by Jeff Seymour
I nod absentmindedly, but I’m not really listening. I’m trying to think of something I can be that’s big and strong enough to beat Silvermask. My leg shakes. My hands tremble. I can’t do this. I’m not good enough. Everything I try gets messed up and I get hurt, or someone else gets hurt, and it’s gonna be the same this time, I know it!
I’m waiting, he says in my mind. But I won’t wait forever. You have ten seconds to get on here and face me, or I start throwing your friends to the Malumbra.
The fear-octopus swims circles around my head. I can’t think. Can’t breathe. I’m gonna screw everything up.
One . . .
When I was a little kid, I used to be so scared of the dark it would paralyze me. If I woke up in the middle of the night and had to pee, sometimes I’d wet the bed rather than risk getting up. Mostly Mrs. T took care of me in those days, but sometimes Nic would visit us when the Orion was in port. He’d keep a lamp lit for me, even if it kept him awake, and if I was scared he’d sit next to my bed and sing. Sometimes, when he thought I was asleep, he’d whisper that he was so glad they found me, and the world was brighter because I was in it.
Two . . .
The fears and hopes and dreams tumbling around in my head all click into place. I’ll never screw up. Not in the eyes of the people who matter most, like Nic and Mrs. T and my parents—wherever they are. I’ll never be like Alan Salawag. Other people love me for who I am and what I’ve already done, and I love them back, and nothing will ever change that.
Three . . .
I can do this. I look across the room, where Aaron’s slumped against the wall, staring blankly at his feet. His lion didn’t work in the end. Couldn’t beat that huge spider.
Four . . .
What eats a spider? What in the world could take on a spider the size of a house?
Five . . .
Centipedes eat spiders, but I don’t think I could be a centipede. Spiders eat other spiders, but I definitely couldn’t be a spider.
Six . . .
Tam shifts his weight, and his pocket bumps into mine. My locator chirps. And then I’ve got it.
I close my eyes and reach for the Panpathia.
It’s like shaking the hand of a corpse. The web’s dead, covered in that sticky purple stuff the Malumbra makes. I look for the little glowing dots that should be my friends and I can sort of see them, but everything’s drowned out by the presence of two enormous wrongs.
First, there’s the Malumbra. Silvermask called it glorious, but that’s not what it looks like to me. All I see is the inside of a mouth, enormous dark ridges and huge black teeth the size of the statues of Far Agondy’s city founders in the center of town. That mouth is frozen now, not closing anymore, but I can see down its throat and there’s nothing there. Not darkness, not shadow, just a vast and stomach-wrenching void, like a hole ripped in the world.
Second, on one of the cold, dark lines he’s poisoned, there’s Silvermask.
You ever see a big spider unfurl its legs? Like it’s sleeping or something and you can see it’s pretty big, and then you spook it or a fly lands on its web, and all those legs uncurl and spread out and suddenly it’s five times the size it was before?
Imagine that happening with a spider whose body is as big as a city block, and you should have a pretty good idea of what Silvermask does when I get on the Panpathia.
For a second, I lose my confidence. My heart skips. He’s so huge, so powerful. There’s nothing in the world that could beat a spider that size. Nothing.
Except, I tell myself, a bird the size of the Orion.
Because birds eat spiders, and the Orion’s the sturdiest thing I know. If I have to bet my life on anything, I’m betting it on her.
I wrap myself in the Panpathia’s light and fire and let my mind become a huge bird, with wings the size of cloud balloons, a tail like a waterfall, and claws as big as the launches in Far Agondy’s harbor. The Panpathia shrinks as I get bigger. Silvermask shrinks too. He doesn’t get as small as I’d like, but that’s okay, because I can fly, and he’s just a spider. I flap my wings and take off, up away from his web, and then I float there, watching him.
Inspired, he hisses. Truly. But ultimately a poor choice. On some islands, spiders eat birds too, Nadya Skylung.
I glare at him, flapping wings of brilliant flame.
Not this one, I say, and I dive toward him like a hawk. He has to scramble out of the way, and still I swipe a chunk out of his leg with a talon. Birds are fast, when they need to be.
