Island of Shipwrecks (30 page)

Aaron sat down and began emptying his pockets of spells into his desk drawer, then thought the better of it and reloaded them in case things got ugly with the Quillitary in the morning. He closed the drawer and straightened his desk, his thoughts once more turning to the spider in the jungle. Had he really
made it come alive? Every time he returned from the jungle, he doubted what had really gone on there. It never seemed real when he was surrounded by the lifeless gray walls of the palace. It was almost as if Quill had been dulled purposely to dampen everyone's imagination and will. In Quill, nothing really seemed possible. In the jungle, everything did.

Aaron pinched his eyes shut, knowing he was exhausted and not thinking clearly. But he couldn't leave his thoughts of the spider behind. When an idea occurred to him, he looked around the sparse room. He got up from his chair and walked to the closet, opening it wide and looking at the box of junk he'd stashed there when he took over the palace—Haluki's junk, which he'd never gotten around to throwing away. He pulled the heavy box out of the closet and carried it to his desk, setting it down hard.

He looked inside, wondering if he'd find anything he could shape or mold into a creature. “I wonder,” he muttered. “Can I make a living creature here in Quill? Or is there something about the jungle that gave me the powers?”

He picked up an ugly gargoyle statue with a silly pink ribbon tied to one horn and set her down on the desk, then rummaged
through the rest of the stuff, finding only a few books and writing utensils. Nothing pliable. Nothing with which to make an animal. “Drat.”

He tossed the box on the floor and looked again at the statue, narrowing his eyes. “You look fairly harmless,” he said, “though extremely ugly.” She wouldn't be his own creation, but he could at least see if his powers to make her come alive worked here in Quill.

The statue returned his stare with a blank one of her own.

Aaron picked her up and turned her around, inspecting her all over. He shrugged and closed his eyes, placing his hand on her back, and concentrated on her. “Come alive,” he said, picturing her walking across his desk. “Live.”

The statue didn't move. Aaron opened his eyes, and found her staring at him just as before, frozen and dead.

His heart sank. Maybe he wasn't as powerful as he'd thought. There must have been something magical in the jungle that had given him the ability. He frowned and made a face at the gargoyle.

Just then, his office door burst open. Before he could turn his head to see what was happening, the lights went out and
footsteps thundered all around him. He heard the zing of swords being pulled from their sheaths, and the clash of them striking walls and the desk. Aaron froze, letting the statue slip from his fingers. She clattered to the desk. A cold piece of metal slid across Aaron's throat and a muscled arm pulled him backward against an enormous man's chest. In the moment he was so shocked he didn't utter a sound, and so afraid of the steel at his neck that he dared not make a noise once he felt capable again. His chest heaved uncontrollably.

Someone barked an order, and in seconds Aaron was blinded by a bright light pointed directly at his eyes. Beyond the light, he could see shadows of a number of men. Instinctively he reached for the spells in his pockets, but the man holding him grabbed his arms and wrested them behind his back.

Aaron's shoulder popped and he squealed in pain.

The man turned his sword on Aaron's neck, introducing a sharp point, and pressed it hard into Aaron's skin. “Shut up,” the man growled. “Don't move.”

Aaron froze.

“Well?” said the captor in a gruff voice to his companions. “Is it him, or isn't it?”

Aaron heard the rustle of a paper as someone held it up next to his face in the light. He gulped and stared into the light, his Adam's apple rolling along the sharp point at his neck.

“Aye, it's him all right, Captain.”

The captain chuckled evilly. “Let's be gone, then.”

They shoved Aaron to the floor and gagged him, and four of them each took a limb and hung him between them, facedown. Aaron's injured shoulder burned like fire, and he felt like his arms and legs were going to pull right out of their sockets. He fought to keep from crying out, muffled though his shouts would be, fearing retaliation.

They carried him out of the office and down the stairs, past the empty entryway and the room where they'd locked up the guards when they'd first snuck in hours before, and out the door into the night. They crossed over the driveway and skidded down the rocky bank to the water. And then, on three, they threw Aaron face-first into a small boat. There wasn't time for Aaron to swing his arms around to brace his fall. His head hit the wooden seat, and his body crumpled to the damp floor. Everything went black and quiet.

» » « «

Inside Aaron's office, Matilda picked herself up, climbed down the desk, ran to the wall, and jumped as high as she could, straining to reach the window ledge. When she finally managed to get a fingerhold on the sill, she pulled herself up and scrambled to her feet, watching as a group of small boats pushed off the shore toward a large pirate ship that sat in the calm water.

She stayed there, keeping watch, as the large ship pulled up all but one of the smaller boats and set sail, heading east.

» » « «

A quarter of the way around the south side of the island, another gargoyle stood on a window ledge watching, waiting for the ship to pass.

A
t dawn Meghan, Carina, Ms. Morning, Gunnar Haluki, and Mr. Appleblossom gathered their troops and sent them to their stations to wait for the surprise attack that wasn't really a surprise. This was thanks to Liam, who had paid another visit to Meghan three days prior, letting her know that the Quillitary was coming. It was quite a bit sooner than anyone in Artimé had expected, considering that the wall had not come down all the way.

