Island of Shipwrecks (11 page)

“Not out there.”

“Right, right. No, of course not. We'd all get swept away.” He squinted. “Well then what?”

“I don't know.”

“I can try to put it on land, you know.”

Florence tapped her lips with her finger. “So you can. I'd forgotten about the transport spell.”

Alex sized up the land nearest the water, trying to figure out if there was a flat enough spot on the shore for the ship, and then he looked back at the wreck. “I don't know if it'll all come in one piece, though, if it's a complete split.”

“I fear it is, or it's close, anyway—look at the angle. It can't
be held together by much, if anything. We'll have to try it and hope for the best.”

“Yeah, that spell is a little finicky,” Alex said, remembering how hard it had been to find Spike when he'd transported her to the water. “I'll do what I can to land it in a good place. I just hope . . .” He trailed off, wondering what sort of mess it would be if he had to transport it in pieces, and whether they'd end up anywhere near each other. He decided to put that out of his mind. “You know,” he said, “if we can find a rope, I bet we can attach one half to the other with it. That way it'll technically be one piece.”

“Good thinking, kid,” Florence said. “You're smarter than you look.” She grinned. “We may as well try now while no one's wandering about to get crushed to death.”

Alex laughed. He was really starting to enjoy Florence's sense of humor, and he liked it when she teased him. It made them feel like friends. “You should take cover then too—or better yet, will you carry me out there so I don't have to get wet again now that it seems to have stopped raining for the moment? My skin is shriveling up.”

“Oh, sure,” she said drily. “
Now
you let me carry you, when
there isn't any danger. Stubborn mages. You're all alike.”

“Sorry,” Alex said sheepishly.

“Shall I clear an area on the beach so you can aim for it?”

“That would be excellent.”

While Alex ran back to the shelter to tell everyone to stay there for a while, Florence quickly uprooted a few scraggly bushes and tossed several large boulders out of the way near the flat, open area of the beach. She approached the remains of an old fishing boat that had somehow made it through the maze of jutting rocks and all the way to the mainland before wrecking. After peering inside it, she carefully picked it up and moved it to another area, leaving behind a small army of crabs scuttling across the wet sand. When she was finished, she met up with Alex again, hoisted him up to her shoulders, and set off through the rough water to their ship.

“You know, we used to climb on you when you were frozen,” Alex confided. “You happened to be standing in a very convenient spot when the magic disappeared.”

“Is that so?” Florence said. She narrowed her eyes. “Who is we?”

“Oh, me and Sean and Carina and Sky and Mr. Appleblossom—”

“What? Siggy, too? I-I'm actually somewhat embarrassed by this information.”

“It wasn't for fun, believe me. It was to get to the roof of the gray shack so we could escape from the masses of people and try to figure out how to fix things. I never thought I'd tell you—we were so scared you'd come back alive while we were climbing on you. We didn't know what you'd do to us.”

Florence chuckled. “Well in that case, I'm glad I could be of some use.”

By the time they reached the rocks where the pirate ship rested, Alex had scrambled to the top of Florence's head to stay dry. She grabbed on to a boulder, found a foothold, and pulled herself up out of the water, finding a place to perch on the rocks that had split the pirate ship.

Alex stood on Florence's shoulders, reached for the ship, and peered over the railing. There wasn't much left inside, but he spied a few ropes floating there, attached to the ship at one end. He reached out for one, grabbed it, and climbed deftly along the inside of the ship to a spot where Florence
could take it. He handed off the rope to her. She quickly wound it around the mast on the other half of the ship and tied it tightly. They did the same on the other side.

“There,” Florence said. “Now the two pieces are connected.”

Alex scrambled back out of the ship to climb on Florence's shoulders again. Once settled, he leaned out and touched the side of the ship. “I can see some of our water containers tied up,” Alex said, relieved. “Let's get this ship on shore.”

“Sounds good.”

“Are you ready?” he asked. He took a deep breath.

“Whenever you are, but take your time. There's no need to rush. Focus on that open spot on the beach.”

“I know.” He realized all too well that if the ship didn't transport properly, they could end up with nothing but an unfixable mess. After a moment of panic at the gravity of the situation, he shoved the fear aside and removed all other thoughts from his mind. He focused intently on the open space on land. He made sure he had his hand firmly placed on the ship's side, and then, in an intense whisper, he said, “Transport.”

Both halves of the ship vanished.

Florence and Alex whipped their heads around to scan the
shore. An instant later the battered vessel appeared almost exactly where Alex had intended it to land. Upright, and nearly perfectly placed. Seawater gushed out of it onto the sand.

“Yes!” Alex shouted, pumping his fist in the air.

Florence held a hand up in triumph. “You did it! All in one piece—just barely, thanks to the rope idea. Nice work.” She climbed down the rock into the sea with Alex crouched on her head to stay dry, and began the walk back to shore. When they reached land, Alex gave a shout. The others came running to see the ship and assess the damage. Alex slid off of Florence's shoulders and landed with a thud on the ground.

“Oh my,” Copper said, peering at it. Her voice was still a bit raspy from the thorn necklace she'd worn up until her recent rescue. “I wonder if it's something we can fix.”

She came up to the broken edge of the ship and took an expert look all around inside. She'd worked on plenty of Queen Eagala's ships on Warbler.

Florence joined her. “I think so,” she said. She reached inside the ship and began loosening the knots that held the containers of freshwater, then brought the containers out and placed them in front of the thirsty humans.

