Chapter 3: Rescue
The night yielded nothing, neither flames nor bat wings. Traveling along the muggy air came the constant calls of mating frogs and jungle insects. The stars were quiet and cold, completely foreign to the lone Silverwing at Statue Haven. Hanging from the Human's smallest finger, as was becoming his custom, Cassiel gazed out at the city below. No one's coming tonight, he sighed.
The last three nights had been like this, and it worried Cassiel. Sure, no drops meant that no more bats were being killed. But what if his had been the only one? What if he was stranded here, unable to leave because of his conscious? What is he kept waiting for someone else, and no one came? But, there had been so many bats at the Human Building, how could the Humans only attack once?
He alighted from the finger and slowly flew down to the statue's base. Searching the nearby dead logs and scorched grass, he found several beetles and caterpillars. He warily avoided a spiny caterpillar and veered away from a horned beetle. His time in the jungle had taught him what bugs to eat, and what to stay clear of. He homed in on a group of shiny, hornless beetles and plucked one from its dead log. Crunch. It was good, and Cassiel doubled back for more.
When the whole family of beetles had been devoured, Cassiel returned to his roost. The jungle heat was oppressive. Cassiel scratched at a patch of loose fur and the hairs fell out. He was molting, losing his fur to the warmth. It didn't bother him, but it was interesting.
He looked up at the stars. How could he wasn't think about food and molting? He was thinking about survivors. If the Humans made another attack with bats, and, if he did manage to rescue some from the flames, how was he going to safety lead them here to Statue Haven? The question had been silently butting its way into his mind since his first night. I need a path, he thought.
He looked at the cliff-face and immediately crossed that off the list. It was far too perilous for a group of confused and possibly injured bats to take and survive. A path through the jungle, up the gentle hill, was the only way. He took off and flew to the trees.
Warily, he flew through the jungle. The ground was thick with vegetation, and the trees were all covered in moss or vines. Cassiel hated all the vegetation. His eyes were almost useless in the thickness. He had an unavoidable feeling that something was going to jump out at him from each leaf. His fur provided him some camouflage in the dark, but he still didn't feel comfortable. And I never will.
A vine fell down from the canopy, and Cassiel veered around it. Sending out sonar, he made his way down the hill, always trying to keep the jungle edge visible. Tiny bugs formed in his mind's eye, and Cassiel suddenly found himself in a swarm of fireflies. They stuck in his fur and lit him up like a glow stick. Cassiel flew up and hung from a low hanging branch, careful to sweep it with sound first, and began to clean his fur ferociously.
He was almost finished when he heard wing beats. He froze, tongue still in his silver fur. There was a creak about them, like leather, that was all too familiar to him. It was a bat, and no doubt about it. Wanting to shut his eyes and wish himself away, Cassiel forced himself to focus on the jungle before him.
A pair of huge, black wings, a mere forty wingbeats away, passed by. A cannibal bat.
Cassiel's heart skipped a beat.
The sound of the wings faded, and Cassiel relaxed. He closed his mouth and decided that he'd had enough for tonight. Suddenly, the jungle got very quiet, and, from deep within himself, Cassiel heard a faint voice. Fly!
Cassiel dove off the branch, and a pair of jaws closed in on empty space. Before he had time to contemplate the voice, he was forced to race for his life. The cannibal was upon him, spitting sound and wielding its wicked claws. Cassiel's mind was a blur. He was dipping, weaving, slicing through the air, desperate for a maneuver that would shake the bigger bat. But, wherever he went, his hunter followed.
The cannibal was almost on top of him; he could feel hot breath on his tail. Then, the chase ended. A creeper had reached out from its tree trunk to get more sunshine earlier that day, but Cassiel didn't notice it in his panicked flight. He came around the tree and became tangled in it. The air was knocked out of him, and the creeper swung back and forth, scrapping him against the tree.
He gasped for air to fill his lungs. This was the end. He was screaming and punching the vine, but that only entangled him further. He didn't want to die like this.
The cannibal stopped and watched the poor Silverwing swing back and forth. She laughed. Threw back her pointed nose, opened her mouth of teeth, and let out a terrible sound.
"Little bat," she said after recovering, "all caught in a vine. He tried to fly, but I still get to dine."
Finding great humor in her rhyme, the cannibal laughed again. Cassiel stared at her, eyes open in horror. She was several times his size, with dark black fur. Pumping long, supple wings to stay up, the personification of all his fears was there in front of him. But, at the same time, he noticed that his enemy looked thin. Her ribs were showing, and what should have been toned muscle was an abdomen of thin knots. Her face was gaunt, but that only added to her killer appearance.
