The Familiars #3: Circle of Heroes (24 page)

“Ow, that really hurt,” moaned one of the Gilberts.

“What are you complaining about?” asked the other. “You’re the one who tackled me!”

Aldwyn was studying the two tree frogs, and they really were identical. He didn’t know what to do. Then he looked at Skylar and heard the blue jay speak.

Think, Skylar. There must be a way to tell them apart
.

Aldwyn was confused. He could have sworn that her lips hadn’t moved. He looked back at the two Gilberts. He turned to the first and heard Paksahara’s voice.

Continue to play the fool. Sooner or later they’ll come to suspect the real Gilbert as me
.

Then Aldwyn looked to his right, at the other Gilbert. This time Gilbert’s voice called out.

I really hope I live through this. I’d hate to miss my date with Anura. I can’t believe she wants to hear my poetry. Wait. Stay focused, Gilbert!

What was going on? And suddenly, Aldwyn understood: he had inherited not only his father’s talent of telekinesis but his mother’s gift of telepathy, too. He could read minds!

It wasn’t Grimslade’s voice but his thoughts that Aldwyn had heard in the murky waters of the sewer market; then Simeon’s before they left on their past walk; and finally Malvern’s while his head was being thrust into the spyball pool.

“It’s that one!” Aldwyn shouted to Skylar, pointing at the fake.

“How can you be sure?” asked the blue jay.

“Because I can read minds.”

Paksahara knew she had been discovered. She conjured a ball of spikes and hurled it at Aldwyn, just missing his head.

“When the two of you suck in your final breaths, I want the last face you see to be that of your best friend,” said the evil hare.

Aldwyn telekinetically lifted Gilbert’s fallen valor staff and threw it at Paksahara, who was still in the guise of the tree frog. She jumped out of the way and raised her webbed hands, pushing the staff back at Aldwyn and striking him in the same leg where Malvern had bit him. An intense pain shot through his whole body.

Now Paksahara was narrowing her gaze on Skylar. But Aldwyn could see in her eyes that the blue jay had plans of her own. She flew several feet in the air and incanted: “
Astula Yajmada
!” With a mighty flap, Skylar touched her wing tips—one blue, one singed black—together, and a crimson spear materialized before shooting forward and impaling the imposter Gilbert straight through her chest. As Paksahara fell, she turned back into her true gray hare form, and then lay lifelessly on the ground.

Gilbert stumbled over, and Aldwyn limped, and the three familiars stood together over Paksahara’s dead body.

“I knew how to defeat her,” said Skylar. “I had to cast Yajmada’s Spear. It was your puddle viewing, Gilbert. It wasn’t telling you that I was going to kill you. It was telling you that I was going to kill Paksahara. And it was showing me how to do it.”

“Like I said, my visions never fail,” said Gilbert. “What can I say? I’m good.”

Aldwyn looked down at the gray hare who had hurt so many but now was finally gone.

“I can’t believe it’s over,” said Aldwyn.

“It’s not,” replied Skylar. “Not until the wizards get their magic back.” She flew over to the wooden bracelet and picked it up. “Take us back to Bronzhaven.”

The Fortress began to shift at her command and moments later materialized in a spot not far from where it had been before, looking out at the battlefield.

“Aldwyn, would you like to do the honors?” asked Skylar.

Aldwyn focused on the largest chunk of pedestal debris still littering the floor and telekinetically flung it at the crystal urn. It made contact quickly and powerfully, leaving a gaping hole. With a green burst, all the trapped magical essences left the urn and swirled into the summoning horn.

The three familiars watched through the window as the magical smoke funneled out into the sky, snaking through the air and finding their wizards on the battlefield. The wisps wrapped around the humans and seemed to dissolve into their skin. The human warriors, who were crumbling under the overwhelming force of Paksahara’s Dead Army, suddenly found their magic restored. A flurry of spells followed, and in just seconds, the tide turned. Skeletal beasts were evaporating into dust, and those that were not being struck down were retreating. The wolverines, dingoes, and goats sprinted away, choosing not to face humans casting fireballs and lightning bolts. Gundabeasts were being imprisoned with enchanted chains, while the remaining spyballs were shot down with messenger arrows.

“Now it’s over,” said Skylar.

The words had barely escaped her beak when Aldwyn heard a clatter and groan behind them. He spun around to see Paksahara rising from the dead, straight out of the pile of black obsidian that her corpse had fallen on. No longer the fluffy gray hare she had once been, now she appeared like all the others in her Dead Army: flesh and fur left only in patches, bones sticking out everywhere. She was a zombie.

The three familiars charged her. Cat, bird, and frog struck a mighty blow in unison, sending the skeletal hare flying straight out the casting chamber’s open window. The zombie Paksahara grabbed hold of the sculpted stone lion’s head protruding from the outer walls of the Shifting Fortress.

Aldwyn, Skylar, and Gilbert looked down at her through the opening.

“What are you going to do?” asked the dangling Paksahara. “Push me off? That wouldn’t be very familiar-like of you.”

“No,” said Aldwyn. “We’re not going to do anything. They are.”

Paksahara turned to see what Aldwyn already had: a circle of bone vultures darting straight toward her. As the predatory birds tore into Paksahara’s skeletal body, Aldwyn averted his gaze. He was left only to hear her screams as the bone vultures ripped her apart and flew away.

Peace had finally returned to the queendom.

Paksahara was dead.

19

A NEW VASTIA

“I
f I never drink a cup of radish cider again, it’ll be too soon,” said Jack.

