The Familiars

by Adam Jay Epstein

  “I don’t abide by the rules,” said Agdaleen. “I’ll kill you just the same.”

  Aldwyn glanced at Skylar, who appeared to understand the witch’s words far better than he did. What did this all mean?

  “Now into the pot with you!” cackled Agdaleen.

  She grabbed a beaker stuffed with octopus intestines and flung it into the cauldron. The iron vat shook and eight fleshy black tentacles sprang from its outer surface. The octopot was quick to lash out. Two of its arms reached for Aldwyn, while another tried to swipe Skylar out of the air. Gilbert hopped behind a shelf for cover as three more arms slithered toward him.

  “Oh yes, oh yes!” said Agdaleen as she watched the fun unfold. “Cat’s paw, bird’s beak, frog’s legs. You should make a most delicious stew.”

  Aldwyn tried to defend himself as one of the octopot’s tentacles wrapped around his tail. He had heard the old saying that a cat has nine lives, but he had no intention of finding out if it was true. He scratched viciously at the attacking arm, but whatever had been born from Agdaleen’s spell seemed immune to feline claws. Across the room, Gilbert had wedged himself into a distant corner, but the octopot’s reach was too great. It tossed aside the wood shelves as if they were made of paper, closing in on the frightened frog. Meanwhile, up above, every time Skylar tried to utter the words of a spell, a rubbery arm covered her beak.

  “Let go of me,” shouted Aldwyn as he was pulled up off his feet and into the air. He looked down and saw that he was now dangling over a boiling broth. “On second thought, I take that back. Do not let go of me.”

  The tentacle began to shove Aldwyn down toward the scalding and bubbling stew, ready to dunk him under. Aldwyn gripped the edge of the pot. It was hot to the touch, but a few singed paws were better than being boiled alive!

  With nowhere to hide, Gilbert was bouncing as fast as he could across the room, ducking and dodging the swinging arms.

  “I could use a little help here,” he called out to his companions.

  “I know what you mean,” screamed Aldwyn. His claws scraped against the sides of the octopot.

  Skylar had dug her talons into one of the ceiling beams but a high-reaching tentacle was still wrapped around her wing and beak, trying to wrestle her free.

  Agdaleen picked up a fire poker and walked over to the cauldron’s side, where Aldwyn was clinging on for dear life.

  “You’re going to taste good with a little salt and pepper,” she said as she swung the poker down on Aldwyn’s paws.

  He winced from the blow and only just managed to hold on. His hind legs burned as boiling bubbles burst below him. Agdaleen tried pushing him in with the poker’s sharp point, but Aldwyn shifted his weight just before it hit. Instead, the poker pierced Jack’s pouch near its top. Aldwyn looked through the hole in the bag and spotted among the ground glow worm and steel marbles a fistful of clovers, mostly the four-leaf variety, but a three-leaf one was shoved in there, too. Suddenly Dalton’s warning to Jack during their walkabout rang in his memory: You’re only supposed to take the ones with four leaves. Anything less can curse a whole spell.

  Aldwyn’s eyes lit up, and his attention immediately focused on the single three-leaf clover buried at the bottom of the pouch. He stretched his neck and managed to pluck it out with his teeth. Then he exhaled, blowing it from his mouth down to the potion.

  “Please work, please work, please work,” he hoped aloud.

  But before the clover reached the mustard-colored liquid, a bubble of steam popped and blew it against the inside wall of the cauldron, where it got stuck. Aldwyn’s eyes went wide. “No!”

  He reached out his front paw, but the clover was just too far away. Another tentacle came and grabbed him around his neck, attempting to force him into the stew. Agdaleen had turned her attention to Skylar, swinging her poker wildly at the bird, who was being suffocated by one of the pot’s arms as she fluttered back and forth, trying to escape. Gilbert played leapfrog over the swinging arms, but it was clear he was growing tired.

  Aldwyn stretched out his tail as far as he could until the very tip touched the three leaves of green. In Bridgetower, street cats had to learn to use all four of their paws with equal skill, but the truly smart ones trained their tails, too. With one strained flick he sent the clover into the vat, and this time it landed squarely in the broth.