But so are spiders. All of sudden there’s a leg whipping toward me and I have to take off again, and then the duel is really on, and I’m flying and scrambling and slashing and biting, and he’s jumping back and forth, leaping between strands of web, trying to get above me or trick me into flying in front of his two huge fangs, glistening with venom.
Round and round we swirl. I bite his back. He scrapes my wing. I scratch his face. He bruises my leg. Every time I hit him, a little of the Malumbra’s shadow bleeds away. Every time he hits me, the fire cools and the light dims. At first I think we’re evenly matched, but the hits I’m landing on him don’t seem to make much difference, and all the bruises and whacks and scrapes really add up for me. I start to worry whether I can beat him.
Free us, someone whispers.
I’m pinwheeling around, trying to avoid two strands of web and get to his abdomen, and it takes me a second to realize someone’s talking to me. What? I ask.
Over here . . . free us . . .
Listening to the voice distracts me, and Silvermask almost pins my wing with two of his legs. I have to push really hard to tear free from him and flap away. But when I do, I spot what the voice was talking about.
On the beds, where the children are, there are other shapes in the darkness.
I see a bear three times the size of the largest grizzly I’ve ever heard of. I see a shark with a head so huge it could swallow a good-sized anchor. I see a cobra and an eagle and a crocodile and a tiger.
And brighter than all of them, at the edge of the beds, I see a lion.
They’re cocooned, wrapped up in the same sticky purple stuff that’s all over the web. It muffles their glow and keeps them from moving. They must be the cloudling kids from Aaron’s town, able to do the same thing he can. And that lion must be Aaron.
Silvermask jumps onto another strand of the web. He’s scrambling real fast now, coming straight toward me, and the kids are under him. Getting there would take me right below his belly. If I’m not fast enough, he’ll jump on my back and pin me. It seems like a big risk.
But I’m tiring out. My wings aren’t so big anymore. My fire’s not as bright, and my mind’s starting to feel cold. If I don’t do this now, I might not get another chance.
So I tuck my wings and dive as fast as I can. No time to hesitate. No time to think. Just fly, like Butterbeak protecting her chicks or Wormgobbler hunting for food or Bluebelly when she’s happy in the morning and stretching out her wings. Fly like the Orion. Fly like the Flightwing. Fly like Rash.
Fly like me.
I beat my wings hard and sail in an arc along that line of kids, breathing fire into my talons and slicing through the cocoons that bind them. Too late, Silvermask sees what I’m doing. He shrieks and drops toward me, but by then I’ve finished my arc and I’m pounding my wings again, trying to get out from under him.
It doesn’t work. His spider shape crashes into my bird shape, and my head reels. The Panpathia snaps in and out of focus. For a second I’m looking at Silvermask with two sets of eyes, one staring up at an enormous spider’s fangs and the other watching a man crow triumphantly.
There’s a roar.
And a growl, and a snap.
I refocus on being the bird, and all those kids come to help me, piling into Silvermask and pushing his enormous body off mine before he can bite me or poison me or
wrap me up or whatever he was going to do. Aaron sinks his lion fangs into one of the spider’s legs and tries to wrench it off. The shark grabs another leg, and the bear charges and the cobra strikes. Silvermask squeals. Shadows spill off him like water, and he shrinks and shrinks.
“Thom!” I call out, “we’ve got him!”
And as my awareness shifts off the Panpathia, I hear Thom mumbling and grunting in the language he and Pepper use when they’re calling fire, and then there’s a sudden, painful burst of light.
CHAPTER 24
IN WHICH A VICTORY IS WON, AND A FRIEND IS LOST.
I leave the Panpathia and look at the real world. The light’s coming from Thom, shining out of his eyes and glowing beneath his skin like he’s a giant lantern. The floor rumbles ominously, and the Shadowmen holding him let go as an arm of fire the size of a subway car bursts through it. The shadows shrink. Silvermask howls. The flame grows until it’s as bright as the sun. I hold my hand over my face and shut my eyes, and there’s a rush of heat. Silvermask screams again. The Shadowmen echo him all over the mansion.
