Samantha Honeycomb

by Scott Zarcinas

  She recalled its graceful flight earlier that day, and it suddenly struck her that she knew what had gone wrong with the test flight. “I think I can fix the problem,” she said.

  The prince shook his head. “I hope you’re not contemplating what I think you are.”

  “Of course I am. We’re going to rebuild the kite. Only this time we’re going to improve it. Make some modifications. It needs to be more aerodynamically stable, to counter any sudden wind shifts. We need to attach a long tail to stabilise the kite in flight, just like the tail of a blackbird. I’ll get Lizzie started on it tonight.”

  She picked up some blocks of honeywood that Mad Jack had collected and selected three pieces suitable for what she needed. “The most frightening aspect of the spin was the helplessness,” she said, handing the wood to the prince. “There was nothing to steer with. I want you to make a triangular frame in the shape of a capital A and lash it to the crossbeams. If I encounter another sudden downshift like this morning, I can steer the kite out of the spin.”

  The prince considered her ideas for a moment. “Very well, Samantha, I’ll do this for you,” he said, “and I’ll even mend the broken poles, too. But it’s not you who’ll fly this kite; it will be me. I’ll not allow you to risk your life again.”

  “But you can’t even fly. If the kite crashes again, you can’t buzz away like I did. You’ll be killed.”

  He crossed his antennae in a manner that said he’d made his decision. Samantha relented, but quickly thought of an idea that might appeal to him – tandem harnesses. That way, she said, she could instruct him how to pilot the kite.

  The prince reluctantly agreed, and the whole of the following day was spent fixing the kite and attending design modifications. Mad Jack helped Lizzie to make the tail, tying ribbons of denim and silk to a long piece of cotton string. Samantha patched the rips in the wing-sheet and modified Lizzie’s overalls for the second harness. The prince lashed the broken poles together and constructed the steering mechanism, what Samantha called the A-frame. The conversation, however, was solemn; nobody dared mention the crash for fear of invoking bad luck.

  The next day, after a short, fitful sleep, Samantha made the final touches to the flying machine. The tail was connected, as was the A-frame and the second harness. Everything was now ready.

  With help from Mad Jack and Lizzie, Samantha and the prince slipped into their harnesses and shuffled to the mouth of the cave. Once again, Samantha peered over the precipice. The prince had managed to persuade the king, against his wishes, to attend the second test flight. He and the queen, along with several guards and a few of the prince’s hunting party, were gathered around the barrel-pulley, staring up with worried frowns. There were no smiles or laughing or waving this time.

  “Are you ready, prince?” Samantha asked. He looked as troubled and nervous as those below. “We don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.”

  “Samantha, if I don’t do this then the bees in my hive will never have the chance to fly again.” He leaned over and rubbed antennae. “If I’m going to die, at least I die flying.”

  Without further ado, Samantha stepped off the edge with the prince. The kite dipped toward the rocks and watching crowd for a frightening second, but then, as before, was swept high above the cliff on a gust of wind. Samantha felt a jolt through her harness as the rope wound off the barrel-pulley to the last loop, anchoring the kite. The prince was stunned into silence.

  Suddenly, as had happened previously, the wind changed direction, sending them toward the rocks. The rope slackened. The kite dived and began spiralling down, narrowly missing the face of the cliff. Samantha heard faint gasps of horror from below, but she’d been prepared for this. Calmly, she steered the A-frame and brought the kite out of its spin. Almost immediately, they were lifted back atop the cliff on the next upward draft.

  “You did it!” the prince said, amid the cheers from the ground. “We’re flying! We’re really flying!” He waved to the queen and king and they waved back.

  For the next twenty minutes Samantha taught the prince how to pilot the kite. Soon he was as proficient as she, steering the kite this way and that, floating on the wind like someone who’d done it his whole life. Down below, Mad Jack had already joined the others at the barrel-pulley, so Samantha gave him the signal to winch them to the ground.

  “Reet Bee-teet!” she said, as they descended. “I almost can’t believe it.”

