Island of Fire

by Lisa McMann

  Over the course of the seventh day, he opened his eyes a few more times, but it was too hard to keep them open.

  When light beckoned from the other side of his lids on the eighth day, Alex’s body finally decided it was ready to emerge from its cocoon. His eyelids fluttered and then opened. He squinted, having no idea where he was or why there was so much sunlight in his room when he didn’t remember having a window. Slowly he turned his head to look around.

  It seemed like his room, anyway—all his things were there. But it was so much bigger than his room, which was extremely puzzling. “Where am I?” he croaked. His throat was dry.

  There was a noise beside him, and soon Simber’s body and face rose before him. “Hey, Sim,” he said. And then he frowned. “How’d you get in here?”

  “Alex,” Simber said. The cat peered at him. His nostrils flared, and then he smiled. “Welcome back. You’rrre in your new rrroom now.”

  Alex blinked. “What?” He took a breath, feeling muted pain, and everything flooded back to him. “What time is it? I didn’t mean to sleep so late—I have a ton of stuff to do.” He tried to ease up to a sitting position but gave up after a few seconds, totally spent.

  Simber told him everything that had happened, how Clive had called for help, how Simber had slammed through the door and walls and destroyed Alex’s room, how he’d found Alex collapsed on the floor. And how they’d brought Alex here, to the mage’s living quarters, and made it his own.

  “From what Clairrre can tell, you brrruised severrral rrribs and prrrobably frrractured some too. How does it feel to brrreathe?”

  “It hurts if I take a deep breath, but not as bad as it did. How long have I been here? Did I sleep a whole day and another night?” he asked, incredulous. “I’ve never slept that long in my life.”

  “Today is the eighth day since we came back frrrom Warrrblerrr,” Simber said.

  Alex’s eyes opened wide. “Whoa,” he said. And then a cloud passed over his face and he tried once more to sit up. “Oh no,” he said. “I have so much—”

  “Rrrelax, Alex,” Simber said. He pressed a cold paw gently on Alex’s chest. “You have to get well firrrst. Everrrything is fine herrre. We’rrre all pitching in. Clairrre and Gunnarrr arrre back to normal, Lani is too. Arrrtimé is once again a well-oiled machine.”

  Alex sank back into his pillows. “So Lani—”

  “Fine.”

  “Meghan?”

  “Fine.”

  “Carina?”

  “Fine. They’rrre all fine.”

  “Even—” He blushed. “Never mind.”

  “She’s fine too.”

  Alex put his hands over his eyes and tried to hide his dumb grin. “Ack,” he said. “The cat knows all. The cat knows all. When are you going to get that through your thick skull, Stowe?” He shook his head slowly, furious with himself for being so obvious. “Stop looking at me.”

  Simber snorted.

  Alex peeked out around the side of his hand. Simber was looking pointedly at the wall where Clive hung, though the blackboard’s face had yet to make an appearance. Simber chuckled to himself.

  Alex’s blush faded and he hastily changed the subject. “Where are all of Mr. Today’s things?”

  “Packed in a giant chest in the Museum of Larrrge. It’s all therrre for you wheneverrr you want to go thrrrough it. Oh—except forrr this.” He turned his head suddenly and padded to the side of the enormous room. “We found it on the drrressing table. It has yourrr name on it.”

  Simber brought him a book, setting it on the bed. “It looks like he meant to give it to you beforrre he planned to leave on his holiday.”

  Alex picked it up. The corners of his mouth rose a fraction as he read his name in Mr. Today’s handwriting. He removed the note and looked at the book, reading the title: The Triad: Live, Hide, Restore. His mouth dropped open. He paged to the third section and read a few sentences.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said. He looked up. “Is this a joke?”

  Simber shook his head. “Why?”

  “The restore spell. It’s right here.” He quoted, “Wearing a robe, stand on the back stoop of the gray shack (near the gate). Say the words ‘Imagine, Believe . . . ’ ” Alex snapped the book shut and let his head fall back on the pillow, not even sure how he was feeling. “Seriously,” he muttered, staring dumbfounded at the ceiling. “Seriously, Mr. Today? You couldn’t have handed this to me an hour earlier?”

