“Look,” said Marina, swiveling her ears dismissively, “you’ve got all your fancy sound tricks. I just do the boring stuff. Like making sure the icicle falls and hits the owl on the head.”
“Well, who noticed that icicle in the first place?”
“Who squirmed and got us into that mess in the first place?” Shade sucked in his breath, scrambling for a reply, then saw Frieda circling back toward them.
“That was quick thinking,” the Silverwing elder told them. “Well done, you two.”
“Couldn’t have done it without her,” Shade said generously. “Oh, it was his idea,” cooed Marina. “I just helped.” Frieda smiled faintly. “So humble, both of you. It’s touching.” And she soared back ahead to the front.
Shade felt a wing jostle against his own, and turned to see Chinook inserting himself right between him and Marina. He sighed inwardly, moving over to make space for the bigger bat.
“Well, that was exciting,” said Chinook. “But you know, I could’ve fought that owl.”
“Go lick an icicle, Chinook,” Shade said, and pulled ahead. It wasn’t just that he wanted a break from Chinook—and Marina’s tinkly laugh—he really wanted to listen in on what Frieda, Icarus, and his mother were talking about. He could take someone else leading the way for a change, but he couldn’t stand the idea of being left out of anything important.
He nodded at Plato and Isis as he passed: He envied Chinook having both his mother and father with him. Sometimes he caught himself watching the three of them together during the day, huddled close, talking. Still, he was grateful his own mother wasn’t always circling back, asking if he was cold or hungry, or if his wing hurt—but secretly he had to admit he liked always being able to see her up ahead, just a few wingbeats away. Hanging back, he flared his ears, concentrating.
“… for the owls to break their hibernation, it’s worrying,” he heard Frieda saying.
“They’re awfully close to Hibernaculum,” Ariel said softly. “Do you think …” She trailed off, as if she couldn’t bring herself to finish her thought. What? Shade wondered anxiously. Did she think they’d attack Hibernaculum? But it was a secret place, wasn’t it? And not even the owls could attack a colony of sleeping bats. It was too cowardly….
“I fear they may be massing for war,” said Frieda gravely. “And if they choose to attack in winter, we’re all in terrible danger.”
“Bloodthirsty brutes.” Icarus’s voice was savage. “The Humans will help us fight them. That’s the promise of the bands. Nocturna’s Promise.”
Shade listened attentively, heart slamming against his ribs. Back at Tree Haven, Frieda had told him about Nocturna, the Winged Spirit of the night. Deep beneath the earth, in the echo chamber, Shade had seen the stories of the Great Battle of the Birds and the Beasts, and how the bats were banished to the night skies for refusing to fight. But Nocturna promised that one day they’d be allowed back into the sunlight, and wouldn’t have to fear the owls anymore. And the Human bands were a sign of that Promise: perfect, gleaming circles like the sun itself. That’s what Frieda and Cassiel believed, anyway. And Shade too.
“If the owls are making war,” said Icarus, “the Humans are our only hope. Cassiel knew it. That’s why he wanted to find this building.”
“When we get there,” Shade heard his mother ask carefully, “what is it we’ll find?”
“What do you think, Shade?”
He jolted in surprise as Frieda glanced back at him over her wing: She’d known he was there all along.
“I was wondering when you’d join us,” said his mother with a wry smile.
“Come forward,” Frieda said. “Cassiel’s your father, and we might not be on this journey if it weren’t for you. Or you, Marina.”
Shade turned to see Marina, keeping pace just behind him. So she’d been listening in too! Typical, not wanting him to know anything she didn’t! At first he felt a flash of annoyance, but was quickly ashamed. After everything she’d already done for him, she still wanted to help him find his father. And she wanted to know the secret of the bands as badly as he did. After all, he thought enviously, she’d once had one, before Goth had torn it from her forearm.
“What if Cassiel’s not there?” Ariel asked. Shade looked at his mother, aghast. Of course the same dark thought sometimes glinted in his own mind, but he always smothered it. Hearing his mother say it, he felt a current of panic go through him.
