The Familiars #3: Circle of Heroes (8 page)

“He’s not,” said Skylar.

“Oh, so he’s one of us, another mourner,” said the pig. “Hm, Simeon, the name doesn’t ring a bell. Do you know when he first got here?”

“Years ago, I’ve been told,” said Skylar.

“You’ll want to check the crest, then,” said the pig, pointing to the hilltop. “That’s where the truly crazy reside. The people and animals who have really lost it.” His attention was suddenly drawn to an empty area a few feet from where he was sitting. “Now if you’ll excuse me, my family is calling. It’s dinnertime.”

The pig went and sat down by himself.

“Please pass the gruel,” he said to no one in particular. Then he seemed to scoop a helping from a plate that existed only in his imagination and began eating it. “Mm, everything tastes delicious.”

Aldwyn and the others decided to leave the pig to his heartbreaking delusions. They headed uphill, passing through an ever denser crowd of human and animal mourners.

Suddenly, Aldwyn’s head was again filled with whispers and voices, only this time they seemed to be speaking directly to him. To make things worse, he was beginning to think he could see spiritlike figures moving through the mist, too. He saw a black-and-white cat among them. For a moment he was convinced it was Baxley, his father, who had met a cruel death at the hands of Necro, the beast tamer who turned him into glass. Aldwyn broke away from Gilbert’s grasp and began chasing the spirit. But just as the ghostly figure got within reach, it disappeared, swallowed up by the mist again.

Then from over Aldwyn’s shoulder he heard a recognizable female voice. “Aldwyn,” it said. He spun around and looked into the mist, where the spirit of a Maidenmere cat stood. He knew this voice. It was the same one he heard in his whisper shell so many times. It belonged to Corliss, his mother.

“Mom?” asked Aldwyn.

“Your sister …” Her voice trailed off.

“My sister? What about her?” called Aldwyn.

The faint voice far in the distance said one word. “Yeardley.” Then she was gone.

With Gilbert no longer clutching his tail, the hills were taking full advantage of Aldwyn. His sorrowful feeling was returning, even stronger than before.

Aldwyn turned to Banshee, Gilbert, and Skylar.

“My parents,” he said. “They’re here. I saw both of them. And my mother, she was trying to tell me something about my sister.”

“Yes,” Skylar replied. “But the messages from the dead are never complete. That’s why none of these mourners leave.”

The blue jay might have been right, but Aldwyn felt so close to connecting with the mother and father he never knew, to getting answers about his missing sister—was her name Yeardley?—it was hard to pull away. A pat on the back from Gilbert snapped Aldwyn out of it.

“You okay?” asked the tree frog.

Aldwyn nodded. But his heart felt differently.

The four animals continued their path to the crest, careful to maintain contact the entire way. The higher they ascended, the closer Aldwyn felt he was getting to the Tomorrowlife. With every gentle breeze it seemed as if a spirit passed them by. Aldwyn kept searching, hoping to catch another glimpse of his parents. But instead, he was surprised to see Kalstaff’s wise face staring back at him through the mists. The wizard’s mouth was moving, as if he was saying something, but the words he spoke were just out of earshot.

“Kalstaff,” Aldwyn called out. He had to know: Would the prophecy of the three stars turn out like the others he wrote about in his journal? Were the Three destined to fail? “Will the—”

But before he could finish, Kalstaff was gone.

“The spirits come and go,” said Banshee. “It’s another cruel trick of the Hills.”

“What did you want to know?” Skylar asked Aldwyn.

Aldwyn hesitated, unsure if he should tell her.

“I was just curious if the cellar was safe for our loyals,” he lied. “That’s all.”

Before Skylar could probe any further, Gilbert excitedly nudged Aldwyn: “Look, it’s Zabulon,” he said.

The others turned to see Kalstaff’s familiar barely visible through the mist. Gilbert hopped over to him. Aldwyn was sure that Zabulon would disappear before the tree frog reached him, but he didn’t, and Gilbert wrapped his arms around the bloodhound’s leg.

Aldwyn, Skylar, and Banshee walked up to them, and Aldwyn noticed that Skylar was looking at Zabulon strangely.

