Island of Fire (The Unwanteds)

by McMann, Lisa

  Lani looked up at Henry in alarm. “Is that the medicine too?”

  “No,” Henry said softly. At that moment his face wore the experience of an old man. “He’s crying.”

  “Why?” Lani reached a hand out and slipped it in Alex’s, her face filled with concern.

  Samheed watched, surprised. He’d never seen his friend like this. Sky put her hand to her mouth and looked away, crying too, and Crow slipped his hand in hers.

  “Sean,” Simber said. The cat growled, watching Alex relive it all again. Florence wiped a tear and flicked it overboard, and Octavia blew her nose loudly into her handkerchief.

  Samheed looked around at everyone and his heart slammed in his chest. “What happened?” he whispered.

  Sean took a deep breath and let it out slowly, and then he began. “In one instant, everything changed. Simber froze and fell into the sea. Claire’s boat that Alex was driving at full speed stopped running, throwing him and Meghan, who was unconscious, into the water. On land, the mansion disappeared in a poof, turning into the gray shack, and Artimé was gone. Completely wiped out, except for the people. And then a group from Quill attacked.”

  Lani’s mouth hung open. “You’re not serious,” she breathed. “How could that have happened?” She looked around, bewildered and scared. “Sean?” she prompted. She stared at Henry, but he only looked at the deck.

  Samheed’s eyes were wild. He stood up and looked all around, as if he might have missed someone. He looked at Alex, shaking in the chair, arm still flung over his face, and he grew pale. “Rufus called Alex … No. No way,” he mumbled, thinking. And then he gasped and went up to Sean, gripping his shirt, eyes begging the older boy to lie as he whispered, “Where’s Mr. Today?”

  One Last Tale

  When it was over, the ship was wet with tears. Alex had finally had a chance to grieve without having to be the brave one, while Samheed and Lani sat in shock. At Lani’s feet Henry fidgeted, his face wearing the strain of one final secret.

  They sat like surviving comrades of a lost war, silent, finding comfort in the existence of the others.

  One by one the Artiméans realized what hadn’t been told, and they slipped away to the lower deck. Even Simber tried to give them time alone by creating a job for himself. With his teeth, he grabbed a rope that was tied to the bow and began pulling, flying out ahead, helping the ship home.

  Sky hesitated and then went belowdecks, knowing Samheed could help Alex if he needed it. Even though she’d spent a lot of time with Henry, Sky was a stranger to Lani, and she hadn’t earned the right to be in this conversation.

  Meghan stole away, finding Sean and Carina standing quietly at the stern.

  Soon only Alex, Lani, Samheed, and Henry remained. Alex forced himself to be strong. He gave Henry a long look. Henry returned it with sorrowful eyes and nodded. He scooted over to Alex and rested his chin on Alex’s knee, wrapping his arms around Alex’s lower leg like it was a security blanket. Alex rested his hand on the boy’s head, mussing his hair a little in a comforting way.

  “We have one more thing we have to tell you, Lani,” Alex said. He breathed shallowly, lungs searing with every breath, his whole skeleton in pain, but he’d turned down a second dose of the medicine because throwing up endlessly was worse.

  Lani looked up at him, her face going blank with fear. “What is it?”

  Alex leaned forward slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose, thinking. He edged his body up and out of the chair, trying not to gasp in pain, Henry reaching out to help him kneel on the deck next to Lani.

  “Al,” Samheed said, scrambling to help, but Alex waved him off.

  “It’s cool. I’m fine,” he lied. He rested his elbow on Lani’s good leg and took her hand, and then he turned his head to look at Henry, giving him a sad smile and reaching out to bring the boy closer.

  Lani couldn’t speak.

  Alex looked deep into her new orange eyes, feeling the most tremendous sorrow, knowing the next few minutes would change her life drastically, and hating to have to be the one to bear the news. Finally he could delay it no longer. “When Quill attacked us after Artimé disappeared,” he said, “the Unwanteds fought hard. They gave everything they had. But they’d lost their magic and were unprepared to fight Quill’s way. We had no weapons,” he explained. “Because of that, we lost some of Artimé’s bravest, who fought to the death for the sake of all of us.”

