Then Aldwyn remembered: Simeon was a past walker. He could show him what could have happened instead.
“I need you to take me back,” said Aldwyn.
“Sometimes seeing what could have been haunts us more.” The bloodhound spoke with caution.
“Please. I have to know.”
Simeon hesitated.
I’m afraid you won’t find the answers you’re looking for.
Simeon said it so quietly that Aldwyn had to do a double take.
“What was that?” asked Aldwyn.
“As you wish,” said Simeon.
The bloodhound looked into the distance, and without any further warning, the world around Aldwyn began to change. He felt himself rise half an inch above the ground, then watched as the dirt beneath his feet started turning into cobblestones. Buildings sprouted out from the ground beside him, brick and wooden walls unfolding as easily as paper in the hands of an origami master. The fields surrounding the Brannfalk Pass disappeared, and Aldwyn was back on the streets of Bridgetower, with Simeon as his guide into the past-that-might-have-been.
“You’re an impressive foe,” a voice called out, “but the chase ends here.”
Aldwyn turned to see Grimslade with his crossbow in hand. Across from him was a second Aldwyn, beside a fish pinned to a wooden barrel by an arrow. Another bolt brushed by the second Aldwyn’s fur. He made a run for it, dashing around a corner and leaping through an open window.
Simeon and Aldwyn moved through space quickly. Aldwyn didn’t even need to take steps yet was still being propelled forward. He phased straight through the wall into the familiar shop, where Jack was standing in front of a cage with Kalstaff and the red-haired shopkeeper behind him.
“I’ll take him,” Jack blurted out as he stared into the green eyes of the past Aldwyn.
“Are you sure?” asked the shopkeeper. “This is not like a wand or a hat. A familiar must be chosen very carefully.”
Jack reached into the cage and pulled the cat out in his arms. The boy stroked the underside of his chin with the backs of his fingers.
“He’s sure,” said Kalstaff.
Aldwyn watched, yearning for his loyal’s touch once more. He turned to Simeon. “I remember all of this. I thought you were going to show me what could have been. Not what was.”
Simeon did not respond. He simply nodded, and Aldwyn felt himself getting pulled backward until he was standing in the alley again.
“You’re an impressive foe,” said Grimslade, “but the chase ends here.”
Once again the past Aldwyn was looking at the fish pinned to the barrel, then at Grimslade. A second bolt brushed by his fur. But this time, instead of running toward the window into the familiar shop, the past Aldwyn snared the fish from the barrel and took off down a different alley. As Grimslade pursued him, Aldwyn and Simeon moved in the opposite direction, through the wall and back into the shop.
This time, the cage where the past Aldwyn would have been was empty, and Jack walked right by it. He stopped and paused for a moment, then doubled back for a second look at a pocket dragon, a scaly snake with wings on its back.
The boy wizard suddenly got a big smile. He put out his arm and the miniature dragon flew onto it.
“I’m Jack.”
The snake-like creature shot out a burst of orange flames from its mouth and wrapped its tail around the boy’s shoulder. Aldwyn couldn’t help but notice how quickly the two gelled as loyal and familiar.
“You and I are going to go on great adventures into the Beyond together,” said Jack.
And with that the walls began to bend and twist, reshaping themselves into the inner walls of the courtyard within the New Palace of Bronzhaven. Aldwyn and Simeon stood watching as Queen Loranella spoke to the young wizards and their familiars.
“We are honored to carry on your legacies,” said Dalton.
“That’s very noble of you, Dalton,” said the queen. “But you, Marianne, and Jack are not the three chosen by the Heavens to protect Vastia.” The queen turned to the familiars. “It is you, Skylar, Gilbert, and Karna.”
It took Aldwyn a moment to realize that the pocket dragon was standing in the place where he had once held his own head high.
“You are the Prophesized Three,” continued Loranella. “The ones that killed Paksahara and brought peace back to the land.”
Killed Paksahara? Was it true? Had Skylar and Gilbert, with the help of this pocket dragon named Karna, done what he had been unable to? Did they strike down the gray hare before she unleashed her Dead Army?
