CHAPTER 23

IN WHICH NADYA FACES SILVERMASK.

A few minutes later I’m holding Tam’s shoulder for balance, staring hard at Silvermask and trying to remember everything Aaron taught me.

“Nadya,” Thom murmurs behind me. The Shadowmen have stood him up, but they still have his arms pinned behind his back. “I’ve got another plan. Just let me know when he’s distracted, okay?”

I nod absentmindedly, but I’m not really listening. I’m trying to think of something I can be that’s big and strong enough to beat Silvermask. My leg shakes. My hands tremble. I can’t do this. I’m not good enough. Everything I try gets messed up and I get hurt, or someone else gets hurt, and it’s gonna be the same this time, I know it!

I’m waiting, he says in my mind. But I won’t wait forever. You have ten seconds to get on here and face me, or I start throwing your friends to the Malumbra.

The fear-octopus swims circles around my head. I can’t think. Can’t breathe. I’m gonna screw everything up.

One . . .

When I was a little kid, I used to be so scared of the dark it would paralyze me. If I woke up in the middle of the night and had to pee, sometimes I’d wet the bed rather than risk getting up. Mostly Mrs. T took care of me in those days, but sometimes Nic would visit us when the Orion was in port. He’d keep a lamp lit for me, even if it kept him awake, and if I was scared he’d sit next to my bed and sing. Sometimes, when he thought I was asleep, he’d whisper that he was so glad they found me, and the world was brighter because I was in it.

Two . . .

The fears and hopes and dreams tumbling around in my head all click into place. I’ll never screw up. Not in the eyes of the people who matter most, like Nic and Mrs. T and my parents—wherever they are. I’ll never be like Alan Salawag. Other people love me for who I am and what I’ve already done, and I love them back, and nothing will ever change that.

Three . . .

I can do this. I look across the room, where Aaron’s slumped against the wall, staring blankly at his feet. His lion didn’t work in the end. Couldn’t beat that huge spider.

Four . . .

What eats a spider? What in the world could take on a spider the size of a house?

Five . . .

Centipedes eat spiders, but I don’t think I could be a centipede. Spiders eat other spiders, but I definitely couldn’t be a spider.

Six . . .

Tam shifts his weight, and his pocket bumps into mine. My locator chirps. And then I’ve got it.

I close my eyes and reach for the Panpathia.

It’s like shaking the hand of a corpse. The web’s dead, covered in that sticky purple stuff the Malumbra makes. I look for the little glowing dots that should be my friends and I can sort of see them, but everything’s drowned out by the presence of two enormous wrongs.

First, there’s the Malumbra. Silvermask called it glorious, but that’s not what it looks like to me. All I see is the inside of a mouth, enormous dark ridges and huge black teeth the size of the statues of Far Agondy’s city founders in the center of town. That mouth is frozen now, not closing anymore, but I can see down its throat and there’s nothing there. Not darkness, not shadow, just a vast and stomach-wrenching void, like a hole ripped in the world.

Second, on one of the cold, dark lines he’s poisoned, there’s Silvermask.

You ever see a big spider unfurl its legs? Like it’s sleeping or something and you can see it’s pretty big, and then you spook it or a fly lands on its web, and all those legs uncurl and spread out and suddenly it’s five times the size it was before?

Imagine that happening with a spider whose body is as big as a city block, and you should have a pretty good idea of what Silvermask does when I get on the Panpathia.

For a second, I lose my confidence. My heart skips. He’s so huge, so powerful. There’s nothing in the world that could beat a spider that size. Nothing.

Except, I tell myself, a bird the size of the Orion.

Because birds eat spiders, and the Orion’s the sturdiest thing I know. If I have to bet my life on anything, I’m betting it on her.

I wrap myself in the Panpathia’s light and fire and let my mind become a huge bird, with wings the size of cloud balloons, a tail like a waterfall, and claws as big as the launches in Far Agondy’s harbor. The Panpathia shrinks as I get bigger. Silvermask shrinks too. He doesn’t get as small as I’d like, but that’s okay, because I can fly, and he’s just a spider. I flap my wings and take off, up away from his web, and then I float there, watching him.

