Stargazer

by Patrick Carman

  I discovered that it had been Marco—not Yipes—who’d carried most of the moss from the outside into the chamber. And Sir Alistair had taught him how to shave the underside free, bake it in the oven in a special container, and sift it into green dust.

  “How far will that get us?” I asked as I came over to the large box beneath the balloon and saw three full jars of green.

  “I’m not certain,” said Sir Alistair. “Until we fly her, we won’t know how much it will take to keep her afloat.”

  All this talk of her and she made me feel like it was high time we gave her a name.

  “Roland was very fond of the Warwick Beacon,” I said. “I think the name made it more real.”

  “I wholeheartedly agree,” said Yipes, glancing up at the bobbing balloon. “What shall we call her?”

  Yipes, Matilda, and I all looked at the strange wings along the sides of the box, the rudders at the back, the many vines leading up into the chamber that held the round balloon. But Sir Alistair was looking beyond to the gathering night. It was he who said the name, as if he had chosen it long ago on a night much like this one.

  “Stargazer,” he whispered, and we all repeated the name. It was perfect.

  Sir Alistair looked longingly at Stargazer, then pronounced the day about to turn to night.

  “I’ve decided on the team that will navigate the first flight,” he said. “We need a crew of three, and here is how it shall go.”

  Sir Alistair Wakefield saved authoritative tones of voice for when he really meant them, and never had I heard him quite so certain about what he was about to say. When he made an invention—it appeared—he would have it used the way he chose or not used at all. I was determined not to argue, even if by some miserable chance of fate Marco’s name would be spoken in the chamber.

  “Alexa, you will be at Stargazer’s helm, guiding the movement. It is for you she was made, just as the Warwick Beacon was made for your uncle Roland. You and you alone must guide this ship of the air. I have a hunch it will require a soft touch and a flying instinct, both of which I believe you possess. This vessel is yours, Alexa, with my blessing. I’m pleased that circumstances have made it possible for you to have the crew you will need to make the most of it.”

  I beamed at the thought of sailing Stargazer through the air. Already I thought of her less as a machine and more as an extension of myself.

  “And you,” Sir Alistair said, turning his piercing gaze on Yipes. “You are a gift from Elyon if ever there was one. It is you that must be first mate on this first and—I hope—many future voyages. Flying Stargazer will, no doubt, include many complications. Vines will fray and come loose, birds will pierce the balloon, the anchor will need to be dropped in unexpected places, and so much more. There will be times when she will seem to have a mind of her own and she will need to be tamed. You alone have the instincts and the uncommon agility to help guide this vessel.”

  Yipes took off his hat—which he rarely did—and bowed before Sir Alistair. He reached out for Sir Alistair’s hand and Sir Alistair didn’t know quite what to do.

  “You’re welcome,” he said, hoping this would be enough. But Yipes was undeterred. He grasped Sir Alistair’s hand and shook it vigorously as he so liked to do.

  “I won’t fail you.”

  “I’m certain you won’t,” said Sir Alistair, but Yipes kept shaking and shaking.

  “Do you suppose I could have my hand back?”

  “Certainly!” said Yipes, who let go and bounded up onto the rail of the box all by himself, already at the business of checking the ropes.

  “Marco,” said Sir Alistair. My heart sank at the thought of having Marco and not Matilda on the flight, and I nearly objected at the very sound of his name. Sir Alistair stopped short, looked outside, and realized the sun was about to set on the horizon. “Marco,” he went on, repeating the name I didn’t want to hear, “do you think you could handle the wings and the rudders?”

  “What?!” I yelled, finally overcome by disappointment. “But what about Matilda? Why can’t she guide the wings?”

  Sir Alistair didn’t have to answer. He could have looked at me with those piercing eyes and put me in my place. He’d built Stargazer and it was his to do with as he pleased. He knew better—and yet he must have known I’d protest. Maybe he even knew I had to learn to trust the people and the things I didn’t want to in order to captain my own ship.

