The ship slammed from one side to the other. The thundering grew so loud that Alex thought his eardrums would burst. His whole body shook and swung about, and it was all he could do to hang on.
Then everything shifted. The ship took a second right-angle turn forward, slamming everyone with water once more and yanking them wildly against their ropes. It took Alex several seconds to realize that they were now sailing completely upside down: The ship and the sea were above them, the sky below, and they dangled precipitously as a reverse sort of gravity seemed to want to pull them down into the never-ending sky. Their speed increased but the thundering noise decreased, and soon Alex could hear the cries of his friends once more. He opened his eyes, and through splashes of water saw Florence holding on to the side of the ship with one arm while Simber attempted to wrap his rope around her leg.
“Stay strong and hold tight, everyone!” Alex yelled, relieved to know that at least some of them remained attached to the ship. “We are still here. Hold on! Take a fresh grip and wrap yourself in the ropes if you can!”
They continued upside down for an almost unbearable amount of time, and then, just as swiftly as it had fallen, the ship took an upward turn and the thundering noise increased once more. Alex and Samheed, hanging on to ropes, slammed into the deck and bounced, which gave them momentary relief until a few of their shipmates dropped on top of them, unable to hang on after the most recent shift in direction. Something furry scrabbled straight up the deck and sank its claws into Alex. Instinctively Alex held on to it, deducing that it had to be Fox, and then another body slid into his—human this time. “Sky!” he cried, but she didn’t answer; or if she did, he couldn’t hear her. Alex wrapped his arms around both of them, weaving the rope as best he could to secure them against him. Water poured over them now.
Alex held his breath, hoping against hope that Simber had secured Florence enough that she wouldn’t come crashing into anyone, for she would surely crush any human to death.
The ship thudded and shook, smashing against Alex’s spine. He wasn’t sure how long he, much less any of the others, could hang on. The thunder pummeled his ears and rattled his head, and soon he couldn’t tell which way was up. He grew disoriented and flustered. Waves of black washed over his eyes, and as the ship pounded over the water, Alex’s shaking arms could hold on no longer.
Samheed shouted something near Alex’s ear, but Alex couldn’t make it out.
“What?” he cried.
Sam shouted again. It sounded like “Crow!”
Alex looked around but he couldn’t see anything. “Crow?” he shouted back.
Samheed shook his head. “Scroll!” he cried out. He drew a circle in the air and put his mouth next to Alex’s ear. “We’re scrolling! Like Mr. Today’s scroll feature! In Artimé!”
Alex didn’t understand. The term sounded familiar, but he couldn’t concentrate long enough to remember what it meant. He felt ill. “I can’t . . . ,” he said. Another wave of black crossed his vision. He fought to keep from passing out, thinking of Sky and how he couldn’t let go of her. They had to get through this. Ms. Morning needed help. But how would they find home now? Where were they?
As they rounded a fourth sharp turn forward, bringing them upright at last with the sky above and the sea and ship below, Alex could stave off the blackness no more. The echoing thunder in his ears became silent. His arms fell slack; his head bobbled and sank to his chest. Fox slipped from his grasp and slid to the deck, and Sky crumpled to the floor at Alex’s side.
Alex slumped to the deck, unconscious, arms and legs tangled in the rope around him.
Only a few ears heard the thunder slowly dissipate in the distance behind them; few eyes saw the sea slowly grow calm again around the tattered ship. Behind them, the horizon was close enough to touch. In front of them, the sea and sky stretched on and on.
When the second flash of light streaked through the air and exploded into a painted spider in front of Alex’s lifeless face, it would only have taken one clever pair of eyes to notice it and follow the path from whence it came, which would point the way home. But the question remained: Had anyone seen it? Anyone at all?
Henry lay stiller than a statue near the stairwell to the lower deck, one foot twisted around the anchor rope. From his pocket, a white porcelain kitten emerged. She stretched and yawned. She licked a paw and brushed the sleep from her eyes. And then she hopped off Henry and onto the deck, looking over the destruction that had taken place during her nap.
She stepped around Sean, who moaned. She moved past the mast and sails, where Crow and his mother still clung for dear life. She climbed over Florence’s leg and the captain’s chest and a squirrelicorn’s horn, sniffing her way across the deck until she saw him.
She bounded over to Fox, sodden from lying in a puddle, and looking like a rat, but smelling like Fox was supposed to smell. She licked his face until he woke up, and then she hopped on top of his head. When he stood up, Kitten could see over the railing. Fox blinked and shook the water from his fur. He walked over to Alex and began licking the mage’s face earnestly, trying to get him to wake up.
Kitten narrowed her eyes, tilting her head this way and that, finally noticing a fading streak of light going from Alex off toward the sunset. She sniffed it and sat up. She had seen one of those before and knew what it meant. She hopped once, as if it would help her see farther, and then hopped two more times.
When at last Fox had successfully licked Alex’s eyes open and the mage lifted his head, the streak of light had vanished. Kitten could wait no longer, for she did not want to forget.