“But he’s got to be there,” he said, wanting to be reassured. “He has to be….” He saw Marina’s kind smile and stopped, feeling childish. All he knew was that his father was alive. Somewhere. It was only gut instinct that told him he’d be in the Human building.
“We should be prepared for disappointment,” said Frieda, “but let us hope for the best.”
A whisper of sound grazed Shade’s face, and he pricked up his ears, straining. “You hear that?” he said.
“Just the wind,” Marina said.
“No, it sounded like—”
“I hear it too,” breathed Frieda. “Yes. Voices.” Shade twitched his tall ears and banked sharply to the right, trying to chase the sound. It was definitely bat voices, but so faint, he couldn’t make out words. It was like being back in the echo chamber all over again, hearing those ancient currents of sound and trying to lock on before they slipped away.
“I’ve got it now too!” Marina said.
“And me!” That was his mother.
“Silverwings, follow,” he heard Frieda call out. Shade shut out the rest of the world and followed the voices. They were a little stronger now, all running together like an airborne river.
“Look!” he heard Icarus say.
Before them, the grassland fell away in a slow curve, and spread out on the valley floor was a dazzling pool of light and sound. All at once, the bat voices seemed to well up from this place, soaring through the air toward them—a mysterious chorus, confusing, but melodious and irresistibly beckoning.
“What’re they saying?” Marina asked in awe.
Shade shook his head. It was impossible to tell. What did it matter? “They want us to come,” he said excitedly. “That must be the Human building down there! Come on!”
Down into the valley he plunged, and now he could make out walls, a roofline soaring with glittering metal towers. The music of bat voices was so overwhelming now that it all seemed less like a building than something woven from dazzling sound itself. It was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen or heard.
This is what my father was searching for! There were answers here, Shade was certain now. Inside. That’s where the voices were coming from. And where his father was! So how do I get inside? The voices would lead him. He locked on, and let them pull him in closer.
With Marina at his wing tip, he skimmed over the vast roof. From its smooth, dark sheen he guessed it was glass, yet he could see nothing through it, not even a smudge of movement or glimmer of light.
Still, the voices pulled him on, to the far edge of the roof, and there the sound was so intense, it created a halo of blazing light in his mind’s eye. “It’s here!” he called out to the others.
Just under the roofline, high in the wall, was a round opening, and it was from here the bats’ voices were emanating. Without hesitating, he flew for it, braked, and landed inside. It was some kind of tunnel, and he was already hurrying down it on all fours.
“Shade, maybe we should wait….”
It was Marina, landing behind him.
“Come on, they’re all in here!” They wanted him to come, it was so obvious. He was supposed to come inside!
He scrambled down the tunnel, and then he felt the floor give way beneath him. The chorus of beautiful, melodious voices was abruptly extinguished. There was a powerful blast of warm air in his ears, and he tumbled straight down. Before he could even open his wings, or dig in with his claws, he was propelled through another opening. In a second his wings were unfurled and he was circling, staring in amazement at
what greeted him.
A VOICE IN THE CAVE
Goth limped through the sky.
For two nights he’d flown south, his lightning-scarred wings shrieking with every stroke. But at least there was no more wretched snow on the ground, and each night the air was slightly warmer. The landscape too was changing, flat and marshy. And now for the first time, he saw some familiar stars on the far horizon, bits of constellations he had grown up with in the jungle. His heart leaped. It wouldn’t be long now before he was back home among the other Vampyrum Spectrum. In the sacred temple, he would pray to Cama Zotz, and be healed.
For now, his mangled wings made him slow, clumsy, and much of his prey escaped him. Still, he managed to catch enough to survive: a dopey but well-fed mouse; a nesting sparrow hidden beneath a canopy of branches. One night he’d been so hungry, he’d even eaten a few insects, and nearly gagged in disgust. It was bats he craved, as always, but he’d seen very few, and he didn’t know if he was fast enough to catch them in his weakened state.
