The Familiars

by Adam Jay Epstein

  A tense silence followed. Despite Skylar’s skittishness, she remained stone-faced, and Aldwyn was in no position to reveal her secret. With none of his pupils coming forward, Kalstaff let the issue go unresolved for now.

  “Very well, then. Let us be off.” Kalstaff waved his hand over his rod, and it immediately transformed into a large walking stick. Aldwyn watched as the old wizard headed for the trees, which seemed to open a path for him.

  Even on the sunniest of days, glorious days like this one, the Forest Under the Trees was cloaked in emerald shade. No ray of light could penetrate the two-hundred-foot canopy of green that protected the woodland floor.

  As they were heading deep into the shadowy forest, Kalstaff began a long-winded lecture on the vegetative rarities unique to this isolated region, from lavender fungus to dew algae. Aldwyn could barely keep his eyes open as Kalstaff’s lesson turned to such snoozeworthy topics as “Proper Ivy Handling Techniques” and “The Advantages of Chopped versus Diced Pine Needles.” Aldwyn was more interested in looking up at the day bats that were flying in circles overhead.

  Gilbert, who was lagging behind, stopped midhop as he passed a puddle of morning dew that had collected in an oversize leaf.

  “Whoa, I think I’m seeing something,” said Gilbert to the two other familiars. “A vision. It looks like some kind of wyrm dragon.”

  Skylar peered over his shoulder, then said in her usual exasperated tone, “You mean the reflection of that caterpillar up in the tree?”

  Gilbert looked up and saw a black, prickly caterpillar that was clinging to a twig. “Huh. Well, puddle viewing isn’t an exact science.”

  “Puddle viewing?” asked Aldwyn curiously.

  “Gilbert comes from the Daku Swamp Forest,” explained Skylar, “where all the tree frogs are born with the power of divination—able to see visions of past, present, and future in pools of water.”

  “Neat,” said Aldwyn, as the trio resumed their walk, following behind Kalstaff and the young wizards. “What kind of tricks can you do?”

  “Tricks are for circus monkeys,” Skylar responded, a little bit insulted. “I’m an illusionist, like all the birds from Nearhurst Aviary.” Aldwyn wasn’t entirely sure what sort of wizardry that entailed, but he was certain bringing elk bones to life in the woods was well outside what she claimed her talent to be.

  “Illusions are one of the most underrated circles of magic,” continued Skylar. “I can make things appear that are not really there. And oft-times the appearance of something can be more powerful than the thing itself.”

  “It’s kinda lame, if you ask me,” chimed in Gilbert.

  “Said the frog who thought he saw the future in the bottom of a pickle barrel,” Skylar snapped.

  “I had a premonition of being attacked by little hippopotamuses!”

  “I think we’ve all agreed those were floating sour dills,” said Skylar, rolling her eyes.

  After a frustrated sigh, she turned back to Aldwyn. “I just hope what they say about you cats from Maidenmere is true. I mean, I assume that is where you’re from. Maidenmere. Given your size and coloring.”

  “They say a lot of things about us Maidenmere cats,” he replied, bluffing as best he could. “What exactly are you referring to?”

  “You know—that your telekinetic powers can rival even those of the Gordian mindcasters.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t go that far,” he said, digging himself deeper still into a hole, “but reading somebody else’s mind is a nifty talent.”

  “Mind reading—that’s telepathy,” said Skylar. “Telekinesis is moving things with your mind.”

  “Right. That, too.”

  “You can do both?” Gilbert said excitedly. “Tell me what I’m thinking of right now.”

  “Uh…um…”

  Skylar looked at Aldwyn skeptically. He swallowed hard, his paws moistening with sweat.

  “A fly?” he guessed.

  “No way! That’s incredible,” said Gilbert. Almost against her will, Skylar seemed impressed, too.

  Aldwyn had, for the moment at least, escaped without having his true identity revealed. He was spared any further questioning by the group’s arrival in a beautiful, moss-covered clearing, in the middle of which stood the biggest tree he had ever seen.

  “Can anyone tell me what kind of vegetation this is?” asked Kalstaff, stopping.

  “A colossus tree,” answered Dalton.

  “That’s right.”

  Kalstaff used his thumbnail to puncture the soft bark of the tree. Crimson sap began to leak out of the hole.

