The Familiars: Secrets of the Crown (10 page)

A bevy of birds took to the air, fleeing to the safety of the upper limbs. A quail with chicks too young to fly cast an illusion instead, concealing herself and the hatchlings within a non-corporeal flowerpot.

The brown-and-white bird who had called out the warning flew down to the familiars and Skylar’s parents.

“Skylar, welcome back,” she said. “I would love to hear all about your familiar adventures, but you and your friends need to be hidden at once.”

“Hepsibah’s right,” said Skylar’s father. “The wolverines have pledged allegiance to Paksahara and they’ve come to the Aviary once before asking us to join her. We refused, but they threatened to keep returning until we changed our minds. If they find you here, whatever quest you’re on will be over. Paksahara will take any chance she gets to prevent the prophecy from being fulfilled.”

“And if her disenchantment isn’t reversed, things will change even more dramatically, and soon,” interjected Skylar’s mum. “Some animals have been waiting for a day like this, when humans could no longer protect themselves with magic. I fear that, unlike us, many will be unable to say no to Paksahara.”

“How did the wolverines even find this place?” asked Gilbert. “I was standing right in front of it and didn’t realise it was there.”

“All wolverines are gifted with supernatural senses,” explained Hepsibah. “Sight, hearing and of course smell. They have the ability to see through illusions.”

“You should probably go,” said Skylar’s mother.

“There isn’t time,” said Hepsibah. She pulled open a trap door on the deck with her talon. “Hide beneath here.”

Skylar’s father grabbed two sprigs of lavender in his talons.

“Cover yourselves with these,” he instructed. “Hopefully the fragrance will muddle your scent.”

The familiars did as they were told and quickly found themselves under the white wood planks, coated with the purple flowers. Skylar’s father lowered the door back into place just as the metal entrance to the Aviary was pushed open.

Through the cracks in the wood siding of the deck, Aldwyn’s green eyes peered out to see four wolverines saunter inside. He had never known an animal to look inherently evil, but these certainly did. He could even imagine their babies born with the same malicious grins and devilish eyes. The leader of the pack was slightly leaner than the others, which gave his walk more menace than his plodding followers. His sharpened lower fangs seemed to be permanently stained with blood. He approached Hepsibah, his claws scraping against the wood planks as he stepped up on to the gazebo.

“Have you changed your mind yet?” he asked, his voice calm but incredibly scary.

“No, Lothar,” said Hepsibah. “We haven’t.”

The wolverines were standing just above Aldwyn, Skylar and Gilbert, mere inches away from where the trio was hiding. Aldwyn was staring up at the bottom of the leader’s foot and saw that a peculiar symbol was branded into his paw. It depicted a double hex, a five-pointed star inside a circle, with two eyes squinting at its centre.

“When the last human surrenders,” continued Lothar, “Paksahara will not forget which animals stood with her and which against. It would be most regrettable to end up on the wrong side.”

The familiars remained unmoving. Where was Stolix and her muscle-paralysing talent when you needed it, because right now, staying completely still was a matter of life and death. To make matters worse, a line of prickly beetles were beginning to march up Aldwyn’s leg.

“If it was my choice, I would have already burned the Aviary to the ground and feasted on the charred remains of those inside,” said Lothar. “But Paksahara sees your flock as a valuable asset to her cause. She hoped you would have reconsidered by now.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” said Hepsibah. “The birds of Nearhurst refuse to raise their wings against the innocent. As you can see, we live a peaceful coexistence with our human companions. There’s no reason all of Vastia couldn’t do the same.”

The beetles were now nearing Aldwyn’s whiskers, and it was getting almost impossible for him to stay still – every little step of theirs felt like a small needle going into his skin. He flinched ever so slightly, sending dandruff flaking off his fur.

“I will report the unfortunate news to Paksahara,” said Lothar. “This war will be won with or without you. And when it’s over—”

He stopped suddenly, his nose searching the air. The wolverines beside him started sniffing as well.

“I smell the skin of a cat,” said Lothar.

“Yes, one of the caretakers keeps them as pets at her home,” said Hepsibah, thinking on her feet. “Perhaps you are breathing in the musk of her trousers.”

Lothar inhaled the air a few more times before he was satisfied. It seemed the lavender had done the trick, as none of the intruders discovered what lay just below their noses.

“Now, where was I?” asked Lothar aloud.

“You were saying, ‘when it’s over…’” one of his pack reminded him.

“Yes, when this is over we’ll return with torches and our appetites,” said the wolverine, all too willing to show his blood-stained teeth. He stalked away from the gazebo, passing the illusory flowerpot cast by the quail. The slender wolverine halted before it and reached a claw inside. The illusion disappeared at once, and Aldwyn saw that Lothar had grabbed the mother quail by her neck. “And your illusions won’t protect you from us.”

