Island of Shipwrecks

by Lisa McMann

  Sky walked past the nook and hesitated when she caught sight of him. A shadow passed over her face and she nearly continued on. But instead she asked gruffly, “Everything okay?”

  Alex turned to look at her. He shrugged. “Not really,” he said, surprising himself with the confession. He’d been increasingly positive in front of the team.

  Sky knit her brows. “What’s wrong?”

  Alex looked away, embarrassed. “Nothing. I don’t know why I said that.”

  “Oh.” She shuffled her feet, contemplating her plan of escape from the awkwardness, when he spoke again.

  “It’s fine really. I’m just frustrated,” he muttered. “I can’t create the flying carpet component without a loom, so if you happen to find one anywhere . . .” He shrugged again and his face got warm. “Stupid, I know. Never mind. I’m just in a weird funk. I’ll just . . . yeah. I think I’m tired. I’ll figure something out.”

  “Yeah. Okay,” Sky mumbled. She frowned at the floor, and then turned and slipped away.

  Alex watched her go, and then shook his head. “Stupid,” he muttered.

  » » « «

  By the end of a week, the Artiméans had grown accustomed to the schedule, and their days began running quite smoothly. During the hour or so of calm each day when Alex was outside, diving and pulling things from shipwrecks, he didn’t have time to think about much besides the task at hand. But when he was in the rock shelter, he had plenty of time to think about how senseless all this ship repair was without Simber there to get them safely on board.

  Where was he? Why wasn’t he back yet? Were they so far from home that it would take him this many days to make a round trip?

  Alex assumed that the cat’s keen eyes would have no trouble spotting the ship on the shore of this island, in spite of the raging storm, but what if Alex and the others had actually floated much farther off course than Simber expected? What if Simber couldn’t find them and was just flying aimlessly over the ocean? Or worse . . . what if something had happened to him? There was a time not long ago when Alex had foolishly thought Simber invincible. But he knew better now.

  Ishibashi, Ito, and Sato were ever gracious, giving the visitors plenty of space and privacy. But sometimes in the evenings, Ishibashi joined them around the fire.

  “I am hungry for your stories,” he said. “Do you have any?”

  Fox and Kitten had plenty, and with Simber gone, Fox could tell them without fear of reproach. The other Artiméans shared stories from their trip to the Island of Legends, much to Ishibashi’s delight. “A living-crab island,” he marveled again and again. “I can hardly believe it.”

  Something Ishibashi had said the first day they met stuck with Sky, and one night, before he could ask for stories, she said to him, “Tell us a shipwreck story. When did all the wrecks happen? Have you explored them?”

  “Yeah,” said Crow. “What about the vehicles that are all underwater? Where did they come from?”

  Ishibashi pursed his lips. He glanced down at his wrinkled old hands. “Where? That is a question indeed.”

  The Artiméans leaned in, and Florence poked her head inside the shelter to listen as well.

  Ishibashi pondered for a long moment, his face troubled. “I am reluctant to say,” he hedged. “I do not know exactly where the ship came from. There were no people on board when it wrecked. It was . . .” He seemed to struggle for the right word. “Abandoned,” he said finally.

  “No one on board?” breathed Crow. “You saw it happen?”

  “Hai. I did.”

  “So they must have jumped like we did,” Henry whispered. He turned back to Ishibashi. “What else do you know?”

  “Very little,” Ishibashi replied. “Ah, but I will tell you about the recent visitor who escaped,” he went on, as if he were trying to change the subject.

  “That’s actually what I was going to ask about,” Sky said. “You said he escaped?”

  “She,” Ishibashi said with a small smile. “A young woman. Like you.”

  Sky and Lani exchanged glances. “Was she alone?”

  “Yes,” Ishibashi said. “In a sailboat. She stayed only three days to repair it. A very nice girl. Quiet, intent on the task, and anxious to leave. I tried to tell her it wasn’t safe, but she said she had to get back to—” He faltered.

  “Back to where?” asked Fox, who lay at Ishibashi’s side.

