He reached the surface, slipping and lurching as it shifted beneath him, then turned his attention to helping Marina and the others up. Within a minute they were all assembled in a tight group, perched precariously atop the floor of bones. “Is this the place?” Cortez asked Ishmael.
Shade turned to look at Ishmael and saw he was trembling so hard, his legs almost buckled. He gave a quick, violent nod, mute with horror.
The entire floor of the long chamber was buried under bones, a testament to centuries of feeding. The stink of putrification was intense. The bones at the surface still had a slick sheen to them, some muscle and sinew still clinging. Shade felt a spasm of fear. His father’s bones, somewhere here, buried in all this?
He tore his gaze away from the bones and swept the narrow chamber with sound. They seemed to be at its far end. Running down both walls were the rectangular stone mounds Ishmael had described, maybe a dozen in each row, the closest no more than ten feet away. Their outsides were ornate, studded with jewels and carved with figures that, with a shudder, Shade recognized all too well: a feathered serpent, a black jaguar. He let his gaze move higher, and almost cried out in shock. The walls were made of skulls.
They were human skulls this time, stacked one atop the other up to the very ceiling. With his echo vision, Shade saw their eye sockets flare black, their jaws wide as if to shout: Intruder! We see you! We hear you!
Cortez was giving orders.
“This tunnel,” he said, nodding to the shaft they’d just ascended, “is our life. If we lose it, we lose our retreat. I want it well guarded.” He nodded at two of his guards. “Mark this spot, keep it clear, and be ready when we return.”
“Yes, General.”
“I want two airborne guards to fly to the end of the chamber and keep watch. You, and you.” He nodded at Ariel and Caliban.
Shade looked at his mother in alarm. The idea of being separated from her …
“No arguments,” said Cortez. “I need two bats who can do what I ask. Ishmael’s too weak, and the young ones”—his eyes swept from Marina to Shade—”I don’t trust. Too willful.” He looked back at Ariel and Caliban. You’re our advance alarm. You see or hear anything approaching the chamber, you let us know.”
“It’s all right,” Ariel whispered to Shade, “I’ll be back. Please, do what he tells you.”
“Okay,” said Shade, watching her rise in the air and fly off on silent wings toward the chamber’s far end. Cortez was talking to Ishmael now.
“Do you remember which mounds the bats and rats were in?” The bat shook his head. “I’m sorry.”
“Very well.” Cortez looked at Shade and Marina. “Take flight with Ishmael and stay above us as we move. Be my eyes, the three of you. Probe the darkest corners. You see anything move, I want to know. We’ll check each mound in turn. Advance.”
Shade was grateful to open his wings and lift clear of the bones. He stayed close to Marina and Ishmael as they circled above the rats. Cortez and his guards seemed to have less trouble on the bones than he did; quick and agile, they leaped from spot to spot, heading for the first stone mound.
Shade skimmed over it, ears pricked. A mournful warble passed through the stone lid. He veered back to Cortez.
“Owls in that one,” he said.
“I can smell them,” said one of the guards, face crumpling in disgust.
“Move on,” said Cortez without hesitation. Shade considered saying something, but Cortez fixed him with a hard look. He pictured Orestes being dragged through the sky by the jungle bat. It seemed too cruel to let him die when they could save him just like the others. “Move on, Silverwing,” said Cortez. “We have little time.” Up ahead, one of the rat guards called out excitedly, “I can hear them!”
Crossing the chamber and dropping lower, Shade could now hear it too, the muffled squeak of rat language emanating from within the stone mound. On the far side of the mound, Shade found the blocked portal Ishmael had described.
“Over here,” he called out, settling beside it with Marina. The rats reached them within moments. The door was a crudely chiseled round stone, hugely thick. It was slotted into grooved ledges above and below, and there was a narrow hole in the very center through which funneled the sound of rats.
Standing on his hind legs, General Cortez pressed his face against the hole and said, “We’ve come to free you. Be silent.”
“There should be a stick,” Ishmael was saying, “to open it.” Shade scoured the bone-strewn floor, looking for a stick narrow enough to fit into the hole.
