The Familiars: Secrets of the Crown (14 page)

Oh no, Aldwyn thought. He recognised this as the ghostly mist of a shadow hound, born from the very pot they had just tipped over.

Skylar freed herself from the robe last, and all three familiars witnessed the beast assuming its final shape. But this was no ordinary shadow hound. It was much, much… smaller. In fact, it looked more like a puppy.

The tiny hound of darkness immediately began licking Gilbert’s face.

“Get off me!” said Gilbert, recoiling from the smoky slobber.

Fortunately, nobody had spotted the cauldron incident, and before they could be discovered, the familiars dived between a wash basin filled with ore and a smelting pot cooking limestone into molten rock to figure out their next move. An albino dwarf came by and picked up a poker, stoking the flames and coming frighteningly close to where the animals were hiding.

Meanwhile, the shadow pup was trying to get Gilbert to play with him, biting down on his flower-bud backpack and tugging at it.

“Would you stop it?” whispered Gilbert.

The puppy let out a yip, causing the albino dwarf to turn in their direction. Gilbert immediately threw a webbed hand over the shadow pup’s mouth. Everyone remained still and silent, except for the hound, who wagged its shadowy tail in the air, happy that Gilbert was finally paying attention to it and completely oblivious to the tension in the air.

After a moment, the dwarf dropped the red-tipped poker to the ground and moved on to tend to the other vats, but not before scooping up the fallen robe.

Once the coast was clear, the familiars relaxed. Now there was only the matter of escaping with their lives still intact. Then why was Skylar eyeing a nugget of fallen obsidian just out of talon’s reach? thought Aldwyn. He knew of her desire to revive her deceased sister, but now did not seem the time to be collecting components. She flitted out from behind their cover and scooped up the black rock before returning with it.

“What about what Feynam said?” asked Aldwyn. “About there being consequences?”

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take,” replied Skylar as she shoved the obsidian deep into her satchel.

Suddenly, there was a loud bang as the gundabeast lurched forward. Across the room, in the ore-loading zone, the massive creature from the Beyond lunged at a passing dwarf pushing a wheelbarrow that was filled to the brim with obsidian.

“Keep back from the beast,” snarled one of the shamans. “It’s overworked and irritable.”

The dwarf hurried away, keeping his distance from the three-eyed creature. Aldwyn took a measure of the distance they still had to travel to the exit. He was quite certain that even at their fastest sprint, they would never make it there without being caught. His mind was racing. Luckily, it was precisely in situations like this when Aldwyn shone brightest – with his back against the wall and the odds stacked against him. He was still a scrappy alley cat at heart, and his greatest asset remained his street wisdom; only now he had a new trick in his arsenal – telekinesis.

His eyes landed on the discarded poker, its tip still burning. Then he looked to the gundabeast, which was snorting disgruntledly through its nose.

“Just follow my lead,” said Aldwyn to his companions.

He focused all of his mental energy on the metal poker and flung it through the air. Its glowing end landed squarely on the beast’s exposed hind side, sending the creature into an instant fit.

“Arrrrrrrr!” roared the monster, kicking its massive front legs into the air.

“Run!” shouted Aldwyn.

He sprinted out from behind the vats and made a dash for the exit. Skylar and Gilbert raced behind him. The gundabeast was thrashing angrily now. It lifted the cart attached to its back up over its head and tossed it across the room. Albino dwarves began scattering in a panic, while some of the cave shamans tried to maintain control. The flung cart toppled the vats of boiling liquid, sending a flood of red magma pouring in every direction.

The familiars’ progress towards the cave’s exit stalled when a fast-flowing rivulet of red-hot metal snaked past them. Skylar flew over it, but Aldwyn and Gilbert had to take a detour, heading back to the centre of the room they were trying so desperately to escape from.

“
This
was your plan?” shouted Skylar over the mayhem.

“It played out much more smoothly in my head,” replied Aldwyn.

To make matters even worse, magma wasn’t the only thing that spilled from the cauldrons; half-finished creatures the shamans had been conjuring up with their black magic took shape all over the cave as well.

A pair of crocodile skulls began chomping towards Aldwyn and Gilbert.
Lockjaws
, thought Aldwyn, familiar with the deadliest traps the sewer markets had to offer. He knew well enough not to get a leg caught between those teeth, for once the jaws clamped down, they’d never let go.

One was closing in on Gilbert, opening wide. The tree frog hopped quickly, diving between the legs of a fleeing cave shaman. The lockjaw attacked, its teeth snapping shut not on Gilbert, but the shaman’s leg. The shaman dropped to his knees, screaming in pain. The other croc skull was still pursuing Aldwyn, who found his escape cut off by another stream of red-hot lava. But just as the lockjaw bounded forward, its skeletal mouth agape, one of the gundabeast’s tree-trunk-sized hooves stomped it to the ground, turning the bones to dust. Aldwyn decided this was the first and only time that a close-up of the crashing foot of a gundabeast would be a welcome sight. He wondered briefly if the creature had suddenly become an ally, but the fist thrusting towards him made it clear that the border monster wasn’t picking sides, just attacking indiscriminately.

