Island of Shipwrecks (25 page)

When he reached it, he surfaced and pressed his hand against the part of the stern that stood above the water. He took a moment to catch his breath, staring intently at the shore in the exact spot where the pirate ship had stood for weeks.

A flash of lightning cracked the sky, startling him, and he knew he had to get back to Sky before the storm grew worse. He forced himself to focus, thinking only of the newly empty stretch of land nearby. Now that the pirate ship was out of the way, he could finally do something for the scientists who had been so hospitable to them all this time.

When Alex had eliminated all other stresses from his mind, he closed his eyes, picturing the cleared section of the island, and whispered, “Transport.”

As soon as he could feel the ship no longer, he opened his eyes. And there, perfectly placed on the shore, sat the almost pristine craft, marred only by the long, angry gash in its side. Water, fish, and mud streamed from it.

With a triumphant shout, Alex struck out toward the island once more, feeling the sea churning and pulling beneath him. He ran onto the shore and sped toward the other side of the island, past the shelter where Ishibashi was just coming out.

“I left you a present!” Alex shouted. “Go look!”

Ishibashi stared at Alex as the boy ran past, and then heard the shouts from Ito and Sato and hurried toward the recovered ship.

With all his heart, Alex wished he could see the scientists' reactions when they found their ship and all the equipment still inside. But he didn't have time. He pressed on toward Sky, who had followed after him a short distance and waited anxiously for him to return.

“Alex!” she shouted when she caught sight of him once more. “Hurry!”

Alex's legs and lungs burned as he ran and jumped over the rocky terrain. As he went, he fished around in his pocket for his magic carpet component so they could take off. But by the time he reached Sky, he still hadn't found it.

“Florence is in trouble,” Sky said, grabbing his arm. “Look!”

Alex stared. In his urgency to do something good for the scientists, he'd almost forgotten about Florence and her low ride across the water. “Blast it,” he muttered, spotting her. She was so low that waves splashed against her sides.

Sky gripped his arm. “It's been almost ten minutes already and she's not halfway there. She's not going to make it! What are we going to do?”

Alex turned his pockets inside out, searching madly for components, and then stared at Sky. “Do you have it?”

“Have what?”

“The carpet component for us—I don't have it!”

“I gave them all to you last night!” Sky said. “Why would I—? No, I'm sure you have them. I don't have any.” She whipped her head toward the sea to look at the ship, as if that would bring it closer. “Alex! Tell me you have it!”

Alex's lungs contracted. He felt light-headed. “I must have used them all for Florence,” he whispered.

Sky stared. She yanked his arm, pulling him so they stood face to face. “Alex,” she said in a sickly calm voice, her fingers digging into his skin, “my mother and brother are on that ship. They will freak out if I don't get there.”

“I know, I know. I'm thinking.” He couldn't look at her. “Maybe I lost it in the water,” he muttered, turning to look over his shoulder. It would be useless to search for it in the churning waves.

“Alex,” Sky said, shaking him. “What are we going to do? And what about Florence? She's going down!”

Alex drew in a breath. “We'll make another component. We have to.”

“There's no time for that!” Sky cried. “The moss needs
to dry, the loom is in the shelter—and the storm is getting stronger. Plus one component won't help save Florence!” She looked around wildly and gripped her head in frustration. “Where's Spike?” she asked, knowing full well that Spike was probably waiting exactly where Lani had told her to go, on the opposite side of the storm's circumference.

“Florence will be okay,” Alex said, though the thought of her plummeting to the bottom of the sea gave him a stomachache. “She will. She said she will.”

“But what about us? How will our friends know what happened? They'll think we drowned, Alex—we have to do something.
Now
.”

“Maybe the squirrelicorns will come back for us,” Alex said, but wasn't at all confident about it—the squirrelicorns always waited for orders from him or Florence, and neither were there to give them. Alex could hardly stand hearing Sky's pleas—he didn't know what to do. There was nothing he
could
do, not now at least. The thunder crashed and the sea churned as the wind began to howl once more. Sky and Alex looked at each other, and at Florence, who barely skimmed the waves now, three quarters of the way to the ship.

When all seemed lost, a shout rose up on a wind gust behind them. Alex and Sky turned to see Ishibashi running full speed toward them, screaming at the top of his lungs and waving his hands wildly as if his life depended on it. For right behind him, flying low over the rocky island, was an enormous, roaring, stone cheetah.

T
he giant cat soared over Ishibashi's head. “Sprrread aparrrt and grrrab on to my wings!” he called out to Alex and Sky, and without hesitating, the two dashed in opposite directions. As the cat flew between them, they jumped into the air and grabbed on to the tips of his wings. Simber flipped them up and held steady while they scrambled to his back. They soared out over the water toward the ship.

Sky had the good sense to wave to Ishibashi, trying to let him know that the strange creature was a friend, not a foe, but the little man kept yelling. Eventually he gave up and just stood there, watching them go. He grew smaller as Simber flew.

“That was pretty good timing, Sim,” Alex shouted over the storm, hanging on tightly as the wind grew to near-hurricane strength. “Nothing like waiting until the last second.”