  “Back to—” Ishibashi looked wildly around at the group, his smile gone. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I have said too much. I forget sometimes. . . .” He shook his head and feebly rose to his feet. “Old age. I must rest now.”

  Sky jumped to help him, but he smiled weakly and waved her off, then tottered to his room. When he had disappeared, Florence whispered loudly from the doorway, “What just happened?”

  “He forgot where the girl wanted to go,” Alex said.

  “I don’t think he forgot,” Samheed said, eyes narrowed. “Not the way he was acting. I think he didn’t want to talk about it.”

  Lani frowned. “There are only six places to go back to. How does anyone forget that?”

  “He seemed rather elusive,” Ms. Octavia agreed.

  “Mewmewmew,” said Kitten.

  Fox nodded at her. “True,” he said. “Ninety-six big ones. That’s old enough to forget things.”

  “I don’t know,” Alex said. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that the girl made it out of here. Just like we’re going to do.”

  He wanted to believe it. But the girl was a single person in a sailboat. He had a whole zoo full of people and creatures and statues, plus a giant ship to move. The task seemed insurmountable, yet he continued to mask his worry in front of the others. “Simber will be here any time now. And then we’re out of this wretched place.”

  Sky shot him a look, and Alex hurriedly turned away, knowing she didn’t believe a word of it.

  A Second Chance

  Progress outside on the ship was slow and purposeful. Inside, things were moving along at a quicker pace. Soon there was a backlog of material assembled and ready to repair the ship, and every day fewer scavengers were needed and more hands were on deck to patch things.

  But still there was no Simber.

  Alex buried himself in tasks to keep his mind occupied. Finally finished rolling preserve spell components, Alex set them aside. He would instill them with magic when his mind was fresh and he could concentrate. Instead he turned to his next indoor task. The moss.

  He stared at the huge fluffy pile that had been faithfully added to daily by the Artiméans, waiting for when Alex was ready to make the flying carpet components. Little did the castaways know the mage was losing sleep at night, silently begging Simber to hurry so he didn’t have to figure out how to accomplish this impossible task. Going back to try to fix the tube again seemed like a less bleak option at this point.

  He began to pull the moss apart and twist it into strands—perhaps braiding them would work, he thought. But try as he might, he couldn’t get the fragile material to braid tightly enough, and inevitably he ended up with a carpet that wasn’t strong enough to carry Fox, much less a human.

  Still, he kept up the farce, declaring he was nearly there with the design. “Just a few tiny kinks to work out,” he said whenever anyone asked about the progress. He even enlisted help from Ms. Octavia, but to no avail. Without a loom, she had nothing to offer.

  After a few days with no progress, Alex knew he’d have to confess the truth. He decided to go back to the drawing board one last time before breaking the news. But when he entered the nook where the moss awaited him, he saw something else sitting next to it.

  A tiny, makeshift loom.

  Alex looked all around, wondering who had created it, but everyone was busy with her own tasks. He wasted no time searching for the responsible party, and instead grabbed a handful of moss threads and got to work, fumbling as he tried to get used to the small size. Besides, he had an idea of who was responsible. And
it wasn’t Ms. Octavia.

  » » « «

  Late into the evening he stayed bent over the machine, amazed at the careful, beautiful construction made mostly from pieces of absolute junk. Only a true visionary could have imagined the final project with the variety of items contained in it: two auger shells left over from making the captain’s wheel, an old carpenter’s ruler broken into pieces, gears that looked like they came from a clock, a few pieces of metal, some driftwood, a number of thin sticks that were carefully whittled and completely smooth, and a length of gold chain cut into sections.

  After a dozen attempts and countless tiny adjustments to the loom and to the thickness of the moss threads, and a hundred restarts due to Alex’s own clumsy hands, Alex finally had a component prototype that he thought would work. Excited, he quickly instilled magic into it, and with fingers crossed, he cast it upon the ground. The tiny woven bit of moss expanded into a thick carpet. Alex sat upon it and commanded, “To the greenhouse!”

