The Familiars (24 page)

Two down, thought Aldwyn as he pulled himself
up to the relative safety of the hanging chandelier. From here, he could see that Skylar and Gilbert were hiding behind the suits of armor. Unfortunately, the fire breather was rapidly approaching them, shooting flames from its mouth. Aldwyn knew that his friends would be cooked if he didn’t do something. He used his weight to swing the chandelier toward the head of the fire breather, whose breath had nearly melted through the plated mail armor protecting Skylar and Gilbert. Aldwyn uncorked the vial of sleeping powder and sprinkled a dusting into the creature’s red, beady eye. The fire breather wheezed out one last puff of smoke before its neck collapsed into a snoring heap on the ground.

Gilbert and Skylar were no longer in danger of being singed, but now the wide-nosed head of the hive dragon was coming toward them. It let out a powerful snort, unleashing a swarm of black and yellow hornets. The stinging insects buzzed around the room, dipping and diving toward Gilbert and Skylar, who were forced to flee from behind the melted armor.

“Keep moving,” yelled Skylar to Gilbert. “If
you stop they’ll cluster around you. And, believe me, you don’t want to be stung by even one. Their toxins can kill a grown man instantly.”

Frog and bird hopped along the giant mosaic. The acid from the spitter’s neck was spreading, dissolving the floor and half of King Brannfalk’s tiled face. From his perch atop the chandelier, Aldwyn could see through the rapidly growing hole in the floor. Beneath the great hall was the palace vault and all its treasures: gold coins piled high, crystal scepters, bronze bathtubs filled with rubies, and jewel-encrusted crowns.

Just then, from behind Aldwyn, the head of the black tooth lashed out with a vicious bite. It snapped the chain of the chandelier, sending Aldwyn and the Protho’s Lights crashing to the floor below. Skylar and Gilbert were running for their lives from the horde of nostril wasps, but the fallen chandelier, with a dazed Aldwyn sitting on it, now blocked their path of escape. Aldwyn watched as one of the deadly insects landed on Gilbert’s shoulder and inserted its stinger into the tree frog’s slimy skin.

“Gilbert, NO!” exclaimed Skylar, who saw
what was happening as well. She reached for a candlestick holder from the chandelier with her talon and waved one of Protho’s Lights in the air, momentarily warding off the killer insects.

Gilbert looked down at the black hornet prong embedded in his arm. “Tell Marianne I tried my best,” he said.

“Just hang in there,” said Aldwyn, trying to comfort Gilbert.

Skylar continued to hold back the hornets with the glowing blue torch. She turned and noticed that Gilbert looked no worse than before.

“Gilbert, aren’t you in excruciating pain?” she asked.

“As a matter of fact, I’m not.”

“You should be dead by now,” she added.

Gilbert perked up considerably at this good piece of news.

“That’s strange. Now that you mention it, I don’t feel anything.”

“You must be immune to their poison,” said Skylar.

“I guess that makes sense,” he replied. “Mosquitoes, stinging beetles, poisonous bees: none of
them can hurt frogs. In fact, we like to think of them less as enemies and more as appetizers.” A grin crossed his face. “Please allow me.”

Skylar lowered the flame, and with lightning speed, Gilbert’s pink tongue began to dart here and there, plucking the stinging hornets out of the air and flinging them down his gullet. He was taking them out in bunches!

The hornets were no longer a threat to the familiars, but the tunneler had twisted past the other heads and was now bearing down again to skewer Aldwyn. He scampered as the horned dragon head chased him across the floor. Aldwyn looked to his right and there was…Aldwyn? A cat just like himself was running alongside him. He first thought this was some kind of delayed brain trauma from his fall on the chandelier, but then looked over his shoulder and saw Skylar with trembling wing outstretched before her. This was no side effect of a head injury; it was another of Skylar’s illusions.

The duplicate Aldwyn broke off from the real one, and the tunneler took the bait, following not the flesh-and-blood cat but the fake one. The illusion of Aldwyn stopped before one of the columns
and just stood there, making faces at the dragon. Aldwyn watched as the tunneler tried to gouge it, but instead the horns went straight through the illusionary cat, impaling themselves in the stone pillar. The head flailed, trying to pull itself free, but before it could, Aldwyn was pouring a healthy dose of sleeping powder into one of its eyes. The tunneler sank instantly into a deep sleep. Aldwyn corked the vial with his claw and turned back to Skylar.

“Thanks, Sky—”

Shlap!

A mighty blow from the long, twisting tongue of the python strangler smacked Aldwyn against the ground and the glass tube of powder out of his mouth. The vial spun along the tiled floor, bumping and bouncing as it headed straight for the gaping hole formed by the acid spitter’s saliva.

Aldwyn couldn’t dwell on the shock of pain coursing through his body from the wallop; he was already running again to retrieve the powder. He dove for the vial and swiped it away from the edge just as the acid dissolved the floor beneath it. He gripped it securely between his teeth and turned around to find the hive dragon flaring his
nostrils at him. With a ferocious snort, it released another cloud of poisonous insects. Aldwyn was trapped between the swarm heading toward him and the disappearing ground behind him. He braced himself for the attack; but before the hornets could strike, Gilbert leaped into the fray again, snaring dozens at a time. Wielding his tongue with a warrior’s skill that would have made his Daku relatives proud, the tree frog provided cover for Aldwyn, allowing him to jump onto the hive dragon’s lowered head. He sprinkled powder in its eye, and it was asleep on the floor before Aldwyn even had time to recork the vial.