  Lani’s lip quivered and her already red-rimmed eyes filled again. “No,” she said. A tear escaped, and she looked at Henry. “No,” she pleaded.

  Henry’s face broke. Alex put his hand on the boy’s shoulder.

  Lani turned back to Alex. “No!” she screamed.

  Alex’s head tipped back and his lids closed halfway, and then he pressed her hand to his heart. “I’m sorry to tell you that your mother—”

  “NO!”

  Alex breathed. Lani’s screams hurt more than his bones. “Your mother,” he said, pausing, waiting for her, but she was already quiet, “was one of those brave people, and she died.”

  Lani stared at Alex, lips flared, face twisted and streaming with tears. Her body shuddered, and then her features softened as she looked at Henry. She reached out a quivering hand and touched his face, wiping a tear from his jaw and catching another that pooled in the shadow below his eye. And then she pulled her fingers free from Alex, buried her face in her hands, and rocked back and forth.

  Alex looked over at Samheed, who knelt on the deck on the other side of the chair. His wild eyes were locked on Lani, and he clenched his fists. Finally he reached out his hand and brushed it tenderly over Lani’s bowed head.

  Alex checked on Henry, who was crying in silence, and put an arm around the boy. Henry stiffened, then shrugged it off, shaking his head, and Alex nodded. “Sorry,” he whispered to the boy.

  When Lani finally lifted her head, Alex was there. But she turned to Samheed, raising her arms like a child. He leaped to his feet and lifted her up to him, careful not to hurt her injured leg. She wrapped her arms around his neck and sobbed into his shoulder. Samheed held her close, eyes closed, saying things only she could hear.

  “Take me home,” she sobbed. “Take me home.”

  Samheed whispered to her, holding her tightly. Slowly he moved away from the others, giving her privacy to grieve.

  Alex watched them for a long moment as the world wavered around him in a haze of pain, and then he dropped his gaze, resting his head in his hand. Beyond the pain, he felt almost like he’d lost something, or been defeated, but that wasn’t the right word or the right feeling to be having at a time like this. There was something in that one impulse—Lani turning to Samheed for comfort instead of him—that said more than anything else could have. That never would have happened before. Those two had always clashed, but there was something there now. Something strong. And even though Alex’s feelings for Lani had changed, he couldn’t help but curl inward a bit to protect the new emptiness he felt inside.

  When he looked up again, he saw that Henry had silently followed his sister, certainly wanting to be near her. She pulled him in, needing him as much as he needed her.

  After a minute, Alex took a few shallow breaths and leaned forward to use his hands, pushing his aching body to his feet. Hunched over, he took another searing breath and then straightened, his legs shaking. He reached for the back of the chair to steady himself, missing it on the first try but catching it with his fingertips on the second. He kept his head down, concentrating as a wave of black crossed in front of his eyes. He held himself there, willing his eyes to clear, and then he broke out in a cold sweat. His stomach twisted and he staggered to the railing once more.

  Simber looked over his shoulder at his boy. His eyes flashed and he growled low and long, a mourning song in his throat.

  A Sleepless Night for the High Priest

  Aaron paced the stony, lifeless halls of the palace. He’d tried to sleep but tossed and turned even on the comfortable palace b
ed. He had a lot to worry about. Artimé was back, or so he assumed based on Haluki’s escape and Alex’s subsequent rescue of that woman from the Haluki house through that weird glass tube, which had reappeared in the closet. Aaron had fired Bethesda and Liam on the spot, sending them to the Ancients Sector.

  But he was surprised that he didn’t get much joy from that. His father had ruined it for him, he supposed. Aaron snarled when he thought about his parents. At least he’d have their loyalty. That was something, he supposed, when he seemed to be losing Restorers faster than he was gaining slaves—er, Unwanteds, that is.

  His mind turned to Gondoleery Rattrapp, and he willingly admitted that she was his biggest worry right now, for the sheer reason that he did not know what she was up to, and she wouldn’t talk to him. Add to that the strange things Secretary had seen her doing through her window, and it was all a bit frightening. He didn’t need another magical world to fight against. One was enough; that was sure.

