Clay started feeling grateful for the ski hat almost as soon as they were in the air: It muffled the roar of the engine, as well as the alarming clanking sounds that rattled the plane at frequent but jarringly irregular intervals.
Almost muffled them, that is.
He glanced over at the pilot. “Hey, Owen…?”
Owen looked back at his young passenger. There was sweat on Clay’s brow. “Not to worry, pal—it’s going to take more than a little turbulence to knock this baby out of the sky. But if you have to puke, there’s a bucket behind your seat.”
He smiled reassuringly, but Clay noticed that Owen’s knuckles were white. He had a very tight grip on the seaplane’s steering wheel.
“Actually, it’s about the Midnight Sun,” said Clay. “This is going to sound totally crazy, but they’re not actually vampires, are they? That was just an expression, right?”
Owen hesitated, as though Clay’s question wasn’t crazy at all. “Well, some of them are pretty old—hundreds and hundreds of years old—but they’re not vampires exactly. They’re alchemists. The Midnight Sun is on a never-ending search for a potion that will make them live forever.”
“Okay…” Their being hundreds of years old was not the same as their being vampires, but it was hardly any better. “And what’s with the white gloves? They really never take them off?”
“Never,” said Owen. “Because no matter how young their faces look, their hands always show their age.”
Clay shuddered, imagining their secretly withering hands.
“But do yourself a favor and act like you don’t notice the gloves. Asking about them is the quickest way to get your head bitten off.”
“They do that, too?” asked Clay, joking (mostly).
Owen laughed. “Well, maybe not literally.” He reached over and patted Clay on the shoulder. “Whatever you’re worrying about, don’t. It’s all going to be fine. You saved Ariella once before, didn’t you?”
Clay tried to smile back, but then they hit the worst bit of turbulence yet, and he focused on sitting still and not losing his lunch.
Clay jerked awake to find that he had drooled all over his chin and the sun was peeking over the horizon. Below them, the dark ocean had been replaced by sunbaked desert.
“Morning, welcome to Africa,” Owen said. “We’re already over the Kalahari. About twenty minutes now.”
They passed over deep jagged ravines and wide desert plateaus. Past one particularly impressive canyon, a flock of birds appeared beside the plane. Clay watched them for a moment. Rather than flying in one direction, in a V formation, the birds swooped and dove, circling erratically.
“Is that… normal?” Clay asked.
Owen frowned. “I don’t think so.”
“They look lost.”
“Maybe their brains got scrambled by airplane sonar? Or a change in the magnetic fields?”
They’re scared, Clay thought as the flailing birds disappeared from view.
Owen pointed out the windshield. “There—that’s where we’re going.”
Clay peered out into the desert. He could just make out the crater near the horizon; from this distance, the giant ring of rock looked like an upside-down bottle cap lying on the ground.
There was a crackling in Clay’s ear. As he clutched his ski hat, he heard Leira’s voice, shouting at him.
“Clay! Clay! Come in, Clay!”
“I hear you,” he said, wincing. “You don’t have to yell so loud.”
“It’s Mount Forge,” she said, slightly out of breath. “It’s erupting.”
“When is it NOT erupting?”
“Not like this.” Leira sounded uncharacteristically serious. “You should see it—like a geyser. And the lava’s heading right toward camp. I mean, you know how lava flows are—not exactly fast. But still, looks like we’re going to have to evacuate.”
“Evacuate?”
“Mr. B says you have to abort the mission and come back. Right now. We need the plane.”
“What about the teepee?”
“You think that thing can fly all the way across the ocean?”
Owen grabbed Clay’s shoulder. “What’s going on?”
“They want us to turn around.” Clay told Owen what Leira had said.
Owen let loose a string of swear words that I won’t repeat here, then abruptly cut it off. “Well, I guess we don’t have a choice, do we?”
Clay looked down at the crater, which was looming larger and larger in front of them. A moment ago, he’d been terrified at the prospect of staying with the Midnight Sun. Now he found himself unexpectedly disappointed to be aborting his mission.
More than disappointed. Devastated.
“Do we both have to turn around?” he asked.
“Huh?” Owen said.
“Huh?” Leira said in his ear.
Clay clenched his fists and sat up straight. “I want to stay at the Keep, even if I have to do it alone.”
“You’re asking me to leave you there by yourself?” said Owen, incredulous.
Clay nodded. “But I won’t be by myself—that’s the point. Cass and Ariella are there. And if I don’t get them out, who will?”
“No way,” Owen said. “Your brother would kill me. Never mind Mr. B.”
“Say I jumped out of the plane before you could stop me. Besides, if they really need to evacuate camp, I’ll just be taking up more space.”
“Did you think I was just kidding about the Midnight Sun? These people… well, this isn’t like an overnight at your grandma’s house.”
“I know. Don’t worry—all I have to do is get to Ariella and I’ll be fine,” said Clay, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt. “Once that dragon is free, nobody can hurt me.”
“But how would you get back?” Owen said.
“On Ariella’s back. Wasn’t that the plan?”
Owen looked out over the desert, which was growing lighter all the time.
“Cass could die there otherwise,” Clay persisted. “Ariella, too.”
“All right,” Owen said finally. “I know I’m going to regret this, but okay.”
“Really?” Clay blurted. “I mean, good! I can do it—I know I can.”
“Are you sure?” said Leira in Clay’s ear. “Shouldn’t we ask Mr. B first?”
“NO!” said Clay. “I mean, please don’t. This is my decision.”
There was a pause at the other end. “Okay, but Brett and I are going to stay in your ear twenty-four/seven. We’re not letting you do this alone.”
“Don’t you have some lava to worry about?” Clay muttered.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Clay glanced over at the pilot’s seat to see if Owen was having second thoughts. Owen stared out the windshield, grim but determined.
Directly ahead of them, the crater rose like a massive fortress out of the desert landscape. By the looks of it, the only thing harder than getting in would be getting out.
A moment later, the plane began its final descent.
“What’s that?” Clay asked. “Not a jet stream, right? Aren’t they usually white and puffy?”
Something had appeared in front of them: a bright silvery line, just above the crater. It looked like a cut or slit in the sky, as if someone had sliced into the sky with a gigantic knife, revealing some secret light source behind the blue. Clay almost thought he could see lightning inside. Or maybe blinking stars. The air around the line shimmered strangely.
“Dunno,” said Owen. “But you should probably be more concerned about what’s waiting on the ground.”
“Yeah, guess so,” said Clay, his whole body tense.
More birds flew around the plane, pinwheeling haphazardly. There was only one consistent thing about their movements: All the birds were heading away from the exact spot Clay was headed toward.