  The carpet lifted him off the ground and moved him out of the nook, flew a short distance, and then disappeared into thin air. Alex fell to the floor with a thud. “Oof,” he said.

  He heard a soft laugh from the nearby sleeping room, but he didn’t care—the carpet had carried him! The prototype was a success. The magic needed a little tweaking to make the carpet fly longer, and Alex had to figure out how to weave faster so it didn’t take him a million years to make enough for everyone, but those were easy tasks compared to creating the prototype. What a relief!

  He got to his feet and went back to the room with the moss—there was no time to sleep when things were going well.

  It was only a few minutes later when a shadow fell over the loom. Alex looked up. It was Sky, her hair tousled, sleep in her eyes.

  “You did it,” she said.

  “Thanks to you,” Alex said. “I don’t know how you did this, but it works.”

  “I’m sorry it’s so small.”

  “No—really. It’s perfect. It’s my fingers that are too big.” He pointed to the gold chain links. “Sky . . . please tell me this isn’t the bracelet from your mother.”

  Sky smiled, ignoring the question, and sat down next to him. “Here,” she said, reaching for the loom. “Let me show you a few tricks that can help you go faster.”

  The nearness of her after so long was almost overwhelming. Alex didn’t dare react for fear of Sky coming to her senses and leaving. Maybe she was sleepwalking. Or maybe she was just ready to forgive him. Alex tried to focus on what she was saying, but he could barely hear her over the pounding of his pulse.

  “Now you try,” she said, sliding the loom in front of him.

  Alex frowned as he leaned over the loom. The wind howled outside, but he’d grown so used to the near-constant storm that he didn’t hear it. He stared, unseeing, forcing himself to think of something other than Sky as he worked the machine. And of course the only other thing consuming his thoughts of late was Simber.

  His anxiety returned, and he fumbled with the threads. After a moment of struggle as he tried to fix his mistakes, Sky uttered a low “Hmm.”

  Alex looked up. “I’ll start over.”

  Sky was giving him that knowing look. She could always tell when he was preoccupied. “Mage problems again?” she asked softly.

  It was a tense subject between the two, or at least it felt that way to Alex. He cringed. “Sorry.” He looked at the perfect little green carpet that she had constructed. “Can you show me one more time?”

  He reached for some moss. Sky took half of it from him, worked it into threads, secured them on the loom, and demonstrated once more how to handle the loom so that Alex’s fingers wouldn’t get in the way. Then she took his hands and placed them into position, showing him how to do it himself.

  At her soft touch, Alex winced. He wanted to slip his fingers between hers. Instead he swallowed hard and nodded, though his mind was lost once more.

  He began fresh, but this time his moss fell apart. He picked it up and struggled again to weave. “I swear I did this all by myself once,” Alex said.

  Sky chuckled. “Yes, and it only took you what, seven hours? Just think—with my help, you might be able to cut it down to a couple.”

  Alex made a face, but knew she was right.

  After a moment of watching him, Sky nudged him and leaned closer. “You’re really not very good at this, Alex,” she whispered, her orange eyes mischievous. “And I thought you were good at everything.”

  Alex winced. “Clearly I have a looming weakness.”

  Sky snorted, and Alex reluctantly grinned.

  “I have a few other weaknesses too,” he said. “You might have noticed.”

  Sky smiled. She rested her hand on Alex’s knee for a brief moment. “I won’t tell the enemy.” She tilted her head and held his gaze.

  Alex pressed his lips together, and then the words he’d held in for so long finally tumbled out. “I’m sorry, Sky,” he said. “I really am. I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you about what was happening . . . you know, with me and being the head mage and everything. That wasn’t fair. I was wrong to treat you like that.”

  “Thank you. I accept your apology,” Sky said.

  “I miss . . .” His chest ached. “I miss the way we used to talk.”

  “Me too,” Sky said. “I miss it a lot. Shall we start doing that again?”

  Alex laughed and nodded. “Yes, I’d like that.”