"But we won't eat him yet," she said.
She came forward and grabbed the tangle of bat and vine with her feet. One swift bite of her incisors and the bundle was freed. She flew away west, carrying Cassiel, and, despite his fear, Cassiel couldn't help but marvel at the cannibal's power. Her silent wings cut through the night, propelling them forward. Every one of her wingbeats equaled three of his.
All the while, Cassiel was mapping out the area. He managed to force his face through the vine, but his wings were still wrapped in the creeper. If he hadn't been in such danger, he would have wondered why the voice had saved him just to allow him to be captured. But, as it was, Cassiel was desperately trying to engrave the path she took into his mind and to think of a way to escape. He began to bite through the vines, but they were woody and tough.
"Oh, none of that," said his hunter. She brought the mass of vine to her face and hissed. Cassiel's heart jumped as her flared nose and cruel teeth at him. He stopped biting through the vine.
They were going deep into the jungle. The vegetation grew denser, and the sounds of life were becoming louder.
After an hour had passed, Cassiel noticed the cannibal was beginning to tire. She was breathing in short gasps, and he felt her muscles weakening. And a thought came to him, why is she taking me somewhere? Why didn't she just eat me there and then?
There was no further time for thought though as they burst through a final wall of plant growth into pale moonlight.
A pyramid rose out of the ground, broken, chipped, and covered in vines. Its faded face caught and reflected the moon's light out into the small clearing surrounding the pyramid. It was as if the earth had decided to extend a horn or tooth or claw up towards the sky to rip it apart. The pyramid made Cassiel shiver; its existence confirmed all his nightmares.
Silhouettes of cannibal bats were everywhere. As soon as they saw the female and her captive, they gathered, tongues salivating. They surrounded her, and she hissed at them as she flew towards the pyramid. The giant triangle took up all of Cassiel's vision, dominating his senses and making him feel smaller than he already was.
Suddenly the crowd parted and a crippled old bat flew into their midst. Cassiel's captor stopped and hovered, her grip becoming tighter. Cassiel could feel her tension and hoped against hope that he wasn't going to be handed over to this creature. Although patches of his fur were missing and he had difficulty hovering, the bat was still twice Cassiel's size and appeared better off then the surrounding cannibals. He is a bat of authority, Cassiel thought.
"In the name of the King, you will surrender that prey to me," commanded the bat. His voice was gravely, and he stank of rotten meat. Cassiel gagged.
The female tried to fly around him, but the crowd moved to stop her. They were enjoying the drama.
"Give it to me," the bat repeated.
"No. This is for my son. He is sick," said the female. Despite his impending death, Cassiel felt pity for the mother. She only wanted to feed her child. Too bad little bat was the entrée. Cassiel began to saw at the vines again. Now that everyone was distracted, maybe he could free himself. But what then? He asked himself.
"If the berries I gave him didn't work then he is as good as dead. Now, how dare you defy the King and his servant. I--"
"Voxzaco," said a voice, dark and smooth as midnight.
The crowd parted and bowed their heads in reverence as the largest cannibal bat yet appeared. Flanked by two guards, he was magnificent in appearance, with sharp eyes and a white patch on his muscular chest. He addressed the cripple.
"What is going on here?" he asked, now hovering with everyone else.
"My King," Voxzaco replied, "Jasmine is insulting your majesty by refusing to yield her prey to me."
"To you?" the King questioned and the older bat cringed.
"No, Lord of the Vampyrum Spectrum, I meant to you. I am your eternal servant."
"That is better," the King said. He studied Cassiel. Their eyes met and the smaller bat could read his death in those eyes.
"Give it to me," he ordered Jasmine.
Cassiel watched as his captor's eyes darted around, looking for an escape. His heart was beating madly as he waited for the King to react. And he did.
The cannibal King flared his wings, expanding them to well over three feet. His voice came out in a hiss that became a roar. All the Vampyrum gathered fell back except the guards and Jasmine. Her eyes flew wide in horror and she yelped in fear, but she did not hand over Cassiel.
Then the King lunged and several things happened at once. Jasmine pulled up to avoid him, and the King hit Cassiel instead. The bundle was ripped from Jasmine's claws and plummeted to the ground as the King's incisors sliced through several of the vines.
Cassiel was pulling and biting at the vines to free himself. He managed to squeeze one wing out but the ground was approaching too quickly. He tore through another tendril and then he was free. Cassiel fell head over heels, hitting leaves and battering the air with his wings. Then he straightened out and was flying. He immediately felt the eyes of hundreds of cannibal bats on his tail, least of which was the King himself.
