Island of Dragons (Unwanteds #7)(47)

When Doubt and Fear Creep In


Simber woke Alex early.

“They’rrre coming,” he said.

Alex opened his eyes and blinked at the ceiling, lost for a moment in a dream, and then he remembered. He sprang out of bed. “Already? How much time?” he asked.

“A few hourrrs,” said Simber.

“And how many ships?”

Simber hesitated. “I counted twenty-fourrr.”

Alex felt the blood leave his head, and he sat down on the edge of his bed. In an instant, the situation became alarmingly real, horribly immediate. Everything that had transpired between him and Aaron got pushed aside. It was all he could do to keep from hiding under the bed. “Twenty-four ships?” he whispered. He looked at Simber, aghast. “Twenty-four? We haven’t got a chance against that.”

Simber lifted his chin defiantly. “You may be rrright, but if I hearrr you speak like that in frrront of anyone else on this island, I may just kill you myself.”

Alex sucked in a breath and then lifted a hand to his eyes. His thoughts were scrambled, and his heart sank deep into despair. There was no possible way Artimé could fend off twenty-four ships filled with pirates and Warblerans. He didn’t have a plan in place yet. He barely had a handful of decent strategies worked out since he’d gotten the news. What was Artimé to do? What could they do against so many? They’d all die! Obliteration seemed like an understatement.

“Is Florence back yet?” Alex asked weakly through his fingers.

“Not yet.”

“Of course not . . . it’s too soon. Where’s Claire?”

“I was planning to wake herrr next.”

Alex dropped his hands, feeling overwhelmed and helpless. “Yes, do that. And if you could assemble my team . . . or wait. I’ll have Clive do that.” He shook his head. “I don’t even know what I’m saying. I think I’m going to be sick. This is it for us, isn’t it, Simber? The end?”

Simber gave Alex a stern look. “Alex, you’rrre the head mage, and we’rrre about to be attacked. You’ve handled it beforrre. Pull yourrrself togetherrr. Now.”

“But . . .” Alex faltered. “Twenty-four ships . . .”

“Stop!” Simber growled under his breath, and then said, “You have battled and conquerrred two evil high prrriests and theirrr Quillitarrries, and you’ve defeated Warrrblerrr twice, once on theirrr island and once herrre. You’ve surrrvived a deadly hurrricane and a disastrrrous waterrrfall rrride arrround the worrrld, and you’ve fought off an enorrrmous eel and dozens of saberrr-toothed gorrrillas. You’ve brrrought Arrrtimé back frrrom the dead, rrrescued people in need, and set an ocean of sea crrreatures frrree. You took in people who didn’t deserrrve forrrgiveness, and you accepted rrresponsibility forrr yourrr sisterrrs. The people of Arrrtimé and Quill believe in you. They trrrust you. You must not let them down.”

The stone cheetah statue paused to make sure Alex was listening. “If you think you will fail now, afterrr all you have accomplished in your shorrrt life, then you arrre not the mage I thought you werrre.”

Alex stared at the floor. It was true. He wasn’t the mage Simber thought he was.

After a long moment, Simber turned and walked out the door, pausing just outside it. “I’ll summon yourrr team to the lawn, and we’ll meet you therrre in fifteen minutes. That should be plenty of time forrr you to rrrememberrr who you arrre and what you fight forrr, Alexanderrr Stowe. You arrre the head mage of the most powerrrful society in ourrr worrrld. And even when all appearrrs lost,” said Simber, “you must fight with everrrything you have inside you, all the way until the bitterrr end.”

With that, Simber loped down the hallway, shaking the mansion with every step.

Alex closed his eyes and sucked in a breath, letting it out slowly. And while he knew that Simber was right—mostly, anyway—Alex didn’t know if he had it inside him to take on yet another battle. Especially one that appeared impossible to win. So many lives were at stake. Would this be the demise of Artimé? Was this how Alex’s life would finally end—in a fight with some of the same enemies he’d been fighting all along? How could Alex ask his people to fight one more time after all they had been through, when death appeared certain? This was more than just Alex’s life on the line. This was an entire island’s worth of people in danger. How could Alex possibly lead them into that?

“Perhaps we must surrender in order to survive,” Alex whispered, hating himself for saying the words, but saying them nonetheless.

“Surrender?” shouted Clive, pushing his face out of Alex’s blackboard. “You can’t surrender. There is no such word in my vocabulary, so I’m afraid I can’t share that kind of news.”

Alex glanced up, but he didn’t have the energy to deal with Clive right now. He shook his head sadly and looked away. “Go away,” he said.

Clive’s lips parted in hurt and surprise. He blinked and then he disappeared. But soon words appeared on the blackboard in place of his face.

Attention people of Artimé. We are under attack. A fleet of ships is heading our way from Warbler and the Island of Fire. It is with great humility that I ask you one last time for your help in defending our world. As always, your refusal will be met with acceptance and respect, for that has always been the way of Artimé. Even if I find myself standing alone on our lawn two hours hence, I will fight to the end for you.