Meghan wondered if Aaron had gotten word that Artimé was suspicious, and had decided to leave the wall destruction to
the Necessaries and put the Quillitary on order to attack. Liam hedged a bit, saying he thought it was more likely the Quillitary who was making decisions, but he didn't know much.

“Are you saying the Quillitary is running this attack, not Aaron?” Meghan had asked him.

“Truly, I don't know,” he said. He looked more uncomfortable than ever.

That left Meghan puzzled, but it was all she could get out of him before he'd hurried away. Still, she was grateful for the information.

Now, as the leaders stood in the mansion to confer before joining their teams, Charlie the gargoyle tugged at Ms. Morning's component vest.

“Not right now, Charlie,” Ms. Morning said, distracted. “Unless you've caught sight of Alex and Simber and the ship—have you?”

Charlie shook his head.

“Too bad. We could use them. Any other emergencies or imminent danger?”

Charlie thought for a moment, and then shrugged and shook his head again.

“We'll talk after this confrontation is over, then, all right? Head upstairs and stay safe.”

Charlie nodded and climbed back up the steps to Alex's office, where he spent so much of his time.

“Everybody ready?” Meghan asked. She'd stepped into her new leadership role as a Magical Warrior trainer in Florence's absence, and she was very good at her job. Now she stood alongside Ms. Morning, the commander in chief, as an equal. She was armed, dangerous, totally committed, and prepared to fight to the death for Artimé. This young woman who stood by the front door of the mansion today was a far cry from the scared little red-haired girl who had arrived on the property at age thirteen. Meghan Ranger was muscular and cunning. She knew it, and she was proud of it. She only hoped she was cunning enough to keep Artimé's losses to a minimum and lead her people to victory.

Claire looked around at the other leaders and nodded solemnly. “Yes, we're ready. Let's go.” They followed Meghan out of the mansion.

Several teams sat upon the lawn, looking quite like they were having a normal day enjoying the weather and each other's
company. They were seated this way to give the Quillitary a sense that Artimé was not expecting an attack. But each group was set up behind a magical glass wall, which created clear barriers that were undetectable from a distance. These groups were on high alert, ready to fight at a second's notice.

Other teams lined the border, stationed high up in the trees that had once helped to camouflage the ugly gray wall. Squirrelicorns circled now and then as they often did, this time prepared to report to their groups in the trees any change in the status in Quill.

Still other fighters remained on alert inside the mansion, prepared to attack if the enemy got in, ready to defend their home at all costs.

The absence of Simber left everyone just a little bit unsettled. Surely the Quillitary would notice he wasn't there, and no doubt they would take advantage of it. There was a chance they wouldn't notice the absence of other key fighters, including Alex, at least not right away. Meghan could only hope that Artimé's weaknesses were not exposed too soon. She'd done everything in her power to design this defense, and lives depended on it working right.

Claire and Mr. Appleblossom climbed into neighboring trees near the traditional entrance to Artimé, where the gate had once been. There was no sign of the Quillitary from there.

“I certainly hope we weren't given false information,” Claire said.

Mr. Appleblossom smiled at his longtime friend. “In ages past we'd climb these trees for fun. What matter is it, if it's all for none?”

Claire couldn't help but grin. “You're right of course, Siggy. There's nothing to lose by making this a practice run.”

» » « «

The warriors of Artimé bided their time through the slow morning hours, watching, waiting, and listening for the squeals and chugs of the Quillitary vehicles. And just when they thought Liam's warning was fake, a squirrelicorn darted to Meghan's side. Meghan signaled to Claire, Claire whispered to a party stationed on the ground, and someone from that party whispered to someone in the next party, and so on and so forth all across the lawn, until someone slipped inside the mansion to alert those inside.

“They're coming.”

W
hen Gondoleery finally got around to being curious about the planned attack on Artimé, she left her house and made her way to the palace to see how Aaron was handling things. She heard a loud boom as she walked. The ground shook below her feet. “Stupid wall,” she muttered.

Quillitary vehicles whizzed past her at speeds she'd never seen before. Some headed to the palace, others toward Artimé. Gondoleery sighed. They just didn't learn. Artimé wasn't a land of stupid people, and it was a big mistake to treat them as such. They'd be ready for the Quillitary, no doubt.

“Now,” she muttered, “if only I could get everyone in the same place.”

She shoved past the groggy-looking guards at the portcullis and raised a newly redrawn eyebrow at the throng of soldiers who stood alert, guarding the palace.

“What's happening?” Gondoleery asked, walking up to them.

“We're safeguarding the palace, Governor. Protecting the high priest from potential attacks.”

Gondoleery snorted. “Well, that's a relief.” She approached the door. “Let me in,” she said to the soldier standing there.

He hesitated, looked to his superior, who snarled at him, and stepped aside to let her in.

Gondoleery entered and looked around. The entry area was empty. Shrugging, she clumped up the stairs and went down the hall to Aaron's office. Empty as well. Papers were scattered on the floor. Gondoleery frowned and went in. She scrutinized the papers to see if there was any useful information, and then walked to the window where a statue stood, and peered out. There were soldiers surrounding the palace as far as she could see.