The heat fades from instant sunburn to comfortably warm. The light dims from staring-at-the-sun to the-sun-just-came-up. I open my eyes.
The tongue of fire has dimmed. It’s just dancing and flickering under the ceiling, like the flames that heat the boilers in Gossner’s workshop. And Thom’s still glowing.
His eyes are bright white, like the hottest part of a fire, and his whole body swirls with orange light. When he opens his mouth to breathe, fire licks the edges of his lips. He mumbles something in the fire-spirit language, and the flame leans forward and touches Silvermask, who’s huddled on the floor, shaking. For a second he glows like Thom, and then the light dims and he goes limp.
Thom looks back at us, takes a deep breath, and blows a cloud of light and sparks our way. As it hits the Malumbra’s teeth, they burn up like dry paper. I can feel the Malumbra retreating, opening its mouth and jerking back just like you would if something in your mouth caught fire.
The sparks pop and fizz, but they don’t hurt. Being touched by them’s sort of like being wrapped in a big warm blanket. The Shadowmen holding Pep and Tam groan and collapse, unconscious, and that wave of sparks and light continues through the rest of the mansion.
“What is this?” I ask.
Thom smiles. “This is the spirit that lives under the city. It’s the biggest, baddest thing from the World Beyond, and it hates the Malumbra.”
Pepper’s jaw drops. “How’d you get it to talk to you? You said it doesn’t talk to anybody these days.”
Thom walks to the gormling’s tank and touches it. The shadow burns off, and in a second the gormling’s glowing like it used to, floating sleepily toward the bottom of the tank. “Gossner had a book that pointed me in the right direction.” He returns to the flame. “I just needed the right thing to talk about, and the Malumbra was that thing.”
“What’d you promise it?” Pepper frowns. “What’s the contract?”
Thom doesn’t answer right away. He squats next to Silvermask, putting a hand on his neck. “Alan’s still alive,” he says softly. “I want to believe he’s not as bad as he made himself out to be. We were friends, once.”
“Thom,” Pepper says, “what’d you promise?”
Thom stands up. “Turns out I’m leaving the ship after all. I’m going to the World Beyond to study with the fire spirits. I want to learn how to beat the Malumbra for good, and they want to teach me.”
My stomach churns. I look at that fire burning under Thom’s skin, and I have a horrible feeling. Tam must be thinking the same thing, because he looks like somebody just whacked him in the head with a wrench.
“What’s it burning?” I ask.
Thom looks down at his hand. “Me,” he says. “My lifespan. But there should be enough of that to last a few minutes without costing me much.”
Pep’s eyes swim. “How long will you be gone?”
Thom shrugs. “I don’t know. Could be six years, could be sixty. The fire spirits don’t really reckon time in the same way we do.”
“Sixty years?” I swallow a lump and try to wrap my head around that. “We’ll be ancient.”
Thom laughs. “And I’ll be the young one. Humans don’t age in the World Beyond. Won’t that be a change?” He ruffles my hair, then gestures for us to come in for a hug. He’s all fire and warmth, strong and bright. He squeezes us gently. “You three, and Salyeh and Tian Li, make an amazing team,” he says softly. “Do me a favor and stick together, all right? It’s easy for a crew to drift apart. I don’t want it to happen to you.”
I swallow, trying to think of something I can do to stop this. It’s my fault. Thom was protecting me, again. If I’d just listened . . .
Tam sobs, pressed up against Thom’s chest next to me. “Don’t go,” he whispers. “Thom, I’m not ready.”
“We’re never ready till we have to be,” Thom says. He pulls out of the hug and looks Tam in the eyes. “There’s no machine on the Orion you can’t handle. You know that, right?”
Tam trembles. “Yeah, but what if there’s a problem I’ve never seen, and I don’t know what to do about it? Who do I ask? Where do I get help?”
“You won’t need it,” Thom says. “I promise.” He turns to Pepper. “That goes for you and your fireminding too.”
Pep shakes her head. “I can’t handle the big ones,” she cries. “Not alone. They still hate me. Thom, we won’t even get out of port!”
