by Lisa McMann
Ms. Octavia reached the sea floor, swam across the bow and up the other side. Alex went after her, peering through the water and peeking into the ship’s many orifices. Schools of fish flashed and disappeared in and out of the openings. Alex wondered how they all knew just when to turn. It was like they were dancing, moving to some music only they could hear.
Clumps of sharp barnacles gripped the ship and the rocks nearby. As Ms. Octavia swam upward, Alex knew he’d have to surface soon—even all of Ms. Octavia’s training had not enabled him to hold his breath forever.
As they neared the surface, Ms. Octavia stopped and peered at the side of the ship. She looked at Alex and motioned him to come closer. When he did, she drew her tentacle across the ship’s side, underlining the faded letters she found there.
Ka o aru o. 5.
Scavengers
It seemed like a strange name for a ship, but when Alex really thought about it, he admitted he wasn’t an expert on ship names. After all, he’d only known one vessel with a name, and that was Mr. Today’s boat, named after his daughter, Claire. And there were a lot of spaces in the name, which made Alex wonder if some of the letters had been washed away. They would probably never know the answer.
He and Ms. Octavia broke the surface, giving Alex a chance to catch his breath and check the weather before taking a closer look inside the vessel. On shore, Henry and Crow carried a long red plank between them, heading toward Florence. The rain and wind continued on all around the island, and clouds were thick above them, but the sun was still visible beyond the strange storm’s perimeter. Looking out to sea, Alex could tell where the rain field ended, about half a mile offshore, and it seemed to be consistent all the way around—at least from what Alex could see. When he was ready, Alex and Ms. Octavia headed underwater once more.
This time they swept across the deck, both holding highlighters, looking for anything useful. Alex spotted a fine-looking rope, perfectly coiled around a stairway railing. And the sides of the ship were in good shape. Not wooden like the pirate ship, but made of some hard material. If only they could cut a portion out of each side and attach it to the pirate ship like a bandage over the split . . . but there was no way to cut through material like this.
Alex followed Ms. Octavia, swimming down the stairwell to see what was belowdecks. Moving cautiously, they swam back and forth, taking in everything. Tools, equipment, rigging, giant trunks that were padlocked and bolted to the floor. Alex wondered if they’d be able to pry them open, and if so, what they’d find inside. There were doors with the windows broken out and vast rooms filled with strange machinery.
They went down another level to find even more strange equipment: Telescopes and giant instrument panels, all sitting politely in place, as if the ship weren’t resting at a forty-five-degree angle under water.
When Alex began to run out of air, he motioned to Ms. Octavia, and the two weaved back through the ship. Along the way, Alex unwound the coil of rope and pulled it with him through the water, and Ms. Octavia enfolded several arms around a large wooden box of tools and carried it upward, showing her tremendous strength.
They rose to the surface with their goods and struggled through the water to drag them along to shore. The water was much rougher near the surface, making the journey tougher than Alex expected. By the time he reached the shore, he was spent. He heaved the coil of rope onto the land next to a small pile of other useful items that had been retrieved from other wreckage. He went back to get the waterlogged toolbox from Ms. Octavia, helped her drag it ashore, and dropped it to the ground with a thud. Water trickled out of it through cracks in its sides.
Fox and Kitten, who weren’t able to collect much, instead hopped around the recovered items, observing and commenting on them. Every now and then a gust of wind bowled Fox over and sent him across the rocks like a misplaced tumbleweed. The storm was getting worse.
Alex, still breathing hard, approached Florence and Copper. “There’s a ton of stuff on the ship Ms. Octavia and I found. Machinery and strange-looking equipment—I don’t know what any of it is, but it might be worth you taking a look. Almost everything is too heavy for us to carry. The ship is in really great shape—except for the rip in the side that caused it to sink.”
“That’s very encouraging,” Florence said. She stood near the split in the pirate ship’s side, and Alex could tell she had managed to align one half to the other, which must have taken every bit of strength she had. “We’re going to need a lot of help putting this thing back together. This will be an interesting patch job, and it won’t be easy to ensure it’ll be waterproof.” She shifted her bow and looked down at Alex. “Do you have any magical components left or did we lose them all in the wreck?”