Fly!
And Cassiel was pumping his wings, his chest straining with each beat. His heart was on fire as the cannibals pursued him. He could hear their hissing and the sound of leaves hitting leathery wings. Cassiel closed his eyes and focused on his sound vision. Everything was coming at him and from every side. He was dipping under branches and barrel rolling away from thorns and vines. Panic was everywhere; he could sense death approaching.
A bat wing hit him from behind, and Cassiel smashed into a tree trunk. He slid down the rough bark, trying to hold on, struggling to get air back in his lungs. The massive snout of the King appeared in his mind's eye, and Cassiel did the only thing his stricken body could do. He jumped.
The Silverwing plummeted to the forest floor. The fall was too fast and Cassiel couldn't see or hear anything. His vision was a blur. His outstretched wing snagged on a thorn, causing blood to fall, and the rest of his body was battered by the tropical growth until his tiny mass hit a pile of leaves on the ground.
Again, the air was knocked out of him, but he had to move. I have to survive, he thought.
Cassiel crawled under the rotting leaves, hoping the odor would hide him like it had the first night, hoping the cannibals would leave.
The roar was terrible. All the forest fell silent as the King expressed his anger. His minions gathered around him, waiting for orders.
"Search the floor. You five, go out one hundred wingbeats. Find that bat's scent. I want it," he shouted. Below them, Cassiel shivered despite the sweat in his fur.
I have to make a break for it, he thought. But I can't outfly them, his mind answered him. And I can't lead them to the Statue. He needed a distraction.
The night was halfway over. Even at their greatest intensity, the star's light couldn't reach into the forest. A rare wind blew through the sweltering jungle. Cassiel popped his nose out of the leaves and breathed in. A smell so gut-wrenching he gagged met his nose. Fire. Smoke.
An explosion shook the trees around him. Above, the Vampryum wheeled and hissed in surprise. Cassiel was sure of it—the Humans were dropping more bats.
There was no time to think. Cassiel shot out of his hiding place and flew towards the explosions. Immediately his pursuers were behind him, and Cassiel could feel himself being probed by a dozen echoes. He sent a splash of sound behind him, hoping to deflect their volleys. Maybe it worked, maybe it didn't. He didn't stay to see.
The jungle ended. Cassiel could see the city. It stretched out before him, alive with fire and human alarms. Somehow he had come out on the end of the city opposite his hill and Statue Haven. It was several thousand wingbeats until the city ended at the hill. Cassiel would have to fly through the battle zone.
A giant shadow blocked out the moon, and Cassiel knew it was the Human's flying machine. He pushed his wings harder and entered the city, the cannibals close on his tail, following the scent of his blood.
The smoke was terrible. He choked and sputtered along, clinging to the shadows. And then a cannibal was upon him, the rank of its breath all the notice he had before a searing pain took hold of his right hind leg.
Cassiel turned and raked the cannibals face with his claws, screaming sound into its face. His attacker let go and dipped below as another bat came from above. The second bat slammed Cassiel down towards the first's waiting jaws. The teeth bit at his chest, grabbing a mouthful of silver fur and puncturing his skin, making him bleed.
This bat wasn't the King. He wouldn't eat him, but it was only a matter of time. All the muscles in Cassiel's body tensed and exploded with a violence he hadn't know he had. He was a fury of sound, wings, claws, and teeth. Ripping at the bigger bat's face, he severed its flared nose and tore its ears to ribbons. Cassiel could taste blood. The cannibal cried out in pain, saying he was blind, falling to the ground.
Then there were wings--thousands of wings that beat against the night stars and carried death on their stomachs.
"I have you now!" came the King's voice.
Cassiel turned, still snarling and ready to fight, and saw the monster mere wingbeats away. The King trimmed his wings and was swooping down on him when the first bat hit.
The world disappeared. Cassiel felt the earth beneath him explode, the magnitude of its upheaval throwing him higher into the sky. Dirt and rock collided with him, but he was numb to the pain now. He was blind; there was no sound and no sight. And then the heat of the jungle was replaced by the inferno of the fire. Cassiel was falling into the flames. He didn't know where up or down was, but he knew to fly away from the blaze.
He could hear the cries of the cannibals, but then they were engulfed in the storm of the explosions. The nightmare was back. Absolute terror took over Cassiel. Everything he had ever known—direction, moonlight, family, water, love—vanished from his mind. What replaced it was survival, the need to not be consumed by the fire, to not die.
The flight seemed to last forever. How could it last forever? How could it not? The fire licked his skin, and the smoke carried him out of the horror and into the night air. But it was no relief. The world was dead.
