The Familiars #3: Circle of Heroes (9 page)

Skylar and Banshee each ate a nut. Gilbert, however, had trouble breaking the hard shell with his delicate teeth, so Skylar used her beak to crack one open for him. Banshee swung herself into the tree and collected every last cluster of bronze-colored nuts, leaving the branches bare.

“That could keep an army going with no sleep for days,” said Simeon.

With renewed energy the group departed Tavaris’s cottage and returned to the quest at hand. The farmlands were not far from the calm, green waters of the Enaj River. The animals walked up to the river’s edge to get a drink. Gilbert, who had been snacking on salted maggots for much of the journey, lapped up twice his weight in water.

Skylar, Aldwyn, Simeon, and Banshee started quickly upriver, but Gilbert was staring into the water, no longer drinking but watching something.

“Guys, it’s Loranella,” he called out.

Aldwyn doubled back and looked into the river. Gilbert’s puddle vision showed Queen Loranella standing in the garden of the New Palace of Bronzhaven with two of her riders. A courier eagle delivered a rolled-up piece of parchment. Loranella took the message and read it silently to herself, then looked up.

“The glyphstone in Bridgetower has been destroyed,” she said to the riders. “And Paksahara’s minions have divided. Half are going to join the zombies already marching on the glyphstone of Jabal Tur, and the other half will no doubt be headed here, to Bronzhaven, to destroy the third. Ride to Jabal Tur and warn Urbaugh and the others. Tell them that their most perilous battle is yet to come and they must remain persistent, for we cannot allow another glyphstone to fall. Let us just hope the Three have found the seven descendants.”

Both men nodded before galloping off on their horses.

Aldwyn and Gilbert had seen enough of this vision of the present to know that there was not a second to lose. They had to get to the Yennep Mountains and find a lightmare.

The band of five approached the nearest bridge and began to cross the Enaj.

On the opposite bank, several fishermen stood knee-deep in the water, casting their lines in hopes of catching something to eat. As the animals got closer, one of the anglers spat at them.

“If you don’t walk on two legs, you can’t be trusted,” he said.

Banshee looked like she was about to charge him, but Simeon held up his paw.

“Just ignore him,” said the bloodhound.

“Yeah, you better keep walking,” the fisherman called out. “It’s an animal just like you that’s responsible for what’s happening to these lands. We know all about the queen’s rabbit and what she’s up to. You all deserve a lot worse than my spittle on your fur!”

Aldwyn noticed that Banshee wasn’t the only one who let the man’s words get under her skin. Skylar appeared upset as well. She lifted her wing, and Aldwyn watched as a giant shark-toothed eel leaped out from the river, snapping at the fisherman. He stumbled back, falling into the water and soaking himself from head to toe. A satisfied grin crossed Skylar’s beak. Her illusions were becoming ever more effortless and never failed to catch their intended targets off guard.

“I forgot what happens when somebody gets on your bad side,” said Banshee, coming up beside Skylar.

The animals continued along, the Yennep Mountains firmly in their sights. They crossed a field ravaged by floods, the earth so damp that it was like walking through quickmud. There were small farmhouses sunk into the ground with boarded-up windows; whether residents were holed up inside or had simply abandoned them was impossible to tell.

They hurried on. Near the foothills of the Yennep Mountains the plains became rockier and less fertile. This was a region known as the Chordata Plains, a dry and arid landscape, which made it all the more strange that a flock of swamp storks were huddled nearby.

“You’re a little far from the marshlands, aren’t you?” asked Skylar.

One of the long-beaked birds lifted its head.

“Paksahara’s army has made it unsafe for any animal who refuses to join her. I would rather suffer than stand by her side.”

Another stork looked to the animals hopefully.

“We know who you are. We know what you’re doing. And we’re rooting for you.”

Aldwyn and his companions nodded their thanks before continuing on. They headed farther east, fueled not only by the neveryawn nuts but by all those like the displaced storks that were counting on them.

“Guys, would you mind giving me a minute?” said Gilbert. “All that water …”

He hopped over to a private spot behind a large rock.