  In an instant, the yellow liquid turned bright blue and began swirling counterclockwise. The tentacles that had sprouted from Agdaleen’s spell let go of Aldwyn, released Skylar, and stopped their pursuit of Gilbert as well. It only took Aldwyn a moment to climb over the cauldron’s edge and leap to freedom. Then something unexpected happened. The octopot turned its deadly attacks on Agdaleen. With alarming speed, the thick arms closed around the old witch’s ankles and wrists.

  “What’s going on?” she squealed in panic and disbelief. “I command you, release me at once!”

  Aldwyn, Skylar, and Gilbert watched as she was lifted off the ground and the tentacles dragged her kicking and screaming over the cauldron.

  “How dare you disobey me!” screamed Agdaleen.

  The octopot’s tentacles dunked the crone headfirst into the scalding soup, and as her gray hairs melted from her scalp, she let out a terrifying wail. Within seconds, only her sandaled feet stuck out above the whirlpool of boiling broth. And that’s when Aldwyn noticed it: around her bony, shriveled foot there was a silver and emerald anklet identical to Skylar’s. It disappeared into the pot before the others could see.

  The weeds blocking the hut’s entryway fell to the ground, and the three familiars didn’t wait to see what would happen next. They beat a hasty retreat, and no one said a word until the straw-and-bone hut was just a dot in the distance.

  “What was that all about back there?” Aldwyn asked Skylar, finally breaking the silence. “That business about your anklet?”

  “I don’t know,” she replied. “It was given to me as a gift when I graduated from the Aviary.”

  Aldwyn wasn’t certain he believed her, and for a moment considered mentioning what he had seen on Agdaleen’s ankle. But if he confronted Skylar about her lies, then he might be confronted about his own. So he stayed quiet.

  “I’m afraid we’re left with no choice but to travel to the Ocean Oracle,” said Skylar. “It will be a long and dangerous trek to get there, but I don’t know who else has the certainty of vision to tell us where to find our loyals.”

  “Well, there is somebody closer,” said Gilbert, a bit reluctantly, “but he scares me even more than Agdaleen.”

  Aldwyn and Skylar both looked at him.

  “My dad.”

  9

  THE TREE FROGS OF DAKU

  It turned out Gilbert wasn’t exaggerating. He truly was terrified of his dad. All the way from the edge of the Weed Barrens to the nameless marshes through which they were now walking, Aldwyn and Skylar had listened to how Gilbert’s demanding, perfectionist father had always criticized him, starting with the crooked gills he was born with as a tadpole. Gilbert went on to tell how every parent of a tree frog raised in the swamps of Daku had high hopes for their young, but none had higher expectations than his own father, the clan leader and master seer.

  “And as if it wasn’t bad enough having a dad who made me feel terrible about the mistakes I made,” said Gilbert, “he scolded me for stuff I hadn’t even done yet!”

  “I guess that’s one of the disadvantages of having a parent who can see into the future,” said Aldwyn.

  “That does sound unfortunate, Gilbert. I can see why you wouldn’t want to return,” Skylar said. “So, how quickly can we get there?” she added, cheery and upbeat.

  Gilbert scrunched up his face, squirming with dread.

  “Don’t give me that look. If your father is as wise as you make him out to be, we just might have a chance of saving Dalton, Jack, and Marianne yet,” said Skylar.

  “I know, I know,” Gilbert said. “You’re right.”

  As the sun dropped
toward the horizon, midday turning to late afternoon, the familiars traveled farther, the ground becoming more moist with every step. Aldwyn’s pace slowed. He was unable to walk as briskly; and his paws were dripping with heavy, foul-smelling mud. He more than once found himself knee-deep in peat bogs, a sure sign that the swamplands were close.

  “Home sweet home,” said Gilbert with what sounded like genuine nostalgia as he happily inhaled the scent of swamp grime and mildew.

  Swarms of mosquitoes had begun to follow the familiars. While Gilbert was lapping up mouthfuls of them, Aldwyn couldn’t keep them away and soon was covered in bites, most of them on his hindside.

  It wasn’t long before the murky water had become so deep that Gilbert, Aldwyn, and Skylar had to climb onto a log floating in the swamp. The familiars paddled past some muck vines and four chameleon crabs building a dam out of tree branches. The magical crabs were recognizable to Aldwyn from the shopkeeper’s demonstration during his brief stay in the familiar store. The three animals continued toward two cypress trees that Gilbert said marked the entrance to the frog village where he had once lived.

