Darkwing (31 page)

“Come on, hurry!” Sylph shouted.

She started for the edge of the nest, then stopped, wide-eyed. Dusk followed her terrified gaze.

Poised on the rim of the nest, staring down at them, were two felids.

Dusk hissed threateningly, and scrambled backward with Sylph. Behind him, he could hear the hatchling struggling to get free of its egg. Dusk saw Carnassial’s eyes flick from him to the
saurian, as if he couldn’t decide which to attack first. The felid’s eyes narrowed with craving; his teeth were wet.

Dusk kept moving back through the nest, never letting his gaze stray from the felids. He could fly away at any time, but Sylph was helpless until she could get to higher ground.

“Get the flyer, Panthera!” Carnassial said.

The female felid leapt with such speed that Dusk scarcely had time to open his wings and hop into the air. Panthera skidded, whirled, and jumped up at him. He didn’t fly high, just bobbed about, mere inches above Panthera, taunting her. While Sylph frantically scrambled for the far side of the nest, Dusk kept fluttering just out of reach to keep the felid focused on him.

In his peripheral vision he saw Carnassial jump into the nest after Sylph. In five bounds he was upon her. Dusk cried out in anguish, and in that split second, Panthera pounced and caught him with both paws. His wings crumpled as the two of them tumbled down in a heap. He struggled to escape, but felt the full weight of her powerful body atop him.

He couldn’t see Sylph any more, did not know what was happening to her. He tried to cry out, but Panthera had already closed her jaws around his throat and was clamping down, cutting off his air.

His vision flared and then narrowed: a tunnel getting ever smaller. At its end, he saw a head peer over the nest, a narrow, sharply tapered head with quick bright eyes. It plunged towards him. Dusk heard a cry, as if from far away, and felt himself heaved into the air for a moment before falling free of Panthera’s screaming jaws.

Back in the nest he scrambled to his feet, and whirled to see a young saurian with Panthera flailing between its teeth. It gripped her tightly across her belly and lower back. Dusk guessed the
saurian was only a few weeks old, but already it was twice the size of the felids, a born predator grown strong on the corpse of its parent. “Panthera!”

Dusk spun around and saw Carnassial release Sylph and launch himself at the saurian. Dusk didn’t wait a second more. He flew over to his sister, who was coughing and shaking violently. “I’m okay,” she said.

They clambered out of the nest and rushed to the nearest rock tower. While Sylph climbed the soft sides, Dusk flew to its summit. The saurian still had Panthera in its mouth, though she no longer struggled. Carnassial flung himself again and again at the saurian, but was deflected by its stubby three-clawed hands. His shrieks carried not just the fury of the hunt, but a terrible desperation and sorrow.

Dusk quickly plotted their escape route. Sylph climbed up beside him and, without even a moment to catch her breath, glided after him towards the next stone tower. Their path took them right over the nest, and when Dusk glanced down, he saw the saurian’s head jerk up, intently tracking him and his sister through the air.

They landed, and wasted not a second before launching again. He led Sylph from one tower to the next, towards the cave mouth. Light filtered through the screen of dense vegetation. With a start Dusk realized it must be morning. They landed high amidst the tight weave of branches, and immediately started squeezing their way through.

Behind them Dusk heard the sound of a surprisingly light-footed gait. He looked back into the cave, but his eyes were no longer accustomed to the darkness. Instead he shot out a volley of sound, and with his echoes saw the slim body of the saurian taking swift, agile leaps towards them.

“It’s coming!” he cried, plunging ahead with Sylph.

Just before they emerged on the outside, he saw, through the thinning undergrowth, the four hyaenodons, lying on the ground. They were well back from the mouth of the cave, but watching it with all their attention.

“Down there!” Dusk said, plotting a glide path for Sylph that would take her into the cover of tall grass. Maybe the hyaenodons wouldn’t notice.

Branches crackled as the saurian forced its way through behind them. Squinting, Dusk sprang into the early daylight, Sylph at his side. Their dark bodies must have stood out easily, for he saw two hyaenodons stand and start running towards them—but then freeze.

Dusk glanced back over his wing to see the young saurian crash through the vegetation. It paused, blinking and looking all around at the world beyond its cave, seemingly for the very first time. Its snout, Dusk noticed, was spattered with gore.

The hyaeonodons began barking, hackles raised, their tail hair spiking out. But they did not draw closer.

The saurian cocked its head, a strange, almost birdlike gesture, but made no move to retreat.

And then Dusk could see no more, because he was surrounded by the tall grass and braking with his wings as the ground rose to meet him. As fast as their exhausted bodies would allow, he and Sylph scuttled away from the sound of the baying hyaenodons.