  Simber ducked his head.

  “It’s not funny,” Alex warned. “There is nothing funny about this.”

  Simber lowered his head farther, his neck shaking.

  “Don’t even,” Alex said, disgusted. He threw the book at the wall, which didn’t quite have the velocity to hit it, seeing as how Alex was so pathetically weak. It flopped to the floor. Alex stared at it, shaking his head. And then he pressed his lips together to keep them from twitching. “You are a bad,” he said with a little hiccup, “bad cat.” He tried to breathe slowly, but soon he was trembling. “Ow,” he said between laughs. “Ow. Seriously. You’re killing me, man.” He snickered and winced.

  Simber was laughing so hard the bed shook.

  When at last the shaking stopped, Alex was sore and exhausted. But there was also something huge missing from his life.

  “So,” he said, “you got any food in this fancy place?”

  Within a few days Alex was walking around his room with a cane that Henry and Crow had carved for him and sent along with Simber. Those who could access the secret hallway to visit did so, updating him on everything that was going on and bringing him more and more flowers and gifts as the days passed and word got out that he’d been badly injured and had been recovering all this time. But he never heard from Sky.

  He began to puzzle over Sky and Crow’s mother’s rescue, knowing that it would be very difficult. Late in the evenings he would scratch out notes and sketches, ideas of how to do it, but he found flaw after flaw in all of them. But each scrapped plan made him more determined to find the perfect way to succeed. On one visit by Ms. Octavia, he questioned her quite thoroughly about everything he could think of regarding the sea, and came away with even more thoughts that churned inside his head, trying to turn into real ideas. The only thing he needed was time for his subconscious to sort them all out.

  When he was able, Alex began to walk and move around as much as he could in the secret hallway, gaining his strength back, calling on his muscles to work and grow again.

  Samheed came by every now and then. He wore a pained expression whenever Alex asked about Lani, but Samheed never admitted they were always together, and Alex pretended not to know, though from the big picture window he’d seen them wandering the grounds holding hands. As boring as things were hanging around his room all day, it gave Alex a bit of perverse pleasure to see Samheed feeling uncomfortable about it.

  Alex had accepted it by now, and he wasn’t sad. He and Lani had always felt more like friends anyway, and he thought it would be pretty easy to just be that again.

  Whenever he thought about Sky, though, his chest ached. It was like her heart was inside him, pressing against his cracked ribs. It was probably good that he hadn’t seen her in a while, though he longed to. Better to get her out of his head. But when he closed his eyes at night, he could feel her cool, spongy lips pressing against his, and his stomach flopped inside him.

  “You have to stop,” he said one day, covering his face with his hands. There was no place for romance when one was the head mage. Was there?

  “You know,” Simber remarked on one occasion as they played a hand of cards, “Marrrcus was alone because he was still marrried to his wife—Clairrre’s mother. He always hoped she’d come live herrre. He trrried to convince her many times, but she rrrefused. Still, he waited, just in case, because he loved her.”

  Alex flushed. He didn’t know what to say. But the words slipped in, creating a sliver of hope. “She never came?”

  “No
.”

  “Is she still living in Quill?” Alex sat up, curious.

  “No. She was sent to the Ancients Sector a few years ago.”

  It seemed there was a lot about Mr. Today that Alex didn’t know. But he’d learned something new. And maybe, one day, there was hope.

  Sadly, he’d ruined things with Sky by now. He hadn’t even sent her a message or anything all this time, even though he knew she was dealing with her mother’s situation. He hadn’t even asked how she was doing. And it was too late now—it would look like an afterthought. Better to talk to her in person once he was back to normal.

  But still, every day, he walked to the window at the end of the not very secret hallway and looked out, wondering if he’d see her.

  One day, finally, he did. She was coming from the jungle, walking toward the shore, doing her very best to balance a freshly made raft on her back.

  Alex’s cane clattered to the ground.