“You’ll find a way,” Thom says. He puts a hand on her shoulder. “You’re so much stronger than you realize, Pepper. They know your name in the World Beyond already.”
Pepper sniffs and hugs herself, still shaking her head.
“And you, Nadya,” Thom says. He puts his hand on my shoulder. “You keep learning, okay? You listen to Nic, listen to Raj. You have so much potential. I . . .” He quiets. The flame from the fire spirit brightens, then fades. Thom’s face falls. “Darn. I thought we’d have more time.”
My stomach flips again. Pepper flinches. Tam looks around in panic.
“The deal was that the spirit and I would stay here until you were safe,” Thom says.
“We’re not!” all three of us say at the same time.
“There could be more Shadowmen!” Tam shouts.
“We don’t know how to get home!” Pepper says.
“We still need you!” I finish.
Thom shakes his head. “Listen.”
I hear sirens, far away but getting closer.
“That’s good enough for the spirit,” he says. He holds his hands up and smiles sadly. “And I’m not in a position to argue.” He pulls us in close again. “Remember what I told you. Be brave. Stick together. Whatever life throws at you, you can handle it, as long as you stay a team.”
He squeezes us again. I close my eyes. I don’t want him to go. He’s one of us.
His skin gets warmer.
And then I’m just hugging air, and Pepper cries. Tam flops down and stares at the floor where Thom used to be, because he’s gone, along with that enormous tongue of flame, and there’s nothing left but the lingering warmth of his touch and our memories.
* * *
• • •
The police get there a few minutes later. We meet them at the gate of the mansion, tearstained and bruised and exhausted. Aaron and the other kids were all asleep, just like Silvermask and the Shadowmen, so we left them inside on their beds. Whatever Thom burned out of them, it must’ve made them pretty tired.
I’m tired too. My head aches like I worked a whole day in the sun with no water, my mouth’s dry, and my eyes sting. My crutches were all blackened and twisted after being touched by the shadow and Thom’s fire, so I left them in the mansion. I’m leaning on Tam instead. He makes a pretty decent crutch, in a pinch.
Outside the fence, we
see bright headlights. There’s gotta be a dozen cars and vans out there. Two men in police uniforms are cutting the chains that hold the gate closed.
“Hey!” one of them shouts. “You kids! C’mere!”
I look at Pep and Tam. Tam shrugs. Pep still seems so distraught over losing Thom that she’s hardly paying attention. We limp over to the policemen just as they get the gate unlocked.
“What’re you doing in there?” one of them says. “Were you kidnapped?”
“Nadya!” someone shouts from the vans, and two silhouettes run toward us in the headlights. I recognize one as Salyeh’s and the other as Tian Li’s. “Tam! Pep!”
The policeman rolls his eyes. “Unbelievable,” he grunts. “You two know these kids?”
“Detective,” says a third person flatly. “Leave them here for now. Just get in there and find me Silvermask.”
The policeman looks at someone in the bright lights where Tian Li and Salyeh came from, then clears his throat. “Yes, ma’am, Lord Mayor.”
He whistles, and a bunch more policemen trot into the yard and start forming up.
I look into the Lord Mayor’s face. She’s got a grim stare and her hair pulled back in a ponytail, and she’s chewing on something. It takes me a second to figure out it’s gum.
“Silvermask’s in the ballroom in the left wing of the house,” I tell her. “He was unconscious when we left.”
The Lord Mayor nods, without taking her eyes off the policemen now charging into the house with pistols drawn and flashlights out. “They’ll find him. These cops are the best.” She chews for a few seconds. “You kids . . . I look forward to hearing your story, but not now. We still have work to do, and you look exhausted.”
She gestures toward the back of one of the police vans, where there’s benches we can sit on. I blink in the light as Salyeh and Tian Li lead us that direction. I’ve got so many questions to ask, but I can’t get them all straight.
Tam beats me to it. “How in the world did you guys get the police to come?”
Tian Li slips under my arm so I can lean on her and Tam doesn’t have to take my weight anymore. “It was Sal, mostly. He spent all day and all night digging through correspondence and records in Nic’s office, and eventually he found out who that flyer came from.”
