The Familiars (17 page)

“There isn’t,” said the billy. “But it would be wise for you to travel across one at a time.”

“Why?” asked Gilbert in a mild panic. “It’s not one of those rope bridges with the wood planks you can fall through, is it?”

“No, it’s stone and you won’t easily fall off.”

Gilbert gave a relieved sigh.

“Unless you’re pushed,” added the goat.

Aldwyn wondered if the billy’s lonely time in the mountains had made him a little crazy.

“Some call it the Bridge of Betrayal. You see, after the Uprising, two captains of old Vastia, best friends from the Royal Guard, traveled here to look for any remaining zombie soldiers of the Dead Army. They didn’t find any, but they did stumble across a map buried in the snow. A treasure map.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Aldwyn could see from Skylar’s intent gaze that this was a legend that even she had never heard.

“Unfortunately, while crossing the bridge, the friends turned on each other, both greedy for the
fortune the map promised. They fought, and in their struggle, they threw each other over the side into the gorge below. Neither man nor map was ever found. Only their donkey lived to tell the tale. Since that day, the bridge has been cursed. Anyone who crosses it with others will betray their fellow travelers.”

With these words, the goat picked up his slow, solitary trot down the mud road. The familiars were left to ponder his warning as they continued up the steep slope.

Within minutes, the winds got even stronger and the air colder. A dusting of snow started swirling around the bigger boulders.

In the near distance, stretching across the seemingly bottomless mountain gorge, was the stone bridge. It looked majestic and quite safe, with brown brick walls as high as a man’s waist. It certainly didn’t appear cursed to Aldwyn.

“The wind is too strong. I can’t fly,” said Skylar. “I’ll have to walk across the bridge as well. I’ll go first. Then Gilbert. Aldwyn, you can—”

“There, nearing the bridge!” a voice called out.

Aldwyn whipped his head around to see two
men dressed in leather armor, one carrying a net, the other holding a noose. Behind them came Aldwyn’s arch-enemy. Just as he had feared, Grimslade had tracked them down. The men were charging up the hill, racing toward Aldwyn, Skylar, and Gilbert.

“Go, go, go!” shouted Aldwyn.

The three familiars raced as fast as paws, webbed feet, and wings could carry them, but still the distance between themselves and their pursuers was shrinking rapidly. They arrived at the foot of the bridge. Skylar looked back at the oncoming men, then at the long stretch of brown bricks, each stamped with a picture of a king’s throne.

“We’re going to have to cross the bridge together,” she said.

“But what about the goat’s—?” asked Gilbert, but he didn’t even finish the question before Aldwyn and Skylar had started to race across. The tree frog immediately began jumping after them.

Aldwyn felt the wind pounding at his ears, all but deafening him. He could barely hear himself think. Then he heard a voice.

They know your secret. They’ll expose you for who you really are.

Aldwyn stopped and turned around, but there was nobody there. Who was speaking to him?

Get rid of them. Start with the bird. She’s onto you. She knows you’re just an ordinary alley cat.

Aldwyn stopped again, trying to shake the crazy voice out of his head. Then he noticed that Skylar had halted in her tracks as well, and she was batting at the air above her with one of her wings. More troubling, she was talking to herself.

“I don’t need all the credit,” she said aloud. “So what if they share in the glory?”

She paused and seemed to be listening to words only she could hear.

“My name alone in the history books?” she asked. “Yes, that would be nice.”

She glared at Aldwyn menacingly. This was a look he had never seen from her before, and it was more than a little frightening.

Then the voice spoke to him once more.
Do it. Rid yourself of the problem. Snap her wings. Then throw her over the edge.

Aldwyn felt his paws twitch. It would be so easy. He maintained control, though, and tried to think clearly. These were his friends. Why would he hurt them?

Aldwyn had a moment of realization: so that’s why the goat called this the Bridge of Betrayal! And the voices must have been talking to Gilbert, too, because now Aldwyn could hear him shout, “Don’t come any closer! These are my flies, and you can’t have them!”