  “My brothers and sisters and I used to play hide-and-seek right over there,” said Gilbert, pointing to the muck below the trees. “They never were able to find me. Of course, now that I think about it, I’m not sure they ever bothered looking.”

  “Did you have many brothers and sisters?” asked Aldwyn.

  “No, we were a small family. There were just the sixty-two of us.”

  As they steered closer to the cypress archway that welcomed visitors to Daku, two slender lengths of wood glided out from beyond the hanging vines. Each was guided by a pair of tree frogs using bamboo spears to push through the water.

  “They’re friendly, right?” asked Aldwyn, cautiously eyeing the armed amphibians.

  “Aldwyn, these are my people,” said Gilbert with a smile. “Of course they are.”

  As Gilbert spoke, one of the frogs sent a bamboo spear flying through the air, straight toward the familiars.

  Aldwyn dove for cover, tackling Skylar and Gilbert out of the way, nearly pushing them into the water.

  “I don’t know what your definition of friendly is,” said Aldwyn to Gilbert, “but that’s certainly not mine!”

  Gilbert pointed behind them, and Aldwyn turned to see that the spear had killed a water snake that had been sliding up the back of their log.

  “Okay, forget what I said. I’m just not very good with pointy things flying toward me, that’s all.”

  The two frog-helmed boats approached, flanking them on either side.

  “Sorry about the scare,” said one of the frogs. “Those snakes are deadly, you know. I think it was intending to swallow the pretty lady whole.”

  “Well, thank you for saving me,” said Skylar.

  “Not you,” replied the tree frog. “The furry one.”

  It took a moment for Aldwyn to realize the frog was talking about him.

  “Actually, I’m not a girl.”

  “Oh,” said the frog, not completely convinced. “You cats all look the same.”

  “Anyway, welcome back, Gilbert,” said a second frog. “We’ve been expecting you.”

  “Of course you have,” said Gilbert, none too surprised.

  The group was led beneath the cypress arch and into the village beyond, not one made up of huts and streets but of trees and lily pads. Rounding a bend, Aldwyn’s paws stopped paddling as his eyes discovered hundreds of tree frogs hanging from the reeds, jumping from branch to branch, and swimming in the muddy water. A clamor of croaking surrounded them, both noisy and strangely melodic. The frogs of Daku were an incredibly athletic lot. Gilbert seemed lazy and uncoordinated in comparison.

  When the familiars’ log reached the shore, they were met by an excited group of thirty red-eyed frogs. A chorus of “Welcome back,” “Hey, big brother,” and “Gilbert!” followed.

  “Aldwyn, Skylar, these are my brothers and sisters,” said Gilbert. “Half of them, anyway.”

  An older female frog pushed through the crowd and embraced Gilbert. She wore several thin grass necklaces, each adorned with dozens of wooden charms.

  “My baby,” she said, holding back tears. “Look at how skinny you are.”

  “Hi, Mom,” said Gilbert.

  “We’ve missed you so much,” she said.

  “You and Dad?” asked Gilbert hopefully.

  “I’ve missed you so much,” she corrected herself. Aldwyn watched a hurt look cross Gilbert’s face. “I wear your birth charm close to my heart every day.” She touched one of the wood chips hanging from her neck, with a carving of a circle with a star in it. “Now come on, I have a feast waiting for you and your friends. I’ve been preparing it for over a week.”

  Aldwyn tried to wrap his head around how strange this all was, the way these frogs had known they’d visit long before he had ever met Jack, set foot in Stone Runlet, or watched Kalstaff die. A week ago, all Aldwyn had foreseen of his future were back alley brawls over scraps of meat and sleepless nights on the rooftops.

  Gilbert’s mom led the trio across some mossy branches to a circle of toadstools, where a feast had been laid. And not just acorn caps brimming with juicy insects, but chopped fish for Aldwyn and nuts and berries for Skylar. Aldwyn was about to stick his nose in the wood bowl of dried minnows when Gilbert’s mom interrupted him, handing him a damp fern leaf.

