He was filled with hope yet again. It looked like he would be able to meet Baxley after all.
“You were wrong, you know,” said Aldwyn to Malvern. “About your brother. Everything he did was because he loved me. He was on a quest to save me.”
A pained look crossed Malvern’s face, as if doubt had cast a shadow over everything he had believed to be true for these last three years.
“It sounds like we have a lot to catch up on,” replied Malvern.
“I think these scratch marks will lead us to him,” said Aldwyn. “Come on. Without the Spheris, he may be the only one who can help us find the Crown.”
The group hurried through the maze, racing through corridors of crystal that were now transforming back into tall shrubs. The icy glass walls that had stood for so long were returning to their original state of leaf and branch. Like snow melting on a spring day, white slowly turned to green.
“We have to hurry,” said Aldwyn urgently. “Once the glass floor disappears, the scratch marks will be gone along with it.”
Left and right and left again. The passageway twisted and turned in every direction. One thing was certain – if there wasn’t an exit on the other side, they would never find their way back to the entrance.
The scratch marks led to a circular room at the centre of the maze before coming to an end. Inside were dozens upon dozens of glass statues, all gradually turning back to their pre-frozen states. A whimpering sound could be heard from behind a row of crystal figures. There, watching the statues, sat an old, pruny man, muttering to himself. A whip, hammer and rope hung on the side of his chair. Aldwyn wondered how this man could have remained untouched by Necro’s crystallising magic. Then the man looked up and did something very strange – he began to make animal noises. A common human would never have been able to comprehend him, but Skylar, Gilbert and Aldwyn could understand him perfectly, for he was speaking in animal tongue.
“You’re a beast tamer,” said Skylar. “What are you doing here in the centre of Necro’s Maze?”
The old man laughed, a chortle that went on way too long. The kind of chortle that makes you question someone’s sanity.
“What am I doing here? Why, I am Necro,” the man said, once the cackles had subsided.
The animals all looked at each other, confused.
“But the creature, I thought…” said Aldwyn.
“The vitrecore was merely my pet,” said Necro. “And this is my family,” he added, pointing to the statues all around him. “Five hundred years ago, I was sent on a quest by the third king of Vastia, in search of the rarest breeds of animal for his menagerie. After a storm left me without supplies here in the Beyond, I stumbled across a field of lifeseed and had only it to dine upon for weeks on end. I knew they were meant to be rejuvenating, but what I didn’t bargain for was the immortality it bestowed on me. An agelessness that in the end made me outlive all those I cared about. So desperate and lonely did I become that I created this, a maze that would trap any animal or human who entered its walls. I brought with me a vitrecore, one that I had tamed for a wealthy spice baron but kept as my own, to turn anyone it touched to crystal. That way, no matter how long I lived I would have companions that would never leave me.”
“My father,” said Aldwyn, cutting him off. “He was turned to glass and dragged here. Where is he?”
“So many have been touched by the tongue of my vitrecore, it has been hard to keep track,” said Necro.
“He was a black-and-white cat, just like me. Think!”
“Ah, yes,” said Necro, staring at Aldwyn more closely. “I kept him right here by my side, for two whole years. Till he began to look at me strangely. I could tell he was conspiring against me. Getting the other statues to join him.”
“What did you do to him?” shouted Aldwyn, starting to get emotional.
“What I do to all of my glass brothers and sisters when I tire of them. I take a hammer to them.”
Aldwyn nearly lunged at the old man, but Malvern held him back.
Necro began laughing in the same high-pitched cackle as before.
“How could you be so cruel?” asked Gilbert.
“It was the only way I could ensure that I’d never be alone,” said Necro.
When the rope hanging from the chair lifted telekinetically, Aldwyn knew it wasn’t his mind doing it. It was Malvern, circling the twine round the old man’s body and binding him to his chair.
“Now you’ll be alone for ever,” said Malvern.
Necro struggled, but had no hope of escaping.
“When the statues turn back, they’ll be merciless with me!”
“As they should be,” said Skylar.
