by Lisa McMann
In the air, the things sprouted parachutes, slowing them down, and as they neared the island they began to float toward the ground.
“They’re people!” Alex shouted. “Warbler’s first line is landing on the shore.” And they aren’t very big or scary-looking, he thought, a bit puzzled. He turned to face the Unwanteds. “Leaders, take your places outside and attack!”
The Battle with Warbler
The Artiméans streamed outside the mansion from all doors as Simber’s continuous roar rendered the Warblerans unable to fight, leaving them cowering instead.
“Some of them are barely more than children,” Claire Morning said, looking closely at the living arsenal coming toward them. “I wonder if Warbler’s youth took to fighting by necessity, like our young Unwanteds.” She prepared a spell and glanced at Mr. Appleblossom, who was standing next to her with a look of horror on his face. “What is it, Siggy?”
Mr. Appleblossom stood staring at a girl of about twelve who was now frozen by a magical spell, a look of fear on her face. He lowered his hand and looked down. “What shame it is to see this cherub’s face,” Mr. Appleblossom said softly. “And cowardly of them to sacrifice their youth to take their Queen Eagala’s place! I have no means in me to do this twice.”
“They may be children, but they’re attacking us!” Ms. Morning said. She regarded him thoughtfully for a moment. Her gaze swept over the young Unwanteds around them, already fighting, and wondered if anyone on Warbler felt guilty for fighting against children. She doubted it. She reached over and squeezed Mr. Appleblossom’s shoulder. “I understand. You didn’t hurt her, though.”
“That look of fear is hurt enough, you know.” Mr. Appleblossom nodded brusquely, turned, and walked back to the mansion.
Ms. Morning pressed her lips together. After a moment, watching her friend Sigfried leave over his convictions, she looked at Crow and Henry and the rest of the generation of Unwanteds who had been fighting since they were small. She continued on with the task, though she wore the dilemma on her troubled face for some time after.
By now, the other team leaders had given their orders, and the Unwanteds spouted off a plethora of freeze spells, blinding spells, and shackles. Some cleverly thought to use scatterclips, which sent Warbler fighters flying backward through the air until they hit the sides of their own ships and stuck fast just above water level, unable to be reached by those on board.
As the Unwanteds defended Artimé, the catapult arms moved slowly, skimming the sky as they returned to their initial positions.
“Prepare for round two!” Florence shouted.
Just as the last enemy was frozen, the catapults released again, sending dozens upon dozens more young Warblerans soaring through the air and coming to rest on land, only to be immediately made useless by the simplest of spells.
It was almost too easy, Alex thought. “Stay on your guard!” he warned.
Several Unwanteds stationed near the wall that separated Artimé and Quill had had none of the action thus far, and began to scoff at the efforts of Queen Eagala.
“Stay on yourrr guarrrd!” repeated Simber.
But it wasn’t easy when Warbler’s best efforts seemed ridiculous. Several minutes passed as Artimé waited to see what was next. Some of the Unwanteds, tired of standing, sat down despite the warnings.
“Hold your ground,” Alex commanded, and Florence repeated it so all could hear.
Finally the catapults let loose a third time . . . and another round of Warblerans sailed up into the air and down toward Artimé, their parachutes bringing them lightly to the ground, where the Unwanteds put a swift end to their movements completely.
“Is this all they have?” Alex muttered.
“I don’t know,” Florence replied. “If it is, we’re in luck. Watch—here’s another round. Maybe Eagala thinks we’ll run out of spells.”
“Maybe.” But Alex knew his army was well stocked, and even if they ran out of the old faithful spell components, the Unwanteds were coming up with new spells all the time and were fully armed.
The thwapps were heard again, and the catapult arms swung once more. The people of Artimé watched nonchalantly as the fourth round released into the air.
Simber stood on his hind legs, madly sniffing the air. “Take coverrr!” he cried. “These arrren’t alive!”
But it was too late. Dozens of giant boulders flew toward Artimé with no parachutes to slow them down, bowling over rows of Unwanteds as loud thuds and the sound of breaking glass filled the air. The mansion windows had been hit.