If Aldwyn had been having doubts about the prophecy before, now he was truly troubled: What if the third star that had fallen over Stone Runlet had not been meant for him, but for somebody else? Kalstaff’s warning seemed even truer than Aldwyn had first thought.
The Bronzhaven palace walls began to crumble, and all around Aldwyn and Simeon the fields surrounding the Brannfalk Pass returned.
“Aldwyn, if you see any more of those grasshoppers, be sure to let me know,” said Gilbert. “I could definitely go for seconds.”
Apparently, as far as Gilbert and the others were concerned, Aldwyn and Simeon had never left. After what he had seen, Aldwyn wished with all his heart that he hadn’t.
In order to pick up the pace and make it across the pass to the Abyssmal Canyon before it was completely dark, Aldwyn, Gilbert, and Banshee climbed back onto Orion’s back. Despite the chain around his neck, Lothar had little trouble keeping pace.
They were making good time, racing past flocks of green sheep grazing in the fields, until the pass descended to the bank of the Ebs. The bridge that had once crossed it here had been destroyed by the river dragons. Their best hope of getting to the other side was by finding the shallowest spot and fording the river on Orion’s back. But this came with challenges of its own. Although Simeon could swim alongside them, Lothar would be unable to do so while shackled. A quick vote showed that no one wanted to free him for even the shortest period of time.
“Lift him onto my back,” said Orion to Banshee.
“Whoa, wait a second,” said Gilbert. “I’m not riding next to that guy.”
“We don’t have much of a choice,” said Aldwyn, eyeing the wolverine, who was giving him a cold, dead stare in return.
Banshee slid off Orion and cautiously approached Lothar.
“Careful, monkey. I bite,” he said, flashing his sharp incisors with a snarl of disdain.
Banshee lifted Lothar into her arms and hoisted him up onto Orion. The wolverine’s chained legs hung over the horse’s sides and his snout lay flat, just inches from Gilbert.
Banshee climbed back on and Orion stepped into the swift-moving current. No one said a word; only the sound of splashing water interrupted the tense silence. They continued on, and soon the water had risen to Orion’s underbelly.
“Have you ever heard the story about the scorpion and the frog?” asked Lothar. “The scorpion comes up to the frog and asks him for safe passage across the river. The frog says, ‘Why would I help you? You’re a scorpion.’ The scorpion responds, ‘If I sting you, we’d both drown.’ The frog relents, and halfway across the river the scorpion stings him anyway. As they’re sinking the frog asks the scorpion why he did it. And the moral of the story …”
“It was in his nature,” said Aldwyn.
“No,” said Lothar. “The moral is that the scorpion was a fool. He should have waited until they got to the other side before killing the frog.”
Gilbert shuddered.
“Why does it have to be a frog?” he croaked.
As Orion treaded toward land, Aldwyn wondered if Lothar had made an idle threat or was in fact planning to attack them. All eyes were on the wolverine.
Orion’s front hoof touched the western bank of the Ebs. Everyone braced themselves, but Lothar merely let out a nasty laugh.
“Do you think I’d be so stupid as to strike with all of you anticipating it?” asked the wolverine.
Then Lothar
bared his fangs and lunged, but his neck went taut an inch away from Aldwyn’s nose. Banshee was gripping the wolverine’s chains, holding him back.
“Next time you won’t be so lucky, cat,” said Lothar, his warm breath smelling foul.
Orion stepped completely out of the water and shook it off his body. Simeon emerged not far behind and did the same. Banshee dropped Lothar back to the ground, putting a safe distance between the group and the chained beast once more.
“I will escape,” said Lothar. “And your mission will fail. You won’t have me, and every other wolverine in Vastia has taken refuge with Paksahara’s army. You will have to walk to death’s door to find another.”
10
STANDOFF AT JABAL TUR
“Look, the queen’s soldiers are here,” Gilbert said excitedly.
He pointed a webbed finger toward an encampment of gray tents. Pennants staked into the ground surrounded the camp. Each was decorated with the bronze gate that Aldwyn recognized as the symbol of Bronzhaven.