  Aaron pulled open the giant door to the driveway, startling the two sleeping guards posted there. “At least pretend like you’re protecting me,” Aaron said. He waved them off and strode to his new doorway to the sea. There was no breeze tonight, which was rather unsettling now that he’d gotten used to it.

  He stared out over the water as the moon went behind a stray cloud, leaving the night as dark as it had ever been, excluding the lights of the palace behind him, of course. Just as he turned to go back inside, something caught his eye. It was light, moving across the water not far offshore. His eyes widened and he hastened back behind the wall, peering out. “What in Quill?” he whispered.

  As he stared, he began to make out an outline made up of dots of light, and he could hear people talking, though the sounds were too muffled to understand what they were saying. It was a—a palace on the water, with strange flags pointing to the sky. It was nothing like that white boat that had belonged to the old mage. This thing was enormous. He stared as it passed, wondering if it used some sort of jalopy oil and tires that reached to the bottom of the sea to make it move.

  He had never seen anything like it. As it passed out of his vision, he crept out through the doorway once more to watch it, fascinated. “Where did it come from?” he wondered. “And where is it going?”

  And then his heart was stricken with fear. Could it be an enemy? One of the enemies Justine had warned about? He clutched the placket of his shirt. How could he have doubted her? There must be other lands, for that vessel obviously didn’t come from Quill, and he’d never seen it or heard about it in Artimé. He ran out farther, down the hill toward the water, watching it start to turn toward the island.

  Blood pounded in his ears. His brain told him to run, to alert the Quillitary, but his arms and legs wouldn’t obey. He could only watch in horror as it moved closer to the shore somewhere beyond the Quillitary yard on the desolate side of the island. “What if they land?” he whispered.

  And then he remembered the walls, and he nearly laughed at himself, though he would never actually do that. He breathed easier, but still—what if they could break down the walls? Or worse—what if they landed on Artimé and Alex let them in?

  Aaron felt the blood drain from his face. His brother wasn’t strong like Aaron was. But the last time Aaron saw Alex, Alex had changed. He would never forgive Aaron for killing the old mage. And maybe he would even seek revenge.

  It was something Aaron would have laughed off in the past. But now there was more than just a niggling of fear in his heart. Maybe he was paranoid, maybe not. All he knew was that Alex had more strength and intelligence in him than Aaron had ever expected.

  He stood on his tiptoes, straining to see the ship as it disappeared around the curve of the island. He looked back at the block opening he’d made, grateful the secret vessel of the night hadn’t seen it. It was the weakest part of the island, he realized. He would have to have the blocks put back up immediately.

  But now he had to decide—should he alert the Quillitary even though they weren’t wholly in the Restorers’ camp? Should he alert the Restorers even though his numbers were dwindling and their loyalty and competence were questionable? Either one would make him look weak if nothing happened. And he wasn’t quite sure just who would be best to share the news of other lands with. Realizing his current state of instability made him nauseous.

  Clutching his stomach, he walked back to the palace pondering everything.

  Meanwhile, in his office, Matilda the gargoyle had climbed out of her box in the closet and crawled up the wall to the window. She straightened the pink ribbon that wrapped around one of her horns. When she saw the lighted ship pass by the opening Aaron had made, she lifted a hand to wave. And then she smiled, knowing immediately that Charlie had seen her and had waved too.

  Land Ho!

  Captain Ahab, who was considerably more calm when the volcanic island was out of sight behind him than he was when its belching flames were in plain view, shouted out their arrival to the shore of Artimé. The moon had left them and it was as dark as dark could be. Soon the captain called for the sails to be lowered. He dropped the anchor.

  Meghan found Alex slumped over the railing. “Oh dear,” she said, rushing over to him. “Are you okay?”

  “Just a little pain,” Alex whispered.

  Meghan bent down, slipped his arm over her shoulder, and supported him. “Come on,” she said. “Are you done throwing up?”

  “I think so,” he said. “Don’t shake me.”

  “I’ll try not to,” Meghan said. She helped him walk a step at a time, pausing in between, as others, oblivious, sleepy, and eager to get to their comfortable beds, flooded to the gangway.

  Simber circled around and dropped the rope into the ship, then hovered near Alex. “Let me take you,” Simber said.