“I have what’s on me,” Alex said, patting his pockets.
“Do you have any preserve spell components?”
“A couple. I’ll ask around. Do you think that would help?”
“Marcus used that spell on Simber. So my thought is that if it keeps the water from seeping into the cat, it’ll keep the sea from seeping into our ship. So yes, I think it would help tremendously once we’ve got this thing put back together.”
Copper approached. She could no longer squeeze inside the ship through the split now that Florence had pushed it closed and propped up the bow and stern with rocks to hold the ship in place. “Can you let me in?” she asked. “I want to check the stability of the structure to make sure it’s not compromised. No use fixing a ship that’ll split apart on a rough sea with all aboard. We’ll need to be certain we shore up the beams properly.”
“We’d be in deep trouble without you, Copper,” Florence said. She hoisted Copper into one half of the pirate ship so she could assess the condition from belowdecks, where Florence couldn’t go.
Alex nodded. “We can try to make some new preserve components too. And we could sure use a saw or something that would cut metal things,” he said, shoving the toolbox with his foot, “like this padlock.”
Florence turned her attention to Alex and the box. She leaned down, grasped the padlock, and squeezed. The lock snapped and dropped to the sand.
“Okay,” Alex said with a grin. “Well, knowing you can do that is slightly frightening.”
Florence smiled and turned back to analyzing the ship’s needs while Alex opened the toolbox and began to pull things out. The wind grabbed hold of the lid and slammed it open wide. Thunder pounded overhead. The rain grew more insistent. Alex squinted at the sky and shook his head. They’d just begun working and now the weather threatened to shut down their efforts. “How are we supposed to get anything done?” he muttered.
A moment later, a shout rose from the shore. “Guys, come and look!” called Henry. “Down here—you won’t believe it!”
Alex and Florence looked at each other and headed over to where Henry and Crow stood on the shore. Copper climbed up to the top deck and watched from there. Lani hopped off her post and, after a quick surveillance, ran toward the boys. Fox, Kitten, Ms. Octavia, Samheed, and Sky came running as well.
“What is it?” Alex asked.
Henry and Crow, streaming with water, grinned from ear to ear. Their eyes shone.
Sky laughed at her brother’s mischievous face. “Come on, what is it?”
Henry looked at Crow. “I think they’re going to have to see it to believe it.”
Crow nodded.
The two boys ran back into the water and struck out toward a wreck that looked like an enormous barge. The rest of the Artiméans went after them.
When Alex dove into the water and swam down, following the boys, he nearly sucked in a noseful of seawater.
Littered across the sea floor, as if in a giant traffic jam, were no fewer than twenty military vehicles . . . exactly like the ones the Quillitary used.
The Strange Figure
Some of the vehicles were lodged up to the tops of their wheels in mud. Others were on their sides or upside down. It was a crazy sight to see—all of thos
e vehicles, covered in rust and slime, green tufts of seaweed growing on the seats and doors. The seat covers rotten. Giant bites ripped out of the cushions. Lani tugged at Alex’s shirt and beckoned him to follow, casting a highlighter spell as she swam. They went closer to see inside one of the vehicles and scared a school of fish.
They explored the fleet of vehicles, finding few useful items among them, but marveling at the strangeness of so many vehicles all submerged and useless. Alex couldn’t stop wondering about them. How long had they been here? It had to be many years. And where did they come from—Quill? It seemed impossible that any of the islands Alex had visited in the chain had enough material and machinery to manufacture these complex vehicles. Were the vehicles created by magic somehow? But if Mr. Today had created them magically, why did they work so poorly in Quill? And why didn’t Artimé have any?
Puzzled and tired, Alex swam to the surface, only to find the skies growing black and the sky sparking with lightning. As Alex swam toward the shore, thunder rumbled and the wind whistled around his head. “Florence,” he called, “tell everyone to come on shore and find shelter. It’s too dangerous.”