Aldwyn let out a chuckle. It felt like weeks since he’d had a good laugh.

The familiar and his loyal were sitting in the courtyard of the New Palace of Bronzhaven. They were dipping their paws and feet in the small pond where the queen’s golden eels swam in circles. It was their special spot, a place where all the pressures and worries of the world seemed far away. Jack was still recounting the anxious days he, Marianne, and Dalton had spent in the cellar at Stone Runlet. It hadn’t been until their magic was suddenly restored that the three children ventured out from the safety of their subterranean hideaway and traveled back to Bronzhaven.

“And don’t even get me started on pickled corn,” continued Jack.

A week had passed since Paksahara’s demise, and Aldwyn had slept for most of it. Although neveryawn nuts could keep one going without a full night’s rest, there was nothing compared to curling up on a soft satin pillow, knowing Jack was nearby.

Aldwyn looked up to see magical torches once again hovering just above the castle walls. In fact, in the short time since the defeat of the Dead Army, Queen Loranella had recast her weather binding spells and reenergized the enchanted fences, and Vastia was well on its way to being returned to its former glory.

Dalton and Marianne stood across the way, looking at a wishing web. Although they tried to hide it, every so often Aldwyn caught glimpses of the two holding hands. Skylar and Gilbert were sitting on the other side of the pool. The tree frog was chewing up grubs, then spitting them out and putting them into his hand for Shady. The shadow pup happily lapped them up. Skylar was dictating to Scribius, who was copying every word she said into a diary. Since this whole adventure had ended, the blue jay had decided to write her memoirs. She said she’d been inspired by Kalstaff’s many journals.

Aldwyn watched as Gilbert glanced into the water. He held up a webbed finger to Shady, who was noisily barking for more food.

“Shhh,” said Gilbert. “Be quiet for a second.”

He stared intently into the puddle, and when he looked up again, his face had gone pale.

“What is it?” asked Aldwyn.

“What is
what
?” asked Gilbert, playing dumb.

“I know that look,” said Aldwyn. “What did you see?”

“Nothing,” said the tree frog.

“Gilbert, what is it?” persisted Aldwyn.

But before he could press Gilbert further, Urbaugh and Warden approached from the palace.

“They’re ready for you,” said Warden.

The Prophesized Three and their loyals followed Loranella’s advisors inside and down a long corridor. They passed the queen’s library and the stairway that led down to the palace vault. Urbaugh and Warden stopped upon reaching the double doors that led into the grand hall.

“Is anybody else’s tongue sweating?” asked Gilbert. The others just looked back at him blankly. “Okay, I guess it’s just a frog thing.”

Urbaugh opened the doors, and Aldwyn could see into the high-ceilinged hall. The room was grand, with stained-glass windows along the walls. The largest one was covered by a curtain. Colorful streamers floated in the air, and illusionary flowers blossomed and sprouted from the rafters, raining enchanted petals down on all those gathered. Every seat in every row was filled with humans and animals. Maidenmere cats, Daku tree frogs, and Nearhurst birds filled the front rows. Galleon stood with Delilah beside him. Behind them sat many of the seafaring folk from Split River; even some elvin pirates were among them. Unimice sat on human shoulders to get a better view. Mongooses and king cobras sat interspersed as well, having set aside, at least for the time being, their long-standing enmity.

At the front of the hall stood Queen Loranella, with a seven-pronged golden crown on her head. And standing right next to her was Galatea, leader of the lightmares, with an identical crown resting on hers. Stretching out on either side of them was a long, crescent-shaped table, with ten chairs to the left and ten to the right. Humans and animals sat in alternating seats. The people represented many regions of Vastia, while the animals gave voice to Vastia’s countless species. Among them were Banshee, Navid, Marati, Anura, Gilbert’s father, and Skylar’s mother. Simeon would have been sitting there, too, Aldwyn thought, had he not passed into the Tomorrowlife. Even the raven’s healing wings had been unable to undo the damage done by Lothar’s claws. But Simeon had been at peace with his fate, eager to be reunited with his loyal, Tavaris.

Queen Loranella and Galatea bowed toward the Prophesized Three, and everybody else in the hall rose and did the same.

“To the newest heroes of Vastia,” said Galatea.

“Here, here!” Shouts of approval rang out across the hall.

Aldwyn, Skylar, and Gilbert walked down the center aisle as hand, paw, scale, and wing reached out to touch the saviors. Jack, Dalton, and Marianne followed behind.

“You have not only saved us,” said Loranella. “You have opened our eyes to a long-forgotten truth: whether you stand on two legs or four, we all stand together as one.”

“Your legacy needs no monument,” said Galatea. “It is collected before you now. We stand here as two queens rather than one.”

“And for this, you will be honored,” added Loranella.

She gestured to the large curtain that hung over the place where Paksahara had shattered the stained-glass window. A trio of birds flew up and pulled away the fabric, and the familiars looked up to see a picture in the glass that was a perfect replica of the bas-relief of Kalstaff, Loranella, and the Mountain Alchemist standing beneath three shooting stars twisting across the sky. Except this one celebrated Aldwyn, Skylar, and Gilbert in their place.

“You have fulfilled the prophecy,” said Loranella. “Not because the stars foretold it. But because you believed in the greatness and courage within you and within each other.”

Aldwyn looked at the image, and his chest swelled with pride. To think that an alley cat from Bridgetower had accomplished the impossible. With quite a bit of help from his friends, of course.

He looked at Skylar and Gilbert and smiled.