Hunt for the Pyxis

by Zoë Ferraris

  She grabbed him, feeling a desperate burning in her throat and lungs. She needed air. The memories were coming back for her too. She could see them swirling closer, a great dance of ghostly forms. She saw her parents clearly. They were standing on a platform above her, beckoning her, waving. She wanted desperately to go to them, but she knew they weren’t real.

  She might have been able to make it to the surface on her own, but with Santher in her arms it was hopeless. She looked back at her parents. Perhaps they were real….

  Just in front of them, her eyes fell on a small black stone. She dropped Santher and reached for it. It was vostok! Knowing she only had seconds left, she cracked it open and squished half of the jelly into Santher’s mouth. She tried to squish the other half into her own, but when she pressed it between her lips, water came pouring into her mouth and she panicked, choking, inhaling a great lungful of liquid….

  Emma’s mom was lying on the deck. As soon as she’d seen them throw Emma overboard, she had collapsed. The doctor had come up with the loblolly boy, and now they were lifting her up.

  Herbie was sitting rigidly against the railing, tears spilling from his eyes and blurring the world around him. A small black cockroach crawled out of his pocket, but he barely noticed. All he could think of was Emma’s face as they had sewn the canvas closed. Her desperate kicking and clawing. The bag disappearing over the railing with a terrible finality. A moment of expectant silence followed by a cruel splash.

  Down the deck, the navy sailors were talking, but all he heard was the sound of Laika sobbing and the sloshing of waves against the ship. The cockroach burrowed its way into a hole in the knee of his trousers. He felt it scratching and looked down. It disgusted him to see a roach on his leg, but he couldn’t swat it off—his hands were tied firmly behind his back. And anyway, the poor thing was probably looking for shelter from the rain.

  Then he remembered the screech bat. It was still in its vial in the pocket of his coat. If his hands were free, he would be able to release it. He would unscrew the cap and set the bat free. In one great swoop it would knock everyone out. It gave him a faint glimmer of hope to think of the entire crew falling over, but there was only one problem: he and Laika would fall unconscious too. And then they’d all wake up just where they were now, and what good would that do?

  It was hopeless.

  A noise across the deck made him look up. He blinked. He thought he must be dreaming. He saw a pair of slanted red eyes. A great smoking muzzle and the scaly, iridescent skin of a reptile. Herbie blinked away his tears so he could get a better look. It was a dragon. He was colored a deep, rich green, and his face held an expression of dignity and coldness that sent a shiver down Herbie’s arms. The dragon was perched on the railing as his rider spoke to one of the crew. The dragon seemed to be looking right at Herbie. All at once he felt a jolt of amazement.

  A dragon!

  With a flap, the beast turned and flew into the darkness. Herbie stared at the railing. He looked around at Laika. Suddenly, her tragic face seemed out of place. Stop crying, he wanted to say. Didn’t you SEE that?

  Two sailors were walking by, talking casually.

  “What are we going to do with the little ones?” one sailor asked.

  “Captain says she’s going to trade them to a Corvan vessel on Rigel,” the other replied. “They’re healthy. They’ll fetch a fine price.”

  Laika overheard this and burst into renewed sobs.

  Herbie knew what had to be done. His feet were shackled to the railing, but his hands were only tied with rope. He twisted his fingers to try to reach the rope. He tried wiggling his hands free. Nothing was working—the rope was tied securely. He looked around for something sharp. The closest object was about three feet away: a metal ring around a barrel that was next to the railing. The ring was broken, and a jagged strip of it protruded from the barrel. It was low enough that he could probably reach it.

  Carefully, he moved away from Laika while keeping an eye on the guards. They were busy talking and didn’t notice as he slid like an inchworm, using his legs to push himself sideways and back.

  He was just about to reach the barrel when his shackles gave a clink. He’d pulled as far as he could go. Looking behind, he could see that there was only about a foot of distance between him and the strip of metal. Straining, he raised his wrists and managed to set them on top of the metal strip. With a gentle motion, he began to saw away at his binds.