  “That’s okay,” said Aldwyn. “I’ll just lick myself clean when I’m through.”

  “Oh, it’s not for the food,” she replied.

  Before Aldwyn could express his confusion, a swamp parakeet flew overhead, sending a splattering of bird droppings directly onto Aldwyn’s shoulder. He used the wet leaf to wipe it from his fur, then turned to Gilbert, a bit upset.

  “Wouldn’t it have been easier for her to just tell me to get out of the way?”

  “If it has been seen in a viewing, there’s nothing that can be done to change it,” said Gilbert. “The future has already been written. My people just get a glimpse of it.”

  Aldwyn found the rules of soothsaying hard to follow. What would have happened if Gilbert’s mom had warned him? Would the bird dropping have still landed on him at a later moment? Or if he ducked, would he have caused ripples in time, with disastrous cosmic results? But Aldwyn’s growling stomach called his attention back to the home-cooked fish.

  “Gilbert, have you told your friends about that glorious day when the red-haired man came to choose one among us?” asked Gilbert’s mom.

  “No, they’re not interested, Ma,” said Gilbert, attempting to change the subject.

  “Actually, I’m very interested,” chirped Skylar.

  “It was late in the afternoon, just like now,” said Gilbert’s mom. “He arrived on a boat that rowed itself. It was magical! The entire village gathered to see this strange human visitor. Then he spoke to us. He said he had come to Daku looking for a frog who wished to be a familiar. He asked if there were any volunteers who would be willing to leave their family and friends to become a companion to a wizard. And who was the first to leap down from the trees? My first hatched, Gil!”

  Gilbert’s mom planted a kiss on Gilbert’s forehead. “I was so proud,” she exclaimed. His cheeks quickly filled with red.

  “He didn’t jump, he slipped!” called out a stronger, muscular frog from nearby. “He was chasing after a ladybug.”

  “Phillip, that’s your older brother you’re talking about,” snapped Gilbert’s mom. “Be nice.”

  Gilbert got redder. Aldwyn knew his fellow familiar well enough and could see by his expression that Phillip wasn’t lying.

  “So, who wants seconds?” asked Gilbert’s mom, taking the attention off Gilbert.

  Skylar leaned over and whispered to Gilbert, trying not to appear rude.

  “We really should speak to your father,” she said. “Remember why we’re here.”

  “You know, t-the Ocean Oracle isn’t t-that f-far away,” said Gilbe
rt with a nervous stutter.

  “Gilbert—”

  “Okay, okay.” He rubbed his webbed hands together and cleared his throat before turning to his mother. “Mom, I need to talk to Dad.”

  “He knows why you’ve come,” she replied. “You can find him meditating in the Quag.”

  Skylar pushed aside the rest of her nuts and berries, eager to move on to the more pressing matters at hand. Aldwyn lapped up every last chunk of fish, unsure when his next meal would come.

  “Thanks, Ma,” said Gilbert with his mouth full.

  He led Aldwyn and Skylar down a narrow mud path, past cypress boughs weighed down by colonies of tree frogs basking in the sun. They walked through a cove where young froglets practiced their puddle viewing in leaves filled with dew. Finally, they crossed over a series of lily pads to an island dense with bamboo sticks, some taller than others, each with symbols carved into the wood.

  “What are these?” asked Aldwyn.

  “Valor staves,” replied Gilbert. “Once a tree frog has earned the respect of the village elder—my father—a stalk of bamboo is carved with his or her symbol and placed here surrounding the Quag.”

  “Where’s yours?” asked Aldwyn.

  “I don’t have one yet.”

  Gilbert sucked in a big lungful of air, lifted his shoulders high, and walked through the cluster of valor staves, with Aldwyn and Skylar right behind him. There, on the other side, was a pool of still water. Fireflies peacefully floated above it, making the pond glow with swirls of light. On the opposite end sat an old tree frog meditating quietly. He looked like Gilbert and all his brothers, save for the fact that he was much older and had a black diamond birthmark on his back.

  “Hello, Father,” said Gilbert hesitantly.

  Gilbert’s dad sighed. “I thought you’d grow old and die in that magician’s pet store. I still can’t believe a young wizard chose you as her familiar.”

  “Well, maybe she saw something special in me,” said Gilbert meekly.