He released the quivering quail and along with the other wolverines left the Aviary. None of the birds spoke or moved. Even though the danger seemed to have passed, Aldwyn stayed immobile and didn’t dare pick off the beetles that were now dancing around on his nose.

After a short while, a parakeet flew into the glass dome through the same open pane Hepsibah had used to enter earlier and squawked.

“It’s safe to come out now,” said Skylar’s father.

Relieved, Aldwyn brushed the prickly beetles from his nose and fur and pushed the trap door open with his head. The familiars emerged and rejoined Hepsibah and Skylar’s parents atop the deck.

“Skylar and her companions need your assistance,” said Skylar’s mother to Hepsibah.

“I will do whatever I can to help them,” said the five-feather master illusionist. “Just as I did with the first Prophesised Three sixty years ago.”

Aldwyn was surprised to hear that the bird was so old, as she did not look aged at all. Then he wondered if an illusion was masking her true appearance.

“If we succeed in our quest,” said Skylar, “then it will be those who sided with Paksahara who will regret their decision.”

“Just promise us you will be careful,” said Skylar’s mother, with unexpected tenderness from one with such a stiff upper beak. “You might be a familiar first in your heart, but you will always be a daughter in ours.”

“Goodbye, Mum,” said Skylar, holding back a tear.

“Quickly, the two most dangerous wind currents in the southern Beyond?” asked Skylar’s father.

“An erogale and a scimitar gust.”

“That’s my girl.”

Skylar embraced her parents. Then she, Aldwyn and Gilbert departed with Hepsibah, heading for the Aviary’s steel door.

“Fly safely,” called out Skylar’s dad. “And remember, always keep your eyes on the horizon.”

Skylar guided them back to the spot along Liveod’s Canyon where the bridge had once spanned the gorge. Aldwyn was relieved to see that Baxley’s trail still glowed brightly on both sides. He couldn’t know for sure if all the birds of Nearhurst had a tendency for long-windedness, but Hepsibah certainly shared Skylar’s fondness for lengthy lectures. The master illusionist had sounded off on the varying soil composition of the Northern Plateaux ever since they had left the Aviary, hardly pausing to take a breath and, more impressively, not letting Skylar get a word in edgewise.

Now Hepsibah perched herself atop one of the two wooden bridge posts and turned to the others.

“Once I’ve summoned the bridge, walk across quickly and don’t question its existence,” the nightingale instructed the familiars. “Disbelief weakens the strength of the illusion. I’d hate your own scepticism to plunge you to the bottom of the gorge.”

“If this is your idea of a pep talk, you might want to change your strategy… to one that doesn’t include telling us how we’re going to plummet to a horrible death,” said Gilbert.

Hepsibah raised her wings, and at once a long bridge of wooden planks and rope appeared before the familiars. The detail of the illusion was simply astounding. There were swirls of grain on every plank and frayed fibres in the thick twine. There were even boot scuff marks every couple of steps. It looked like it had had years of use, even though it had never existed. And although Aldwyn knew that it was no more real than a daydream, he’d soon be walking across it.

“Off you go,” said the elder bird of Nearhurst.

Aldwyn noticed that unlike Skylar’s, Hepsibah’s wing did not tremble while casting, which put him slightly more at ease. He decided to test a paw, well aware that if he waited for Gilbert to go first, the full moon would have come and gone. The pads of his foot made contact, and he could feel a firm wooden plank holding up his weight from beneath. Aldwyn continued until all four of his paws were on Hepsibah’s bridge. Gilbert cautiously followed Aldwyn, while Skylar flew above them.

Hepsibah’s illusion never wavered, and by the time Aldwyn had reached the final plank he had forgotten it was an illusion at all. Aldwyn glanced back and realised that once his paws touched the ground on the other side, he would no longer be on Vastian soil, but stepping into the Beyond. He and Jack often dreamed of venturing together across the enchanted fences, searching for treasure and exploring the unknown. But it seemed that his first journey outside the queendom would be unaccompanied by his loyal.

Aldwyn and Gilbert completed their passage across the canyon and rejoined Baxley’s path once more. Skylar soared in circles, eager to set off on the next leg of their adventure.

Skylar whistled a farewell to Hepsibah, who lowered her wings, causing the illusory bridge to fade into nothingness. And with that, the nightingale flew off in the direction of the Aviary, leaving the familiars alone on their quest yet again.

“Baxley went that way,” said Aldwyn, pointing to a slowly rising hill of dense underbrush and rocks.