Aldwyn and the others held up for a moment. The wind was blowing in strongly from the north, which, Aldwyn thought, made it quite strange that a solitary black cloud was somehow approaching swiftly from the south.

“It looks like smoke from a fire,” said Simeon, who had also noticed the cloud. Particles fell as it passed overhead. Some of the black residue from the cloud stained Skylar’s feathers. She lifted her wing to inspect it. “Obsidian,” she said. “Paksahara must be sending it forth from the Shifting Fortress to raise more of her Dead Army.”

She had barely gotten the words out when Aldwyn felt a rumble nearby, where black specks of the obsidian had burrowed into the ground as if they were worms fleeing the sunlight.

“Gilbert, you might want to wrap things up over there,” he called out.

Aldwyn saw the earth open all around them as bones broke through to the surface, coming together like pieces of a puzzle to form the skeletal remains of the great cats—lions, leopards, jaguars, and tigers. Clad in leather and metal armor that was rattling over their bones, they were a terrifying sight. Within seconds, dozens of zombie soldiers were lining up in formation.

“It is Paksahara who raised us,” they chanted in unison. “It is Paksahara we follow.”

“Now, Gilbert!” shouted Aldwyn.

“Don’t rush me,” said Gilbert, who was still hidden behind the rock and completely oblivious to a skeletal jaguar rising up mere feet behind him.

“GILBERT!” screamed Aldwyn. “Run!”

Gilbert finally saw the beast. He let out a croak and sprinted alongside the others just as the jaguar’s jaws were about to close around him. “Why didn’t anyone tell me we were being attacked by zombies?” he cried.

There was no time to answer. Aldwyn was telekinetically lifting and hurling rocks at the skeletal cats, which were all too quick to attack. Banshee made herself invisible and moments later reappeared on the back of a zombie tiger. The howler monkey swung her drum with tremendous force, knocking the creature’s skull around 180 degrees. Unable to see where it was going, the tiger ran straight for a boulder. Banshee leaped off just as the blinded beast made contact with the giant rock and shattered into a thousand pieces.

Aldwyn’s eyes scanned for someplace to hide, someplace to escape to, but there was nowhere to go.

“What do we do?” asked Gilbert, glancing over his shoulder in a panic.

The situation seemed hopeless when Aldwyn heard a sweep of thunderous noise behind him. He looked up to see three white horses running downhill like an avalanche. More followed, leaving a trail of sparks behind them. In unison, the three horses leaped over the familiars, battering through the pack of skeletal cats and trampling a dozen of them underfoot.

A deep, husky voice called out: “Jump on my back!” Aldwyn turned to see that the voice belonged to a tall steed with a silver mane and sparkling black eyes. The lightmare lowered its head, allowing Aldwyn, Gilbert, and Simeon to dash onto its back. Banshee jumped up as well. Skylar soared just above them.

The stallion carrying the animals turned for the mountain and began galloping uphill as effortlessly as if it were crossing flat land. Half a dozen lightmares—for this surely was what these majestic and heroic horses had to be—were holding back the giant cats.

Then a horn blared and one of the skeletal lions called out, “To Jabal Tur.”

Upon his command, the zombie soldiers turned to the west and began marching toward the Enaj.

“It was only a matter of time before Paksahara spread her obsidian across the Chordata Plains,” said the silver-maned steed. There was no sign of strain in the stallion’s voice, even though he was carrying five animals on his back up the rocky slope. Behind them, the other lightmares were galloping in step.

“Who were those cats … before they became zombies?” asked Aldwyn. “And why were they all dressed in armor?”

“Prior to their death, they were resistance fighters, great cats who stood up against the oppressive rule of man.” He paused. “It’s another part of Vastia’s forgotten history, one that those on the flatlands know nothing of.”

As the lightmare raced along in a flat-out gallop, Aldwyn recalled the pieces of Vastia’s forgotten history that he, Skylar, and Gilbert had discovered earlier on their journey. First, there had been the amazing drawings that had been painted on the walls of the Kailasa caves. They showed that before man, animals alone had ruled Vastia. And then there had been the story told to them of how the First Phylum was tricked into allowing a man to join the original council of seven animals. The leader of these conniving humans had been a man named Sivio, who eventually anointed himself king.