Beyond the centre of the maze, the familiars could see a long, straight passage that led directly to the outside world. But Aldwyn remained frozen in place, even though he had avoided the touch of the beast’s tongue. He was overwhelmed by sadness. Was his father truly gone? Had his path and his life ended here, in the company of a mad old man? Would he never get to meet his dad? He felt drops of water running down his face. He was crying.
Outside Necro’s Maze, the Beyond stretched to the north, a vast expanse of hills and trees. The crystal walls of the labyrinth had become lush green hedges again, and soon explorers from eras long past would be stumbling their way out of the maze, only to find themselves in a bewildering world that had changed for ever. The storm clouds the familiars had seen over the Peaks of Kailasa had blown their way, the winds were picking up, and the time between each lightning flash and its corresponding clap of thunder was getting shorter. And none of it seemed to matter to Aldwyn.
He had walked ahead of the group so the others could not see the tears he was shedding. He wiped them away with the back of his paw, but the pain and hurt that he was feeling could not simply be brushed aside. What a strange few months it had been, from being an orphaned alley cat, with not a whisker of family to speak of, to discovering that not only was he magical, but he got that magic from his parents. Now he had come to discover that they were gone for ever and he would never get to know them.
“I’m sorry, nephew,” said Malvern, catching up with him. “I know how difficult this must be for you. It’s hard for me too. You don’t know the guilt I feel for having misjudged Baxley. And for not protecting your mother from her own sadness.”
“I heard her voice in one of my father’s whisper shells,” said Aldwyn. “She didn’t sound crazy to me.”
“None of us knew how unstable she truly was,” said Malvern. “Until it was too late.” Malvern laid a comforting paw on Aldwyn’s shoulder. “The best way to honour your father is to finish what he started. What the three of you started. We must find the Crown and stop Paksahara.”
“Without the Spheris or Baxley’s path, how are we supposed to know which way to go?” asked Gilbert.
“We still have the Song of the First Phylum,” said Skylar. “The next clue. At last the waking moth, Flies to the rising light.”
“What does it mean?” asked Malvern.
“We don’t know yet,” replied Skylar.
“Well, before the Spheris was destroyed, it seemed to be pulling to the north,” said Aldwyn.
“Then we’ll keep heading in that direction, until the clue reveals itself,” said Malvern.
Skylar, Gilbert and Malvern continued on, but Aldwyn stayed behind for a moment. He opened his pouch and lifted Baxley’s necklace – the string with the three tiny whisper shells on it – telekinetically and placed it over his head. He would wear it the same way he imagined his father had, with his mother’s voice close to his heart.
Raindrops were falling. It was still a light drizzle, but the dampness in Aldwyn’s fur was becoming unpleasant. Ants and butterflies hid beneath mushroom caps, perhaps sensing worse things to come. Gilbert shot out his tongue and lapped up swallows of water. Shady was now walking on the ground beside them, splashing through puddles. It seemed that rain didn’t bother shadow pups.
“In D
aku we used to say, ‘A rainy day is a happy day,’” said the tree frog. Aldwyn shot him a look. He didn’t really see what anyone had to be upbeat about. “What? I’m just trying to look at the flower bud as half full here.”
The steady pitter-patter suddenly let up, and the clouds parted enough for the nearly full moon to peek out. Its bright light even made a rainbow in the night sky.
“See,” said Gilbert. “Things are looking up already.”
“No, the worst is yet to come,” said Skylar, pointing to what seemed like a whirlpool of grey overhead. “Look at how those neb swirlums are churning. If the winds keep increasing, we could see a full-on scimitar gust.”
Aldwyn knew by the tone in her voice that the weather would be severe, and no matter how fast they moved, they’d never be able to outpace the clouds. Soon, they would be forced to do what the ants and butterflies were doing – take shelter until the storm passed.
They raced across the valley between the hillsides, trying to put as much distance as they could between themselves and the gathering tempest. In truth, they were running without a clear sense of direction, until one of them could decipher the second half of the next-to-last verse of the nursery rhyme.
At last the waking moth, Flies to the rising light.