He clutched the flower bud backpack tightly.

“Let’s all calm down,” said Aldwyn. “The bridge is doing this.”

“Don’t try your tricks on me,” replied Gilbert.

Now really wasn’t the best time for infighting. Grimslade and the other two bounty hunters were coming quickly toward them.

The familiars still had half the bridge to cross, but they were too filled with mistrust to continue forward.

“If I save the wizards,” said a possessed Skylar, “my name will be known all across Vastia.”

Now’s your chance. Chuck her into the gorge. . . .

Aldwyn took a step closer to her.

“I see both of you eyeing my maggots!” yelled Gilbert. “Well, you can’t have them!”

He looked like he was about to charge at his companions. Aldwyn and Skylar were moving toward each other, ready to attack. Then, from behind them, they heard the sounds of a horrible struggle. They shifted their attention to see two of the assassins on the bridge with arms locked, wrestling each other. The net and the noose had been dropped.

“I’m the one who tracked them,” one shouted, his voice filled with hatred. “The whole reward should be mine.”

“Well, you never would have survived the trek up the mountain if it wasn’t for me,” replied the other.

There was no mistaking it: Aldwyn knew they were hearing voices in their heads, too. One was clearly stronger than the other, and he pushed his comrade so hard into the wall of the bridge that it knocked a few bricks into the gorge below. The bigger assassin pushed again, but this time, the smaller hunter moved quickly, grabbing the larger one’s arm and flinging him over the side.

Aldwyn could hear his scream as he fell to a most certain death.

This was enough to snap Aldwyn and Skylar out of the bridge’s curse. Gilbert, however, was still held by its power.

“You can’t have them,” he screamed. “No one can.”

“Gilbert, nobody wants your flies,” said Aldwyn, trying to calm the tree frog while watching the surviving assassin approach Grimslade with a bloodthirsty look in his eyes.

“Sorry, old chap,” the smaller hunter said. “I think it’s time for you to take a tumble as well.”

“You fool,” said Grimslade. “Now I’m going to have to kill you.”

With an outstretched gloved hand Grimslade seized the man’s throat. The hunter in the choke hold reached behind himself and grabbed a loose brick. He swung it across the side of Grimslade’s face, knocking him to the ground.

Aldwyn, distracted by their foes’ deadly fight, suddenly found two webbed hands wrapped around his neck, feebly attempting to choke the life out of him.

“You’ll never have them,” cried Gilbert.

Skylar flew over and tried to pull him off Aldwyn.

“Gilbert, let go,” she said.

Fortunately, Gilbert wasn’t a very strong frog, and Skylar and Aldwyn were able to pin him to the ground.

Aldwyn slapped a paw across his face.

“Snap out of it!”

Gilbert blinked hard.

“What happened?” he asked, suddenly himself again.

Aldwyn turned back to see Grimslade picking up the net and throwing it over the other man’s head. With his opponent in a tangle, Grimslade charged at him, and the strength of his attack knocked both of them over the side. Grimslade, however, hung on to the edge of the wall with his fingers, while the other man managed to catch hold of Grimslade’s leg just moments before plunging. He held on desperately and looked up with pleading eyes.

“I’m sorry. I never meant to betray you,” the assassin said. “It was the voices.”

But Grimslade was still clutching the bridge, and so words of betrayal were still ringing in his head. He kicked out at his companion, sending him into the gorge.

“Come on,” said Skylar to Aldwyn and Gilbert. “Let’s go.”

Skylar and Gilbert began hurrying across the bridge toward the snow-covered Kailasa mountainside. But Aldwyn headed back to where Grimslade hung on for dear life, his fingers struggling to retain their hold on the stone.

“I don’t suppose you’d want to lend me a paw,”
said Grimslade, “seeing as how we’re old friends, you and me.”

It would be so easy, Aldwyn thought. A quick bite into his fingers, a scratch to the back of his hand, and the man who had been ruthlessly chasing him would no longer be a threat.