Dusk flew above the grass, keeping watch as Sylph laboured along the ground. In the distance he’d spotted the poisonwood tree, but he knew it would be at least an hour before they reached it. The sun had just cleared the horizon. He didn’t like being out in
the day, but they had no choice now. He could only hope Auster and the rest of his colony were still waiting.

Galloping across the plain towards him were two equids. Worriedly he looked behind them, but saw nothing in pursuit. They ran simply because they could, for pure joy, and as he watched them Dusk felt his spirits lift. When they came closer he recognized their markings. It was Dyaus and Hof, and he couldn’t resist calling out. He was so glad to see creatures who had no interest in eating him.

He dipped down to tell Sylph.

“There are equids coming,” he said. “I know these two—I’m going to talk to them.”

He flew on ahead, calling out another hello and tilting his wings so they’d spot him more easily.

“Ah,” Dyaus said, “I remember you. Dusk.”

“Be careful up ahead,” Dusk said. “There are hyaenodons, and a saurian.”

“Saurian?” Dyaus exclaimed.

“We’d thought they were all dead!” grumbled Hof.

“No. There’s a nest in an underground cave. We saw eight eggs. Two have hatched.”

Hof sighed heavily. “Just something else to endure, I suppose.”

“Where are you going?” Dyaus asked Dusk.

“To find my colony,” he said, fluttering overhead, “what’s left of it. We agreed to meet in the poisonwood.” He nodded towards it.

“It won’t take you long with your wings,” said Hof. “I’d like wings sometimes. Wouldn’t that be nice.”

“But my sister can’t fly,” Dusk told him.

“Hello,” said Sylph, who’d just caught up. Dyaus looked down at her. “There are diatryma nests on your way,” he warned.

Dusk exhaled. “Thank you for telling us.” It seemed they weren’t finished with perils yet.

The two equids looked at each other.

“I’ll take her,” Dyaus said. “On my back.”

“Really?” Dusk was overwhelmed by this kindness.

“We’ll have a race,” said Hof, with uncharacteristic enthusiasm. “Who’s faster: the runner or the flyer?”

Dyaus knelt down and invited Sylph to climb up his shoulder onto his back.

“Thank you very much,” said Sylph.

“Gently with your claws,” Dyaus said. “Now hold on!” He shot off through the grass, Hof at his side. Dusk heard a cry of sheer delight from Sylph, and then he was flapping as fast as he could after the equids. What would have taken them an hour on the ground took only minutes now. The poisonwood grew swiftly bigger. The equids outstripped him and reached the tree quite a ways ahead of him. Dusk flapped harder, fervently hoping the colony had made it here safely, and was still waiting.

Blinking sweat from his eyes, he stared hard at the tree, and was finally close enough to make out the dark shapes of many chiropters moving in the high branches. His heart leapt.

“There he is!” he heard someone cry out. “I see him now.”

“There’s Dusk!” someone else shouted.

“Dusk and Sylph are back!”

“He made it!”

“They made it!”

And suddenly the air around the tree was filled with gliding chiropters, calling out greetings and cheering Dusk on as he returned to his colony.

No tree had ever seemed this high.

Dusk laboured up the massive trunk, sinking his claws into the soft, reddish bark. He could have easily flown to the summit ahead of everyone else, but he didn’t. He wanted to climb this tree alongside Sylph and Auster and the rest of his colony. He wanted them all to arrive at the same moment.

They’d set out from the poisonwood at sunset, and it had taken them the entire night to cross the grasslands, climb the hills, and reach the base of the tree. Exhausted, they’d started their ascent in darkness, but before long the dawn’s light had ignited the tree’s high canopy and slid down the trunk to meet them, warming their fur, easing their aching muscles. Steam lifted from the luminous bark, and Dusk felt his weariness lift away with it.

Mighty limbs thrust out on all sides from the trunk. Auster led them higher still. The fragrance of needles and sap scented the air. Insects glittered in the sunlight. Dusk sank his claws deep, pulled himself up, dug in again. The colony climbed silently, intent, with every second knowing they drew closer to their destination.

Dusk felt himself speeding up, and realized everyone else was too. His laboured breathing became part of a single sound, the entire colony inhaling and exhaling. Finally Auster called a stop. “Here,” he said.

As the chiropters gathered on the nearest branches, Auster gazed at the vast tree spreading around him, and then out over the grasslands.