Immediately the catapults returned to loading positions and let loose once more. Dozens of boulders even bigger than the last ones flew at the Unwanteds. Artiméans everywhere dove to get out of the way, or flew if they could fly, some managing to dodge one boulder but ending up directly in the path of another. The ground shook as the boulders hit it. Screams filled the air. Artimé was in chaos. There was no spell that would stop an attack like this. Not that Alex knew, anyway.
As a third round of boulders pelted the island, enough time had passed to allow the first group of Warblerans to come back to life from their temporary frozen states. And almost as if they’d planned it, they began charging at the Unwanteds, drawing knives from their belts.
Ms. Morning reared back. “Watch out!” she cried. The children of Warbler didn’t seem so innocent anymore.
“Attack!” shouted Alex, but he wasn’t to be heard above the noise.
“Attack!” yelled Simber and Florence together.
Alex, narrowly dodging a boulder, fired off several rounds of scatterclips, sending half a dozen Warblerans to the sides of the ships. At the same time, the original rounds of scatterclips began to wear off, leaving those enemies dangling unceremoniously about the water by a clip or two.
The next group of Warblerans emerged from their temporary spells, and they charged into the chaos, looking around desperately as if they were searching for someone. And of course they were.
The battle shifted. Caught off guard, Alex switched his verbal components to permanent chants and began laying Warblerans out across the shore, one by one.
“Florence, permanent spells from here on out,” he said, and Florence yelled out the command. When he had a second, Alex turned around to see what had become of his people. At least a third of them were on the ground. The rest were fighting valiantly, Sky among them.
“Sky!” Alex cried. “Go! Like we talked about!”
But his voice was lost in the battle. He sought out Crow, Sam, and Lani, but they too were out of hearing.
Frustrated, Alex turned back to see the third wave of Warbler fighters come to life as their spells wore off. At the sight of the weapons, Mr. Appleblossom had returned with an apparent change of heart. He stuck by Alex’s side, having pushed his way forward to assist now that so many of Artimé’s front line were flattened.
“Oh, thank goodness,” Alex said, seeing the eccentric theater instructor. “Let’s split these up and be done, shall we? Scatterclips seem to be the answer here.”
Together they fired a dozen smart rounds of scatterclips, sending all but a few of the Warblerans smacking into the sides of ships. The few whose paths were not in a direct line with a ship flew past them and kept going, out of sight.
When Alex ran out of scatterclips, he pulled out a new spell component that Meghan had created and popped it into his mouth. He blew through his lips, and a long, thin bubble emerged, taking the form of a sword. Alex grabbed the bubble sword and began swiping it at the oncoming attackers, sending them bouncing in various directions, where others could subdue them.
Mr. Appleblossom followed up with a new abstract spell, which caused the Warbler attackers’ body parts to scramble, causing mass confusion.
Once the last of the Warblerans at the shoreline was rendered useless, Alex and Mr. Appleblossom turned to see who might have gotten past them. As it turned out, a great number of them had.
The two charged toward the enemy
, meeting up with Sean and Carina near the entrance to Quill. “Over there!” Carina cried. “They’ve got Crow.” She rushed off, and when she was in range, fired off a variety of spells. Crow fell to the ground. Carina scooped him up and ran inside the mansion.
“Sean,” Alex said, “we’ve got to get Sam, Meg, and Lani into the mansion. Sky, too, if you can find her.” He looked all around, knowing Sky must be outside. There was no way she would have gone to the library without Crow.
Alex ran toward Henry just as the boy was being held against a tree with a knife to his throat, and quickly put a stop to that. Then the two turned to see a concerted effort by adult Unwanteds, not known for their magical fighting abilities, who pooled some swan song spells and sent eight Warblerans squawking and waddling in a circle all at once.
“Well done!” Alex shouted to them. “Can you do it again?”
With a few more quick blasts by each Unwanted who was still able, the remaining Warblerans were soon contained in one way or another—many of them stone-cold statues, reminding Alex a little too much of how things had looked on these grounds not so long ago.