  As they rose, water came pouring out of Emma’s mouth, and she felt her ears popping as if some kind of pressure were lifting from her body. She clung desperately to Santher’s leg, but halfway to the surface his body gave a jolt and he kicked her free. The pressure change must have been affecting him too, because now he was thrashing as the vostok lifted them up. She could see his skin rippling strangely. Fur was sprouting from his arms, and his hands were shrinking, turning into paws.

  Emma needed so badly to take a breath that she had to clap a hand to her mouth to keep it shut. Her chest was jerking in spasms, begging for air. Her vision was getting dark at the edges and she knew she was blacking out. She looked up one last time to see the surface, but it seemed much too far away….

  Herbie had sawed through the rope. The guards were not paying attention. They were huddled against a new onslaught of rain, wiping it nervously from their hands and faces and muttering about what it might do to them. Captain Gent was standing beneath an awning, talking to the Draconi ship’s captain. She was looking at Laika but too busy talking to notice what was going on.

  Herbie slid back toward Laika and untied her ropes. She looked back in surprise.

  “Just pretend to keep crying,” he whispered.

  She hung her head. “What are you doing?” she whispered between sobs. “We can’t go anywhere!”

  “I’m going to try. I just need to get these shackles off…. ” Hiding his feet behind Laika, he felt around the shackles. There didn’t seem to be a lock, but his fingers touched a pin. He pulled it out and the shackles fell open. He slipped them off his ankles.

  “Stay here,” he said to Laika. “I’m going to take care of Gent.” He climbed to his feet.

  Captain Gent noticed at once. She motioned her men to make him sit back down, but before they could reach him, Herbie took off running. He went heading for Gent, every fiber of his body surging forward. One of the sailors tried to stop him, but he dodged. The sailor nicked him. Both of them slipped on the wet deck. It sent Herbie into a slide, and he went careening into Gent.

  He knocked her over with a crash.

  She grunted as she fell. Herbie was up in an instant, scrambling onto her, seizing her throat. But he was yanked away and hauled to his feet by a pair of angry sailors.

  THUMP! Something hit the Hargrim, and everyone turned to the starboard railing. A figure had landed on the deck. The men gave a startled gasp. Gent leapt to her feet, her face a mask of disbelief. A lynx was standing by the starboard railing, dripping wet and poised to attack. He bared his teeth in a growl.

  “It’s the lynx!” someone hissed. The sailors backed away. The animal was drenched, but his fur stood on end, every part of him coiled to spring. There was a look of madness in his eyes as he gave a vicious snarl.

  Now everyone was backing away in terror.

  Then they saw a hand reach up to grab the railing. It was small, a girl’s hand slick with rain. She pulled herself up—a tangle of clothing and limbs—and slid through the railing, struggling to her feet. She stood to the astonished face of every person on board. She was panting and rain-soaked, looking furious and wild. It was Emma!

  The sailors were dumbstruck. They lowered their weapons, frightened, wondering by what miracle this young girl had survived being sewn in a bag with a beast and thrown into the deadliest waters in the galaxy.

  “She is a pirate!” one of the crew hissed.

  “Just like her mother!”

  “They’ll come for her, then—ye watch!”

  “Nonsense,
” Gent said, although she didn’t seem so certain herself.

  Herbie stood unsteadily, staring at Emma. She touched her arm where a spot of blood was forming. She looked at the blood and wiped it on her shirt. When her eyes met Herbie’s, they were furious and triumphant.

  “She’s bleeding,” someone murmured. “Look at ’er leg!”

  “Pirates ain’t supposed to bleed,” someone else said.

  “That’s because she’s not a pirate.” The voice was Captain Gent’s. It was a bit unsteady, but it contained enough authority to snap the men to attention. They stopped whispering and raised their weapons again.

  “Look!” one of the men said, pointing at the lynx.

  The lynx was stumbling backward dizzily. His rear slumped down; then his head fell to the deck with a thunk. His body seemed to be flickering between two shapes. One moment he was a lynx; the next he was Santher. Finally the form settled on the boy, lying half-naked on his side, moaning.

  There was a moment of stunned silence. No one could believe it. Even Laika was amazed.