Aldwyn began the slow climb upwards. Gilbert followed behind, looking more nervous than usual.

“What is it now, Gilbert?” asked Skylar.

“I’m just expecting border monsters to jump out at any moment.” He waited for her to respond, but she didn’t give much of a reaction at all. “Hey, this is the part where you’re supposed to say, ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Gilbert. Gundabeasts don’t just sit around waiting for animals to wander by.’”

“I’m sorry, Gilbert. I’m really not an expert in the Beyond. In fact, I know as much about it as the two of you.”

“In other words,
nothing
?” exclaimed the tree frog with a panicked croak.

Gilbert pulled out his spear, as if it would do him any good should a lumbering beast come out from behind a rock and attempt to squash him like an insect. He tried using it as a walking stick, but the tip got stuck in the ground, and despite his pulling, he couldn’t yank it free. Aldwyn shook his head at the spectacle Gilbert was making of himself and walked ahead, following the path.

Skylar flapped over to a series of nearby bird droppings before circling back to Aldwyn. “Interesting. Looks like a flock of geese stopped their southern migration here, where the enchanted fence once stood. Which makes sense, of course, given their—”

“I didn’t know you had a sister,” Aldwyn said, cutting her off before she rambled on any further. “You never mentioned her before.”

Skylar became very quiet. Aldwyn’s straightforwardness had caught her by surprise.

“I’m sorry,” said Aldwyn. “It’s just, if you ever wanted to talk about it…”

Aldwyn’s words trailed off. Skylar flew silently beside him, as if considering whether or not to share her personal secrets.

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” said Aldwyn when the silence was beginning to get awkward.

“No, I’ve been keeping it bottled up for too long. I never even told Dalton.” Skylar gathered some strength and continued. “It happened not long after I first began to fly. One afternoon, my sister and I took a trip outside the Aviary to collect flower petals. We stopped to eat some elderberries off the bush, and she accidentally ingested a few off a venom vine. I carried her home, but by the time we got her to a healing raven, it was too late.”

Aldwyn could hear the grief in her voice.

“I mourned for her, and tried to hold her memory in my heart, to come to peace with the fact that she was gone. But I couldn’t let go. I had heard that there were those capable of necromancy, but no one at the Aviary dared to dabble in forbidden magic. I plucked what I could from the scrolls, but it hardly scratched the surface. I had to learn more. Once, while I had sneaked off to study a tome on portals to the Tomorrowlife, a human caretaker who tended the gardens of the glass dome spied what I was reading and approached me. She spoke fluently in the language of the birds. Her name was Lady Helenka. She was born to the Driftfolk clan. She had come to the Aviary at a young age after her caravan was burnt to the ground by her sister.”

Aldwyn raised an eyebrow. He had heard the other half of this story from Skylar before.

“Agdaleen was her sister?” he asked.

“Yes, but Lady Helenka was good in every way that her sister was evil. One afternoon, when she sat cross-legged beside me, I spotted a bracelet of silver and emerald squares round her ankle. I didn’t give it a second thought that day. We would meet several times a week in the shade of a birch tree, discussing matters of life and death and the ties between them. It wasn’t until many months later that she first mentioned the Noctonati and explained their purpose. It was a secret sect of spellcasters, both human and animal, that believed in one thing more than any other – that knowledge should be pursued at all costs because it was more valuable than gold, land, or a throne. The group gathered at the midnight hour in the caves on the western border of Mukrete. Lady Helenka said if anyone was capable of helping me bring back my sister, it would be the Noctonati.

“So one night, I sneaked out of the Aviary and flew to the caves. There were sixteen crowded in the darkness – some wore hoods to hide their identities, even though all present took an oath to never reveal those who stood beside them. The complexities of the discussions often strayed beyond even my understanding, but with time I began to comprehend more. By the end of my first year, I had earned my anklet. I had gained so much insight into the mysteries of the dead, but these seekers of knowledge simply didn’t have access to the spells I needed. And so I learned what I’d have to do if I wanted to advance my knowledge further – become a familiar.”

Many of the questions Aldwyn had about Skylar – why she had stolen
Wyvern and Skull’s Tome of the Occult
from Kalstaff’s library, the meaning of the bejewelled anklet she wore, even why she had decided to become a familiar – had been answered. But it was clear she still had unfinished business, and there was no telling how far she would go to accomplish it.

Gilbert finally caught up with them, out of breath, the red mud-tipped spear in his hand. “Thanks for waiting up, guys,” he huffed sarcastically, but then he noticed the sombre mood Aldwyn and Skylar were in and fell silent.