  “I’m okay,” Alex replied, tilting his head up. “You should take them in first.” He lifted a heavy arm and pointed to Samheed and Lani, who sat together in a corner.

  Meghan lifted a brow and glanced at Alex. He dropped his gaze. Simber sighed and circled around again, unable to simply fly in reverse.

  “I’m herrre to escorrrt you,” Simber said to Lani. “I’m surrre yourrr fatherrr will be rrrelieved to see you.” He dropped his back paws on the deck but kept his wings flapping to keep from capsizing the ship, and then he arched his back and opened his enormous mouth.

  Samheed placed Lani into Simber’s jaws and climbed up on the great cat’s back. Simber lifted off and Meghan looked around, anxious to get off the ship. She spied Henry and Crow heading down the stairs and Sky hanging back.

  Meghan smiled. “Hey,” she said.

  Sky gave a nervous wave. “Hi, um, I just was making sure he was okay. Do you need any help?”

  Alex lifted his head at the sound of Sky’s voice. He tried to smile. “I might need an extra hand up the stairs in the mansion in a bit.”

  Meghan rolled her eyes. “Don’t be silly, Alex. You’re going to the sick ward.”

  “No way,” he said.

  “Well, if you’re stubborn, you can take the tube directly.”

  “That’s so … clinical.”

  Meghan laughed, and Alex forced himself not to. “Ow,” he breathed.

  Sky hesitated and tapped her shoe against the staircase, her face flushing. “Okay, well, Simber’s back for me, so I’ll be in my room if anybody needs me later,” she said, and then she disappeared down the stairs to the gangway, where Simber waited to shuttle her ashore.

  Meghan turned her head to look at Alex, who was gazing at the spot where Sky had been. He closed his eyes and breathed in as evenly as he could.

  A moment later Simber was back from bringing Sky ashore.

  “Is everybody else off the ship?” Alex asked. He didn’t bother opening his eyes.

  “Florrrence is counting. You’rrre the last two, plus the captain, who is waiting for you to go firrrst.”

  “Nice guy,” Alex whispered. He swiveled with Meghan’s help and eased back in
to Simber’s mouth, while Meghan climbed onto Simber’s back, and then they were off to the mansion.

  Inside their beloved home, the fox and the kitten hopped into the tube, heading for who knows where, as Alex, Meghan, and Simber walked in. It was quiet inside; the only movement came from the last straggling passengers, who headed straight to their rooms. Florence came in with the captain, who clomped past the others to the tubes, muttering, “Blast my skull!” as he disappeared, no doubt heading for the theater.

  “To the sick bay with you, Alex,” Florence said.

  Alex glanced into the hospital ward, where Lani lay in a new bed next to her father’s, across from Claire Morning. Samheed stood by Lani’s side, holding her hand. Alex’s lips parted, and then he shook his head. “No way. No one else needs to witness my spew.” He tried to smile, but he could feel the heat coming to his skin and the uneasiness in his gut returning.

  “You look flushed,” Meghan said. “Do you have a fever?”

  “Just tired. Promise.” Alex turned to Simber and put a hand on the cat’s neck. “Thank you,” he said. He looked at Florence. “Thank you,” he said to her. And then he looked at Meghan. “And thank you. I am going to bed. Simber, if you need me … you know how to reach me.” He shuffled blindly to the tube as sweat dripped into his eyes.

  “Good night, Alex,” they said, each of them exchanging glances with the others, more than a little concerned.

  He stepped into the tube, looking longingly at the steps he preferred to take, and with careful deliberation pressed the combination that would take him to his room. He leaned against the cool glass, the pain causing nausea, which prompted sweat to pour down his back. When he opened his eyes, he had reached his room.

  Finally Alex could stop pretending to be the brave, strong leader of Artimé. His skin felt like it was on fire. He pushed himself upright, ripped his drenched shirt off, and staggered out of the tube as his room began to swirl around him. He dropped to his knees, clutching at the edge of the coffee table, heaving as the pain tore through his body and head. He gasped and groaned, his sweating hands slipping off the table and his arms slamming to the floor, jolting him. Every gasp for air felt like a knife to the back. He gave up trying to make it to the nearby couch, much less the bed, and melted to the floor as the world went black.