“Is that it?” asked Marina. Shade turned and followed her gaze high up the wall to the racks of Human skulls. Balanced atop a row of skeletal teeth was a long, stout stick.
“We’ll get it,” said Marina, and she was flying, Shade right behind her. He didn’t like being so close to the skulls, and felt that same uneasy premonition he had earlier—that there was a presence in this room, watching over them. He and Marina grabbed opposite ends of the stick in their claws and awkwardly flew it down to the stone mound.
Cortez and his rats took hold of it and slotted it into the round stone.
“Roll it,” the General grunted, and four rats lined up on their rear legs, pushing with all their might. The stone remained fixed for several long seconds, and then with a low rumble began to turn. It quickened as it gained momentum, and within seconds the opening was clear.
Wasting no time, rats surged out, their eyes wild with disbelief. There were dozens of them, mostly young or old, easy victims for the jungle bats, though there were a few strong soldiers clearly weakened by their ordeal. General Cortez stood tall, eyes flicking from one rat to the next, searching. Then Shade saw his whole face lift, and he dropped to all fours and surged through the crowd.
“My son,” said Cortez, pushing his face against the young male’s.
Shade stared, transfixed, and desperately wanted this moment for himself.
When the last of the rats had left the mound, Cortez wasted no time. He turned to two of his guards. “Escort them back to the tunnel now.” Then to Shade and Marina, he said, “Now let us find your friends so we can leave this blighted place.”
Up in the air again, Shade cut wide arcs across the chamber’s width, ears flared and swiveling for bat song.
“That one, I think,” Ishmael said beside him, tilting his chin. Shade swung down toward the mound, but even as he grazed its roof, he couldn’t hear even the faintest of squeaks.
“Yes,” said Ishmael, “I’m sure this is it.”
“Find the door,” said Marina.
The door was around the far side, but the stone was already rolled fully back, revealing the opening. “Can’t be it,” said Shade, landing.
“No,” whispered Ishmael in horror, “this is it. I remember the markings above the door.”
With mounting panic, Shade stuck his head through the opening. He called out sound and saw that the chamber was indeed empty. But his nose told him more. He could smell the warmth of the bats, and the gouged and bloodied stone walls still echoed with their cries.
Frantically, Shade backed out of the mound, knocking into Marina in his haste. “They were just here!”
Ishmael was still aloft, unable to bring himself any closer to his former prison. “They must’ve already taken them up,” he said. The rest hung in the air, unsaid. Up to the temple, up for sacrifice.
“What is it?” General Cortez asked, catching up to them and frowning at the already open door.
“Too late,” Shade wheezed. “We’re too late. We’ve got to go after them!”
“No,” said Cortez, “that’s impossible.”
“You got your son back!” Shade said. “Let me get my father back.”
For a moment the general looked as if he might falter, but his face hardened almost instantly. “Remember what I said before. We will not launch an attack. You’ve done all you can. It’s too late for them now. I’m sorry, but we make our retreat now! Go and tell Caliban and yo
ur mother. We’re leaving.”
A low, subterranean rumble shook the chamber, making all the bones on the floor clatter together horrifically. Dirt rained down from the ceiling, and then a slow sigh passed through the air, rustling Shade’s fur.
“What was that?” said Marina, lifting warily from the ground.
“Earthquake,” said Cortez. “Hurry, we’re retreating.” But Shade knew this was no simple earthquake. The presence he’d felt with them all along was making itself known. He looked up into the darkness of the high chamber and thought he saw a pair of eyes open and then close, disappearing into blackness.
Two guard rats, fur matted with dirt, faces streaked with blood, limped toward them, gasping.
“General, the tunnel!”
“Collapsed,” croaked the other rat. “I don’t know what happened. There was a noise, like rolling water, and then the roof was caving in and there was nothing we could do. We lost the tunnel mouth completely. Three were buried alive when it went.”
“Did any get through?” Cortez asked quickly.
