Her pink eyes stared coldly, much like those in the circles of the double hex, and sparks of energy bubbled in her paws.
Aldwyn wanted to come to Skylar’s aid, but he still had his uncle to contend with. Malvern was licking blood from his lip, smiling at the taste of it.
“You’re unworthy of calling yourself a Mooncatcher,” he snarled. “Just as your father was.”
Aldwyn’s mind and body were exhausted, and he wasn’t certain he would be able to withstand another of Malvern’s attacks. His uncle leaped, paws outstretched towards his neck. Let your mind breathe. And let yourself be as calm as the Enaj River. A swirl of dirt and mud whipped up off the ground and formed the Mooncatcher sand sign – a paw reaching for a crescent moon.
Out of the corner of his eye, Aldwyn saw that Paksahara had summoned a spear of white energy and was pointing it at Skylar.
Aldwyn’s mind gave life to the paw, and as if it was his own, he thrashed its claws across Malvern’s eyes. The pride leader was blinded by the sand, causing him to veer off course…
… directly into the path of Paksahara’s death blow!
The bolt meant for Skylar ripped through Malvern’s chest, evaporating flesh and leaving only bone. He collapsed dead upon the ground. Aldwyn felt a momentary pang of sadness for this close relative, but Malvern’s death would not be mourned for long. He wasn’t worth Aldwyn’s tears. He was a traitor and a murderer.
Gilbert had pulled himself up from wherever he had fallen and rejoined his fellow familiars. Now Aldwyn, Skylar and Gilbert were left face to face with Paksahara.
“The final stone!” cried Skylar.
The familiars made a dash for it. Aldwyn’s paws bounded across the mud, kicking up sprays of wet dirt behind him. Paksahara lifted her paws above her head and brought them to the ground with furious might. A shock wave of energy pulsed through the earth, and like a shark through water, it sped to the stone. Aldwyn’s paw reached out and touched the surface of the seventh rock. A voice began to speak, but before Aldwyn could hear the words, the stone exploded.
Aldwyn flew backwards, hitting the ground hard. He hadn’t heard it! The final species that needed to be collected round one of the glyphstones remained unknown. Their whole adventure had ended in total failure.
In rapid succession, Paksahara fired a series of blasts from her paws until all seven stones had been turned to rubble.
Once the ringing in his ears subsided, Aldwyn got back to his feet.
“Now you will never be able to summon the Shifting Fortress,” said Paksahara. “My Dead Army is going to lay waste to Vastia. I just wish the three of you could have seen it.”
The grey hare raised her paws one last time – and the familiars ran. They sprinted behind the steel pedestal still standing at the centre of the crumbled Crown. When they came out round the other side, Paksahara incanted, “Ekonpiske v prave!” and a double blast of energy shot from her paws.
The two bolts struck the familiars, sending electricity coursing through their bodies. By the time the energy dissipated, there was little left of the bird, frog and cat but dust.
Paksahara shape-shifted back into a periwinkle falcon and disappeared into the stormy night sky.
Shady, who had been hiding behind the rubble of one of the stones, came out and approached the pile of dust. The shadow puppy hung his head low and let out a little whimper for the fallen familiars.
“Hey, cheer up, Shady,” shouted Gilbert.
The shadow pup spun round with a confused look on his smoky black face to see Gilbert, Aldwyn and Skylar emerge from behind the steel pedestal, alive and unharmed.
“It was only an illusion,” explained the tree frog, welcoming Shady into his arms.
Aldwyn and Skylar looked around at the devastation.
“Did you hear anything before the stone was destroyed?” asked Skylar. “Even just a sound?”
“Nothing,” said a dejected Aldwyn.
“Unfortunately, six of the species won’t do us any good,” replied Skylar.
Aldwyn ran his paws through the dusty debris of the seventh stone, hoping to hear what he hadn’t before. But there was only silence.
“I don’t think there’s anything more for us here,” said Skylar. “It’s time to return to Bronzhaven. Gilbert, now might be a good time to use that last journey bead.”