  “Aye, you better believe it,” the prince said. “You don’t know what this means to Beebylon. My father will soon be flying and we owe it all to you.” The prince then rubbed her antennae and whispered the words that made her heart flip and somersault, like the kite had done when it crashed. “I love you.”

  Samantha now had no more doubts as to what Bee Dream she had found at the lake.

  THERE WAS MUCH cheer in the hive of Beebylon from that day on. Word spread like ants to honey that the prince, with the help of a mysterious stranger, had built a magnificent flying machine. “The king will fly once again!” the bees said in the taverns and the markets and the hive-cells. “The king will fly!” There was an atmosphere of hope that even the old timers said was beyond anything they’d ever experienced.

  Queen Beelinda and King Bernard organised a magnificent feast in the throne room for their son and his newfound friends. There were many royal cousins and dignitaries that Samantha hadn’t met before. Sitting at the royal table, the king seemed merry enough. He had visibly changed, having shed the gloom that he had worn like a crown of thorns for many, many years.

  “It’s as if he’s a young prince again,” she said to Prince Robbee.

  “Aye, indeed,” he said. “He sits more erect and holds his head more proudly than before. ‘Tis all for the good.”

  Toward the end of the feast, the king made an announcement. The flight would take place in two day’s time. A loud cheer rang around the room. “It will be a momentous occasion,” he said, and went on to make a grand speech that was full of wisdom and gratitude. In summing up, he said, “For the one thing I’ve learned in all these years is this: when we give up on what we’re born to bee, our Bee Dream gives up on us.”

  Another cheer rang around the room. Suddenly, while everyone else was cheering and clapping and saying what a wise old bee the king was, Samantha saw Lizzie go rigid and quiet. Then she got to her feet, rather excited about something, and said, “I understand!” No one else could hear her above the celebrations, even though she was almost shouting. “I understand! I understand!”

  “Calm down, Lizzie, calm down!” Samantha said, grabbing her arm and trying to pull her back to her seat. “What is it? What do you understand?”

  Lizzie resisted Samantha’s efforts to make her sit. “It’s so obvious!” she said, clasping her chest. “I know why caterpillars count their steps! I understand it all! I know what I have to do. I’ll be back.”

  Before Samantha could reply, Lizzie was gone; and by the time she retired to her bed-cell, Lizzie was still nowhere to be seen. Even when the prince came to her the next morning at the factory cave and told her the bad news, she refused to believe it. His hunting party had searched all night for her. Nobody had seen her. She’d just disappeared.

  Samantha could only surmise that Lizzie had returned to the anthill. It was, after all, the place where she had felt most secure. It saddened her to think that Lizzie had turned her back on her destiny, just when she was so close to fulfilling it. That was something Samantha wouldn’t do. Tomorrow was the culmination of everything she’d worked for. She would prepare for it as best she could, whether or not Lizzie was there to share the occasion.

  Nevertheless, she slept poorly that night.

  THE FOLLOWING DAY, every single bee in Beebylon gathered at the base of the cliff to watch history in the making, an occasion that was likely to never be repeated. Nobody wanted to miss a single moment, most arriving before dawn to get the best position. Some sat in the pine trees closest to the shoreline, othe
rs on someone’s shoulder, some even set up sun shades and made a picnic. A marching band paraded back and forth and played all the crowd favourites, like “Rule Beetania” and “Goddess save the Bees”. Moreover, to everyone’s delight, even the famous soprano, Madam Butterfly, made a rare appearance and sang an aria or two. There was much flag waving and general bonhomie.

  After she had checked the kite for the seventh or eighth time, the prince told Samantha that everything in the factory was under control. The king was strapped into the harness. There were royal guards to help lift the kite. There was nothing more she could do. Samantha reluctantly decided to go down and check the pulley, which Mad Jack was currently taking care of. She rubbed antennae with the prince and wished him and the king the best of luck. Then, with one last look over her wings, she went to the base of the cliff and relieved Mad Jack of his duties.

  “Let me just give the pulley another check,” she said above the noise of the ever-increasing crowd. It was almost noon, but you wouldn’t know it, less than ten minutes before the scheduled takeoff. “The last thing we want is for the kite to lose control with the king on board.”

