, beach, and sea were cleared. Alex smiled, went back to the museum, and stood next to the pirate ship. He put his hands on the hull, closed his eyes, and pictured the sea in front of the mansion. He held the picture in his mind for a long moment, his hands quavering a bit, and tried not to think about what would happen if something went terribly wrong. And then, after a deep breath, he whispered, “Transport.”

  The ship trembled for an instant, and then it disappeared.

  Alex opened his eyes, amazed at the huge space that now stood empty before him. He turned and ran back to the end of the hallway. And there, not quite all the way in the water but pretty amazingly close, was the pirate ship.

  “Whew,” Alex breathed. He ran back to the museum, locked the door, and then tore back down through the teeming crowds of Artiméans who had come inside the mansion at Florence’s request.

  “You can all go back to whatever you were doing,” he called out. “Just stay away from the ship for now, okay?” He dashed out the mansion’s seaside door to make sure the ship was unharmed in its transportation process.

  As he reached the ship, he saw something in the sky coming toward him. He shielded his eyes and watched as Simber, Meghan, and Sean drew closer and then landed on the lawn nearby.

  Alex ran up to them as Sean and Meghan dismounted. “How did it go?” Alex asked. “Was it strange?”

  “A little,” Meghan said. She had formed a habit of touching the scars on her neck when she spoke. “But we were able to get in pretty close to see the tunnel that I escaped from. And we found a couple more spots where Simber could sense people nearby, only we couldn’t see them.” She glanced at the ship. “Um . . . explain, please?”

  Alex grinned. “We made some great progress today. You left this morning before I could tell you that Crow and Sky let me take their thornaments off late last night.” He shook his head. “Sky gave us a ton of information. It’s pretty scary over there, and this is going to be really difficult. Come on—I’m meeting with all the statues. I’ll fill you in.”

  Alex, Sean, and Meghan went inside and made their way to the theater via tube while Simber went through the temporary 3-D door that Ms. Octavia had put up for the larger statues. It was an odd assortment in the auditorium. Dozens upon dozens of statues of all sizes had gathered, from the enormous Simber and Florence down to a tiny porcelain kitten the size and color of a bite-size marshmallow. The kitten perched on the shoulder of a somewhat rambunctious rust-colored fox statue carved from driftwood. The fox spent most of his time playing the saxophone in the lounge band. Charlie the gargoyle was there, and even the tiki statue from the third-floor library had somehow arrived despite having no legs to walk on. The grouchy ostrich that Alex and his friends had thrown their first origami dragon at was there as well, looking quite skeptical.

  Alex walked to the stage and stood next to the podium, facing them. He put his hands in his pockets and waited.

  When all was silent, Alex looked earnestly at the statues. “Thank you for coming,” he said, pulling his hands from his pockets and clasping them together in front of him. “Artimé is in great need of your help, and I’m wondering if any of you are up for a bit of an adventure.”

  That evening, Alex gathered his most trusted instructors, friends, and mentors. He expanded the hospital wing slightly so that they all could fit inside, and they met there for the sake of Ms. Morning and Gunnar Haluki, who now had advanced to sitting up in bed.

  Alex held up a handful of papers, including the map of Warbler and the books about the islands that he had found but hadn’t yet had a chance to read. He looked at Ms. Morning and Gunnar first. “You know how to restore the world if anything should happen, correct?” he asked. “And are you physically able to do it if something . . . something bad should happen to me?”

  “Yes,” Gunnar said solemnly.

  “Absolutely,” Ms. Morning said.

  Alex smiled. “Good. Here’s a robe,” he said, taking it off and handing it to Ms. Morning. “You should wear it. If you don’t have a robe and Artimé disappears, you’re sunk.”

  Ms. Morning nodded and wrapped it around her shoulders, fastening it at her neck.

  Alex turned to Simber. “Does anyone in Quill know that Artimé is restored?”

  “Not to my knowledge, but I’m surrre it won’t be long beforrre they do.”

  “And the girrinos?”

  “They’rrre rrready forrr anything and we have additional spies monitorrring the rrroad to Quill.”

  “Great.” He looked down at Rufus the squirrelicorn, who stood next to him. “Do you have your team?”

  “Ready and waiting, sir.”

  Alex smiled at the term. It felt strange to have a warrior like Rufus calling him sir, but he thought it was kind of nice and it made him feel more confident about himself, so he didn’t stop the creature from saying it.

  He looked at Meghan, Sean, and Henry. “You guys good?”

  They all nodded.

  “And you’re sure you want to go?” Alex asked Henry. “Don’t you want to stay here with your dad?”