As Gilbert dived into his pouch, Aldwyn let out a heavy sigh. “My mother and father are dead. My uncle betrayed me. I have a sister, but I have no idea where she is, or if she is even alive. At least before, I could imagine a day when we’d all be together again. Now I’m truly alone.”
“You’re not alone, Aldwyn,” said Skylar. “You’ve got us.”
“We’re your family now,” said Gilbert.
Aldwyn felt a webbed hand on one shoulder, and a wing on the other.
“Come on, Aldwyn. Let’s go home,” said Skylar.
Gilbert held up the silver chain of beads from the mawpi’s lair and rubbed the only one that still shimmered blue between his suction pads.
“Take us to the New Palace of Bronzhaven,” he said aloud.
Again, the wooden door with the brass knocker materialised before them. Again, the knocker banged three times, and again the door swung open. Just on the other side was the magnificent throne room of the palace. The familiars stepped through the opening, and just like that, they were returned to where their long journey had started six days ago.
The door immediately closed behind them and vanished. Aldwyn, Gilbert and Skylar hurried through the halls, shouting the names of their loyals. Soon, young wizards and familiars were reunited in a flurry of hugs and tears. Queen Loranella joined them and was briefed on all that had happened: of their trip to the Beyond, Baxley’s path, the Crown, and how their urgent quest was far from finished. And they of course told her how the only way to summon the Shifting Fortress was to gather seven descendants of the First Phylum round one of Vastia’s three glyphstones. The Crown had revealed six of the seven species – mongoose, golden toad, wolverine, howler monkey, king cobra and bloodhound – the seventh, however, remained a mystery. Without it, there was no purpose in collecting the six.
“I’ll have every wizard, soldier and familiar protect the glyphstones,” said the queen. “I refuse to surrender without a fight. Somehow, we’ll find the name of the last species.”
But Aldwyn was not so certain. There was a reason the Crown had been hidden from humans, and he was sure that its secrets had died when the stones had been destroyed.
Jack and Aldwyn sat by the golden eel pond in the courtyard of the palace. It had become their special place, where loyal and familiar could talk in private. Jack told Aldwyn how he had spent the last six days building fortifications round the outside walls of Bronzhaven. The carpentry and handicraft lessons his uncle had taught him before he began his wizard training were hardly a substitute for magic, but better than nothing. Dalton had been out helping the farmers, stockpiling crops in case the city came under siege. And Marianne had assisted in the smithies, smelting swords and shields.
“It wasn’t as exciting as riding on the back of a travelling whale, that’s for sure,” said Jack.
Aldwyn’s paws stroked the whisper shells, which were still hanging from the string round his neck. He had been touching them often without even realising it, as if the voices from his past were bringing him some comfort in the aftermath of all he had experienced.
“I found these in my father’s pouch,” said Aldwyn. “One has the voice of my mother. Another sounds like my sister and me.”
Aldwyn leaned his head down so Jack could take the necklace from him. The boy put his ear to the first shell.
“Your mum has a nice voice,” said Jack.
The boy then moved to the second shell. He smiled.
“Is that really you?” he asked.
“I think so. And I’m pretty sure you can hear a second kitten too.”
“What about the third one?” asked Jack.
; “It’s empty.”
Jack brought the shell to his ear.
“I hear something,” he said.
Aldwyn looked at him with disbelief.
“It’s hard to make out,” continued Jack. “There’s a lot of commotion. It sounds like lightmare. What does that mean?”
Aldwyn climbed on to Jack’s shoulder and leaned his ear towards the shell. He could hear the battle atop the Crown of the Snow Leopard. The sound of rain and crackling energy filled the air. The faint cry from Skylar, “The final stone!” A loud explosion. And through it all, there was a single word being uttered in that ancient, mysterious voice.
“Lightmare.”
It was the seventh stone revealing the last species.
Aldwyn could hardly believe it. The whisper shell had captured what he feared was lost. And suddenly new hope coursed through his body.
“Skylar, Gilbert!” he shouted across the courtyard.
From beneath the colonnade, his fellow familiars ran, with Marianne and Dalton following behind them.