  “Don’t worry yourself so much,” Mad Jack said, looking very dapper in a new pair of silk overalls. Several honeystone rings also adorned his claws, Samantha noticed, and he even wore a honeystone medallion around his neck. “Everything will be just fine. You trained the prince well. The king will be safe.”

  Queen Beelinda had already taken her throne on the platform of the royal box, flanked by several royal guards. A south-easterly breeze flapped the gold and black flags above her. Samantha glanced up at them, then at the sky. Grey clouds slipped across the heavens rather too quickly for her liking.

  “There’s a storm brewing,” her instructor at aerobatic flying school used to say whenever the clouds raced each other like that. “Fold in those wings and take shelter. There’ll be no flying today.”

  “I don’t like the look of the weather,” she said to Mad Jack.

  Mad Jack followed her gaze to the heavens. “It’s just a minor change,” he said, and nodded to the crowd. “D’you really want to postpone the flight?”

  Before she could tell him that that wouldn’t be such a bad idea, trumpets blared from below the royal box. The crowd suddenly hushed and craned their necks toward the factory cave. Strapped into their harnesses, Prince Robbee and the king were standing on the precipice, the kite lifted from their backs by two guards. A dark shadow fell upon the cliff as a large cloud covered the sun. Samantha glanced up again, hoping she was wrong about the oncoming front. The prince was right; there was nothing more she could do. Except pray.

  “Everything happens for a reason,” she told herself. She just had to keep believing that.

  She saw Prince Robbee and the king shuffle to the precipice and ready themselves. One more step and they’d be over. An excited hum passed over the spectators, but Samantha could barely watch. Then just as the shadow lifted and sunlight lit the face of the cliff, they dropped. They fell toward the rocks for what seemed an eternity, the same rocks that had been the cause of all of Beebylon’s misery. The crowd groaned and Samantha held her breath. Then the wind gusted and the kite was lifted up.

  Samantha heard the crowd take a sharp intake of collective breath. The kite soared toward the clouds, dragging its tether behind. The barrel-pulley spun like a bobbin, and from the centre of the crowd someone yelled, “The king is flying! Hail to the king! The king is flying!”

  The crowd then let out an extraordinary cheer. Everything they had ever dreamed of was coming true before their very eyes. They kept waving and hugging and cheering, “Hail to the king! The king is flying! Hail to the king!”

  Up and up and up the kite went, climbing at an incredible rate. The barrel-pulley kept spinning as the rope unwound, suddenly terrifying Samantha. She knew she had to act swiftly to prevent a horrible disaster from happening. She tried to grab the rope, but it was unwinding too fast.

  “Help me!” she shouted to Mad Jack. “We have to slow the rope!”

  Like everyone else, Mad Jack was so engrossed with the kite he didn’t hear her frantic shouts.

  Then Samantha’s worst fears became a reality. She saw it all in slow motion. The rope unwound to its final loop and jerked to a halt, straining the knot. For a brief moment it held, but the sheer thrust of the kite’s ascent was too great. It tugged the knot loose and the rope slipped off the barrel-pulley, dragging along the ground like a slithering asp. Samantha squealed in horror. She snatched at the free end, but she’d reacted too slowly and the rope slipped out of reach.

  Mad Jack turned and saw what had happened. Now also aware of the danger, he jumped on the rope, just as a gust of wind lifted the kite higher. He was lifted into the air, dangling like a spider on the end of its thread. Samantha jumped up and caught him by the legs, almost pulling off his overalls, but the added weight of her body was too much and he could no longer keep his grip. He let go and fell on top of her, and they collapsed on the ground in a heap of wings and legs and arms. To her dismay, the kite soared higher toward the clouds.

  At the royal box and around the base of the cliff, bees were still hugging and clapping, oblivious to the unfolding tragedy. “The king is flying! The king is flying!” they yelled.