The familiars were not far from the exit now. Though roundabout and potentially deadly in other ways, Aldwyn’s plan had succeeded in creating enough of a distraction to make their presence in Stalagmos a mere afterthought to the chaos the stampeding gundabeast had wrought. The trio had a clear path to the opening until a shadow hound, menacing and ferocious, emerged from the darkness surrounding it. While Skylar remained safely above the fray, the canine apparition was stalking towards cat and frog, preparing to pounce.

“Nice demon doggy,” said Aldwyn, trying to calm the vicious phantom.

The shadow hound didn’t seem amused.

Just then, an albino dwarf sailed overhead, flung by the gundabeast. His metal helmet went crashing into the cave wall, and the small, pale miner landed on the floor with a thud, pickax gripped in gloved hand. It gave Aldwyn an idea.

He pulled the axe out of the dwarf’s hand telekinetically and launched it through the air. Higher, higher… spinning towards the pointy stalactites hanging above them – coated with the same bio-luminescent mould covering the cave walls. And with all his mental might, Aldwyn guided the sharpened metal edge into one of the rocky protuberances. It sliced the stalactite clean off the ceiling, sending the limestone dagger straight down. The gleaming tip impaled the shadow hound, vaporising it instantly, but it wasn’t the sharpened point, it was the lightness with which it was glowing that killed the beast.

With the path cleared, the familiars ran out of the darkness of the cave and into the darkness of the night. The clouds in the sky kept most of the moonlight hidden, but stray glimmers of white illuminated the deep valley of chiselled rock they found themselves in. Whatever vegetation had been here had long been blasted away; only blackened stumps rose from the valley floor, witnesses to the shamans’ sinister arts. The cliffs, too, were cratered with holes, presumably where the albino dwarves had searched for rare stones and minerals like obsidian.

“Paksahara’s not going to be happy when her obsidian doesn’t arrive,” said Aldwyn.

“If she wanted to kill us before, I’d hate to think how she’s going to feel about us now,” added Gilbert.

“It was just a single cartload we destroyed,” said Skylar. “I’m sure many have already been delivered, and many more will.”

Aldwyn picked up the glowing paw-print trail of his father, and the trio began to climb the rocky embankment towards the exit of the quarry. Once they reached the top, they saw long windswept plains before them. They eased into a quiet stretch of their journey.

Aldwyn occasionally thought he heard the rustling of gravel behind him. He had the growing sense they were being followed. But every time he turned round, there was no one there.

It was still dark when Aldwyn’s eyes opened with a start. Skylar and Gilbert were curled up next to each other, and although Skylar wouldn’t have admitted it, nobody could argue with the warmth of a tree frog’s belly on a cold night in the Beyond. But Aldwyn’s ears, trained to hear the tiniest sound even while he was asleep, had picked up what he was convinced had been quietly approaching footsteps.

Aldwyn sat up to find that it was still just the three of them here in the middle of this windswept plain north of Stalagmos. He remained very still, hearing only his heartbeat and Gilbert’s snoring. Then, as quietly as he could, he rose to his feet and moved through the grass, in the direction from which he thought he’d heard the footsteps.

With all the excitement they had faced in Stalagmos, Aldwyn had had little time to ponder the mysterious cat who seemed to be both real and a spirit at the same time. Whatever,
who
ever it was, had saved them from a crushing death courtesy of Paksahara’s woodpeckers, and more than likely, the echo beast as well. If it was a cat from Maidenmere, why had it not shown itself? And if it was a cat from the Tomorrowlife, how was it able to cross over to this world to aid them? Either way, it was possible this cat was merely a few feet away, lurking in the tall weeds, just out of Aldwyn’s sight.

Just then, he felt something on his back. Aldwyn barely had time to think. How had he been crept up on? Clearly, he had let himself get too distracted.

“Aldwyn—”

He spun round to find Gilbert.

“Gilbert.” Aldwyn sighed. “Why are you sneaking up on me like that?”

“I called your name,” said Gilbert. “What are you doing out here?”

“I think someone’s following us,” said Aldwyn.

A loud rustling in the grass, which Aldwyn was certain hadn’t been caused by a gust of wind, seemed to confirm his suspicion. Gilbert jumped behind Aldwyn.

“Did you hear that?” he croaked.

Aldwyn put a paw up to Gilbert’s lips and mouthed, “Shhhh.”

Suddenly, bounding out from the tall grass, was a four-legged figure – the shadow pup from Stalagmos. He immediately leaped atop Gilbert and began licking him feverishly.