  “I’m going,” Henry said. “I need to rescue my sister. And I can help with the healing spells in case anybody gets hurt. I’m getting really good.”

  Alex nodded. “I’ve noticed that. All right.” Then he turned to Sky and Crow. “Can you guys help keep things rolling around here while we’re gone?”

  Sky’s eyes narrowed. She glanced at Crow, whose
face wore a look of surprise, and then she looked back at Alex. “Oh,” she said. “We thought we were coming with you.”

  Alex’s lips parted, and then he glanced at Meghan and Ms. Morning to see their reactions. “You’d be priceless in the way of helping, but I—I didn’t think you’d want to,” he stammered. “What if they see you?”

  Sky lifted her chin and folded her arms over her chest. “Then the sight of me will be the last thing they’ll ever see,” she said.

  Alex’s heart swished. And he knew, at that very moment, that he wanted Sky on his side of any fight, anytime, anywhere, for as long as he could convince her to stay in Artimé.

  And Finally, They’re Off

  Before dawn, Alex got up. He loaded up his component vest and filled an extra sack with more components—there was no way he was going to run out, that was for sure. And with him in charge, well, he had responsibilities now.

  “I’m going away,” he announced to Clive.

  Clive, who was still miffed about finding out from other sources what had happened to Artimé, didn’t respond.

  “We’re going to try and rescue Samheed and Lani,” Alex said. “They’re captured on another island.” He looked fondly at the growing line of prototypes of the components that he and his friends had created, thinking he’d soon need another shelf to display them all. He glanced over his shoulder and said, “It could be dangerous.”

  Clive pushed his silken face out of the blackboard. “I guess I’ll be the last to know if it is,” he said. Then he sank back and disappeared.

  Alex shook his head and sighed. It bothered him more than he cared to admit that Clive was still peeved at him. But he didn’t know how to explain the vast pressure that was on him. Or how much pressure had been on him the entire time that Clive and all the others were experiencing the magical equivalent of a visit to the Ancients Sector.

  He turned back to the components, double- and triple-checking his quantities, counting aloud to himself, not noticing that Clive had silently resurfaced again to watch him.

  Alex looked back at the line of prototypes. There was the one Lani had made for the pincushion spell. Next to it was the tiny rubber ball Samheed had altered to look like a brain for the dementia spell. He wondered if he’d ever have any more of their creations lining his shelves. Alex smiled sadly as he recalled the day they’d sent their new spells soaring at their instructors. Had it really only been a few months since then? Alex felt like he’d become an entirely different person in that time. He reached up and took the pincushion and the tiny brain, cradling them in his hand, admiring the fine detailed work his friends had done.

  He wondered if Lani had changed too, like he had. She must have, he thought. He couldn’t begin to imagine what she’d gone through by now. Hard stuff forces you to grow up fast—that much he knew.

  But Lani was strong. “I sure hope you’re okay,” he whispered. He felt a pang of guilt spear through him. With all Lani must be going through, he just couldn’t stop feeling guilty about . . . about . . . well, he wasn’t exactly sure why he felt so guilty when he thought about her these days. Obviously because he hadn’t rescued her and Sam yet, but that was hardly something he could help. Maybe it was because he didn’t think about her as often as he used to. But, he argued with himself, stuff happens when your whole world disappears and you have to count on the people who are actually there to help you make it through.

  He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and opened them again. He looked at the components in his hand, then slowly closed his fingers over them and put them in his pocket for good luck. “We’re going to find you,” he said softly. “We just have to.”

  And then everything will be back to normal, he told himself.

  Clive slipped away once again.

  Alex took a deep breath and let it out, then squared his shoulders, picked up his supplies, and carried them to the door. He opened it, glancing at his blackboard but seeing only words. “Bye,” he said, and closed the door. He waited a beat, shrugged, and then he headed out to the ship.

  Florence was there already, standing with an arm slung over the top of the lower deck. Beside her was a stack of crates, and she already had the gangway pulled out and resting on the ground. When she saw Alex, she nodded a greeting. “I’ve had a look at this,” she said. “I suggest we load the humans and the lighter folks, then Sim and I will lift and push this thing out into deeper water. It’ll go faster that way, rather than getting it in the water first and transporting Artiméans back and forth. I’ll climb on and Sim wants to fly, which is good.”

  Alex felt a sense of relief wash through him. He’d been nervous, but he knew he had the best team he could possibly have. “And someone here knows how to sail this thing, right?”