  Some of the nearby crowd, however, distracted by the commotion around the barrel-pulley, were now staring dumbfounded at the unfolding events. They gaped at the untethered rope, then up at the kite, which was now a rapidly diminishing blue speck against the grey backdrop, then at Samantha and Mad Jack, then back up at the kite again. They started pointing, telling their friends and neighbours what they’d just seen. A hum of disbelief replaced the cheers of joy, spreading through the crowd like ripples from a stone tossed into the lake. Within minutes everyone knew what had happened. They had come to watch the king fly again, to celebrate his glorious triumph. Instead, they were witnessing a catastrophe.

  Then, Samantha saw, every face in the crowd began turning toward her.

  SAMANTHA AND MAD JACK picked themselves off the ground. She didn’t like the look of the crowd. There was fury in their eyes. Saying nothing, she grabbed Mad Jack’s arm and took a step backward, but the crowd, looking more and more like a lynch mob with every passing second, had already formed a circle, trapping them. She could hear an angry hum from all sides.

  At that moment, overhead, Samantha heard her name being called. The voice sounded familiar. She looked up and saw the most elegant and graceful butterfly she could ever remember seeing, even more so than Madam Butterfly, the soprano. The butterfly’s wings were like royal silk, ruby and gold and jade. They seemed to shimmer in the grey light of day with an aura of their own, and Samantha’s jaw dropped at the sight of such exquisite loveliness. The crowd stopped and stared as well.

  “Do you not recognise your own friend?” said the butterfly.

  Forgetting momentarily about the angry faces, Samantha’s jaw dropped even further. “Lizzie?” she said. “You… you look beautiful!”

  Lizzie kept hovering overhead like a goddess. “When I heard the king’s speech, I finally realised what I was meant to do,” she said. “I simply had to be a caterpillar. And caterpillars, you once told me, make the most beautiful chrysalises in the world.”

  While Samantha was still staring in amazement, a drone in the crowd made a grab for her. “Get her!” he yelled. “She’s killed the king!”

  Samantha yelped and, acting purely on impulse, buzzed into the air, just escaping his snatching claws. Before she knew what she’d done, she was hovering next to Lizzie. The crowd gasped.

  “She’s flying!” the drone shouted, pointing up. “Somebody arrest her!”

  Nobody listened, not even the guards, although two of them grabbed Mad Jack and pinned him to the ground. He squirmed and wiggled and shouted that he was innocent, to no avail.

  Samantha stared beneath her feet at the mob. Infuriated faces stared back up, seemingly half the gathering, thousands and tho
usands of them. They began humming louder, like a swarm of infuriated hornets. The ringleader, now shouting accusations and rather unpleasant things that were simply not true, threw a small rock at her, but it missed by quite a distance.

  “Don’t you have something to do?” Lizzie asked.

  Samantha glanced beyond the waterfall where she’d last seen the kite. There were just grey clouds speeding across the sky. “What about you?” she asked, as another rock flew past her wings. “Aren’t you breaking the law, too?”

  “Only bees are forbidden to fly,” Lizzie said. “Go now. Do what you were born to do. Be a bee.”

  Two or three rocks flew past Samantha’s face. Without waiting for one to find is mark, she buzzed off, using the wind to push her on. Soon she was well above the cliff, higher than she had taken the kite on the test flights. The waterfall rushed over the precipice to the lake and the crowd. The bees were now as tiny as grains of sand on the shoreline. She surged forward, heading west toward the mountains where the river stemmed, where she feared the kite was being blown. That’s if they didn’t crash, a big IF; and even if they did manage to land safely, the king was too old to walk such long distances back to the hive and the prince would never leave him behind. Beebylon would never again see its king and prince.

  Not if I’ve got anything to do with it first, she thought, now flying faster and higher than she had ever thought possible.

  She scanned for the kite, using the air currents to determine the direction she should take. She assumed the kite was completely at the mercy of the wind, an assumption that quickly proved correct. There, against the grey clouds, she saw the blue diamond, out of control. The long tether dangled beneath it like the forelegs of a wasp, swaying back and forth as the kite’s erratic flight jerked this way and that. One second it was gliding high. The next, it was sent plummeting. Only the brave efforts of Prince Robbee were preventing it from spiralling out of control.