  “Alexa,” he began, and in a soft, wispy voice he explained that manning the wings and the rudders required someone with stamina and great strength. There was a time and a place for the large and small among us—or so he said—and this particular task needed someone who could turn the wheels and move the handles with precision and speed.

  “But I don’t trust him. He tried to kill me once already!”

  “Did not!” yelled Marco.

  Sir Alistair glanced back and forth between me and Marco. I couldn’t be sure if he believed me or not.

  “You’ll have to work it out. Marco it is, and that’s final.”

  Sir Alistair knelt down and picked up Midnight, who was leaning against his leg purring.

  “And, you—are you ready for your first flight?”

  “I’ve been waiting almost as long as you have,” meowed Midnight. “I’m more than ready.”

  I couldn’t believe my ears. Over half my crew was made up of people or animals I didn’t trust.

  “You’ve got to be kidding,” I protested. “Why do we need a cat on board?”

  “Because animals can sense danger in ways we humans cannot. They’ll tell you if the weather is about to change.”

  “What do you mean they?” I asked, afraid of what he was going to say next.

  “Nimbus is going, too. She’s especially good at sniffing out bad weather on the way.”

  “But what about Matilda? I want her to come along.” I thought I’d earned at least the right to bring along someone else I actually liked.

  “I need Matilda here, to help me release the balloon and guide you back in. Her part is as important as any other.”

  I wished she could come along, but Matilda smiled faintly and said everything would be okay, that she’d be waiting to bring me back in safely. I was all out of arguments and the sun had finally set. Night had come to the Five Stone Pillars, and with it, the first flight. Marco and Yipes lit lamps all around the entrance and throughout the chamber, giving the room a ghostly quality as I looked out at a sky filling with stars.

  We spent the next few minutes going over the controls, on which Marco had evidently spent a lot of time practicing in my absence. It was maddening to feel that he knew Stargazer better than I did. Sir Alistair guided us all to our posts. There was a seat that swiveled where I was to sit, and it would be my job to add green powder to the tube when I felt it was needed. Marco had a strange seat all his own, one that included a place for his feet to turn fans and handles for his hands to adjust the wings at the sides of the box and the rudders at the back.

  Yipes had no seat of his own. He was expected to be moving about frantically, observing the wings and climbing up and down ropes, checking everything as we went. He was also in charge of the anchor, which was held on a long rope, and he could climb up and down additional ropes that hung from the top of the balloon and along the sides of the box. Nimbus and Midnight had posts at corners of the box, where they sat quietly, watching all that took place.

  “Is everyone ready?” asked Sir Alistair. “You must be quiet as mice out there, and don’t stay out too long. We only want to test the balloon and bring it back quickly. If it works as I have supposed, the real flight will take place at dawn.”

  “I have a strong feeling the fourth pillar won’t last past tomorrow,” I said, thinking of what Abaddon had said as I tried to cross over. “We should be prepared by first light just in case.”

  “Your goal is to maneuver Stargazer, to get used to the way it flies, and to see how much powder it takes to keep it airborne withou
t sinking closer to the sea.”

  Sir Alistair took a handful of dried moss and rubbed it between his hands until it was hardly more than dust. He walked to the low rail that stood before the opening to the outside. There was one place along the very edge of the opening where a platform ran out over the open water. There were rails along its side, but it didn’t look at all sturdy. I hadn’t seen anyone use it, but now Sir Alistair Wakefield walked right out into the open air. My heart caught in my throat because it had the strange appearance of someone floating, held up by nothing at all. Sir Alistair tossed the mossy dust into the air and watched. The wind carried it a little to the right.

  “The wind is low, but it will try to push you south. Don’t let it push you too far, or it will be difficult to make your way back again. Marco, you may need to pedal hard against the current of air in order to hold Stargazer steady.”

  “That won’t be a problem,” he said. He was so very sure of himself—I almost wished we would drift far to the south just so I could see him fail.

  Sir Alistair took one last look at his marvelous invention and addressed Yipes.

  “Is everything at the ready?”