Simber growled in laughter. “This isn't overrr yet,” he said. “Both of you need to move off my back and onto the base of my wings forrr a few minutes.”

Sky and Alex obeyed, sliding their grip a little at a time as they inched in opposite directions.

“Arrre you hanging on all rrright?” he asked Sky, who hadn't had as much experience riding on Simber's back as Alex had.

“B-b-barely,” Sky said, her teeth chattering as she moved up and down with the flap of Simber's wings. “But there's no way I'm letting go.”

“Good,” Simber replied.

They closed in on Florence, who was almost completely submerged now. It was amazing that the carpets had kept going this long—Florence was clearly trying every magic spell she could think of to help sustain them, but they were sinking fast. And the ship wasn't far off. Alex could see everybody lined up at the railing, cheering at the sight of Simber and watching the rescue.

“Wherrre's Spike?” asked Simber.

“We sent her to the other side of the island by mistake,” Alex shouted over the rumble of thunder. “It's a long story.”

“So we'rrre going to have to do this without herrr, then,” Simber said. “Sky, Alex, be rrready. We'rrre heading underrr waterrr. Just flatten out on top of my wings and hang on, that's all you have to do. Hold yourrr brrreath and don't let go.”

“Got it!” Sky yelled.

“Me too,” called out Alex.

“Herrre we go!”

The two took giant breaths. Simber plunged under the surface of the water and plowed through it. Sky and Alex held their breath and hung on, and soon Florence's thirty-four carpets were above them. Simber glided upward until Alex and Sky felt a bump, and they knew that Florence and her carpets were now resting on Simber's back. The overworked carpets began to pop and disappear in the water as they traveled along.

When Simber slowed, Alex watched through the water as Florence nimbly rose to her haunches, half out of the water, balancing on Simber's back. They sank a bit as the carpets popped and disappeared, but the cheetah flapped his wings and
kicked his legs, trying desperately to keep the warrior from sinking them all completely.

A minute later, the water grew brighter and Alex could tell the sun had appeared above them. They'd made it out of the hurricane's circle! And just when Alex's lungs were about to give out, a large shadow came over him. He looked up through the water.
The ship!

Soon a rope slapped the surface above him, and Alex needed no further urging. He pushed off of Simber's wing and swam to the surface, grabbed on to the rope, and looked around for Sky. She was on the other side of Simber, holding a rope of her own and beginning to scale the side of the ship. Lani and Henry stood at the ship's railing, pulling her up. Alex began climbing as well, with Samheed pulling him from above.

Florence cautiously rose to her feet and grabbed the ship's railing, trying to lighten Simber's load a bit. Once Alex and Sky had made it on board, everyone ran to the opposite side of the deck to help balance the weight and hung on tightly while Florence began an awkward climb, rocking the vessel crazily from side to side, but managing to keep all the passengers on board.

The crew cheered when she eased over the edge. Finally Florence centered herself on the deck, and the ship sat steady once more. Almost everyone flopped to the deck, either from being sent off balance or simply because they were exhausted and breathless. A moment later, Simber rose up out of the water and shook himself dry as the Artiméans greeted him with great enthusiasm.

Brushing off the praise, Simber simply nodded his greetings and took his usual place hovering over the back of the ship. Within minutes, everything seemed strangely back to normal again.

Well, almost.

Once Captain Ahab had steered the ship all the way around the hurricane to the other side of the island, and once Spike's faux diamond–studded spike was flashing prettily in the sun nearby, they turned toward home.

Simber, flying off to one side, took a long hard look at the vessel's unusual patch job, and shook his head. He turned toward Alex and the others, who were resting on the deck, soaking up the sun, and asked, “What in the worrrld have you done to Marrrcus's ship?”

A
fter stewing half the night over the troubling meeting with General Blair, Aaron spent the morning alone, pressing oil, deep in thought. It was unsettling. Why had the general been so dismissive of Aaron? Was General Blair only using him for the oil? Didn't he see that Aaron was a worthy and smart leader? After all, Aaron had offered him a portion of the mansion once they took over Artimé. Why wouldn't he let Aaron take part in the actual battle?

Granted, he'd mucked up the first one, but he was older and wiser now. He wouldn't make the same mistakes again.
Besides, he was the high priest of Quill. That he had made it to this point must mean something. Yet the general had become extremely standoffish with Aaron now that he'd gotten the oil he needed. And his commanding Aaron to hide in the secured palace until it was all over seemed especially unfair. What was the general planning to do—keep him locked away, and then come and fetch him once the Quillitary had taken ownership of the mansion?

With a jolt of fear, Aaron froze in his work. He looked up, and then all around, a sort of dazed expression on his face. “Wait a second,” he muttered. Did the general have a secret sinister plan of his own? What if General Blair moved into the mansion and then decided he didn't want to share it with anybody?

Aaron left the contraption mid-press, stumbled from the room, and ran up the stairs, all the way up to Liam's quarters at the very top of the palace, and pounded on the door.

“Good heavens!” Liam shouted. “What's the matter?” No one had ever come up to his room before, so it was rather startling.

Aaron flung open the door. “General Blair is working
against us, Liam. I've figured it out. He's using me for the oil, and when he attacks, he's going to take over Artimé and keep everything for himself!”