  Gent came forward smugly. “And this magical beast is only a man,” she said, stopping above him and nudging him with her foot. “So don’t be surprised when he dies as one too.”

  Herbie knew what he had to do.

  “Don’t anyone move,” he said. They all turned to see him holding the jar with the screech bat inside. “We’re leaving this ship peacefully,” he said, “or I release the bat.”

  Slowly, Gent’s mouth formed an irritated smirk. She motioned to her men. “Shoot him.”

  The sailors turned their weapons on him, so he threw the jar against the deck. The moment it cracked, an impossible, piercing scream filled the air.

  SCREEEEE­EEEEE­EEEEE­EEEEE­!

  Herbie saw people collapsing around him, but he didn’t remember much after that.

  Herbie was standing in an open desert. Rolling sand dunes spread out before him, and the sun was beating down with relentless intensity. He was parched, sweating profusely, and pulling at his clothes to get away from the choking heat. Suddenly something wet hit his face. He reached up to touch it and his fingers came away covered in goo….

  He opened his eyes. Something wet was indeed dripping onto his face. As he wiped it away, he saw a great mouth hanging open above him. He sat up with a jolt and skittered backward. He had been lying beneath a dragon’s jaw.

  This beast looked a little older than the one he’d seen earlier. It had tired eyes and its breath was something foul. But it was drooling happily and gazing at Herbie with a look of expectant adoration.

  Herbie’s hair was singed and his face felt sunburned. His tunic was smoking, and there was a hole in the chest. He climbed to his feet in amazement, and the dragon shuffled closer, sniffing his shirt. Herbie stepped aside—away from the fiery maw—and with a shaking hand, touched the dragon’s head. The dragon purred, which sent a hot burst of air sailing out of its mouth. Herbie spat out a terrified, awestruck laugh.

  His head was throbbing, but he looked around. The Strand was deathly quiet. The only sounds were the creaking of wood and the splashing of water as the ships bobbed on the waves. Every person on deck was unconscious. The Hargrims all formed a big jumble. Emma and Santher were lying on the ground nearby, and Laika just beyond them.

  Herbie was just wondering why he had woken up and no one else had when a few of the sailors began stirring nearby. He didn’t want them to wake up yet, so he scanned the deck for the bat and found it. It was crawling up the front of Santher’s shirt. He picked it up carefully and laid it in his palm. It was tiny and black and completely disgusting, but he touched it anyway. He discovered at once that when he pressed its backside, it gave another screech. Not as loud as the first one, but enough to make his head feel like exploding. The sailors groaned and passed out again. The dragon shuffled closer and licked his hair. Herbie gave a nervous laugh.

  He stared down at the bat, not sure what to do with it. The glass jar was broken, and he didn’t want to lose the little creature. He felt inside his pocket and his hand struck the cockroach. He tried to knock it away, but it only fell down into his waistband.

  There are too many animals, he thought. He didn’t want the bat to eat the cockroach while it was inside his shirt, but he couldn’t think of anywhere else to put it, so he stuffed it in there. Then he turned to the dragon.

  The dragon’s rider had fallen off and was lying on the deck. The saddle was empty….

  A moment later, Herbie was kneeling beside Emma. “Hey,” he was whispering. “Wake up!” He tapped her cheek. “Emma! Wake up!”

  She simply wouldn’t wake. The dragon came over to investigate. It leaned its giant mouth closer, sniffing interestedly. As soon as the drool touched Emma’s face, her eyes opened.

  “Hey, wow. Magic drool!” he said.

  “Herbie?” She looked around in confusion. “What happened?”

  “Get up before everyone else does, and check this out!” He helped her to her feet and motioned to the dragon.

  When she saw it, she stumbled backward. “What the…?”

  “I know!” he exclaimed. “That screech bat knocked everyone out—and I think it tamed the dragon.”

  Emma looked around at all the bodies on the deck and then at the big dragon breathing heavily on Herbie’s shoulder. She couldn’t seem to make sense of it.

  “Are you okay?” Herbie asked. “You were in the memory water…. ”

  “I think I’m good.”

  “Let’s wake up Santher and Laika and go find your mom,” he said.