  A Fight

  Alex moved toward the balcony as fast as his feet would carry him, which wasn’t very fast at all. He grabbed the railing and leaned on it as he maneuvered down the steps, trying not to jolt his body any more than he had to. But he had to reach her in time.

  Simber and Florence looked on in surprise at the sight of him dodging other students and residents like a decrepit grandfather on ice skates. They peppered him with questions as he reached the bottom and sped for the door, but Alex ignored them, whipping the door open and stepping outside for the first time in weeks.

  He shielded his eyes from the sun and scanned the shore, spotting her.

  “Sky!” he cried. He hastened toward her as she dropped the raft in the water, pushing it deeper. She placed a small satchel on top of the raft and climbed on.

  “Sky!” he yelled again, and this time she turned her head. Her eyes widened in alarm.

  Alex stopped at the edge of the water and stared at her. She held his gaze as the raft drifted in front of him, heading west. Where was she going? Alex didn’t know what to say, what to do. Everything inside him crumbled.

  She was leaving Artimé.

  She was leaving him.

  And what was he supposed to do? Watch her go?

  The only part of her that moved was her head, turning slowly to hold his gaze as she drifted farther away. The water reflected sunlight that shimmered on her skin, her face, in all its stillness. She was a statue of a girl on a raft, breaking a boy’s heart after he broke hers.

  Waves of emotion surged through Alex. She had to come back! He saw her, she saw him, and now she should come back.

  But she didn’t. Her raft rolled and dipped over a wave and she drifted farther out to sea. Finally she made a fist, tapped her chest, and held her hand out to Alex. And then she turned around, lying on her stomach at the corner of the raft and using her arms to paddle.

  “Stop!” Alex yelled. “Don’t leave!” He couldn’t see her expression anymore. “Please!” he shouted. But she didn’t react.

  Alex couldn’t stand it. She was going away. She didn’t even say good-bye. And she wouldn’t be coming back—she’d never make it. He couldn’t hesitate any longer. “Sky!” he yelled one last time. And then, despite his pain, despite his weakness, he kicked off his shoes and started running recklessly into the waves. When the water reached his chest he dove in, swimming like his life depended on it.

  Onshore, he didn’t know a crowd had gathered until they began cheering. Simber and Florence had followed him outside, and now Simber growled and stood up, ready to chase after Alex and pull him from the water.

  Florence held him back. “Don’t,” she said. “Not just yet.”

  “He’ll drrrown. We can’t rrrisk it again.”

  “He won’t drown.” Florence didn’t take her eyes off the boy. “Watch. She’s looking back.”

  More and more people gathered to see what was happening, and when they found out, they began cheering Alex on too. After a minute, a chant started. “Sky, come back! Sky, come back!”

  Sky stopped paddling and sat up. She stared at the crowd, and then she stared at Alex and started yelling at him. “What in the world are you doing? Are you insane? Go back!”

  Alex couldn’t answer. It was all he could do to breathe and focus on not drowning. He plowed forward, telling himself to let the pain roll off him.

  She stared, dumbfounded. “Alex, I mean it. Go home! I have to leave. I have to save my mother. I’m sorry, but I can’t just let her stay there.”

  Alex was gaining on the raft, and now he heard the cheering behind him, but he couldn’t afford to look back. “What—about—Crow?” he sputtered through each knife-stabbing breath, barely getting the words out. “You said—you’d never—leave him.”

  “He’ll be safe with you. I know that. I can’t take him with me. I can’t risk his life again, now that he’s finally happy!”

  Alex had to slow down to catch his breath. He flipped over onto his back and began kicking, his chest heaving, his breath coming out in gasps of air and pain. When he could speak, he said, “I can’t let you risk yours.”

  “You big jerk!” she cried. “Why are you doing this to me?”

  With an enormous effort, Alex flipped back onto his stomach and pushed himself forward with all he had left. “Why—are you—letting me—” He took one more gasp of air. “Drown?” he said. He fell underwater and was forced to flip to his back again. He managed a cheeky smile as he lunged through the water and reached for the corner of the raft.

  The crowd on the shore cheered.

  “Get off!”