“Maybe half; they might be safe on the other side, but everyone else is still inside the chamber.”
“My son?” said Cortez.
“He’s alive, but he didn’t make it through. He’s with us here. The tunnelers are already at work, trying to reopen the passage.” Shade swallowed. Their retreat was cut off. They were trapped inside. Ishmael’s flanks heaved wildly for air; it was too much for him, the idea of dying here.
“We’ve got to get out,” he said, his voice becoming dangerously shrill. “We’ve got to!”
“It’s all right,” Marina said soothingly, trying to quiet him. “They’ll tunnel through, don’t worry.”
“I’ll go get Mom and Caliban,” said Shade to Marina. “Go back to the tunnel mouth.”
She looked at him closely. “You’re coming back, aren’t you?”
“Yeah.”
“Shade?”
“I’m coming back.”
“Because if you’re going somewhere, it’s not without me.”
“It’s okay,” he said, and he lit, flying low through the chamber toward its far end, where a pale wash of light cut the darkness slightly. He didn’t dare call out, but only used his echo vision, sweeping the walls and ceilings for his mother.
And there she was, flying toward him at breakneck speed, Caliban at her side.
“They’re coming!” Caliban said. “We’ve got to leave now.” His heart pumped with panic. He wheeled tightly and raced with them back through the chamber.
“Have they found him?” his mother panted, and he knew she meant Cassiel.
“No,” he said bluntly. “We’re too late. They’re already gone.” She said nothing, just kept on flying. By now everyone was assembled at the chamber’s far end, where they’d entered. The freed rats cowered anxiously as Cortez’s remaining tunnelers tried to dig a way out.
“The jungle bats are coming!” Caliban said.
“How many?” Cortez asked.
“Lots,” Ariel said. “They’re coming from above, from the spiral steps. I shot up sound and all I could see were wings and teeth.”
“They’re coming back for more victims,” said Ishmael. Cortez looked down into the shaft of bones. “How much longer?”
“Ten minutes.”
“They’ll be here in one,” said Caliban.
Shade looked at the general. “We’ve got to release the owls.”
“They stay where they are!” said Cortez, baring his teeth at him. “I won’t be slaughtered by owls!”
“With them fighting, we’ll at least have a chance! I know one of them, let me talk to him!”
Shade looked at the far end of the chamber, jabbing sound as far as he could into the distance, waiting for the first silvery flarings of giant cannibal wings. “We don’t have much time,” he said.
“He’s right, General.” It was Caliban. “We need allies now. The rats are too weak to fight, most of them.”
Cortez twitched his whiskers in annoyance. “Quickly, then, but only if they agree to our truce.” He flicked his head at two guards. Come with us.”
Shade led the way over to the stone mound that held the owls. Marina found the stick perched atop a row of skulls and helped Shade drive it into the hole.
With the rats on their hind legs pushing, and Shade, Marina, and Ariel driving against it using their wings, the stone door began to move quickly.
“Stop!” called Cortez when it was open just a crack. “Speak to your friend, Silverwing.”
“Orestes!” he called into the mound.
He waited for the surprised hoots to subside, hoping desperately that Orestes was still alive. He had no idea how he would talk to the other owls, convince them to a truce.
“Who is that?” came Orestes’ voice, and then Shade saw half his face pressed against the opening. “Shade Silverwing?”
“We’re letting you out, but you’ve got to make the others promise not to attack us, rats or northern bats. We don’t have much time, Orestes.”
From inside the prison he could hear Orestes speaking hurriedly in an unrecognizable owl language. In a moment, Orestes was back at the opening.
“You have their word,” Orestes called back. Shade looked at Cortez, and he nodded.
“All the way!” the general shouted, and they rolled the stone back.
Orestes ducked through the opening. “Thank you,” he said. “No, you’ll have to fight your way out,” Shade told him hurriedly.
“You’ve given us a chance at life,” said Orestes.
“We have a common enemy!” shouted General Cortez as the owls began to push their way out from the stone mound. “The cannibals have broken all laws of the jungle, they have taken more than they need for food for their dark sacrifices. They have stolen our children, our mates. Let each of us do what we can to survive!”