As the noise died down, Alex, breathing hard, whirled around to assess the damage. “Be very sure you’ve got the attackers contained by permanent spells. Check each one over to be certain no one is faking.”
The Unwanteds set out.
Alex turned to Florence and Simber. “What’s happening out there at the ships?”
“Simber’s going to take a look if you think it’s wise.”
The enormous cat stood patiently, waiting for Alex’s reply.
Alex thought for a moment, worried that a boulder in a catapult could hurt the statue. “Okay,” he said, his voice guarded. “But be nimble.”
The cat needed no further urging. He leaped into the air and flapped his enormous wings. It took only seconds for him to soar high over the ships and release a shattering roar. Moments later, Simber didn’t need to make any announcement as to what was happening. Whoever remained on the ships began pulling anchors and raising sails. Those stuck to the sides of the ships began screaming in fear, but the ships pulled away, leaving great numbers of their own people dropping into the water or frozen stiff on shore.
“Get our wounded inside!” Alex commanded the Unwanteds. “Ms. Morning, Henry, and the rest of the nurses are already heading in there. Let’s go!” He paused and looked at the Warblerans in the water, knowing they probably couldn’t swim. “And get a team of good swimmers and the squirrelicorns to rescue them right away.” The Unwanteds jumped to action.
Alex stepped around a boulder and lifted the shoulders of a woman, her forehead bleeding. He and Mr. Appleblossom picked her up and carried her into the mansion. They placed her on a bed and turned around to go back for another, watching as the long stream of wounded limped or were carried inside.
Alex stopped when he saw Samheed stumbling toward him, carrying a girl whose hair and body were covered with a layer of dirt. She was limp in his arms.
“Stowe, make way!” Samheed barked, dodging around Alex. He set the girl on an empty bed. His voice softened and he put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “And brace yourself. This is a pretty bad scene.”
Alex looked past Samheed at the girl on the bed and gasped.
It was Sky.
In a Panic
Several hours later, outside the palace, the High Priest Aaron took in one last glimpse of the sea, slid the final block into the hole in the wall, and stepped back. He wiped his bloody knuckles on his pants, and then dabbed the sweat on his forehead with his sleeve. “There,” he said, surveying his work and trying not to think about what was happening in Artimé right about now. He needed to get moving on securing the other weak wall in Quill, though he knew there was no way to do it now while there was likely a battle in progress over there. For some ridiculous reason, Aaron’s hands wouldn’t stop shaking.
He stepped back and drew a keen eye over the wall. It wasn’t perfect, and it needed some patching, but he wondered if anyone far away could tell there had once been an opening in this spot. He concluded that it looked reasonably like the rest of the wall from a distance. Close up, one could see a few narrow slits and holes at eye level, through which tiny breezes blew. Aaron could just barely make out bits of the sea through them if he stood close, but it couldn’t be helped. He frowned at the bloody scrapes on his hands, which stung, and turned to go into the palace.
At the entrance to the cold, gray structure stood Eva Fathom, arms crossed over her chest, watching Aaron.
“Secretary,” Aaron muttered, using the name she’d gone by for fifty years. He didn’t need her nosing around or asking questions right now.
“Welcome back,” she replied. She didn’t move from the doorway. “Where’ve you been?”
Aaron stopped in front of her. “It’s none of your business. Excuse me,” he said. “I have a lot to do today.” He stood several inches taller than the curled old woman, but that didn’t keep Aaron from being a bit apprehensive around her. He was never sure if he could fully trust her, and the two occasionally butted heads. Still, she had been Secretary to the High Priest Justine for decades before the ruler’s untimely death, and Aaron was Justine’s most fervent fan. Surely the former high priest had had good reason to trust Secretary. Aaron just hadn’t figured out what that reason was yet.
The woman stepped aside to let Aaron in. She followed him up to his office. “How shall I assist you today?” she asked when Aaron sat down at his desk.
Aaron studied her through narrowed eyes. “Aren’t you going to ask about the hole in the wall?”