But Aldwyn was no killer. He lived by the strict code of the back alleys, and taking out an enemy in this manner would not be honorable. Of course, should wind or gravity finish off the bounty hunter, well, that would not be his problem. Aldwyn turned and ran for the Kailasa mountainside.

12

A SECRET HISTORY

A
ldwyn caught up to Skylar and Gilbert, and the three of them began climbing the Kailasa mountains. It wasn’t long before a fierce blizzard was swallowing them in a storm of white. Aldwyn glanced back as they continued higher; the bridge could no longer be seen through the wall of snow, and their footprints had disappeared under a blanket of powder.

“I can’t believe I was about to betray you both for fame,” said Skylar.

“Well, it’s not as bad as strangling your best
friend over a bag of flies,” said Gilbert. “I mean, a cat wouldn’t even want flies.” He paused, then turned to Aldwyn. “Would you?”

Aldwyn shook his head.

“What were the voices saying to you?” Skylar asked Aldwyn.

Aldwyn silently took a few steps through the cold, wet snow. He couldn’t tell them the truth.

“Oh, you know, typical betrayal stuff,” he said. “Something about me being the new familiar and you two teaming up against me.”

“Well, I hope you know that’s not true,” said Skylar. “We’re all in this together.”

The trio trudged higher. The snow was piling up and getting deeper and deeper. Once or twice, Gilbert hopped into a bank so tall that he ended up neck deep in the soft white powder. Worse still, thunder was beginning to crackle overhead, and lightning bolts were dancing from cloud to cloud.

“Lightning snow, just as the billy goat warned,” said Skylar. “A rare and dangerous phenomenon. We could get fried and frozen at the same time.”

“Sounds like a fun combination,” said Aldwyn
without even a hint of a smile.

“The chances of getting struck by lightning are one in a million,” said Gilbert, trying to ease his own worries.

“Not in the mountains,” replied Skylar.

Like an exclamation point, a lightning bolt struck a nearby rock, splintering it in a flash.

Aldwyn remembered Kalstaff’s words about Queen Loranella’s weather binding spells and wondered if the severe storm was sent purposely to prevent the familiars from ever reaching the Sunken Palace. One thing was for sure: the blizzard was slowing their climb to the Mountain Alchemist’s hideaway.

Soon it seemed as if the three familiars weren’t making any progress at all. For every step forward, they were blown two steps back. At this rate, they would find themselves back at the Bridge of Betrayal, a delay they could not afford.

“This is useless,” said Skylar. “We’re better off seeking shelter until the storm breaks.”

Time was precious. Although it was impossible to tell through the blizzard’s dark clouds, Aldwyn could sense another sunset upon them. That
meant only one full day remained until Kalstaff’s protective spell over Jack, Marianne, and Dalton would fade. But he also knew Skylar was right. Beyond the fact that the going was slow and dangerous, the cold was turning Gilbert as blue as Skylar’s feathers.

“I agree,” he said. “We need to find cover somewhere.”

“M-m-m-maybe over th-th-th-there,” said Gilbert, teeth chattering. “B-b-b-b-y the r-r-r-r-rocks.”

His stiff webbed fingers pointed over to the hollowed-out mouth of a cave. Inside was a shelter that seemed large, wide, and protected.

The familiars entered and collapsed onto the hard stone floor at the front of the cave. It was impossible to see how deep it went. Even the flashes of lightning weren’t bright enough to reveal its farthest reaches. Skylar removed some nightshade, juniper berries, and sage leaves from her satchel.

“What are you doing?” asked Gilbert. “You know you’re not supposed to dabble with human magic.”

“I’m going to conjure a fire spirit to warm
us,” she replied. “Otherwise, we’ll all freeze to death.”

“It’s dangerous and forbidden,” said Gilbert. “But I am losing circulation in my toes. Just cast it—I won’t tell.”

Skylar tossed the components into the air and chanted, “Send a flame from whence you came!” A thumb-high sprite materialized. Although she was tiny, the heat she created as she danced in the air was equal to that of a crackling bonfire.