  Alex obeyed. He sank under the water.

  The crowd gasped.

  “Very funny,” she said. But her voice didn’t sound as confident as before.

  Alex swam under the raft and popped up on the other side, and when Sky leaned over to see where he’d gone, he pushed up and yelled. “Bah!”

  She screamed in terror and grabbed on to the edge, but the momentum was there and she fell into the water. The bag she carried plopped in after her.

  That’s about when Alex remembered that people from Warbler don’t know how to swim.

  A Promise

  She came back above the water sputtering and coughing. “Help!” she yelled, real fear in her voice as the raft drifted out of her reach. She was flailing so much she was dousing herself.

  Alex dove back under the raft in an instant and grabbed her around the waist, pushing her up above the surface and holding her there even as she grabbed two fistfuls of his hair and yanked.

  The crowd cheered.

  “I hate you,” she sputtered.

  “I hate you too,” he said. He watched her chest heave with panic, felt her stomach muscles clench against his chest. He directed their bodies sideways, reaching out a long arm to catch the raft again. “Here, grab on. I’m sorry. I forgot you can’t swim.”

  “You’re awful.”

  “I know.”

  She gripped his hair and looked him in the eye, her lips a white line. “I need to get her out of there,” she said.

  Alex looked up at her face, treading water and slowly, almost unnoticeably, pulling the raft toward home. “Don’t you think you should learn how to swim first?”

  She glared at him.

  “I could find someone to teach you,” he offered. “I am the leader of Artimé, you know.”

  “You are insufferable.”

  “Only around you.”

  “How would you know?” she spat back at him. “You never are.” She clenched her legs around his back and squeezed.

  He grimaced and his hand slipped from the raft. Her weight on him forced him underwater, where he screamed out in pain. He pushed his hands upward and lunged for the raft once again, grabbing it with the tips of his fingers. He blew out a wet, staggered breath and readjusted his grip on her. His lungs burned.

  She looked away. “I’m—I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t know you were still hurt. All this time I thought you were a jerk instead of merely incon
siderate.” She let go of his hair and reached out for the raft, just barely grasping it, and pulled it closer, pushing herself up on her elbow to help. “I’ll climb back on here—”

  “No,” he said. “Stay here in the water. Please. I’m sorry—you’re right. I was a jerk.”

  She looked into his eyes, so brown and earnest. “You’re just being like this to get me to come back with you,” she said, setting her jaw.

  Alex tilted his head, about to protest, but then he changed his mind. “You know what?” he asked. “So what if I am? I’m not afraid to say that I care about you and I don’t want you to die, and yes, I want you to come back to Artimé with me. So I’m not just ‘being like’ anything but me. But the truth right here, just you and me and no hiding on top of roofs or in pirate ship stairwells, and no giant cat hovering overhead—the truth, Sky, is that I think about you all the time. And when I’m not with you I miss you, and I feel like we have this, I don’t know, connection or whatever, and maybe that’s because of all we went through restoring Artimé. But I don’t know, you know? You’re the one I broke down in front of that first night on the roof, and I hardly even knew you. You’re the one I went to when I needed somebody smart to help me solve things.”

  He was out of breath. He winced and pulled himself up, lurching to get a new grip on the raft. “The problem is, I just don’t know what to do. Because there will be a lot of times where I’m plastered with all the messes this magical world makes. And I guess that’s a lot—I don’t know. All I have is what I’ve experienced so far, and this job about killed me. So I don’t know . . . exactly what, or how much, I’d have left . . . over . . . for someone.”

  He swallowed hard, and his foot brushed the sandy bottom. “But the one thing I do know, and I’m not just saying this to get you to come home, is that I told you on the ship that I would help you get your mother out of there. And I meant it. I meant it then, and I mean it now. And I’m sorry it has taken me so long to get healthy, and I’m fifty times sorrier I didn’t let you know I was thinking about it . . . and you. But if we do this Pirate Island rescue, we need to do it right. And there’s no way I’m going to break into an underwater pirate island with a team of people who can’t swim, because that would be stupid, and we are not stupid.”