Secretary’s voice was smooth. “You’ll tell me eventually if there is something you need me to know about it, High Priest.”
“So you didn’t see those big—those big jalopies on the sea?”
The woman hesitated, puzzled. “You mean ships?” she asked.
“Whatever they are. A dozen of them. Headed to Artimé.”
“Oh dear.” A frown passed over her face. “You should send guards over to stand in the entrance to Quill and keep intruders out. It’s wide open these days, isn’t it?”
“Good idea. Why don’t you tell them to get over there.”
Eva stepped outside the office to take care of the orders. While she was gone, Aaron picked up a dull pencil and drew a very crooked triangle on a piece of paper, for the sheer reason that he could now that he was high priest. Besides, the distraction helped him think. He drew some other shapes too. Rectangles, like the sails of the ships. Before he knew it, he was drawing lines to connect them.
Secretary cleared her throat. She’d returned, unheard.
Abruptly, Aaron stopped drawing and looked up. He set down the pencil. “We need more than guards. We need to wall in the entrance to Quill,” he said. “Immediately. We—Haluki allowed Quill to be vulnerable for too long.”
Secretary’s brow furrowed, the wrinkles in her forehead deepening such that they resembled tree bark.
Before she could speak, Aaron lifted a hand. “Don’t even begin to argue with me,” he warned. “It’s my duty to keep Quill safe, and that is what I shall do. We’ll need a team of Necessaries to get to work immediately—and not my father this time, please.” He gave the woman a sour look, as if his father’s visit to the palace had been her fault.
“But—” Secretary began.
“Ut-tut-tut!” Aaron replied. “What did I say?”
Eva Fathom closed her icy lips.
Aaron watched her face, suddenly wondering what she was going to say but too proud to ask her now.
“Very well.” She nodded. As she turned to carry out Aaron’s wishes, her face wore the smuggest smile Aaron had ever seen.
Somewhere deep inside him, Aaron began to panic.
Skyfall
Alex rushed to Sky’s side just as Henry came running.
“Is she breathing?” Alex cried. “Is she dead? She can’t be dead!”
Henry was silent as he checked over S
ky. After a moment he looked around frantically and shouted, “Ms. Morning!” He turned to Samheed and squeaked, “For Jim’s sake, get Alex out of here. He’s making me nervous.”
Samheed pulled Alex out of the way. Alex, numb, could do nothing but watch as Henry and Ms. Morning worked feverishly over the girl. A thousand memories pummeled his brain: Sky and Crow unconscious on the raft. Sky finally waking up on that fateful day. Sky inching away and spitting water in Alex’s face. Sky stoic and silent on the roof as Alex cried. Sky bringing him the model of the mansion, helping Alex figure out how to get Artimé back. Sky on the pirate ship’s stairway, startling Alex with a kiss. And Sky on a raft once more, determined to save her mother.
“She’s not breathing,” Alex heard somebody say.
“Oh no,” he whispered, leaning heavily against the door frame of the hospital wing. “No. No.” He wanted to scream it. He couldn’t bear to lose her. Not now. Not after everything. He gripped his robe—the robe that Sky had hemmed for him so it wouldn’t drag on the floor. He stood on his tiptoes, trying to see around the crowd of nurses, trying to see her face. If only he could see her face. . . . “Sky!” he screamed. “Your mother—you have to breathe! We need to save your mother!” Several in the room turned to look at him, their faces growing scared.
“Alex,” Samheed said, his voice wretched. He gripped Alex’s arm tighter. “Pull it together, man.”
“Sky!” Alex yelled again, and then he stopped and shot Samheed a wild look. “Where’s Crow?”
Samheed shrugged, helpless. “I don’t know. I saw him, I mean . . . I think he’s fine.”
“Do you think she’s . . . ?”
“I don’t know, Al.”
Alex knew that he should try to find Crow, let him know his sister was hurt. Or dying. Or . . . dead. But he couldn’t move. His feet were cemented to the floor. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
More and more Artiméans rushed in carrying injured humans and creatures, filling up the beds.
