They had overcome the enemy at last, but it came at a tremendous cost. Alex wasn’t sure how many Artiméans remained alive, but evidence of their struggle was strewn about the entire island. How many had they lost? The numbers seemed extraordinary. Clive. Liam. Mr. Appleblossom. And Alex spotted Bock the golden-horned deer lying on his side, dead too. Hundreds more, gone for the sake of Artimé. It was almost too much to bear. But the hospital ward, with ninety full beds, was buzzing with the news of the dragons. There was life in there. The bodies would heal. And Artimé was at peace at last. Was it worth it?
Alex knew that was an impossible question. Would he have done better by surrendering and saving everyone’s life, but forcing them to become slaves to the pirates? In Alex’s mind, there was no choice—he’d done the right thing. And though he’d faltered, he’d always had people, creatures, and statues to back him up and set him on track again.
Aaron came up to Alex in the crowd, a hint of a grin working at the corner of his mouth. “You made it through,” he said.
Alex held his brother’s gaze and nodded. “Amazing. And you—you look . . . good, actually.”
“Fast healer,” said Aaron. His tired eyes lit up, making Alex laugh. “I’m half-dead inside, though. I don’t care if it’s still daytime. I’m going straight to bed. Wake me up if you need anything.”
“I will,” said Alex.
Aaron went inside.
While others filed into the mansion to collapse from exhaustion, Florence, Simber, and Alex remained outside looking at the destruction.
“It’s over,” said Alex. “I can’t believe it.”
“I hope we never see anything like this again,” said Florence.
“Me too,” said Simber. “I’m rrready to rrretirrre.”
Just then, there was a bit of commotion around the corner of the mansion behind them. Alarmed, they turned to look. Alex’s heart sank, fearing the worst—that someone had been hiding, lying in wait to attack. But then three figures rounded the corner, and a familiar voice pealed as they came closer. “What has happened here? Did we miss our chance to help you, Alex-san?”
Alex, Florence, and Simber could barely contain their shock.
“Ishibashi-san!” exclaimed Alex. “Is it really you? Ito-san and Sato-san!” He was caught speechless for a moment, and then found his voice. “How in the world did you get here? Did you build a boat?”
Ishibashi shrugged and smiled his toothless smile, his eyes twinkling behind his cat-eye glasses. “I fixed the tube,” he said.
A Little Help
After their arrival, the scientists discovered they’d just missed Aaron and didn’t want to wake him. They’d wait until morning to surprise him. In the meantime they helped clean up the mansion and looked forward to retiring to their newly assigned rooms to enjoy the comforts of home: bubble baths, soft beds, and room service. It wasn’t too much of a hardship.
Henry and Carina and the nurses continued to help the injured, who still streamed into the hospital ward. Simber, Talon, and the young dragons began to transport the dead pirates and Warblerans to some empty Warbler ships, piling them up high on the deck. Pan promised to give them a respectful burial at sea.
The herbivorous dropbears from the Island of Legends returned in a mini stampede to their island and disappeared into the woods, and the hibagon and Vido the rooster returned home as well. Lhasa retired to her favorite spot on Karkinos to mourn the loss of Bock, who had died valiantly protecting a group of Warbler parents who were fighting for Artimé. No doubt Bock had wanted them to fulfill their wish of being reunited with their children again.
The squirrelicorns transported the Artiméan dropbears and the little dog from the ships to the rock. The rock put them inside his mouth and delivered them to the jungle to be with Panther, with plans to return for the scorpion when Simber was finished collecting pirates.
Alex rode on Spike to the pirate ship where Ol’ Tater was still stomping around and crushing things. Standing on Spike’s back and looking into the very happy mastodon’s eyes, Alex sang the song that put Ol’ Tater to sleep.
Once Ol’ Tater was in dreamland, Alex climbed aboard the ship. He pressed his hand against the mastodon’s side and closed his eyes, breathing deeply for a moment, ignoring the pain all over his body. With all the concentration he could muster, Alex focused on the giant empty space in the Museum of Large and whispered, “Transport.”
Ol’ Tater vanished.
Alex listened for a moment. “Do you hear any screaming, Spike?” he asked.
“No I do not, the Alex,” said Spike.
“Good. I think Ol’ Tater made it to the right place, then.”
“I knew he would.” Spike was silent for a moment, perhaps in contemplation over the fate of a fellow magical creature. And then he said, “He was happy to stomp around and scare all the pirates away.”
“Yes,” said Alex. “I definitely think he was finally happy. If there was any good in this battle, it was giving Ol’ Tater a ship and some pirates to stomp on for a couple of days.” He climbed down the side of the ship and dropped to Spike’s back, feeling like he just wanted to lie down and take a nap. But he stayed stoic, wanting to get as much taken care of as he could before nightfall. “Okay, Spike. Now we’ve got to get Captain Ahab and his head from our ship so Ms. Octavia can put him back together.”