  “Who can tell me what this sap is used for?” asked Kalstaff. “Jack, do you want to make a guess?”

  Jack nervously hemmed and hawed, unsure of the answer.

  Skylar leaned over to Aldwyn and Gilbert and whispered, “When mixed with lava spice, it creates a serum that, even if you swallow only a single drop, can cause growth up to double one’s size.”

  Kalstaff looked to his other students. “Marianne, Dalton?”

  They, too, were stumped.

  “Well, then you’ll have to look it up,” said Kalstaff. “I’ll give you a hint: it has to do with enlargement.”

  “You are such a show-off,” said Gilbert to Skylar, annoyed and impressed in equal measure.

  “Dalton, collect a sample for further study,” instructed Kalstaff. The young wizard removed a vial and began filling it with the colossus sap.

  Gilbert poked his green elbow into Aldwyn’s fur. “Hey, Aldwyn, what am I thinking about now?” he asked.

  “Um, another fly?”

  “That is insane! Get out of my head.”

  Kalstaff declared it was time for a short break, and Jack wandered off to explore the clearing, with Aldwyn tagging along. Between two rocks, Aldwyn spotted an elaborate web glistening in the sun, and in it a nimble creature with pearly white skin and wings that appeared too delicate to touch. “What’s this?” Aldwyn whispered to Jack, afraid to disturb the creature.

  “It’s a spider nymph,” Jack whispered back excitedly. “They’re incredibly rare.” The two stood gazing at the winged arachnid, which proceeded to weave hypnotic patterns into its silk net. Soon, the colorful web was drawing Jack and Aldwyn into some kind of trance.

  “Don’t stare too long,” Marianne shouted from across the clearing. “Otherwise you won’t be able to snap out of it.”

  Jack quickly blinked and turned away, but Aldwyn remained transfixed, the dizzying rainbow patterns reflecting in his eyes. The spider nymph began to move toward him, having successfully dazed its prey. Then, suddenly, the seemingly innocuous arachnid revealed a mouthful of venom-dripping fangs. Before the eight-legged predator could strike, Jack gave a tug on Aldwyn’s fur and pulled his familiar away. Disappointed, the spider returned to its web.

  “Kalstaff has a saying,” said Jack. “‘Oft-times, the friendliest-looking creatures are the ones that are the most dangerous.’”

  “Now you tell me,” said Aldwyn.

  The two shared a chuckle.

  “Gather ’round,” instructed Kalstaff, who was standing by the low-hanging limb of an Aridifian birch. The group formed a semi-circle in front of him, the young wizards in training accompanied by their familiars. “Does anyone know what’s special about this tree?”

  Dalton immediately raised his hand.

  “Yes, Dalton.”

  “The branches are wrapped in constrictor vines. The birch gives the vines food, while the vines protect the tree from birds and animals who might feed off its bark.”

  Skylar nodded in agreement from his shoulder.

  “How do the vines protect the tree?” asked Jack.

  Kalstaff answered by tapping one of the dangling vines with his walking stick. In the blink of an eye, the green vine wrapped around the stick and yanked it straight out of Kalstaff’s hand. Gilbert leaped behind Marianne, a croak of panic escaping his lips.

  “Marianne, I could use a little help here,” said Kalstaff. “Use o
ne of those withering spells you learned last week.”

  Marianne reached down and picked up a handful of dirt. She threw it into the air and called out, “From green to brown, drop that staff back on the ground!”

  The vine shriveled up, releasing the walking stick back into Kalstaff’s waiting hand. Jack and Aldwyn exchanged an impressed look.

  “Very good,” said Kalstaff. “Nice technique.”

  Marianne shrugged off the praise, doing her best to hide how much Kalstaff’s approval meant to her.

  “All right, students, time to collect some clover,” called Kalstaff, clapping his hands together. “I see a patch over there by the rocks. Even spells can use a dash of good luck mixed in.”

  Jack scooped up Aldwyn and ran for the field of four-leaf clovers. “I bet you I’ll gather the most!” he shouted to Marianne and Dalton.

  As Jack sprinted for the inch-high patch of shamrocks, Aldwyn was jostled back and forth in Jack’s arms, feeling as if the fish and potato stew he’d had for dinner the night before might bounce right out of his stomach. But before Aldwyn could develop full-blown nausea, Jack set him down and started grabbing fistfuls of clover, shoving them into his pouch. Marianne and Dalton strolled up behind them.