Inspired, he hisses. Truly. But ultimately a poor choice. On some islands, spiders eat birds too, Nadya Skylung.

I glare at him, flapping wings of brilliant flame.

Not this one, I say, and I dive toward him like a hawk. He has to scramble out of the way, and still I swipe a chunk out of his leg with a talon. Birds are fast, when they need to be.

But so are spiders. All of sudden there’s a leg whipping toward me and I have to take off again, and then the duel is really on, and I’m flying and scrambling and slashing and biting, and he’s jumping back and forth, leaping between strands of web, trying to get above me or trick me into flying in front of his two huge fangs, glistening with venom.

Round and round we swirl. I bite his back. He scrapes my wing. I scratch his face. He bruises my leg. Every time I hit him, a little of the Malumbra’s shadow bleeds away. Every time he hits me, the fire cools and the light dims. At first I think we’re evenly matched, but the hits I’m landing on him don’t seem to make much difference, and all the bruises and whacks and scrapes really add up for me. I start to worry whether I can beat him.

Free us, someone whispers.

I’m pinwheeling around, trying to avoid two strands of web and get to his abdomen, and it takes me a second to realize someone’s talking to me. What? I ask.

Over here . . . free us . . .

Listening to the voice distracts me, and Silvermask almost pins my wing with two of his legs. I have to push really hard to tear free from him and flap away. But when I do, I spot what the voice was talking about.

On the beds, where the children are, there are other shapes in the darkness.

I see a bear three times the size of the largest grizzly I’ve ever heard of. I see a shark with a head so huge it could swallow a good-sized anchor. I see a cobra and an eagle and a crocodile and a tiger.

And brighter than all of them, at the edge of the beds, I see a lion.

They’re cocooned, wrapped up in the same sticky purple stuff that’s all over the web. It muffles their glow and keeps them from moving. They must be the cloudling kids from Aaron’s town, able to do the same thing he can. And that lion must be Aaron.

Silvermask jumps onto another strand of the web. He’s scrambling real fast now, coming straight toward me, and the kids are under him. Getting there would take me right below his belly. If I’m not fast enough, he’ll jump on my back and pin me. It seems like a big risk.

But I’m tiring out. My wings aren’t so big anymore. My fire’s not as bright, and my mind’s starting to feel cold. If I don’t do this now, I might not get another chance.

So I tuck my wings and dive as fast as I can. No time to hesitate. No time to think. Just fly, like Butterbeak protecting her chicks or Wormgobbler hunting for food or Bluebelly when she’s happy in the morning and stretching out her wings. Fly like the Orion. Fly like the Flightwing. Fly like Rash.

Fly like me.

I beat my wings hard and sail in an arc along that line of kids, breathing fire into my talons and slicing through the cocoons that bind them. Too late, Silvermask sees what I’m doing. He shrieks and drops toward me, but by then I’ve finished my arc and I’m pounding my wings again, trying to get out from under him.

It doesn’t work. His spider shape crashes into my bird shape, and my head reels. The Panpathia snaps in and out of focus. For a second I’m looking at Silvermask with two sets of eyes, one staring up at an enormous spider’s fangs and the other watching a man crow triumphantly.

There’s a roar.

And a growl, and a snap.

I refocus on being the bird, and all those kids come to help me, piling into Silvermask and pushing his enormous body off mine before he can bite me or poison me or wrap me up or whatever he was going to do. Aaron sinks his lion fangs into one of the spider’s legs and tries to wrench it off. The shark grabs another leg, and the bear charges and the cobra strikes. Silvermask squeals. Shadows spill off him like water, and he shrinks and shrinks.

“Thom!” I call out, “we’ve got him!”

And as my awareness shifts off the Panpathia, I hear Thom mumbling and grunting in the language he and Pepper use when they’re calling fire, and then there’s a sudden, painful burst of light.