“Gilbert, that’s not Zabulon,” she said. “It’s his brother.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Gilbert. Then he took a closer look and realized his mistake. “Simeon?”

The bloodhound had dark circles under his eyes and unkempt fur.

“Silence,” he said. “Nine hundred eighty-one, nine hundred eighty-two, nine hundred eighty-three …”

“What are you doing?” asked Skylar.

“Every thousand seconds the voice of my loyal speaks out,” replied Simeon distractedly. “Nine hundred eighty-six, nine hundred eighty-seven, nine hundred eighty-eight …”

“Are you aware of Paksahara’s plot against Vastia?” asked Skylar. “She’s raising a new Dead Army of animals to take over the land.”

“Nine hundred ninety-three, nine hundred ninety-four, nine hundred ninety-five …”

“We need your help,” continued Skylar. “In order to defeat Paksahara, we have to collect a descendant from each member of the First Phylum.”

“Nine hundred ninety-eight, nine hundred ninety-nine, one thousand,” said Simeon.

The bloodhound suddenly stood completely still, listening very intently. To Aldwyn the confusion of voices they were surrounded by sounded like a cacophony of whispers and murmurs, indistinguishable to even the sharpest of ears.

“Follow?” Simeon asked aloud. “Follow what? What are you trying to tell me, Tavaris? Tavaris, speak to me.” But no answer came.

The bloodhound lowered his head in frustration.

“One, two, three,” he began to count again.

“The voices have a tight grip on him,” said Aldwyn.

“I’ve got an idea,” said Banshee, who began unstrapping the drums from her back.

“How clever,” said Skylar. “Using the beating sound of your drums to drown out the voices of the dead, so he can regain his sanity?”

“Not quite,” said Banshee.

She lifted the drum up behind Simeon and whacked him over the head with it, knocking the bloodhound out cold. Then she grabbed him by the hind paws and started dragging him down the hill.

“Don’t just stand there,” she said. “Let’s see how far away from here we can get him before he wakes up.”

By the time Simeon was coming to, the familiars had already crossed the salty stream.

“Who are you?” he asked dizzily. “And where are you taking me?”

“Away from these hills,” answered Banshee.

“But my loyal, Tavaris. He’s been trying to tell me something. I have to go back.”

“You can’t,” said Skylar. “You’re never going to find the answers you’re looking for. Not there.”

Simeon looked back at the hill sticking out from the dense mist. A tear fell from his eye and dropped into the stream.

“You’re right,” he said. “Take me away from this cursed place. And no matter what I say or do, never let me come back.”

6

THE OBSIDIAN CLOUD

T
he Three and their new companions, Banshee and Simeon, had left the mist of the Gloom Hills behind and were heading north. The melancholy that haunted them had disappeared, but in its place, exhaustion had set in. And no wonder: since leaving Bronzhaven two days ago, Aldwyn had caught only two hours of sleep on the wagon ride to Split River. Skylar and Gilbert hadn’t even gotten that. All three had been going on adrenaline, but now they started to feel how worn-out they really were.

Skylar brought them all to a stop and laid Scribius’s map out flat on the ground. They gathered around her in the moonlight.

“Grimslade suggested traveling to the Abyssmal Canyon next, for the mongoose and king cobra,” she said between long yawns that stretched her entire beak open. “Then from there we’ll have to figure out where to find a wolverine, a lightmare, and a golden toad.”

Simeon’s floppy ears perked up.

“If a lightmare is one of the animals you seek, I know where to find the herd,” he said. “Many evenings, my loyal, Tavaris, and I would sit together on the banks of the Enaj, looking east to the Yennep Mountains. There we could see what looked like lightning from a storm. Tavaris told me we were seeing sparks flying from the hooves of those majestic horses. It’s not far from here, much closer than the Abyssmal Canyon.”

“To the Yennep Mountains, then,” said Skylar. “Do you know of any shortcuts we could take to get—”

“Zzzzzz!” snored Gilbert, drowning out the rest of her question.

“Gilbert,” the blue jay shouted. “Gilbert!”

Gilbert woke with a start, and upon seeing Skylar, his eyes immediately went wide with fear. He jumped behind Aldwyn.