  “You’re only supposed to take the ones with four leaves. Anything less can curse a whole spell,” Dalton informed Jack impatiently. “And, trust me, it’s no fun having to sort through them later.”

  But Jack continued to pick every clover within reach, then suddenly stopped, curious, and called over to his familiar. “Hey, Aldwyn, look at this!”

  Aldwyn, who still felt a little dazed from his close encounter with the spider nymph, reluctantly headed over toward Jack, who was pointing at what appeared to be a freshly dug hole in the ground. “It must be a mousehole,” Jack said.

  Aldwyn tried to peer inside the hole. He could only make out darkness below but felt a warm breeze. “It smells kind of sour,” he said. Aldwyn’s instincts were telling him that there was something very wrong with this hole.

  “We found something over here,” Jack called back to the others. “I think it’s the burrow of a garden mouse.”

  “Mice don’t dig in clover patches,” replied Dalton.

  “And it’s kind of big for a mousehole,” mumbled Aldwyn, more to himself, as Kalstaff quickened his pace, coming up behind Jack and his familiar. A blast of hot wind blew through Kalstaff’s mustache as he bent over to look at the hole.

  “That’s not a burrow. It’s a breathing hole,” he said with urgency. “Back away! Quick!”

  But before any of them could take even one step, the earth exploded, sending Kalstaff, loyals, and familiars flying backward. Dirt and rocks rained down on them as a ten-foot-tall creature emerged from the ground with a deafening roar. It had three eyes, tough gray skin, thick-hoofed feet, and a horn jutting out of its forehead. Standing upright, the beast swung one of its clawed hands at Kalstaff, who blocked it with his staff.

  “Gundabeast!” cried Gilbert.

  “Familiars, take cover!” the old wizard shouted. “Jack, stay behind me. Marianne, Dalton, I’m going to need your help.”

  Skylar and Gilbert immediately took shelter behind the nearby rocks. Aldwyn was still shaking off the impact from the rain of rubble. “Aldwyn, get over here!” yelled Skylar from across the clearing.

  Aldwyn looked up and quickly dodged the gundabeast’s giant fist. It hit the ground where Aldwyn had just been, leaving a crater among the clover. Aldwyn scrambled to get away as the three-eyed subterranean monster thrust its horned head downward, preparing to stab him.

  Nothing stood between Aldwyn and the creature’s sharp horn, until Jack, brave and more than a little reckless, jumped in front of Aldwyn. He shielded his familiar from the attack with just his body.

  “Gustavius rescutium!” shouted Dalton.

  A moment before the horn tore into Jack’s flesh, a small tornado of wind lifted both him and Aldwyn out of harm’s way. The beast’s horn came down hard, getting stuck in the ground. Dalton’s spell dropped the boy and his familiar, breathless and stunned, right beside Gilbert and Skylar.

  Aldwyn looked up at Jack with awe and respect. No one had ever risked his life for him before. This was why animals called their human companions loyals.

  “You could have been killed,” said Aldwyn, overwhelmed with gratitude.

  “I know you’d do the same for me,” said Jack as he rose to his feet and ran back toward Kalstaff.

  “Jack, a shield spell would have been a lot safer.” Aldwyn could hear Kalstaff scolding Jack but not without a note of pride in his voice at the boy’s bravery. “Next time, think before you act!”

  “Exciting, isn’t it?” chirped Skylar, thrilled by the magical combat.

  “If by exciting you mean terrifying, then yes!” said Gilbert.

  Aldwyn watched as the gundabeast pulled its horn out from the dirt. Now spitting mad, its three eyes fixed on Kalstaff and his young apprentices. The creature dropped onto all fours, kicking up dirt like an angry bull and roaring with rage.

  “Now, who can tell me what a gundabeast’s weak spot is?” Kalstaff shouted at his students over the noise.

  “The neck!” called Jack from behind Kalstaff.

  “Exactly.”

  The gundabeast began to stampede forward, heading straight toward Kalstaff and Jack. Aldwyn watched as the earth splintered behind the creature.

  Marianne sent a shower of sparks flying from her hands. “Starburst, send your worst!” she incanted in a firm voice.