He was wary now in the night skies, and he hated that. Before being struck by lightning he was fearless, a master of the night; but now he was a crippled creature. He didn’t relish the prospect of having to fight an owl right now.
And he was even more worried about the Humans.
They’d been looking for him. Once before, they’d tracked him down in their flying machine, and shot at him with sleeping darts. And just a few nights ago, he’d thought he’d heard the rhythmic chopping of their machine, and he’d waited breathlessly, deep in a tree, until the sound had passed.
Shade and Marina, those two puny northern bats—they had brought this calamity upon him. They probably thought he was dead, like Throbb. If anyone deserved to be incinerated by lightning, it was Throbb. At least Goth wouldn’t have to listen to his whining anymore.
The eastern sky was starting to brighten, and Goth swept the landscape with sound, looking for shelter. In a rocky hill, he found a crevice and gratefully flew for it. Inside, using his echo vision, he saw he was in a vast network of caves. Delighted, he flew deeper, and rather than getting colder, the air warmed, until a delicious tropical heat surrounded him. It was coming, he could tell, from vents in the stone floor, as if from the earth’s core. How long it had been since he’d felt this warm!
He probed the roof of the caves with sound—strange that there were no bats roosting here. It seemed a natural place for them. He’d been hoping for a good meal. But he was too warm to feel very disappointed.
He wanted to go deeper into the caves, deeper and lower, lured by the warmth—and something else that beckoned at the very fringes of his mind. What was it, this sense of being drawn? His eyes were so heavy, he wanted sleep, and yet he flew on. Would it take him to the very Underworld?
It was so dark here, and he flew by sound alone, eyes drooping shut. Finally he reached a large, round cave with no other passages leading from it, and he hung, exhausted, from the wall, sleep taking him instantly in its silken wings.
“Goth.”
The whisper coiled around his head.
“Goth.”
“Here I am,” he said drowsily. Was he asleep or awake? Then he stiffened. Who was there? Just the voice of sleep, maybe. But cold electricity coursed through his body, and his fur lifted. His eyes were open but saw nothing. In the impenetrable blackness of the cave, everything was sound—the corrugated rock walls and ceiling glimmering silver in his head. But there was something else he was seeing now with his mind’s eye, a kind of current that swirled slowly, hypnotically through the cave. A current of pure sound.
He watched in awe as it filled the cave, swirling, never still. His heart thundered.
“Where are you going?” the voice whispered.
“Home,” he said. “To the jungle.”
Sound pictures were painting themselves on the walls and roof like moving hieroglyphs. A jaguar, a feathered serpent, a pair of unblinking eyes without pupils. “Who am I?” the voice asked, grazing his ears. Goth’s body felt icy. He knew, yet he wanted to be sure. He wanted proof. “Show me,” he said boldly.
Laughter rumbled through the room. “Not until the sun is dead, Goth, then you will see me in my full glory.”
“The sun, dead?” he asked in confusion.
“Who am I, Goth?”
“I know you,” he said, and faltered, suddenly afraid to utter the name, now that he was in his very presence.
“Tell me.”
He swallowed. “Cama Zotz.”
“Yesssss,” came the slithery reply. “The Humans are chasing you.”
“I know. But they won’t catch me.”
“Let them.”
“But they are our enemies, Lord Zotz. They treated me like a slave; they mock you.”
“They think they are using you, but you will be using them.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You will.”
Goth said nothing for a moment.
“Are you my servant, Goth?” The voice, no longer soothing, cut into his ears, slashing light through his head. “Yes, Lord Zotz.”
“Do my bidding, then, and you will be king.”
And then it was as if all the sound was suddenly sucked out of the cave, all the silvery echoes dissolved, and Zotz was gone. Goth was alone. His breathing calmed. The silence was so total, he wondered if he had only dreamed his conversation.
Let himself be caught by Humans—it made no sense! These were the Humans who had trapped him in his homeland and brought him north to their artificial jungle and imprisoned him. The Man, always watching him, stabbing him with his darts. Was he to return to that? What good could it do?