Aldwyn puzzled over the meaning of the clue. Could it have simply meant that when you wake up, the sun is rising, and thus they should be heading to the northeast, the place where dawn first breaks?
“I never had a son of my own,” spoke Malvern from behind Aldwyn. “My father and my grandfather before him tried to do both – be parent and pride leader – but there was only room for one. I never understood it before, but now I see why your father declined his elder birthright to guide the cats of Maidenmere. He chose you.”
“Are the Pridelands safe with you gone?” asked Aldwyn.
“I have put the noble hunter Kafar in charge until I return,” he replied. “I trust he will look after our fellow cats well.”
“I just hope Paksahara’s minions don’t come to threaten them,” said Aldwyn. “They were trying to recruit the birds of Nearhurst and a tribe of aardvarks we encountered. I imagine they’re doing the same with many others.”
“Traitors!” Gilbert chimed in. “All of them. What kind of animal would align themselves with Paksahara? They’d have to be heartless, soulless… no better than worms.”
“I try not to judge,” said Malvern calmly. “Different animals see the world in different ways. Of course no one should condone hurting innocents, but you’d be lying to yourself if you didn’t see some beauty in a Vastia where animals ruled.”
Aldwyn saw from out of the corner of his eye that Skylar was nodding in agreement. He couldn’t argue with a society where creatures on four legs were no longer relegated to second-class citizenship, but the means by which Paksahara was accomplishing her goal seemed unjustifiable.
Just then, a gust blew through the valley so strong and sudden that Skylar was pulled out of the sky and thrown to the ground with a thud. The rains were not far behind. Aldwyn helped Skylar up on to his back; the winds were heavy enough that she could not flap through the air. The group tried to trudge forward through the torrents, but their progress had been slowed dramatically.
“I think we should stop until the storm blows over,” said Skylar. “Otherwise we could very well miss the moth or even the Crown itself like we did the stone arrows before.”
Gilbert spotted a rotted log big enough for all four to crawl into. A few holes were letting rain in, but they could be easily covered.
“You two take cover,” Aldwyn said to Gilbert and Skylar. “Malvern and I will gather some leaves and branches to complete the shelter.”
All seemed in agreement. Bird and frog disappeared into the log. Aldwyn and Malvern moved across the mud-soaked ground towards some fallen timber and sycamore leaves.
“I can see how you three have come so far,” said Malvern. “You make an admirable team.”
Malvern raised a clump of branches with his mind, and Aldwyn did the same, nearly as skilfully.
“Your mental agility is getting better,” said Malvern. “But you could still use the tutelage of an elder lifter.”
The two carried the foliage telekinetically through the air, dropping it over the openings in the rotted wood.
“We just need a little bit more,” said Aldwyn’s uncle, as he walked back through the trees to find a fallen branch with enough leaves to keep them dry.
Aldwyn followed. He glanced down at the muddy paw prints Malvern was leaving behind. And then something caught his eye – an indentation within one of them. Two concentric circles with a five-pointed star at the centre. It was the double hex. The very same emblem he had seen branded into the wolverine’s paw at the Aviary and emblazoned on the side of the ore cart inside the caves of Stalagmos. What was this symbol – which signified loyalty to Paksahara – doing on the pad of Malvern’s paw? A chill went through Aldwyn’s body.
Malvern had turned round and was staring at Aldwyn. Aldwyn tried to avert his gaze from the ground, but that only seemed to make Malvern more curious. His uncle’s eyes flashed to the ground, but luckily the rain had already washed away the double hex.
“Is everything all right?” asked Malvern.
“Yes,” said Aldwyn. “Just a shiver from the cold.”
Malvern focused on a pile of twigs and lifted them through the damp air.
“We should join the others,” he said. “Maybe we can figure out that clue before we sleep.”
“Actually,” said Aldwyn, wheels desperately turning in his head, “I didn’t say anything earlier, but I think I have the answer.”
“What are you waiting for, then?” asked Malvern, a little too eager, it seemed to Aldwyn. Given what he had just seen in the mud, Aldwyn was certain that his uncle’s enthusiasm was not about helping the familiars in their quest. Instead it was for some nefarious purpose, yet unknown, but no doubt to aid Paksahara.