The group continued their slow ascent, and soon it was past high sun. Aldwyn suddenly felt a bit queasy, and he thought it might have been because he hadn’t eaten since waking up in the whistlegrass.

“I don’t know about you two, but I’m starved,” said Aldwyn.

He led the group off trail and sat down on top of a moss-covered rock. He dug into Jack’s pouch and pulled out some dried salmon jerky with his teeth. Skylar found some fallen seeds on the ground and nibbled away. Gilbert, on the other hand, wasn’t eating; he was unrolling one of Marianne’s pocket scrolls that he had packed for himself.

“You OK, Gilbert?” asked Aldwyn, trying to cool down his body against the cold stone. “I’ve never seen you pass up a lunch break for study.”

“Oh, I’ve been snacking along the way.”

But Aldwyn could tell that there was more to it than that. Gilbert read one of the spells under his breath.

“What’s that you’re practising?” asked Skylar.

“I’m going back to basics,” said Gilbert. “Maybe I got ahead of myself with the enchanted bows. Thought I’d try a simple high-hop spell. It says here all I have to do is flick my fingers the right way.”

Gilbert held a webbed hand in the air, making figures-of-eight with his fingertips. Mid-spell, a horsefly buzzed by his ear and he swatted at it, breaking the pattern he’d been so intricately performing.

“Oh, I messed it up, didn’t I?” asked Gilbert, realising his mistake.

Just then, four rocks enchanted by Gilbert’s misdirected spell went hopping past them.

“I’m not cut out for this.” The tree frog sighed. “I’d be better off—”

But before he could finish, a fifth rock leaped in from who knows where and clunked him on the head, knocking him to the ground.

Aldwyn and Skylar rushed to his side.

“Gilbert, are you OK?” asked Aldwyn.

The woozy tree frog opened his eyes. “Who’s Gilbert?”

Skylar and Aldwyn shared a concerned look.

“You,” said Skylar.

“Where am I? What happened?” he asked.

“You’re Gilbert!” said Skylar. “Our fellow companion.”

Still nothing seemed to be jolting his memory.

“You’re Marianne’s familiar,” continued Skylar. “One of the Prophesised Three, on a quest to save the world.”

Gilbert’s eyes lit up. Was there a spark of remembering?

“On a quest to save the world,” he repeated, sitting upright. “Yes. It’s all coming back to me.” He looked himself up and down. “I’m a tree frog from Daku, a great amphibian warrior from the Swamps.” He pulled out the bamboo spear and stared at the red mud-stained end. “And I can see my weapon has already seen the heat of many battles.”

Uh-oh
, thought Aldwyn. This definitely did not sound like Gilbert.

“If the world is at stake, we have little time to waste,” bellowed the tree frog in a bold voice Aldwyn had never heard before.

Aldwyn leaned over to Skylar and whispered, “What do we do? He’s clearly not right in the head.”

“Gilbert, I think when you bumped your head, you lost your memory,” said Skylar.

“Nonsense. I’m fully aware of who I am and what I’m destined for.” He hopped forward without hesitation, then stopped, confused. “Where are we going again?”

“To find the Crown of the Snow Leopard,” said Aldwyn.

“Right. The Snow of the Crown Leopard. What are we waiting for?”

“Isn’t there some kind of spell you can cast to get him back to normal?” Aldwyn asked Skylar.

“There are three types of brain coral that might do the trick, but without those components, my wings are tied. I think we’re just going to have to wait it out.”

“Come now, well-groomed bird and cat with the bite out of his ear,” Gilbert called back to them. “There are trolls to behead and dragons to slay!”

Aldwyn shrugged, and the familiars resumed their journey. He was fairly confident that Gilbert would remember soon enough who he really was, although for now he seemed possessed by some legendary hero. One that Aldwyn could only imagine must have existed in Gilbert’s fantasies.

“Creatures from Beyond, you can’t hide from me,” Gilbert shouted. “Show yourself and surrender before my spear.”

“Is that really necessary?” asked Aldwyn.

“See these scars on my arms,” Gilbert called to the hills, ignoring him. “You’re probably wondering how I got them.”

“Tripping into a bonfire, falling out of Marianne’s bed, and accidentally jumping through a closed window,” said Skylar under her breath.

“From fighting a scorpion-tailed lion with my bare webbed hands!”

“You don’t know any silencing spells, do you?” Aldwyn asked Skylar.

“If I did, I would have already used one.”

“Gilbert, we’re trying to sneak up on our enemies,” said Aldwyn, lying in an attempt to quieten the tree frog’s dangerous boasts.

“Yes, of course,” whispered Gilbert. “You will not hear another word from me until I see the whites of their eyes.”