Florence summoned the Artiméans and everyone began swimming back to land. As Alex neared the shore, he saw Copper waving and jumping from the top deck of their ship. He could barely make out her raspy shouts, but he could tell she was alarmed. He ran deftly across the rocky shore toward her. Sky wasn’t far behind.
Copper began using hand motions to communicate with Sky.
Sky caught up with Alex and translated as they ran. “She says the man I saw earlier is stealing something.”
“We don’t have much to steal,” Alex muttered. They rounded the curve of the ship and stopped short when they saw a short, thin man tugging fruitlessly on the toolbox. The man looked very old, his olive skin set with deep wrinkles, but he didn’t seem terribly fragile for his age. He wore black-rimmed cat-eye glasses and a floppy sun hat on his head, despite the weather. There was no way he could carry the heavy box of tools, yet he kept trying to drag it. He was going nowhere.
Alex looked at Sky and raised an eyebrow.
She flashed a crooked half smile, and the two communicated without words, like they’d done many times in the past. The man was harmless, and they both understood it. Sky touched Alex’s arm. “Shall I talk to him?”
Alex nodded. He felt the familiar flutter in his stomach at Sky’s touch, and it made him miss their friendship even more. He had to get things back to the way they were when they spent so much time on the roof of the gray shack. He would give anything to have that again. Why did they have to complicate things by kissing? Though he admitted he liked that part too.
Sky approached the man, who hadn’t noticed them yet. She cleared her throat to announce her presence, and he still didn’t notice her—either that or he was ignoring her.
“Excuse me,” Sky said. “Sir, what are you doing?”
The man looked up. He didn’t seem afraid. He tilted his head and said something neither Alex nor Sky could understand.
“I’m sorry,” Sky said, speaking more slowly. “What did you say?” She wrapped her arms around herself to stay warm as the wind and rain beat down on them.
The man narrowed his eyes at Sky. He didn’t seem to notice the storm. He spoke rapidly, but neither of the Artiméans could understand a word.
Sky glanced at Alex, who shrugged. She turned back to the man and tried signing to him.
He regarded her curiously, then shook his head. He tried speaking again, slower this time. “Kore wa watashi no monodesu.”
“I’m afraid I don’t know what you are saying,” Sky said in a gentle voice. “Do you understand me at all?”
The man held up a finger and closed his eyes, a pained expression on his face, as if he were trying to recall something. When he opened his eyes, he tapped the box and said very slowly, “This . . . mine. Understand?”
This time Sky nodded, and she spoke slowly too. “This is your toolbox?”
The man smiled, revealing a mouth void of teeth. “Mine.” He pointed to the stern of the ship that Alex and Ms. Octavia had explored. “My ship.”
“Ah,” Alex said. “So you are stranded here?”
“Hai. Stranded.” He leaned in and, hesitating now and then, said, “I speak your language. Long time ago. I am old . . . must think for the words.” He tapped the side of his head. “But it comes back. You’ll see.”
Alex nodded. “I can understand you very well, sir. Thank you.”
By this time, the rest of the Artiméans had gathered, with Florence hanging back, keeping an eye on the island but also realizing that her looming presence might be a little intimidating. Still the man noticed her—she was impossible to miss. He pointed excitedly at her, looking at Sky, and asked, “Robot?”
Sky stared. “Um . . . what?”
“That is a robot?” the man asked, trying very carefully to sound out his words.
Sky shook her head and looked around. She didn’t know the word.
Lani pushed forward. “Wait. Did you say ‘robot’?”
When the man nodded, Lani covered her mouth and tried not to laugh. “No. Not a robot. Statue.”
Alex and Sky exchanged puzzled glances.
The man frowned. “Statue is alive.” He peered more closely at Lani, then looked at the ship. He pointed at it. “You are pirates?” He seemed extremely puzzled.
“No,” Lani said. “Not pirates. We just use the ship. Florence is a living statue. It’s . . . it’s magic, you see. . . .” Lani trailed off. Magic was hard to explain, and she didn’t know if the man understood.