As the group moved closer, they realized that the tents were mostly deserted. A lone fire burned outside one of the larger shelters. Rows of injured warriors were lying on their backs outside the tents, some with severe wounds. A healing raven fluttered from one to the next, rubbing its feathers along the gashes and broken bones. A robed man bandaged them up after the black bird had finished its magic.
The raven recognized Aldwyn, Skylar, and Gilbert instantly.
“The Prophesized Three,” said the bird. “You should turn around and get as far away from here as possible. A battle rages between Paksahara’s and Loranella’s armies for control of the second glyphstone at the center of Jabal Tur. You won’t be safe.”
“We must get to the Abyssmal Canyon,” replied Skylar. “And this is the only way.”
They galloped uphill through the trees, the Kailasa mountains looming closer. Occasionally they passed a wounded soldier dragging himself in the direction of the healing raven’s tent. Deeper into the pine forest, Aldwyn recoiled from the familiar, unpleasant stench of decaying flesh. He looked to the south and saw a swath of destruction made by Paksahara’s zombie hordes. And it wasn’t just bony footprints, trampled ground, and crushed saplings that had been left behind. Chunks of rotting muscle and cartilage were scattered like a revolting trail of bread crumbs.
The band of six and Lothar came up over a wooded rise and, in the fading daylight, stared down at the ruins of Jabal Tur. The scene was difficult for Aldwyn to fully take in on first glance. He knew that these ancient ruins had once held a magnificent city, but little remained from that golden time. Marble columns jutted upward, no longer supporting their vaulted rooftops. Patterned tile floors were all that was left of the sun temples. And at the center of the ruins was a giant stone protected on all sides by Loranella’s army.
“The second glyphstone,” said Banshee, her voice filled with awe.
Dead animals of all kinds were moving in waves against lines of Loranella’s shielded and armored human soldiers.
“Look at all these zombies,” said Gilbert. “Where did they come from?”
“Paksahara has spread her obsidian all over Vastia,” Orion said. “Some look like they’re from the mountains, others the Hinterwoods. I’d bet she’s even raised animals from the burial grounds of the once-great zoo of Mukrete.”
They could see the first of the Kailasa mountains’ many peaks rising behind the battlefield. A narrow crack running all the way down its face marked the entrance to the Abyssmal Canyon. Getting there would be next to impossible given the sea of zombies standing in their way.
“It would be a mighty challenge to trample through the battlefield,” Orion said. “I suggest we circle the ruins. It will take longer, but we’ll be sure to get there.”
No one had a better idea, so there was little debate.
Determined, the group began to move. Suddenly, Lothar screamed out: “Help! Over here!”
Luckily, Lothar’s cry went unheard in the clamor of battle. Or at least it seemed to.
Orion had not taken more than twenty steps down the rise when a skeletal gorilla jumped down from one of the trees. The primate’s bony forearm knocked Aldwyn, Gilbert, and Banshee clear off the horse’s back. Quick to act, Orion delivered a thunderous kick to the undead gorilla’s chest, sending the beast backward and a spray of flesh flying just inches over Gilbert’s head.
“Phew, that was close,” said the tree frog. “Getting splattered with zombie guts once is enough for a lifetime.”
Slowed but not stopped by the kick, the gorilla charged Orion again. The lightmare was ready, this time clicking his hooves together and creating a fiery electrical blast that obliterated the skeletal primate on contact. Globs of entrails flew everywhere, covering Gilbert from head to toe.
“Aww, not again!” he cried. “Get it off!”
Banshee was about to help, but before she did, Skylar put up a wing.
“Wait,” said the blue jay. “Don’t wipe away that slime. In fact, put more of it on.”
“Huh?” asked a confused Gilbert.
“And if the rest of you want to make it to the Abyssmal Canyon,” continued Skylar, “you’d better do the same.”
She moved over to the remains of the zombie gorilla and camouflaged herself in it. Aldwyn walked over next and rolled around in the guts, shuddering as he coated himself in the gooey entrails. The others followed, until the entire group could pass as part of Paksahara’s army. Lothar refused to cooperate, but Banshee slathered him anyway.
“Our best hope is to blend in and pretend to be part of the Dead Army while we circle the battlefield,” said Skylar. “Once we make it to the glyphstone, our human allies will help us reach the Abyssmal Canyon.”
