The Familiars (20 page)

“So it begins again,” said the Alchemist. He sat for a long time thinking, then spoke once more. “Sixty years ago, Vastia was threatened by a great evil, the dark mages Wyvern and Skull. They raised the Dead Army and tried to conquer all the land. But a prophecy in the sky told of three
young spellcasters who were destined to defeat them. I was one, Kalstaff and Loranella the others. Together, along with the Royal Guard, we fought back the army of the dead and restored peace to the land.”

The familiars remained silent.

“At the end of the decisive battle, Loranella delivered the deadly blow that ended the war. She was judged the noblest and most pure of heart among us, and was crowned queen of Vastia. Kalstaff became her most trusted adviser and protector. I declined a life in the palace, instead settling here for quiet study in search of answers to puzzles and the mysteries of the Tomorrowlife. Long have I been removed from matters of the queendom, but never could I have guessed that such wickedness would enter Loranella’s heart.”

“We don’t yet know what end she seeks,” said Skylar, “but it is clear that our loyals are the key to stopping her. A puddle viewing revealed that they are being held captive in the Sunken Palace.”

“That explains why you’re here,” replied the Alchemist. “You’ve come to ask me for my sleeping powder.”

Skylar was taken aback. “How did you know?”

“Because I’ve used it once before. Loranella, Kalstaff, and I ventured inside the Old Palace walls during the Uprising, seeking a wooden bracelet secured in the throne room. But before we could cross the main hall, we were confronted by the Hydra of Mukrete. It was my powder that put it to sleep, but not before the smallest and most vicious of the heads spat acid in my eyes, blinding me permanently. Not even the magical ravens could heal the damage.”

The Alchemist fell silent, caught up in the memories of heroic deeds long past. Then he rose to his feet, placing the book on his chair. “Follow me,” he said. Without a cane or even the aid of the wall, he led the familiars to another room at the back of the cottage.

“He gets around pretty well for a blind guy,” whispered Aldwyn to Skylar.

“Yes, my senses are highly trained,” replied the Alchemist, who blocked Gilbert’s tongue as it shot out to snag a lone moth fluttering overhead.

They walked into a wide open room, with large glass windows looking out over the clouds.
The snow had begun to fall once more, but this time in light flurries. A large apothecary stood against the far wall. Hundreds of tiny drawers, each with worn knobs and chipped paint, looked as if they had been opened and closed a thousand times. The Alchemist picked up a single glass beaker that was suspended a foot off the floor by a metal vise. The only other thing present in the room was a giant tortoise sitting beneath the windows.

“Edan, wake up,” said the Alchemist. But the turtle didn’t budge. The Alchemist walked over and used his knuckle to tap on the shell. “Anybody home?”

A tan head slowly poked out from beneath the tortoise shell, along with the turtle’s forearms and hind legs. Aldwyn now remembered seeing the very same turtle in the picture on Kalstaff’s table. So this was the Alchemist’s familiar, the one who had been at his side during the Dead Army Uprising. Aldwyn couldn’t help but wonder what use this slow-moving reptile would be in the heat of battle.

The Alchemist had moved to the apothecary.
He put his hand on the top left corner of the cabinet and slid his fingers quickly down the side, feeling the bumps in the texture of the wood. When he reached two-thirds of the way down, he began dragging his fingers horizontally across the knobs, mumbling to himself as he did so. Once he got about halfway, he pulled open a drawer and removed what appeared to be freshly picked golden flowers. He crushed them in his hand and let the pieces fall into the wide mouth of the beaker.

His fingers were moving again, in the same way as before, following a system he had clearly perfected. With incredible speed and confidence, the Alchemist found three more components, and added each one to the glass container.

“Now we just cook it for the length of an entire day,” said the Alchemist as he returned the beaker to the metal vise.

“A whole day?” asked Aldwyn.

“We can’t wait that long,” said Gilbert.

“Kalstaff put a protective spell over our loyals,” explained Skylar, “but it will fade by sundown tonight.”