“What?!” exclaimed Gilbert, pushing him away. “You again? Stop it!”

Aldwyn let out a relieved breath, but inside he was disappointed. This definitely was not the mysterious stranger responsible for helping them.

“Get off me,” croaked Gilbert. “That tickles.”

The shadow pup bounded playfully back and forth.

“Why won’t he leave me alone?” asked Gilbert.

“He must think you’re his mum,” replied Aldwyn.

Gilbert tried to reason with the smoke hound. “I am a frog,” he explained. “You are a puff of black smoke shaped like a dog. We are not related.”

The puppy responded with another lick of Gilbert’s face.

“Aldwyn, Gilbert,” Skylar’s voice called from behind them.

“Over here,” said Aldwyn.

The blue jay flew over to find them in the grass.

“We should probably get moving,” she said, and then she also spotted the frisky shadow pup. “What’s he doing here?”

“He followed us,” said Gilbert. “I certainly didn’t invite him.”

Just then, the first beams of the sun crept up from behind the horizon. As they hit the plains, the baby hound darted into the shade of a nearby bush, whimpering miserably.

The familiars tried to ignore the pup’s pitiful noises and got ready to depart, but then the puppy, which was still cowering beneath the shrub’s cover, let out a loud yelp.

“What’s he hiding from?” asked Gilbert.

“The sunlight,” said Aldwyn. “Direct contact turns them to dust.”

The pup whined, and even though it didn’t have eyes or a nose, it definitely appeared sad and scared to Aldwyn.

“Oh no,” said Gilbert, shaking his head. “Don’t look at me like that. You’re not coming with us.”

The hound let out another cry.

“Fine,” said Gilbert. “But as soon as we find a dark cave, I’m leaving you there.”

Gilbert hopped over to the bush and opened his flower-bud backpack. The puppy gave him a slobbering lick and his smoky essence wafted inside.

The tree frog caught back up with Aldwyn and Skylar.

“I couldn’t just leave him out here,” he said apologetically.

Soon enough, the familiars were on their way again, and by the time dawn had given way to morning, they emerged from the tall grass to see an expanse of lowlands stretching downwards to the edge of a great bay. There was something serene and peaceful about the scenery; it was nothing at all like the fearsome image of the Beyond Aldwyn had conjured up in his head. Baxley’s paw prints led straight down until its purple glow disappeared into a line of trees that surrounded the large body of water.

“Looks like we’ve got a long day of walking ahead of us,” said Aldwyn.

The group was about to resume their journey when Gilbert’s attention was drawn to the east.

“Skylar, Aldwyn, what’s that?” asked the tree frog.

In the foothills of a mountain range not twenty miles away stood a tall grey tower, with incredibly flat sides that tapered to a point at the top like the tip of a crossbow bolt. The polished bricks that made up its walls were so smooth they reflected the sunlight, with veins of red that stretched from its base to its peak. It stood there completely out of context with all that surrounded it, as if it had been dropped there completely at random.

“The Shifting Fortress,” said Skylar.

“We found it!” exclaimed Gilbert.

They had spent the last five days on an epic quest to find a mystical artifact that they hoped and believed would be capable of summoning the impossible-to-find Fortress with its casting tower – and here it was, presenting itself like a gift just out of reach. Aldwyn couldn’t believe their good fortune.

“This is what we’ve been searching for,” said Aldwyn. “It’s time to face Paksahara.”

He wondered if at this very moment the grey hare was within those walls, staring at them, unsure what those dots on the horizon signified, unaware that those dots would be her downfall.

“Come on,” said Aldwyn, veering from his father’s path and running towards the foothills.

“The Fortress is constantly moving,” said Skylar. “We could make it to its front door and it could disappear before we even knocked.”

“Yes, but don’t you think it’s worth the risk?” countered Aldwyn. “We may never have this chance again.”

Skylar hesitated, but eventually she relented. Aldwyn knew his blue jay companion was usually right, but there was no guarantee they were ever going to find the Crown of the Snow Leopard, and so this might be their only opportunity to restore human magic to the queendom and stop Paksahara from raising her Dead Army. That’s if the three of them alone could overpower the hare and wrestle control of the Fortress from her.

The trio moved faster than they’d ever moved before, Skylar leading the way. Even Gilbert hopped double time. But as fast as they ran, it didn’t seem they were getting there fast enough. It wasn’t long before Aldwyn was panting. He was used to short bursts of speed, but marathon expenditures of energy were enough to knock him out.

“Look,” gestured Skylar to the sky. “Spyballs.”

A flock of Paksahara’s winged eyeball spies flew in from the south, not towards them but in the direction of the Fortress. They soared into the tower through one of the lone windows and quickly disappeared from sight.