  The sparks solidified into a bright beam of light that shot into a vulnerable spot in the gundabeast’s thick gray skin, right between its chin and its chest, stopping it in its tracks and causing it to let out a high-pitched squeak.

  “Be gentle,” said Kalstaff. “It’s just a baby.”

  The beast swung its arms aimlessly, severing one of the forest’s trees in half with its forearm.

  “A very strong baby,” said Gilbert, as he ducked further behind his cover.

  Skylar spotted Dalton’s pouch lying on the ground nearby. “Dalton, your pouch,” she called to him. “Should I bring it to you?”

  “Stay back, Skylar,” he shouted. “It’s too dangerous for you.”

  The blue jay hopped up from her perch, considering whether to retrieve it anyway. Then she thought better of it, returning to her safe haven behind the rocks with Gilbert and Aldwyn, a little disappointed.

  “Let’s all join together to do a force push,” said Kalstaff.

  The three young spellcasters lined up beside him, and they all raised their hands, palms outward, opposite the beast.

  “Jack, find your focal point,” advised Kalstaff. The boy’s eyes narrowed. “Good!”

  A large ghostly hand formed between them and the lumbering creature from beyond the Borderlands, pushing the gundabeast backward. Aldwyn watched, amazed at the display of magic. His respect grew stronger still for the power of these protectors of the queendom.

  The ethereal hand continued to force the beast backward, right up against the bark of the Aridifian birch tree. Upon contact, the constrictor vines coiled themselves tightly around the gundabeast’s arms, capturing it. The gundabeast let out a roar of frustration as it struggled but failed to free itself from the green tendrils. Eventually, its roar subsided and gave way to pitiful squeaks.

  “Well done. The constrictor vines should hold it for a few days. I’ll contact the Council and have them send some beast tamers to escort it back to the Beyond,” said Kalstaff, brushing dried earth off his robe. “Now just because we’ve had a little excitement doesn’t mean you’re getting out of that pollen identification quiz I promised. Get out your field guides and quills.”

  The three young wizards groaned in protest and then sat down in the clover, preparing for a far less thrilling part of their walkabout. Aldwyn, Skylar, and Gilbert came out from their hiding place. They tiptoed past the captured gundabeast to sneak a closer look.

  “
You messed with the wrong bunch of wizards and familiars,” said Gilbert cockily.

  The gundabeast lunged forward with a grunt, and Gilbert leaped back in a panic, landing on his rear. Aldwyn and Skylar burst out laughing.

  “What? I tripped,” said Gilbert. Which made them laugh even harder.

  By the time the group had returned to Stone Runlet, night had fallen, and with the moon yet to rise, even the dimmest stars were visible. Swirls of flickering lights colored the sky, as if the star gods themselves had painted the heavens with fireflies. Kalstaff led his students and their familiars out from the woods and back toward the cottage.

  The whole walk back home, Aldwyn had been lost in thought. If it hadn’t been for Jack’s bravery and Dalton’s wind spell, the gundabeast would have flattened him into a cat pancake. Aldwyn was starting to realize that being a familiar came with its fair share of occupational hazards, but fortunately what seemed insurmountable for a cat or a blue jay or a frog could be handled with ease by the simple wave of a wizard’s wand. He decided always to stick very close to Kalstaff and his three apprentices—especially Jack.

  As the group passed the fire pit, Dalton turned to Jack. “Looks like we need some fresh wood for supper,” he said. “Come give me a hand.”

  “I’ll go refill the canteens,” said Marianne.

  Just then, a bright light in the sky caught everyone’s attention. They all looked up and saw three shooting stars twisting around each other, ripping through the blackness above. The few clouds in the sky faded away, making sure everybody could see the trio of stars tango overhead. He didn’t know why he knew, but Aldwyn was sure that what they were witnessing was an omen.

  “Shooting stars!” said Jack. “Three of them.”

  The wizards and their familiars watched as the shooting stars fell somewhere just beyond Stone Runlet. Out of the corner of his eye, Aldwyn saw that Kalstaff, for a moment, appeared very upset, his whole demeanor changing. Seeing a look of such grave concern on the powerful wizard’s face sent a shiver down Aldwyn’s spine, all the way to the tip of his tail. But before anyone else caught a glimpse of the old spellcaster’s worry, Kalstaff was smiling again.