Shade never thought he’d be glad to see so many owls, but he was, as dozens emerged into the chamber. Though many were still downy with youth, he took some reassurance in their sheer size, their hooked beaks, and muscular chests. Now they had a fighting chance!
Shade heard the discordant creak of many wings in the distance. “They’re coming,” he said.
“Is that the only way out?” asked a large male owl with a brilliant white corona around each eye.
“We tunneled in from the east,” said Cortez, but our retreat has caved in. Even if we reopen it, I fear it’s not big enough for you.”
“So be it,” said the owl. “There is only one way for us. We will fight them head-on. Let us all have luck.”
Shade cast sound into the distance and sucked in his breath. A jagged thrashing of wings and teeth was moving toward them. But a slithering noise directly overhead pulled his focus back. “Did you hear that?” he asked Marina. She was looking overhead, puzzled. “What is it?” Cortez demanded. “Don’t know …” said Shade. “I don’t see anything.” But he knew, he knew they were being watched. He could practically hear the breathing now. His eyes were drawn instinctively to the rows upon rows of human skulls. Could they be alive by some infernal magic, their mouths about to shriek, their eyes blaze? Their eyes.
Beyond the lifeless sockets of the skulls were real eyes. Then a smudge of dark movement. Hair, a flash of leathery wing. They’ve been watching us all along. “They’re in the skulls!” Shade shouted.
From the open jaws lunged long snouts and heads. Large, moist bodies dragged through. The cannibal bats unfolded themselves, clinging to the skulls’ surfaces, flaring their massive wings. They lit, circling high in the chamber, their numbers growing until they were like a roiling thundercloud.
“Look, bones to add to bones,” Shade heard one say in a voice thick with phlegm.
When they attacked, slashing down upon them like black lightning, it was unlike anything Shade had ever known or imagined.
His whole world contracted to the inches around his body as he veered and rolled to avoid gushing jaws and
flexed claws.
He heard a powerful beating of wings and knew that must be the owls, launching their assault. The noise was indescribable, the shrieking, the percussive thud of a thousand wings in action, screams of pain—it all seered into his head and clouded his echo vision. It was like flying half-blind.
He was alone. Where was Marina? Ariel? Wings flashed all around him. Something lashed against him and he bit it, and was rolling again.
He saw his mother being dragged through the air in the claws of a cannibal, and their eyes met for a second but there was nothing to say, nothing he could do, because there were teeth snapping at his own tail and he could only follow his body’s lead and flip and tilt and dive to stay alive.
“Into the bones!” he heard someone cry, and then again, “Into the bones!”
And then he realized it was Cortez. Shade banked, could see the rats slinking down into the sea of bones for cover, making their way slowly back toward the tunnel mouth. He dove and plunged beneath the surface, wings drawn over his face for protection as bones knocked against him.
He opened his eyes, kept still, tried to get his bearings.
A set of claws clenched into the bones, lifting femurs and skulls away, trying to flush him out. He scuttled on, deeper. He saw hair, a body, in front of him. “Hey!” he hissed.
It was Caliban.
“We’re going back to the tunnel,” the mastiff whispered, dragging himself on. Shade saw that his right wing was badly torn. “It’s the only chance. Got to dig ourselves out.”
“They’ve got my mother!”
“Get to the tunnel!” Caliban said, refusing to meet his eyes.
“Where’s Marina?”
“I don’t know.”
Marina trembled violently among the bones, staring at the space where, just a second before, Ariel had been. She’d seen the claws come down, plunge into Ariel’s shoulders, and haul her up and away. More bones clattered nearby, and she could see the talons stabbing down all around her. She’d be next. Where was Shade?
Her eyes fixed on a splintered thighbone, its end viciously spiked. She gritted her teeth and gripped it in her forearms. A huge hole was suddenly scooped out before her, and she recoiled. The cannibal bat thrashed its wings overhead, and then folded them, ready to drop on top of her.