As they drank in careful, measured sips, Florence glanced at the variety of shipwrecks poking up out of the water nearby or crashed onto the rocks. “We'll need a little help. We don't have any tools. We're also missing some really important items, like the sails, rigging, ship's wheel, a rudder . . . and plenty of material to patch this thing. We're going to need to scavenge some of these shipwrecks to find what we need.”

Sky flashed her mother an adventurous smile. She and Crow knew quite a bit about shipbuilding too.

At the word “scavenging,” Samheed and Lani looked at each other and grinned.

Henry and Crow both stopped in their tracks and looked at Florence, eyes wide. “What did you say?” Crow asked. “We get to explore the wrecks?” He could hardly contain his excitement.

“You swimmers can scavenge,” Copper said. “I'll stay on shore and help Florence. I'm glad to finally be able to do something to help after all you have done for me.”

“I'll be glad to have your help,” Florence said.

Ms. Octavia seated Captain Ahab nearby to rest and watch, and then joined the humans to figure out their work plan.
But soon a peal of thunder rattled the sky and rain pelted the ground, leaving tiny, perfect divots in the pods of drying sand. The wind shifted and began to swirl around them. The short reprieve from the storm was apparently over.

Sky ignored the storm. She scurried toward a wreck a little ways offshore to explore. But just as she ran through the wind and rain, something caught her eye near the center of the barren island. She stopped short and looked more carefully. It was a small person, raggedly clothed, standing still and watching them.

Sky gasped. The figure disappeared behind a rock.

She turned back to the ship. “Alex? Florence?” she called out softly. “We're definitely not alone on the this island.”

A
aron realized the best way to show General Blair that he was serious was to start tearing the wall down immediately—but that wasn't necessarily the best way to go about it from the perspective of the high priest of Quill. So the morning after his meeting with the general, Aaron called the people of Quill together so he could tell them what to believe.

“People of Quill,” Aaron said in the monotone manner of Justine, “some of you already know that my faithful secretary was attacked and killed by a creature of Artimé.” He paused and allowed the small murmur of the crowd to grow and fade,
for some of them with fuzzy minds had forgotten the news already.

“It's an unfortunate situation,” Aaron continued, “and one that we must swiftly address. Artimé is dangerous. And we must no longer tolerate their infiltration and attacks on our good people. Comrades, have you any rage inside you?”

The people of Quill looked up at Aaron.

Aaron frowned. “You may respond. Do you have any rage inside you?”

The Quillens looked at one another, unsure of what the right answer was. It seemed like a trick question. Were they supposed to have rage inside them, or was that against the law? They couldn't remember. Mr. and Mrs. Stowe exchanged a worried glance, and then both immediately looked down at their daughters in their arms, as if they didn't want Aaron to read their thoughts.

Gondoleery, standing nearby with Liam, leaned over to Aaron and hissed, “You have to tell them what to say, idiot.”

Aaron blinked, pretending not to hear. His cheeks burned. “My dear people,” he said, trying again. “As you know, the High Priest Justine taught us to bank our rage, saving it up
for a time when we would need to fight against our enemies. Remember?” He frowned. “I am telling you today that our enemies in Artimé must be extinguished for what they have done. We will be attacking Artimé soon. It is now time for you to get angry. Do you understand?”

A few people in the audience murmured. Others looked around fearfully. They liked this high priest . . . didn't they? He was the one who gave them extra food. But it was hard to remember. . . .

“Very good,” Aaron said. His eyes darted anxiously around the lethargic crowd. “We can use that kind of energy, and perhaps even a little more than that would be quite helpful. Okay.” He ran his fingernail nervously along a sliver of warped wood on the podium and winced as it broke off and stuck fast under his nail. He stepped back and clasped his hands in front of him, his finger throbbing.

“Now,” he said, growing increasingly short-tempered, “in order to fight against Artimé, we must do one thing that may come as a surprise to you. We must tear down the wall that surrounds us.”

This brought a slightly more lively response, but Aaron
held his hands up for silence. “I know what you're thinking,” Aaron said, though it seemed more likely that only a few of them were actually thinking anything. “But the only way to attack properly is to have full access to Artimé. The wall was a hindrance in the past and it will be the cause of our failure in the future. We must take it down. Don't argue,” he said, though none of them were. “You need to understand that the risk of an enemy from far away is not nearly as great as the risk from the enemy in Artimé, where, as you may recall, they are now sending beasts to kill us! We must hurry to tear down the wall and move toward an organized attack before they have time to prepare a defense against us. Once we have defeated them, we will finally be at peace.”

He looked around the bland faces of the people of Quill, and for a moment, Aaron felt disgusted by them all—every last one of them had no opinion, no goals, no fire inside them. Not like he did. His fire to take over the island was stronger than ever. Why couldn't he get them to call up their anger, like he had done within himself? He felt like giving them all slivers in their fingers to see if that would garner a response.

“Look alive!” he pleaded, and the people of Quill started,
afraid. “Allow your rage to build so we can let it loose against the enemy!”

A few more weak responses came from the audience, but it was disorganized at best, and soon everyone was quiet again.

Aaron sighed, exasperated. This wasn't going at all the way he'd planned. Maybe the Quillens had used up all fifty years' worth of their rage in the last battle.

“Just . . . okay, we'll work on the rage part. But now, you will please help me take the wall down,” he said, beginning to feel very impatient. “Necessaries, you will join the Quillitary efforts, beginning in the area next to the gates of Artimé and moving out in both directions, all the way around the island. It will be dangerous, but you'll see it will be worth it in the end. When I'm finished here, please make your way to the Quillitary officers and await your instructions.”