  “Well, I could do it in a pinch,” Florence said, adjusting her bulging quiver of arrows on her back, “but Siggy found someone else in the theater supply closet with a lot more experience. He’s bringing him by in a bit.”

  “Perfect,” Alex said. “High tide is around eight. That’ll help with launching this crazy ship.”

  “You know it whispers, right?” Florence asked.

  Alex nodded. “Any idea what it’s saying?”

  “No,” Florence said. “Hopefully nothing bad.” She smiled and picked up the stack of crates, lifting them over the railing and placing them on the deck.

  Before long, a strange assortment of volunteers had assembled in groups according to their assigned leaders. Alex, Sean, Meghan, Ms. Octavia, Florence, Simber, and Rufus each carried a written list of their charges, each leader responsible for counting and keeping track of their volunteers. The statues mostly stood quietly, though a few hopped around sniffing things, while the squirrelicorns circled overhead.

  Soon Mr. Appleblossom arrived, walking with a marble statue. He was a man with a peg leg, and he wore the uniform and hat of a sea captain.

  Mr. Appleblossom stopped in front of Alex. “A bright and lucky morn to you, my boy,” he said. “Meet Captain Ahab, here to run your ship. A finer man the sea has never known.” He leaned in and whispered, “Take heed, or find yourself with a fat lip.”

  Alex’s eyes widened. “Ah, nice to meet you, Captain Ahab.”

  “Pirates!” exploded the statue, pointing at the sails. “Blast my skull to bits!”

  Alex stared. He slid his gaze to Mr. Appleblossom, who smiled politely, almost with mischief, and said nothing.

  “We-we’re not pirates. We’re just going to that island there, and then back again. Can you sail this thing?”

  “Ransacking thieves!” he roared. “Ye ever seen the white whale?” He leaned toward Alex, leering at him.

  Alex fought off a strange urge to laugh. No wonder Mr. Appleblossom kept this statue in the props closet. The captain was crazy, and Mr. Appleblossom knew it, but he was a ship captain. And, well, they really needed him. Alex decided to try a more direct approach. “Follow me,” he said. He turned abruptly and started up the gangplank, hoping the captain was following him. A minute later the uneven thump of the statue’s gait assured Alex he was.

  “When we push off, I need you to take us there,” Alex said, once they reached the main deck. He pointed to Warbler. “Okay?”

  The captain peered out over the water. “Thar she blows!” he bellowed. He pointed to what looked to Alex like the next island beyond Warbler, which they could sometimes see, and sometimes not see, depending on the light and the waves. Alex looked out of sheer curiosity and thought he saw a bit of froth rising from the surface of the water, but a second later it was gone. He shrugged. Maybe this guy had a thing for whales. But that was probably just a big wave crashing against a rock wall.

  “Great,” Alex said. “Stay here and be ready.”

  “Ye blast my skull!” the captain said in return.

  “You’re blasting mine,” Alex muttered, and then made a hasty retreat when he remembered what Mr. Appleblossom had said about avoiding a fat lip.

  A glance at the waterline o
n the sand told him they were near high tide. It was time to go. He peered over the ship’s rail and called out, “All aboard!” He watched the army, pleased, as they boarded the ship in an orderly fashion. Those who could fly did so, and those who couldn’t made their way to their stations on foot, the legless tiki statue again mysteriously appearing on deck, without anyone having noticed it moving.

  When Mr. Appleblossom returned to the mansion to help run things, and everyone but Simber and Florence was on board, Simber braced his rippling shoulder against the stern and lifted up, taking care with the rudder. Florence gripped the sides, lifting and pushing. Together they poured all their weight into dislodging the ship from the bit of sand that remained.

  Simber growled when the water lapped at his feet. He’d had enough of that lately. But he pushed on, and soon he and Florence were gliding through the water with ease. “That’s enough forrr me,” he said to Florence, and began to flap his wings, rising into the air. He shook his body to rid it of the awful liquid.

  Florence smiled and waved him off. “Poor kitty,” she said.

  Simber growled again, this time playfully, and showered Florence with droplets. “We’rrre farrr enough,” he said. “Grrrab hold, I’ll give you a leg up.”

  “Everybody to the bow!” Florence shouted. She let go of the ship and, careful to avoid Simber’s wings, slung an arm around his neck. He rose slowly, bringing Florence up and out of the water, and set her gently on deck opposite everyone else to keep the ship from capsizing.

  Captain Ahab gave a shout, and with that, they were seaborne.

  But then, just as they pulled away from their glorious Artimé, a figure burst from the mansion’s seaside door and rushed to the shore, waving her arms and shouting, “Wait!”