As Aldwyn’s paws pounded the dry earth of the plains, the only thing that kept him moving forward despite his aching muscles and heaving chest was the thought of defeating Paksahara. Queen Loranella’s familiar had been a loyal assistant for over half a century. They had witnessed it in the epic tale the whistlegrass had told them south of Liveod’s Canyon. But then something had changed – on the fateful day when the grey hare had stumbled into the caves of Kailasa and found the paintings on the walls, the ones that told of how animals had once ruled the land.

Aldwyn’s feet still pounding.

Paksahara’s plot had started taking shape when she assumed the form of Loranella, trading places with the queen. From the throne of Vastia, she had slowly crumbled the queendom’s defences, allowing the enchanted fences to fall and the weather-binding spells to weaken. Had it not been for the prophecy, human and animal would have been unaware of her traitorous deception until it was too late. But the three spinning stars in the sky had told of three young spellcasters who would rise up and defeat her, saving the land. And while at first all had thought those three were Dalton, Marianne and Jack, it had in fact been them, the familiars, who were destined to be heroes.

Heart beating faster…

He, Skylar and Gilbert had thwarted Paksahara once, in the bowels of Mukrete, but the hare had escaped, taking refuge in the Shifting Fortress that she could summon through the force of the queen’s wooden bracelet. From the top of its casting tower, she had cast a dispeller curse that left all the human wizards of Vastia magicless. And it was more than likely where she waited now, while the obsidian was being collected for the necromantic spell she would cast when the full moon came.

The wind blew through Aldwyn’s whiskers as he ran.

That’s when the red veins of the Shifting Fortress began to pulse.

“What’s… going… on?” wheezed Gilbert.

A chequerboard of bricks began to disappear from the tower. Giant stone after giant stone vanished, revealing the interior of the Fortress – the spiral staircase inside and the landings at every flight.

“The Fortress,” said Skylar. “It’s shifting.”

Within seconds, save for the top of the tower, the outer walls were gone, and only the base, the curving staircase, and the top floor remained. For a moment, the steps disappeared, and it seemed as if the highest point of the Fortress hovered there on its own. Now exposed at the bottom was a globe the size of a large boulder, its smoky blue interior looking not unlike one of Jack’s marbles. This, no doubt, was the teleportation device that Agorus had described, spinning round and round until every last inch of the tower had left for some faraway spot. The familiars watched as the globe disappeared too.

There was little to be said. They had gambled and lost. Dejected, the three turned back for the trail. They had lost precious time and would have a lot of ground to make up.

Hours later, three exhausted familiars were approaching the tree-lined coast of the bay, once again in step with Baxley’s path. They hadn’t stopped to rest, but still the sun was already nearing the horizon, casting long shadows across the plains. Gilbert released the shadow pup from his backpack, allowing him to play and run alongside them, darting from the shade of one tree to another.

“He’s good at that,” said Gilbert. “He always seems to know where to find the shady spot.”

The smoky hound wagged its tail and barked.

“Hey, he seems to like that,” said Gilbert. “Maybe that should be his name.”

“Yeah, Spot,” said Aldwyn. “That’s a great name for a dog.”

“Spot?” asked Gilbert. “No, Shady.
That’s
a dog’s name.”

They continued their march, walking beneath the coconut palms and other trees that formed a small grove near the bay. Before them they found a circle of mud huts – if you could even call them that, as they were more like giant mounds of dirt with holes dug out inside. Standing in the centre of the village was the mud statue of a cat. Aldwyn moved closer – and it was as if he was staring into a mirror, albeit one whose only colour was brown. The cat looked just like him, save for the bite taken out of his ear.

“You’ve come back,” a voice called from within the huts.

Aldwyn turned to see eyes peering out from the darkness, seemingly cowering in fear, cautious of the new visitors entering.

“It’s him,” said another voice.

Suddenly, giant snouts were emerging from the huts into the cool evening air, and the familiars found themselves surrounded by dozens of white, hairless aardvarks. They were all looking reverentially at Aldwyn, barely giving Skylar or Gilbert a second glance. A few of the wrinkliest elders were even bowing their heads. Some of the youngest ran over and excitedly touched the fur of his leg as if he were a king.

Aldwyn glanced back at the statue again and realised in whose shape it had been sculpted – for the first time in his life, he was looking upon an image of his father.

“Baxley, our saviour,” said one of the hairless aardvarks. “You have returned.”

“You have me mistaken,” said Aldwyn. “I’m not Baxley.”

The aardvarks all seemed taken aback.

“But the white on your paws,” said the aardvark, “and the rest of your colouring!”

“I’m not him. I’m his son, Aldwyn.”

The aardvarks’ disappointed eyes lit up again.

“It is the son of Baxley!” exclaimed a different aardvark. “The great mud mother has brought us another saviour.”

The aardvarks rejoiced. Many more poured out from their huts, carrying mud pots filled with ants. They pushed past Skylar and Gilbert, swarming round Aldwyn.