“What are you doing?” asked Skylar.

“Me?” said Gilbert, peeking out from behind his friend. “Nothing. Just had a bad dream.”

“You’re acting weird,” said Skylar.

“Must be the lack of sleep.” Gilbert gave a nervous chuckle. Aldwyn knew the real reason for the tree frog’s strange behavior, but he couldn’t believe Gilbert really thought Skylar would hurt him.

“We’re all tired,” said Skylar. “But we have to keep moving.”

“I can’t do it,” said Gilbert. “Someone’s going to have to carry me.”

“Our mission is too urgent. We can’t rest,” said Skylar. “We are the Prophesized Three. We have to keep going.”

“There might be a solution to that problem, as well,” said Simeon, who had been noticeably less depressed since the familiars had dragged him from the Gloom Hills. Everyone turned to him. “My loyal was a powerful melder,” explained the bloodhound. “Tavaris was crossbreeding different plants, herbs, and spices to make exotic new variants. His Xylem garden was filled with magic components never seen before. He had combined the essence of a morning glory with the bark of a pecan seedling, creating a neveryawn tree whose nuts would give those who ate them a full night’s sleep in mere seconds. After Tavaris’s untimely death, I tended to his garden briefly before heading to the Gloom Hills. If the tree still grows there, we can collect enough nuts to allow us to make the rest of the journey without sleeping. Best of all, his cottage is on the way to the Yennep Mountains.”

He pointed with his paw to a spot on Scribius’s map.

The possibility of a full night’s sleep, even one that lasted only seconds, was all the convincing Aldwyn and his companions needed.

Aldwyn didn’t remember much of the remainder of the journey to Tavaris’s garden. His head felt cloudy, and every time he tried to focus on the task at hand his thoughts would drift back to pillows, blankets, and hammocks and how comfortable each would be right now. Still, his paws managed to walk in step with the others, and he powered through the fatigue.

“Tavaris’s cottage is just up ahead,” said Simeon. “Past those trees.” He quickly used his paw to wipe away what to Aldwyn looked like a tear from his left eye.

“What happened to your loyal?” asked Skylar sympathetically.

Simeon frowned, making his jowls hang even lower than usual.

“A tragic accident. One that I could have prevented.”

“I, too, have blamed myself many times for not doing more to help my loyal,” said Banshee.

“But you haven’t seen how things could have turned out differently, whereas I have,” said Simeon. The bloodhound walked ahead, leaving the others behind him.

“What does he mean?” asked Aldwyn.

“It’s the magical talent possessed by the bloodhounds from the shores of the Wildecape Sea,” said Skylar. “They can walk into the past and witness an alternate path that events could have taken. But they’re helpless to change anything.”

“So what good is that?” asked Aldwyn.

“That question has been pondered by generations of bloodhounds,” replied Skylar. “Zabulon used to say that it allowed him to learn from the past and so make wiser decisions in the present.”

The familiars and Banshee followed Simeon past several oak trees with furry orange bark, and it was clear that this was no ordinary cottage garden. The bloodhound led the others past a gnarled hunchback tree with a different kind of leaf on every branch. It appeared as though Tavaris had melded a dozen trees together to form one bizarre monstrosity.

“This is it,” Simeon said, pointing a paw at a branch that had feathers instead of leaves. And sure enough, hanging there were clusters of bronze-colored neveryawn nuts, bunched together in threes.

Simeon stood up on his hind legs and grabbed one of the nuts in his teeth, biting it off the tree. He chewed it gingerly and swallowed. Nothing happened. Then Simeon’s eyes closed briefly before opening again. Aldwyn saw that the dark circles below the bloodhound’s eyes had disappeared.

“Wow, I haven’t felt this well rested since I was a pup.” Simeon started rolling over in the grass like a younger dog.

Aldwyn reached up next and plucked a nut from the same branch. He cracked the hard outer shell between his teeth, then chewed up the smooth center quickly. It tasted no different from any other nut. But its effect was instant. A wave of muscle-relaxing calm enveloped Aldwyn. He smiled and his eyes began to close. As soon as his lids had shut, they opened again, and Aldwyn felt completely rested.