  “Okay.” She started to lunge away, but Herbie grabbed her.

  “Wait,” he said. “Let’s chain up the navy first, in case they wake up.”

  “Yeah,” she said. “Good idea.”

  They dragged the shackles away from the railing and began clamping them around the sailors’ ankles and wrists. Fortunately, the chains between each of the cuffs were long enough. It only took a few minutes.

  “We should also get the fake Pyxis from Gent,” Herbie said.

  “Right.” Emma went to retrieve it.

  Fishing in his shirt, Herbie found the screech bat. By pressing on it gently, he was able to lure the dragon to where Laika and Santher were lying. When its drool touched Laika’s face, she came around.

  “Hey,” Laika said, looking sleepily at the dragon. “That’s a really big bird.”

  “It’s not a bird, Laika. It’s a dragon.”

  She sat up and clutched her head. “Ow. Was that a screech bat?” Herbie nodded. “We’ll have headaches for weeks!”

  “Santher isn’t waking up,” Emma said, tucking the fake Pyxis into her shirt.

  They tried dropping more dragon drool on his face, but he didn’t respond.

  “Come on,” Herbie said. “Let’s leave him for now. We’ve got to find Emma’s mom before the navy wakes up.”

  They followed him to the stairwell. It was well lit, but they went slowly anyway in case there were any Hargrims below. They couldn’t be sure if everyone had been knocked out by the screech bat’s cry.

  At the bottom of the stairs, they encountered an empty hallway that ran the length of the ship. Moving carefully around each doorway, they passed a series of crew’s quarters and a bathroom before coming to the surgery. It was a small, dark room filled with books and bottles. Dr. Vermek was lying just inside the door, his loblolly boy beneath him. Emma’s mom was on a cot in the corner.

  Emma fell on her and squeezed her hand. Herbie felt for a pulse while the others waited in terrible suspense. He slumped in relief.

  “She’s still alive,” he said. “But we’d better get her back to the Argh.”

  “Yeah, but how?” Emma asked.

  “I have an idea.”

  They lifted Mom carefully—it took all three of them to carry her—and navigated their way out of the small room, back down the hallway, and up the stairs. On the top deck, the sailors were still unconscious. Herbie led the others toward the drag
on.

  “Wait,” Emma said. “You can’t put her on the dragon!”

  “Let’s find a rowboat,” Laika agreed. “It’s much safer, and we’ve got to take Santher too.”

  “There are no rowboats,” Herbie said. “I’ve been looking this whole time. I guess since this is a Draconi ship, dragons are their rowboats, if you know what I mean.”

  They all turned to stare at the dragon, who sat watching them happily.

  Before anyone could protest, Herbie scrambled onto the dragon’s saddle, climbing up the one stair, swinging his leg over the harness, and locking his feet into the stirrups, which were almost like ski boots.

  “I’m on,” he said, a bit breathlessly. “Now just get her up here, and we’ll tie her to my back.”

  “Herbie…” Emma wanted to disagree, but they didn’t have any other choice. Nearby, a few of the Hargrims were rousing.

  “Hurry!” Herbie whispered.

  The others scrambled to haul Mom up the stair and onto the saddle behind Herbie. They placed her there like a giant rag doll, wrapped her arms around his waist, and tied her securely with rope.

  “Are you sure about this?” Emma asked. “I thought you were afraid of heights.”

  He nodded like a jackhammer. “I can do this. I have to.” The dragon turned in a nervous circle, so Herbie took hold of the reins. “You guys better get Santher.”

  Emma and Laika rushed back to their friend and hauled him onto the dragon’s back. It was difficult getting him strapped in behind Mom, and by the end, they were both sweating. Emma climbed up behind Santher and wrapped her arms around his waist. There was still plenty of room on the dragon’s back for Laika to climb up behind her. Once everyone was situated, Herbie turned back to the reins.

  Nothing had prepared him for this. He had no idea what to do. He tried kicking the dragon, but it only let out a sizzling burp and whipped its tail in irritation, causing Laika to duck. Herbie couldn’t use the screech bat again. They’d all fall off the dragon’s back.