Dusk looked too. Up here, high on the slope, in the branches of their new tree, they seemed to float above all dangers. The hyaenodons and diatrymas—and perhaps even saurians—stalked the plains, but they could not reach his colony. Dusk knew that no haven was perfect, but right now, he felt safe—and at peace. He wondered if this was how his father had felt when he’d discovered the island.

“I can imagine no better home,” Auster said, turning to him. “Thank you, Dusk.”

He was amazed how quickly life returned to normal. Within days new nests and hunting perches were claimed. The chiropters groomed and glided and fed as they’d always done. The first newborns, carried in their mothers’ bellies during the frightful journey, were birthed.

But even though the familiar daily rhythms of the colony had resumed, there was sadness too, and plenty of changes. When Nova and Barat left, they hadn’t just divided the chiropters in half; in many cases they’d taken away the friends and siblings and children of those who’d remained loyal to Icaron and Auster. Other families had seen their members killed by predators. Dusk still wasn’t used to how small the new colony seemed.

The leadership of Sol’s family was taken up by his son, Taku.
And Auster had quickly named two new families and appointed elders from them. Dusk wasn’t sure it made the colony seem any bigger, but it did make things more like home, and he could see that four families and elders were better than just two.

He was glad, though, that he and Sylph were still part of Auster’s family. It made him feel closer to Dad and Mom. He and Sylph still slept in Auster’s nest, but it was a little more crowded now, since one of the recent newborns was the leader’s new daughter. Dusk was an uncle yet again.

There was one other important change too.

Dusk was allowed to fly.

“Your sails saved our lives more than once,” Auster had told him. “I see no reason why you shouldn’t use them to their fullest.”

But apart from Sylph, he still hadn’t told anyone else about Chimera—about his true nature. He didn’t want to ruin things. He wanted to belong.

He was hunting when he saw her again, her dark wings fluttering as she skimmed the treetops, dipping and wheeling to snatch insects from the air.

It had been two weeks since they’d arrived at the tree, and not a single day had passed when he hadn’t thought about Chimera, and her colony on the other side of the hills. Every day he’d watched for her, hoping she’d come,
terrified
she’d come. The mere sight of her now was so overwhelming, he wanted to flee. He hurriedly landed, crouching low on a leafy branch. Maybe she hadn’t seen him.

He peered out through the leaves. She circled, as if waiting. What would Auster and the others think? It was one thing for his colony to tolerate a useful freak—but a completely different
creature? He feared being shunned again, but even more he feared his overpowering desire to go to her, this creature who was just like him. He dug his claws into the bark, feeling as if he was resisting the pull of gravity itself.

Others had seen her now. As the chiropters glided between trees, hunting, several cried out in surprise, a few even gave an alarmed hiss. Did they think she was some kind of malignant bird? Couldn’t they see Chimera was just like him?

When she started calling out his name, Dusk knew there was no point hiding any longer. He shifted out along the branch.

“Dusk?” Sylph said, landing beside him. “Is that her? The bat?”

He nodded.

“Are you going to talk to her?”

“I suppose so,” he answered weakly. He launched himself into the air, climbing.

“You made it!” Chimera said, fluttering toward him. “You led them to a new home!”

“Some of them,” he said. “Not everyone wanted to come.”

As before, he couldn’t stop looking at her, marvelling at their similarities.

“Did everyone cross safely?”

When he shook his head, she made a sympathetic murmur. “It must’ve been awful on foot.”

They landed on a high branch, side by side. Below, Dusk could make out some other chiropters, including Sylph, watching him. The distance between him and his sister made him suddenly sad. He remembered the time—it seemed so long ago now—that he rode the thermal up the clearing and looked down at her from his lofty height. The bewilderment and indignation on her upturned face. Back then she’d been able to follow him at least. But was there any way of closing the gap between them now?

“Bat-ra’s been asking about you,” said Chimera.

“Really?”

“Of course. She wants to meet you. She wants you to come to us.”

Dusk said nothing. “Are you afraid?”

“This is my home,” he told her firmly. “Are you sure?”

“They’ve accepted me,” he said, wanting with all his heart to believe it.

“I’m sure they’re very
grateful
to you. For now,” she added pointedly. “After a while, they’ll forget everything you did for them, and you’ll just be an oddity again. Did you tell them about me and the bats?”

“Only my sister.”

“Why not the others?” she asked.

“You know why not,” said Dusk. “I was worried they’d expel me. But maybe I was wrong.”

“We’ll find out soon enough,” Chimera said with a touch of mischief in her voice. “Now that they’ve seen me, they’ll know there are others. They’ll know you truly are a different beast.”