  “A moment for a final inspection, if you please,” Yipes answered. He stared at Marco and the cats, assessing their positions. Walking along the rim of the box, he twanged ropes and knocked on wood. When finally he’d made it all the way around, he looked me up and down with a wary eye.

  “I believe she’s ready, sir!”

  I wasn’t sure if he was talking about me or Stargazer.

  “At your command then, Alexa,” said Sir Alistair. He had a faraway look in his eye, as if he’d waited for this moment a long time and had dreamed about what might happen.

  It was up to me now. I sat in the seat that was my calling, looked out into the open air, and gave the command.

  “Let her fly.”

  CHAPTER 19

  FIRST FLIGHT

  Stargazer was already fat with hot air, tugging on the ropes like she was listening in on our conversation. I felt she was more than a flying contraption, that Stargazer had a mind of her own and a spirit that wanted to be let free on the wind. She had stayed put for far too long, like a bear tied to a chain in that story Roland told me on the Lonely Sea.

  Matilda and Sir Alistair unhitched ropes from the floor on two opposite corners, leaving three more ropes holding Stargazer inside the chamber. There were ropes on the two other corners still, plus one longer rope attached to a more elaborate pulley system so that we could be let out, as on a long leash.

  “Take that one in your hands,” Sir Alistair told Matilda, pointing her toward one of the two opposite tie-downs. “But don’t hold too tight. If she takes off, the rope will burn through your hands.”

  Matilda nodded and unlaced the knot that held the rope around a small loop in the rock floor of the chamber. Sir Alistair did the same, and when he was sure there was just the one rope attached to the pulley, he nodded in my direction.

  “Start the fans,” I said, and Marco began pedaling the wheel inside the box, holding his hands steady on the two bars that controlled the rudders.

  Stargazer lurched forward and the box rocked back and forth. She really wanted to fly!

  “Slow down—not so fast,” I said. For the first time since I’d met him, Marco not only complied with my command but seemed genuinely pleased that someone else was in charge of what could become a very dangerous situation. He slowed the fans, watching me for the sign that he’d settled into the right cadence.

  “A little to the left,” I said. Marco gently pushed the bar that controlled the left rudder and slowed his pedaling to a crawl. Stargazer settled, straight and true, and Marco laughed nervously at his own effort.

  “Better let us go,” I said to Sir Alistair. “She’s ready to rise.”

  Sir Alistair and Matilda released the ropes at once, leaving just the one in the middle. The box rose awkwardly off the ground and the cats clawed into wood in order to hold on. Yipes swung around a corner rope leading up to the balloon and settled in on the rail. We were off the ground, heading for the opening over the Lonely Sea, and I felt a perfect balance of calm and exhilaration I’d only dreamed of in my long past of adventuring. I knew then that I would do whatever I must to spend the rest of my life flying Stargazer.

  “Faster!” I cried. “Bring us out!”

  Marco sped up the fans, pedaling and adjusting the rudders so that we were moving straight for the giant opening into the night.

  “That’s perfect, Marco,” I said, feeling the rope on the pulley letting us out a little bit at a time. It was a good feeling knowing the rope held us firm and that it would pull us back inside after we’d had a chance to play with the controls and learn how Stargazer would respond to my commands.

  “Keep letting us out slowly,” I yelled down to Sir Alistair. We were already ten feet off the ground and Sir Alistair worked with the tension on the pulley, keeping us steadily moving out. It was apparent that we wouldn’t need any powder for a while, and that Stargazer would travel wonderfully without feeding her too much. This was good news.

  We approached the opening in perfect position, with plenty of room on all sides to slip out over the Lonely Sea. As soon as we were free, I felt the soft wind on the balloon as we drifted to the right. It felt as if Stargazer knew she had emerged from a long slumber, for she pulled harder on the rope that held us. I looked back into the chamber with its glowing lamps, and Sir Alistair nodded that the rope and pulley were holding just fine.

  I heard a splashing below and leaned out over the box.