“I think it’s quite simple,” said Aldwyn. “When an animal wakes, the rising light is the sun, which climbs into the sky from the northeast. I think that’s where the crown lies.”
Malvern thought about it for a beat.
“Yes, nephew, that makes sense. Tomorrow morning, when we wake, we should all head east. Now let’s sleep out this storm.”
Malvern lowered the second gathering of bark and green atop the log and he and Aldwyn hurried inside. Skylar and Gilbert were already sound asleep.
“Rest well, Aldwyn,” said Malvern. “I am confident that tomorrow we will find the Crown.”
“Yes, uncle.”
Malvern curled up and closed his eyes. Aldwyn stared at him. The pieces hadn’t all fallen into place yet, but there was no question that his uncle was a traitor. To himself, his pride and all of Vastia. He couldn’t look upon his black-and-white stripes with anything but disgust now. Malvern had deceived him about Baxley and his own allegiances. What other lies had he spun?
Aldwyn shut his eyes too. Not to sleep, though. To wait.
It was hard to tell how much time had passed. The sound of rain, thunder and wind continued incessantly outside the log. Aldwyn had been lying there silently, pretending to sleep, since he and Malvern had said goodnight.
The noise was almost inaudible, but still he could hear it. Aldwyn’s eyelid opened just a hair, and he could see Malvern tiptoeing out of the shelter. Aldwyn moved some leaves away from the top of the log and peered out to see his uncle, through the driving storm, heading northeast. Once Malvern had disappeared into the forest of tall sycamores, Aldwyn shook Gilbert and Skylar awake.
“What is it?” asked Skylar.
“My uncle is in league with Paksahara,” said Aldwyn. “I saw him leave a paw print with a double hex embedded within it.”
Gilbert’s sleepy orange eyes snapped wide open.
“How is that possible?” asked the tree frog. “Why was he protecting us then?”
“Think about it,” said Al
dwyn. “The only way to stop Paksahara is by locating the Crown. I’m the only one who could do that, by following Baxley’s path. What if Malvern was using me to get to it, so that it could be destroyed for ever?”
“But Aldwyn, if you were the only one who could find it, why didn’t he just kill you when we first arrived in Maidenmere?” asked Skylar.
“I don’t know. I haven’t figured it all out yet.”
“Where is Malvern anyway?” asked Gilbert.
“I told him I deciphered the last clue,” said Aldwyn. “That when the moth wakes, the rising light is the sun coming up from the east.”
“Why would you do that?” asked Gilbert.
“Because a moth doesn’t wake in the morning,” said Aldwyn. “It wakes at night, when the moon rises.”
“In the northwest,” said Skylar, quickly catching on.
“Exactly. I tricked him. But I’m guessing we don’t have much time before he realises it.”
“What are we waiting for?” said Skylar. “Let’s go.”
The three familiars quickly gathered their belongings, left the shelter of the fallen log, and headed northwest. It was just the three of them again, and that’s how Aldwyn liked it.
Familiars, for hundreds of years the safety of Vastia has rested on the shoulders of wizards. Now its future rests on yours.
Queen Loranella’s parting words were echoing in Aldwyn’s head. So much faith had been placed in him and his fellow companions, the animals they called the Prophesised Three. But now the driving rains seemed to confirm the lingering feeling that Aldwyn, Skylar and Gilbert were up against an evil that was more than they could handle on their own.
Skylar had been right about the storm – it was only getting worse. The night was even darker in the absence of moon and stars, which the thick layer of clouds obscured. The familiars were at the centre of a full-blown scimitar gust, and it was all too clear why it had earned that name. The winds cut through the branches like sharpened blades, leaving splintered limbs strewn about the ground. Aldwyn heard a loud crack above him as the heavy bough of a sycamore tree snapped and came crashing down, nearly flattening Gilbert if Shady hadn’t tugged him out of the way.
The Familiars: Secrets of the Crown Page 18