“The great cats were massacred on these plains, leaving none to roam the land,” continued the steed. “Man tried to cover up the incident by saying that they migrated from Vastia to the Beyond, but in the dead of night their bodies were buried here in the soil of the Chordata Plains.”

“More of man’s lies,” said Skylar, her eyes narrowing coldly. Aldwyn couldn’t remember a time she had sounded as angry as this.

“History is filled with them,” said the steed. “Which is why the lightmares of Yennep have taken it upon themselves to be the recorders of truth. When Sivio began to cause discord among the original council, our herd was the first to resign. We isolated ourselves up here in the mountains, where we’ve collected relics of the past and chosen to remain at a distance from the politics of humankind.”

As they continued higher and higher up the trail, Aldwyn noticed that the dusty ground had been hardened into brown stone—no doubt the result of hundreds of years of superheated hooves galloping across it.

Aldwyn turned to Skylar, who still looked visibly upset.

“What is it, Skylar?” asked Aldwyn.

“If we stop Paksahara, who’s to say humans won’t repeat their past cruelties toward animals?” she replied.

“You can’t think like that,” said Gilbert. “Not every human is the same. Marianne, Jack, Dalton, Kalstaff, Queen Loranella, Sorceress Edna … they’re all good people.”

“Don’t forget what we’re fighting for,” Banshee added. “For humans and animals to coexist peacefully.”

“Peacefully, perhaps,” said Skylar. “But not equally. A human has sat on the throne in Bronzhaven for hundreds of years, and never have they sought the advice or counsel of animals. As unpleasant and immoral as her actions may be, Paksahara isn’t completely wrong.”

The words sent a shiver down Aldwyn’s spine. For Skylar to even think of defending someone as merciless and brutal as the gray hare seemed inexcusable.

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned from walking in the past,” said Simeon to Skylar, “it’s to think long and hard about the decisions you make in the present. We only get to make them once, and then we have to live with the consequences forever.”

Skylar didn’t look convinced but made no further comment. Aldwyn could see that they had reached the Yennep Highlands, a long plateau at the top of a mountain. From this elevated position, Aldwyn felt like he was back on the rooftops of Bridgetower, looking down on the entire city, except here all of Vastia could be seen. There was a trail of smoke and destruction across the land, no doubt marking the path of the Dead Army’s march.

“These are our stomping grounds,” said the stallion as they galloped across a vast alpine meadow, passing hundreds of lightmares who were grazing peacefully.

“Untouched by any outsider,” the stallion continued. “No fences have ever been built. No trees cut down. If the grass is eaten, it will grow back. You are the first to visit, save for the birds, wind, and clouds.”

“We are honored to be your guests,” said Aldwyn. “We seek the aid of one of your species, a lightmare to join us on our quest to restore peace to all of Vastia.”

“You’ll need to speak with the tribe’s thunderhoof. I’ll take you to her now.”

They were approaching the far side of the meadow, where a group of white stallions guarded the mouth of a cave. The stallions allowed the steed to walk up to the cavern’s entrance and let the familiars and descendants dismount.

Aldwyn was first to enter the cave. It was as long and wide as the grand dining hall in the New Palace of Bronzhaven, but dimly lit. The far reaches were hard to make out from its mouth at first, but as the stallion led them deeper into the mountain, Aldwyn quickly realized just how special this place really was.

The walls were covered in elaborate drawings of animals accomplishing great tasks. The images appeared to have been painted in the same style and perhaps even by the same hand that had decorated the Kailasa cave. Some of the drawings, like those of frogs sitting on thrones and telekinetic cats moving glyphstones, were identical to those at Kailasa. Others were different. One showed the image of woodpeckers carving a bracelet, the same bracelet that allowed Paksahara to control the Shifting Fortress. Another depicted lions, tigers, jaguars, and leopards wearing leather and chain mail armor, marching into battle against man centuries earlier on the Chordata Plains.