This second wave of discs had decimated the city. There was little left but some stone walls and metal scraps, glowing and burning in the aftermath. There were echoes and cries from Humans everywhere, obscuring his own echoes.
Get to Statue Haven.
The voice was so right. He had to get there. And suddenly all of his injuries began to scream. His left wing was ripped, not too badly. The blood was already crusted and his wings was numb. His hind leg and chest were still bleeding slow, painful drops. Every flap of his wings was like a spike digging deeper into his chest muscles. There was no numbing this hurt. It was too excruciating. But this inside was bare. All the brutality of the last few minutes, all the destruction has emptied him of any feelings. This void was a relief; at least he couldn't weep, not yet.
The hill was in front of him; the apocalypse was behind him. He would never be able to climb the hill, and he was too tired to find his path.
Cassiel gave up. He landed in the weeds at the foot of the hill. This was absolute suicide, sitting on the ground, but death had never seemed so tame when compared to living. All his ideas of survival and saving others now seemed ridiculous. How could he even save himself? He sighed, closed his eyes and tried to sleep. If he was killed in his sleep, then that was that.
Dawn was coming. The sky was pale near the horizon.
Something moaned in the twilight.
Cassiel was brought out of his self-imposed agony. Someone was out there.
He sat up, crouched and ready for flight. The sound came again. It was above him, in the bushes he had rejected as a home some days ago. He cast out sound but the many branches prevented a clear image from returning to him.
Did he want to investigate? If it was a disc-carrying bat, what would he do? If it was a trick by the cannibals, how could he escape again? The moan sounded like something in pain, not a menace. It's a disc-carrier. It needs your help, said his inner voice, and, despite the void inside, Cassiel lifted his exhausted body into the air.
"Hello?" he called to the bush.
The whimper ended and was replaced by silence. A tense silence.
"My name is Cassiel Silverwing. Do you have a disc? I can help you," he was hovering a dozen wingbeats from the thing's hiding place.
No answer.
"Look, I have no disc on me anymore," he said and spread himself for inspection. "I removed it, and I can get yours off too. This place isn't safe and day is coming. I can offer you shelter."
"Why are you bleeding?" asked a deep voice.
"I was attacked," Cassiel replied. He was growing weaker just hovering here, and this was stupid, talking to a bush at dawn. The pit inside him was being filled with annoyance. But it was an emotion, and he was happy for it.
Cassiel turned his head to look at the city behind him. Flames were still reaching up into the sky, but the earth and air were still. He turned back to the something with authority.
"Let me help you and live or stay here and die. Choose."
The bush shuddered and a bat came out. He was bigger than Cassiel but smaller than a cannibal. He had dark fur and a curious tail--a full tail, like a rat's. The disc swung from his stomach, and Cassiel's heart began to race again. The big bat approached the Silverwing with caution. Who was this tiny bat who offered assistance and spoke with authority?
"I saw them explode," said the strange bat quickly, "So I stopped. I landed very carefully."
Cassiel flew in closer, careful to not move too fast.
"My name is Caliban."
Cassiel studied the disc and its stitches.
"Okay, Caliban. Follow me," said Cassiel.
He flew directly up, and Caliban followed.
"Where are we going?" Caliban asked.
"We need to be high enough to not get caught in the explosion. And my shelter is this way," Cassiel answered.
"What about the dawn?"
Cassiel looked around and sure enough, the day was almost there. But there was still smoke in the air and it formed a pretty good veil between Statue Haven and the city.
"Don't worry about it," Cassiel said.
They were more than halfway up the cliff face when Cassiel stopped.
"This is going to hurt. I have to rip the stitches out. I have to fly in from underneath and you might have to carry me for a little bit. Can you do that?"Caliban looked at Cassiel and nodded.
Cassiel dipped under, his aching body protesting the swift motion. He furled his wings and carefully gripped at the bigger bat. Right away he felt the stiffening of Caliban and their altitude fall slightly. But then Caliban was beating harder and they were steady.
The events of the night had homed Cassiel's concentration. He deftly sliced through Caliban's skin, hooking the stitch with his incisors and tearing it out. He heard his patient's gasp of pain and kept going. There was blood, more blood, on his face, its salty taste flooding his senses.
Then the disc was free.
"Fly up!" Cassiel shouted and hurled himself upwards.
Caliban chased him up the hill. They reached the top and heard the disc explode beneath them. Caliban looked down and reared back in horror as a chunk of the hill shot up, the dirt and grass spraying out onto the city. Cassiel didn't look.
"Welcome to Statue Haven, Caliban," he said.