He shook his head, and cast echoes around the empty cave. He’d had dreams before, and visions too. But none so vivid, none where he’d felt Zotz’s breath on his face, seen the very swirls of his presence. Could Zotz really find him so far north? Maybe it was nothing but a confused dream. Already it seemed unreal.
He could fight sleep no longer. He plunged down into blazing dreams of the jungle, so real that he could smell the soil, the damp stone of the royal pyramid. All around him soared the Vampyrum, but they looked smaller somehow, leaner, and there was something wrong with the jungle too, the trees and creepers and fronds all charred and smoking.
He bobbed in and out of sleep, wrapped in his dreams. He lost all sense of time. He heard his own voice crying out in pain, and was aware of angrily ripping off the Human bands that festooned his forearms. Or was he just dreaming it? All but one of the bands tore free, and that was the one the Man had put on him back in the artificial jungle. That one he could not tear free.
Dreaming again: And this time, Shade was caught in his claws, pinned to the ground. “I will eat your beating heart,” Goth told him. He opened his jaws wide and lunged.
He woke. And this time he knew he was fully and truly awake. How long had he slept? A second, a day? He couldn’t even guess. He shifted his wings and noticed instantly how different they felt. He cast a wash of sound over them, and looked.
All the Human bands, but one, were gone.
And his wings were healed.
Goth flew from the cave and cut tight circles in the air, scanning the horizon. South. The jungle, his home. His whole being pulled him back there.
But Zotz’s words echoed in his head.
He must be obedient. He was a prince of the royal family, the Vampyrum Spectrum, and must follow the orders of the bat god. And what of this promise to be king?
He opened his wings, testing them. Incredible. Before, they’d been scarred and seared, the skin melted away from the bone in places. He’d thought he’d never be whole again.
Now healed.
Only Zotz could have performed such a miracle.
Zotz gave him his strength back so he would do his bidding. Zotz had always looked over him: in the artificial jungle, in the thunderhead when lightning struck.
He angled his wings and flew north.
He knew it would
n’t be long before the Humans caught him.
PARADISE
It was summer.
Forest stretched as far as Shade’s eyes and ears could see. Not the icebound forest he’d just left behind, but forest in full leaf: maple, elm, beech, oak, hemlock, their foliage creating a lush canopy. Wildflowers twined themselves through the branches, and Shade could smell ripening fruit. Far below, he heard the ripple of a stream. The air was silky and warm, fragrant with bark and soil, and absolutely teeming with insects. Just hearing them made his mouth water. But how could it be so warm in the middle of winter? Where was he? In confusion he looked overhead. The familiar stars glittered in a brightening sky.
But you’re not outside, he had to tell himself. You’re inside. He realized he was seeing the night sky through a glass roof—the same roof that, outside, had bounced back his echo vision, as hard as stone.
He swirled in midair as Marina shot through the same portal he’d come through. Then, in twos and threes, the other Silverwings burst into the forest, and Shade noticed there was some kind of metal flap that automatically opened and then snapped shut behind them. Soon, the whole group had arrived and was circling in amazement above the forest canopy.
“Is it real?” Marina breathed, flying alongside him.
“Smells real,” Shade said, and cautiously dipped toward a treetop, batting a leaf with his wing tip, and then settling on a branch. He dug his claws into wood. “Feels real too.”
It was incredible, a living forest inside a building! After the fierce winter cold, he felt his bones begin to thaw; he felt lighter.
Suddenly a tiger moth flashed past his nose, setting his ears alight, and he couldn’t resist.
“Shade!” he heard his mother call behind him, but he was already off, spinning down into the trees after his prey. Jubilantly he homed in, ignoring the barrage of echoes the tiger moth sprayed out to confuse him. Closer, closer, and he braked, scooping the moth up with his tail and volleying it into his open mouth. After weeks of snow fleas and caterpillar cocoons, it tasted so good, he almost passed out.