The man’s face perked up. “Oh, magic!” He nodded. “Magic. So. This is why ship . . . arrives . . . on the land, like this. It is for you to fix.” He pointed to the pirate ship, clearly happy to finally make sense of how the damaged ship managed to be sitting entirely on land.
“Yes,” Lani said, tickled. “How do you know about magic? Can you do magic?”
“Me magic?” the ancient little man said, pointing to his wrinkled old chest. A gust of wind took his hat high into the air, and he laughed, unbothered by it. “No. I know magic from another visitor. Visitor I do not see in a long time. He comes through the magic tube. You know him? His name is Marcus Today.”
Another Tube
Wh-what?” Alex sputtered. “You knew Mr. Today? There’s a tube here?” Could this be their way home?
The little man held up his hand as the storm grew worse and a gust of wind sent Fox rolling across the ground. “Come quick,” the man said to them all. “I will show you.”
Alex exchanged looks with Florence and his friends, and they all nodded. The man seemed harmless and trustworthy.
The man trekked to a cluster of rocks not far inland, and held his hand out, presenting it. “Magic tube,” he said proudly.
Alex and Samheed ran to look inside the rock formation. There, indeed, were the remains of a tube, tilting slightly as if years of wind had begun to push it over. Its glass was opaque with salty grime from the sea. Moss grew on the floor of it, and a puddle of water collected in the lowest area. The panel was cracked and there were several holes in it where the directional buttons should be.
Alex’s heart sank. It was completely useless. “Very nice,” he said to the man. “Thank you for showing us.” He looked back at the others and gave a quick shake of the head. “Sorry, everybody. Not functional,” he said. “I wouldn’t have the first clue about how to fix it.” He squinted at it. “I’ll certainly give it a try, though.”
A blast of lightning split the sky and a howling wind sent Fox tumbling several yards. Henry ran to pick him up, and Kitten too, though being so small and low to the ground had kept her from sailing anywhere thus far.
The man beckoned the Artiméans to follow him. “Hour of calm is over,” he said, and his words were starting to come out more smoothly the more he spoke. “We must shelter from the hurricane.” With that he shielded his eyes and squinte
d toward the shore, looking longingly at the toolbox, and shook his head. “My box,” he muttered. He turned and moved quickly toward the center of the island, where the largest rock formations stood. The Artiméans exchanged glances once more. Faced with a choice between the worsening storm and the unknown, they chose the unknown and went after him.
When they reached the tallest rocks, everyone but Florence followed the man through a small, sheltered doorway into a large open room.
“I’ll stay out here,” Florence called out.
Alex came running back to the doorway, realizing Florence was too big to fit through it. He looked at her, concerned. “Are you sure?”
“The weather doesn’t bother me. If anything strange happens, yell, and I’ll rip these rocks out of my way so fast and be at your side in no time. But there’s no use destroying the poor man’s place unless it’s necessary.” She gave Alex a reassuring smile. “Besides, I can see and hear what’s going on inside that main room from here.”
Alex frowned. “Okay, if you say so,” he said.
“I do.”
Alex slowly turned and went back inside.
Off the main room were smaller, semi-closed nooks. The nooks were modest in size, but plentiful, which made the shelter feel quite spacious, yet cozy. There was easily enough room for thirty or forty people, Alex guessed. He looked around and automatically reached for a spell component in case they were being set up for an ambush. But the little man just stood and waited patiently, a wide grin on his face, as he watched the Artiméans look around. No one else appeared.
The entry room where they stood was by far the largest space they could see, and though there was no physical door that could be closed to shut out the storm, the wind and rain coming inside was vastly minimized by intricately positioned rock slabs outside.
While the others wandered through the shelter, Alex stood by the door and looked out, seeing the pattern of rocks that protected him from the elements. It was so cleverly designed that he quite wished he’d thought of it, and for a moment he longed to be back in Artimé, working on art for a change. He needed something creative to do. The voyage had gotten long and arduous, and now that they had rescued Copper, he just wanted to go home and draw things.