  “Look there!” said Yipes. Marco was seated and couldn’t leave his post, but Yipes and I both saw the flurry of green rocks flying toward the base of the fourth stone pillar. Phylo and his team were firing countless stones of glowing green at Abaddon. It was a marvelous sight from our vantage point, like an endless shower of falling stars with long shimmering tails.

  “They’re really making a go of it,” said Yipes.

  But I knew Abaddon was finished coming above the water until he chose. He was waiting below, waiting for one final blow at a time of his choosing, and I didn’t expect to see him. It was this feeling I had—that I didn’t expect him—that made his voice in my head all the more surprising.

  You have been a good servant. Now cut the rope.

  “What’s he saying?” I said. Marco, Yipes, even the cats—they all looked at me in the dim starlight as if I’d gone mad.

  “What did who say?” asked Marco.

  The command came again.

  That’s it! Cut the rope! Leave them to drift into the Lonely Sea!

  What was Abaddon saying? I ran all the scenarios through my head and tried to imagine what it could mean. Cut the rope? There was only one rope, held by the pulley and controlled by Sir Alistair. There was only one other person who —

  “NO!” I cried. “Don’t do it, Matilda!”

  Looking back into the chamber, I saw that Matilda had pulled out a knife and was slicing hard and fast against the rope that held us. Sir Alistair was lying on the ground. What had she done to him?

  “Matilda, no! Don’t listen to him!”

  She looked up and I saw from a distance that she was entranced, not under her own control. I thought back to the night skim and my broken slider. Could it have been Matilda? And the first landing at the fourth pillar—the one that had gone badly—could she have been trying to do away with me? I recalled that she had shaken her head, as if trying to shake a ghost out of her mind. What had he said to her? The way of yesterday is not for you. She has brought you to a place you should not have come. But not to worry. She won’t be with you much longer!

  She had been hearing Abaddon’s voice all along.

  “You don’t have to do what he says,” I shouted. “You can fight him!”

  But Matilda couldn’t hear my plea. She went back to cutting the rope.

  “Grump! Stop her!” Yipes screamed. Grump began moving toward Matild
a in the glimmering light of the chamber, but it was too late.

  Good-bye, Alexa Daley. I almost wish you could be here come morning, so you could see what I’m going to do to this place. But you’ll be long gone by then.

  The rope snapped in two and whipped through the air. Stargazer felt the release, and we were at once rising faster, moving out to sea with alarming speed.

  “What now?” meowed Midnight in that maddeningly calm way that cats have about them, as if they really do have nine lives and could stand to waste one.

  And it wasn’t just Midnight looking to me for guidance. Everyone on the vessel—Yipes, Nimbus, Midnight, Marco—stared at me. I was Stargazer’s captain, a post that was made especially for times like this. And yet I had no idea what I should do. My friend had come under the power of the enemy, Sir Alistair’s fate was uncertain, and we were drifting out to sea on a contraption I had no experience controlling.

  Sometimes unforeseen disaster has a way of clearing my mind, and seeing what we were heading straight for provided just the jump start I needed.

  “The fifth pillar!” I yelled. Everyone turned to look, and they realized at once that we were heading straight for the jagged side of the tallest pillar of them all. If we didn’t change course quickly, the balloon would hit sharp stone and tear wide open. That would be the end of Stargazer and the whole lot of us.

  “Hard to the right, Marco! And pedal with all your might!”

  Marco sprung into action, pulling down hard on the right rudder and pedaling so fast his feet became a blur of motion. We turned and the wings caught a mighty breeze, fluttering as if they might tear into pieces.

  “Let’s push a little more hot air into that balloon,” I said to Yipes. He had been shown how to adjust the flow of hot air through the tube at the center of the box. Yipes was swiftly at the controls, turning what looked like a smaller version of the wheel that had been at the helm of the Warwick Beacon. The sound of steam releasing filled the box and hot air shot up into the balloon.

  “Faster, Marco!” I cried. We were still on a collision course with the fifth pillar, a hundred feet from crashing into it. The first thing to go would be the wing, crumpled against a wall of rock. Yipes grabbed hold of a long pole with a round head of wood on either end and leaped for one of the ropes leading up to the balloon.