“They’re letting me fly,” Dusk told her, feeling a bit desperate. “They don’t mind any more. Auster said the colony treasures me.”

“They should! But Auster won’t rule forever. Your next leader might not be so tolerant.”

Dusk thought of how Nova had abandoned him.

“Your colony does sound very just,” said Chimera. “Mine wasn’t like that. But, Dusk, you must know that even if they respect you, you’ll never truly be one of them. How could you? You’re different.”

“Does it matter?”

“Bat-ra says we all crave what’s most like ourselves. It’s in our nature.”

He felt it, this sense of yearning, so strongly it almost made him sick. But if he embraced it, didn’t that mean he was abandoning his colony and what he’d once been? Icaron’s son. Sylph’s brother. He felt as though he were being wrenched apart.

“Even if you stay here,” Chimera said gently, “no one will ever mate with you.”

His mother had said the same thing. He certainly hadn’t forgotten how, back on the island, the other chiropters had avoided him, as though he might infect them. Even now, he sometimes sensed they weren’t entirely comfortable being close to him. They never snubbed or ignored him any more; they seemed genuinely to like him. But they kept their distance, like they were struggling against some involuntary revulsion.

“Well, I don’t
have
to mate,” he muttered, feeling embarrassed.

“You’re still too young anyway,” Chimera said. “But everyone wants a mate eventually.”

Right now he was more worried about what would happen once Sylph found her mate. It probably wasn’t so far off. She’d always been popular. She’d have her own nest, a new companion, and then newborns to look after. He’d still see her, of course, but it wouldn’t be the same. After spending his entire life side by side with her, he’d be lonely.

“Bat-ra says we should be proud of who we are,” Chimera told him. “It wasn’t easy. We’d all been shunned and exiled. But we have all these amazing abilities that no other beasts have. If you lived with us, you’d never have to feel ugly or ashamed, or like an outsider. You’re one of us, Dusk. You belong with us.”

When she said it, he felt a surge of excitement. He wasn’t sure he’d ever truly had it, that feeling of belonging. He’d been
tolerated. Maybe now he’d even been
accepted,
but was that the same as
belonging?

“It’s going to be hard for you,” Chimera said kindly. “With me and everyone else in our colony, our decisions were made for us. We were expelled. We were
told
we weren’t chiropters. But you’ve got to decide for yourself. Are you a chiropter or are you a bat?”

“I still don’t know,” he said.

“Do you remember the way to us?” she asked. He nodded.

“I hope you’ll come.”

Dusk watched her fly off, and felt panic tighten his chest. What if he never saw her again? What if he couldn’t find his way to the other bats? He was completely upended. He sighed heavily and fluttered down to Sylph.

“They want me to join them,” he said.

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m not going,” he said. “My home’s here—isn’t it?”

“You know it is. You found it for us.”

“She kept saying I was one of them, but I don’t know anything about them. Just because I
look
like them, does that mean I belong with them?” Sylph said nothing.

“They’ll never be my parents, or my sister.”

“No,” Sylph agreed.

“Maybe they won’t even think the same way we do about things.”

Sylph sniffed. “It’s hardly like all chiropters think the same way. Look at Nova and Dad. Look at you and me.”

He felt sad when she said that, but she was right. They’d talked a lot about what happened in the saurian hatchery, and Sylph still thought destroying the eggs was the right thing to
do. She even hoped Carnassial had survived to finish the job.

“Well, we think differently,” Dusk admitted, “but it doesn’t matter. We’re still brother and sister, and we made a pact to take care of each other. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You want to go,” Sylph said simply.

“No.”

“You
want
to go.”

“Do you want me to go?” he demanded in exasperation. She shook her head silently.

“I want to go,” he breathed. The wild calling was beyond understanding, keening through his veins. “Go and see,” Sylph said. “Go find out what they’re like.”

“I just need to see what it’s like to be with them.”

“And if you’re not sure, you can always come back.”

“I’ll come back,” he told her. “Good,” she said, and nuzzled him.

Poised on the edge of the branch, ready to take flight, he faltered.

What if, once there, he changed and forgot everything he’d been before? What if he could utter the word
chiropter
and think “them” instead of “me”? What if he never came back?

“I’m afraid to go,” he said, and then Sylph shoved him hard off the branch.

Dusk was so surprised, he plunged a few seconds before opening his wings and pulling up. He banked sharply. “You pushed me!” he cried out indignantly. “Believe me,” she said, “no one wants to make the first jump. Isn’t that what Dad used to say?”

He hovered for a moment, looking at her. “Thanks, Sylph.” Then he flapped harder, rising up through the branches and into the darkening sky.