“Oh, quiet down, all of you,” said the Alchemist. “I have awakened Edan for just that.”

The Alchemist snapped his fingers, and a fire materialized below the beaker, beginning to heat the ingredients mixed inside it. Edan closed his eyes and lowered his head to the ground. A translucent shell formed around the beaker, the Mountain Alchemist, the familiars, and the giant tortoise.

Aldwyn looked around. He wasn’t exactly sure what was happening, but it seemed as if outside the shell, time had stopped. The snowflakes outside the window hung in midair. The moth, too, was motionless in mid-flight, its wings still.

“How did—” Aldwyn started to ask, but he was cut off.

“Edan is one of the last remaining time stoppers,” said the Alchemist. “Within this shell, time will move at its own pace, while outside it, nary a moment shall pass until the shell is removed. Whether time passes faster in the bubble or the world outside it slows down is a puzzle for great thinkers—a true philosopher’s dilemma. Either way, for us, a whole day will go by; for that moth, it’ll be less than one beat of its wings.”

“Is that why you look so much older than Kalstaff?” asked Gilbert. “Because you’ve been living in a bubble—I mean, a shell?”

“Gilbert!” scolded Skylar.

“I can see Kalstaff has taught you little in the way of manners. But, yes, I have spent many an extra decade within Edan’s shells. And while it has aged me, it has also given me time to learn so much more.”

The Alchemist began stirring the contents of the beaker with a slender metal stick.

“Take this opportunity to rest, familiars,” said Edan in a quiet, even-tempered voice, speaking
for the first time. “I know how trying this quest must be for you.”

Aldwyn didn’t need to be told twice. A nap in complete safety sounded like a wonderful idea. He curled up on the floor, closed his eyes, and within seconds was fast asleep.

14

AN UNWELCOME RETURN

W
hen Aldwyn woke from the most peaceful sleep of his life, the Mountain Alchemist was carefully corking a small vial filled with a yellow powder. Skylar and Gilbert were already awake and looked as if they had been occupying themselves for some time. Skylar had just finished organizing the contents of her satchel. Gilbert was looking out at the moth, a tasty treat just out of tongue and time’s reach.

“It’s ready,” said the Alchemist, “and it’s as
strong as anything I have ever brewed.”

He held out his palm with the vial resting atop it. “Here, take it,” he said. “The only way to put the beast to sleep is by throwing a pinch of the powder into its eyes.”

Skylar flew over and took the glass tube in her talons.

“Which of the seven heads should we use it on?” she asked.

“All of them.”

Why did that not surprise Aldwyn? It seemed every challenge the familiars had faced since the young wizards had been kidnapped was more difficult than it first appeared.

“The powder affects the brain, not the body,” continued the Alchemist. “And the hydra has seven brains. Each must be put to sleep for you to have a chance of safe passage.”

“Good thing we’ve got Aldwyn’s telekinesis,” said Gilbert.

“Uh, well, you know, that sounds like it requires some pinpoint accuracy,” Aldwyn stuttered. “Which of course I am capable of, but it
may be better to let Skylar fly the powder into the hydra’s eyes.”

The blue jay carried the vial over to Aldwyn and passed it to him.

“I think it will be a lot safer for all of us if you use your telekinesis,” she said. Aldwyn reluctantly slipped it into Jack’s pouch.

“Edan,” said the Alchemist, “let’s rejoin the normal flow of time once more.”

The giant tortoise lifted his head from the ground, and the shell surrounding them disappeared. The snow outside started to fall again, and the moth’s wings fluttered once more, as if they had never stopped.

“You should know that I assisted you only because I owed Kalstaff for a wrong I committed against him long ago,” said the Alchemist. “But now that wrong has been righted, so don’t return and ask for my help again.”

He turned his back on the familiars and walked over to the two large windows through which he could not see. Aldwyn looked at him curiously. What wrong had this great magician committed against Kalstaff? What would weigh so heavily
on his conscience all these years later?

“Thank you,” Skylar called back to Edan as she headed for the door.