“What is it?” asked Skylar.
“The whisper shell,” said Aldwyn. “It recorded the voice of the final stone. Lightmare. The seventh species of the First Phylum is lightmare.”
“Then we have them all,” said Skylar. “We need to seek out a descendant from each at once. There’s no time to waste.”
“Great,” said Gilbert. “And just how do we do that?”
“Some of these species have not been seen on these lands for hundreds of years,” said Skylar. “It will take a master tracker. A tenacious hunter of all creatures that walk on four legs. Someone who will search every corner of Vastia and the Beyond for an animal that does not want to be found.”
The group stood quietly for a moment.
“I know just the person,” said Aldwyn.
The streets of Bridgetower had not changed much since Aldwyn had last seen them. He would have liked to give Skylar, Gilbert, Jack, Marianne and Dalton a tour of his favourite rooftops and alleyways, but the six of them had a far more pressing matter at hand. They had rushed to the white-walled city in the royal carriage, accompanied by two of Queen Loranella’s soldiers. It had been early morning when they left Bronzhaven, but by the time they arrived it was already dusk. And once the moon rose over the northwestern horizon, it would be full.
The group stood across the street from the Tower Pub tavern. Aldwyn had sneaked into the cider house before to lap up bits of cheese that had fallen to the floor. It was an establishment frequented by the shadiest characters this side of the Ebs: elvin pirates, sewer market vendors, even the occasional Gordian mindcaster. It was hardly a place for young wizards and their familiars, but few would ask questions once they revealed the queen’s decree they were carrying.
Escorted by the soldiers, the group entered the pub. They got more than a few sideways glances from tattooed driftfolk and long-bearded beast tamers. Aldwyn’s eyes scanned the room. They quickly fell upon a figure sitting by himself in the corner, cloaked in shadows.
“There he is,” said Aldwyn.
Jack pointed him out to Dalton and Marianne. They all approached.
“Excuse me, sir,” said Jack. “We have a job for you.”
The figure turned to reveal a claw-scarred face.
It was Grimslade, the infamous bounty hunter.
Aldwyn’s old nemesis was dressed the same as he always was. Pouches dangled from his belt. A crossbow was slung over his back. His bronze-tipped boots shone bright beneath the table. The only new piece was a six-inch black dragon tooth that hung round his neck. He glared at Aldwyn and the other familiars. They had outsmarted him once before, leaving him asleep beside the Hydra of Mukrete.
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t noose that cat right now,” he snarled.
One of the queen’s soldiers dropped a heavy Hessian bag full of gold coins on the tabletop before Grimslade. The stray hunter wrapped a gloved hand round the drawstrings and pulled the bag towards him. He looked inside.
Just then, a loud horn blared outside, followed by the sound of people screaming. Pub patrons began crowding at the windows.
“What’s going on?” asked Gilbert.
“I have a suspicion,” replied Skylar, and Aldwyn could tell she was truly terrified.
“Stay close,” said one of the soldiers to the young wizards.
Grimslade pushed out his chair and stood up from the table.
“Follow me,” he said.
He moved swiftly through the bar, elbowing past ale swillers and kicking open a door that led to a stairwell. Aldwyn and the others hurried behind Grimslade as he took two steps at a time. The stray hunter pushed open a hatch to the roof and climbed out. The others followed him as fast as they could.
From the roof of the Tower Pub, Aldwyn could see that the full moon had risen. The screams were coming from citizens who were huddled atop the city walls and looking out into the distance. There, advancing across the plains, was an army of thousands. Skeletal wolves, zombie bears and ghoulish animals of every size and shape marched in step. It was Paksahara’s Dead Army. The uprising had begun.
Copyright
THE FAMILIARS: Secrets of the Crown
Text copyright © Adam Epstein and Andrew Jacobson 2012
Illustrations copyright © Cherie Zamazing 2012
The authors and illustrator assert the moral right to be identified
as the authors and illustrator of this work.
ISBN 978 0 00 737178 5
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EPub Edition © NOVEMBER 2011 ISBN: 9780007460175
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