  “Great,” said Sky. She sat up straight and slapped the floor next to the loom. “Now pay attention and learn how to weave your dumb carpets faster. I don’t have all night for you, you know.” She grinned and shoved a pile of moss at Alex. “And stop worrying about Simber.”

  “How did you—”

  “Please, Alex. I just know. And I get how your mind works. When it’s stuck on something, it won’t let go. I’ve seen you in action, remember?”

  “Do I ever,” Alex muttered.

  “Simber’s fine. He’s probably taking care of whatever problem Ms. Morning was having. She hasn’t sent any more seek spells, so I take that as a sign that all is clear. I’m sure Simber will turn up eventually. But even if he doesn’t, you can handle this without him. And you know what? I think you need to.”

  “Need to?”

  “You need to handle our escape without counting on Simber to save us, Alex. The endless waiting for Simber is just making everyone more anxious. We need a definitive plan.”

  Alex closed his eyes, a pained expression on his face. Eventually he sighed. “You’re probably right.”

  “Of course I am.”

  As he sat there contemplating the problem in a new light, Sky squeezed his arm. “I’m going to bed. You should too. We can work on this tomorrow.”

  She slipped away, and Alex felt a great weight lifting off his heart.

  Everything always felt so much better with Sky.

  Henry Helps Out

  At first, when Henry began following Ishibashi around, Crow tagged along, but he soon grew bored with the greenhouse, preferring to work on less delicate things like cutting wood and pounding nails. Henry, on the other hand, couldn’t get enough of his time with the scientist. He longed to spend all of his time in the greenhouse with Ishibashi, learning about the healing nature of plants, and how to breed them to make new strains.

  Before the Artiméans arrived, Ishibashi had been working on creating a new fruit and vegetable combination he called sweet applecorn, which grew in oblong pods on a stalk with a tuft of bright red leaves at the top. Ishibashi took a knife and sliced off one of the pods, then peeled back the edible husk, revealing a red-and-yellow-checkerboard vegi-fruit inside. He chopped it up and put it into a bowl, added a little bit of fresh diced onion, a few drops of avocado oil, and a squeeze of lime juice, and presented it to Henry, who declared it his new favorite food.

  Having no paper to write on, Henry could only take notes mentally and hope that he remembered everything he learned. Before bed he repeated
recipes and formulas to himself so they would stick in his brain better.

  One morning after the hour of calm was over and the Artiméans had brought the day’s scavenged leftovers into the shelter, Henry dried off and made his way as usual to the greenhouse to find Ishibashi. The old scientist was there like always, puttering around the plantings. On the floor was a large container that Henry had never seen before. He dropped to his haunches next to it and peered in. It was filled with water and a slimy-looking substance that glowed fluorescent blue. “Ishibashi-san,” said Henry, “what is this?”

  “Seaweed,” said the old man, not looking up. He crouched on the ground, watering some plants very carefully. He counted out the drops of water under his breath. “Also known as breakfast, for some. But do not taste it.”

  Henry crinkled up his nose. “I won’t. Do you guys eat this?”

  “Hai.” Ishibashi moved to the next plant. “It grows only on the leeward side of the island, where your whale takes shelter in the cove. She is a beautiful creature. I spoke to her today as I was out collecting the seaweed.”

  Henry sniffed. It smelled briny, but not terrible. “Do you like this stuff?”

  “Not really. Ito and Sato eat it as a scientific experiment. But it can be dangerous.”

  “What’s the experiment?”

  Ishibashi didn’t answer for a moment, concentrating on his plants and silently counting drops. “Life,” he said solemnly, looking up.

  Henry felt a shiver go down his spine. He could tell by the way Ishibashi spoke that this was a precious secret not to be shared. And as much as he wanted to know everything, he dared not ask more.

  But he couldn’t forget it.

  Every day thereafter, while Alex and the others worked on spell components, Henry made his way to the greenhouse. Ishibashi taught him about each plant: how to identify it, what its special properties were, and how it could be used to heal cuts and bruises or to ease pain. Henry recognized a few of the plants that were also native to Artimé.