The disguised animals skirted the field, horrified by the power of Paksahara’s undead minions.
A commanding zombie coyote shouted orders to his troops. “The glyphstone is vulnerable. Boars, you will serve as decoys. Tigers, attack from the sides.” Then the coyote saw Orion. “Stallion, you should be accompanying the main charge against the shield-bearing humans.”
Orion pretended to hurry into battle. He was tall enough to see over the zombie soldiers fighting all around them and sent words of reassurance to his companions. “The queen’s soldiers are not far now. We’ll be safe once we reach them.”
Just then a human voice was heard shouting over the roar of battle.
“Charge!”
Ahead, a dozen spear-carrying pikemen ran full speed into the fray, cutting through the surprised zombies. A shield-bearing warrior thrust his spear into the bony rib cage of a ram standing before the familiars, shattering it instantly. Now he had his eyes on Aldwyn and his companions. Apparently, their disguises were so effective that even Loranella’s soldiers were mistaking them for the undead.
“Ahhhhhh!” yelled the warrior, charging with spear before him.
Aldwyn telekinetically lifted one of the severed ram heads littering the ground, blocking the weapon with a crack. But already a second warrior was swinging his pike at Lothar, who caught a lucky break when the spear’s edge struck his chain. The soldier regained control of his weapon, but this time, before he jabbed at the wolverine again, Simeon jumped up and wrestled away the soldier’s pole arm with his teeth.
“I hope you know I took no pleasure in defending you,” Simeon growled at Lothar.
From behind them, one of the zombie tigers set his sights on the unarmed soldier. The beast made a running leap with claws outstretched, but Banshee vaulted herself off Orion’s back and took down the bony predator in midair. She whacked the tiger with her drum. The soldier looked at her, stunned.
“Thanks,” he said.
“This is getting complicated,” said Gilbert.
The same human voice from before shouted out again: “Axe men, forward!”
Thirty of the queen’s bravest flooded forth, holding their battle-axes overhead.
“Wipe away your disguises and get on Orion’
s back before Loranella’s soldiers mistake us for zombies, too,” said Skylar, as she shook her own body free of zombie entrails.
Aldwyn and the others wiped away the zombie goo as well as they could while the blue jay flew above them. Then they scrambled onto Orion’s back. At Skylar’s signal the lightmare galloped for the front line. His hooves sparked, leaving a flame-scorched path that incinerated zombies underfoot but also called a great deal of attention to their presence. Orion gathered as much momentum as he could before going airborne, soaring ten feet above the ground and straight over the soldiers. When the lightmare touched down on the other side, the animals found a hundred swords pointed right at them.
11
INTO THE ABYSS
A bearded man stepped forth signaling the others to lower their weapons. It was Urbaugh, one of Vastia’s many wizards left magic-less by Paksahara’s dispeller curse.
“These are the Prophesized Three,” Urbaugh told his soldiers. Then he turned to the animals. “I see a wolverine, bloodhound, lightmare, and howler monkey among you. Go quickly. Collect the remaining descendants and bring them to the third glyphstone outside Bronzhaven. This one won’t stand much longer.” Then he turned to his men: “Tighten the line. Hold it as long as you can. The fate of Vastia depends on it.”
Orion took them past the glyphstone, and Aldwyn spotted the ancient symbols carved into the stone pillar, covering the surface from top to bottom.
He couldn’t help but think that if only they had collected the remaining three descendants already, they could have summoned the Shifting Fortress in Jabal Tur and tried to put an end to Paksahara’s rule. That was followed by an even bleaker thought: if Skylar and Gilbert had been joined by Karna, the pocket dragon Jack should have chosen as his familiar, they wouldn’t have been in this crisis to begin with.
As Orion galloped, he collected a remnant of the fallen city—a marble hand from a broken statue—and dropped it in his saddlebag.
“Can you believe that once—centuries ago—even before the time of Brannfalk, all of the land’s greatest thinkers, artists, and warriors lived in Jabal Tur?” Orion said.
The Familiars #3: Circle of Heroes Page 9