“Forgive him for his gruffness,” replied the turtle, “and know that I do not share his intolerance. It is toughness and talent we have in common, not temperament. Good luck.”

The three familiars hurried down the hall and out through the front door right into the bitter cold outside, ready for the final, most dangerous part of their adventure. From this point they would be heading east toward the sandy plateaus below, following the path Skylar plotted for them along Scribius’s map. They hiked around the base of the trident peak. There they saw another cottage identical in appearance to the Alchemist’s, no doubt an illusion set to trap unwelcome visitors coming up the other side. Aldwyn felt sorry for any traveler who wasn’t accompanied by someone with Skylar’s keen eyes.

The trip down the mountain was far less strenuous than the one up. Gravity did most of the work. Aldwyn’s paws were just becoming accustomed to the constant chill of the snow and ice
when the terrain began to change. Over the next few hours, the slope flattened into a long stretch of elevated plains and the temperature rose with every step. Now warm grains of sand were getting stuck between Aldwyn’s toes.

Soon, the trio was baking in the valley heat. A lone tree here, a dried shrub there, and the occasional stone arch—nothing else offered the animals refuge from the beating sun. Aldwyn could only imagine how hot it would be here if Vastia wasn’t experiencing unseasonably cold weather. Gilbert began to slow under the harsh desertlike conditions. The only relief came when the tree frog moistened his forehead with his own tongue. He continued to plod along behind Aldwyn and Skylar, asking every five minutes if they were there yet, until finally a vision appeared before them.

“Please don’t be a mirage,” said Gilbert.

As they got closer, Aldwyn saw it, too: a thin band of water flowing through a crack in the ground.

“No, it’s real,” said Aldwyn.

Gilbert forgot his exhaustion and charged for
the cool stream. By the time Aldwyn and Skylar got there Gilbert was neck deep in the water.

“Come on in,” he called. “It feels great. And no piranhadons!”

Aldwyn decided to just splash a few drops on his fur; Skylar passed altogether.

“I thought you would have been more excited to be here,” said Skylar to Aldwyn.

“Sure, the water’s pleasant, but I don’t really mind the heat.”

“I was talking about here, on the plateau,” she said.

Aldwyn looked at her, not sure what she was talking about.

“In Maidenmere,” she said. “Your home.”

“Oh, well, yes,” he said quickly, trying to cover up his initial confusion. “Of course I’m excited about that. It’s always nice to be back on the old stomping grounds. I love this place. Some of my best memories.”

Aldwyn could see that Skylar was looking at him skeptically, the same way she had after the chameleon crab and cave troll incidents.

“Hey, Gilbert, you almost finished in there?”
asked Aldwyn, eager to get moving. “Now’s really not the time for a soak.”

Gilbert dunked his head under one last time.

“I feel completely refreshed,” said the tree frog, hopping out of the stream and onto a smooth neighboring rock. That’s when Aldwyn and Skylar both saw that Gilbert was covered in winged leeches, their fangs embedded into his skin.

“Um, Gilbert—” said Skylar, pointing at him with her wing.

“I am ready to go,” said Gilbert, still oblivious to the bloodsuckers pulsating all over his body. “I’m telling you, you two really missed out. You should have joined me.”

He took a couple of jumps toward them, then looked down. There was a moment of shock, followed by screaming.

“Ahhhhhhhh!” he shrieked. “Vampire leeches! They’re going to drain me of all my blood.”

“Relax,” said Skylar. “We’ll get them off.”

“How?!” asked Gilbert in a panic.

“Luckily, we’re in Aldwyn’s home,” said Skylar. “We’ll just ask his pride for help.”

Aldwyn did a double take. This was very bad.

“You know, leech removing really isn’t my people’s specialty,” he said, fully aware that he sounded rather desperate. “I’m sure they’ll just fall off on their own when they’ve had their fill.”

“Each of these suckers can drink a jug of blood,” said Skylar. “By the time they’ve had their fill, Gilbert will be dead. We need a clove of garlic, and we need it right now.”