Aldwyn surveyed the scene, planning his next move. The hydra was moving more slowly now, dragging the weight of five unconscious heads behind it. Gilbert was catching the last of the hornets, while Skylar had cast an illusion of a swift-winged condor that circled around the head of the black-toothed dragon. And the python strangler…the python strangler was in the process of wrapping its forked tongue around Aldwyn’s hind legs!

Aldwyn was jerked off the nose of the hive
dragon and into the air, squeezed tight as he was being pulled toward the gaping mouth of the python strangler.

“Gilbert, Skylar, help!” shouted Aldwyn.

But Gilbert could only watch helplessly. Skylar redirected the illusory condor to soar past the strangler’s nose, but it didn’t work. Aldwyn could already smell the foul stench of the dragon head’s warm breath. So this was the end. Aldwyn’s adventure across Vastia would go no further. He comforted himself with the thought that at least Skylar and Gilbert might have a chance to save Jack, Marianne, and Dalton should he die here.

Thwoop!

The grip of the python strangler’s tongue loosened, and Aldwyn dropped to the ground. He looked up and saw an arrowlike projectile stuck in the fleshy pink muscle. A second bolt struck the tongue. Aldwyn spun around to see who was responsible for saving him. There, standing on the second floor landing with crossbow in hand, was—Grimslade!

“That bounty is mine, beast,” called the cloaked hunter to the dragon.

Aldwyn could not believe that his old adversary had returned yet again. He had pulled himself up from the Bridge of Betrayal and tracked the familiars here. And while normally Grimslade was the last person Aldwyn ever wanted to see, right now he was more than welcome.

Grimslade shot another bolt from his crossbow, sending the strangler into a thrashing fit of pain. As the head brushed against the floor, attempting to dislodge one of Grimslade’s quarrels from its cheek, Aldwyn pounced upon its coarse scales. The hydra’s head was whipping violently back and forth, making it a dangerous climb to the eyes, but Aldwyn clung on. Once within range, he sprinkled the powder into the monster’s tear duct. The skull came crashing down with a bang.

Only the black-toothed head remained awake on the hydra, but it wasn’t going to let them pass without a fight. Its neck was already twisting its way in the direction of Grimslade. The bounty hunter took aim and sent another projectile at its lower jaw. But its skin must have been thicker than that of the python strangler’s because the bolt merely bounced off when it made contact.
With incredible speed, the black-toothed head bared its rotting fangs and thrust outward. Grimslade dropped his bow and pulled out the noose stick, shoving it into the wide-open mouth lunging toward him. He pressed the blunt end of the pole up against the roof of its mouth, keeping it locked in place as the decaying teeth struggled to bite down.

Aldwyn had taken to the stairs, leaping them two at a time as he raced to put the final head to sleep, while the stalemate between man and hydra continued.

“Come now,” taunted Grimslade. “I’ve seen garden snakes put up a better fight than this.”

The black tooth snapped down on the stick, splintering it like a toothpick. Grimslade, left with a tiny shard of wood in his hand, backed away as the hydra’s head got ready to strike. Aldwyn sprinted to the top of the staircase and ran straight up Grimslade’s back, using the bounty hunter as a springboard to launch himself onto the snout of the black tooth. Before it could deliver its deathly blow, Aldwyn tipped the vial, pouring the last remaining grains into its eye. Its mighty head sank
limply onto the banister, and Aldwyn found himself face-to-face with Grimslade.

“Much obliged, cat,” said the bounty hunter. “But I still plan on turning you and your companions in.” As Grimslade bent down to grab his crossbow, Aldwyn noticed a sprinkling of yellow powder on the fur of his front leg. He blew the fine particles straight into Grimslade’s face, and the bounty hunter collapsed, his head falling against the nose of the black-toothed dragon.

Aldwyn ran down the steps to join Skylar and Gilbert.

“We need to find that dungeon,” he said, hoping that the sun had not set yet.

“Most palaces have secret passageways in the throne room,” said Skylar. “This way.”

She led them out of the great hall, beneath one of the archways, and into a room filled with velvet curtains and more portraits of King Brannfalk. A large wooden throne sat in the center of the room, its high back and headrest carved into the shape of a blossoming tree. Aldwyn recognized it from the stamp on the bricks of the Bridge of Betrayal.

“I owe you an apology,” said Skylar to Aldwyn.
“It seems I’ve overestimated the value of magic. Your display back there was worthy of any of the greatest wizards of yore, human or animal. Kalstaff would have been proud of you. And so am I.”

Aldwyn’s eyes welled up. He could think of no greater compliment. This was the most gratifying moment of his young life.

“Thank you. And apology accepted.”

Beyond the throne, the rug was pulled aside and an open trapdoor revealed a sloping stone corridor that led downward. The familiars quickly crossed the room and entered.

The magic candle holders were dimmer inside the corridor, and it was difficult to see past each bend. Aldwyn heard footsteps and turned to his friends.

“Over there,” he said, gesturing to a shadow moving across the wall.

The animals braced themselves for another confrontation.

“Oh, thank goodness you’re here,” called out a soft, timid voice.

Then, into the light bounced a small, gray rabbit.

18

PAKSAHARA

A
ldwyn recognized her immediately from the picture in Kalstaff’s cottage. It was Paksahara, Queen Loranella’s familiar.

“Thank goodness you’re here,” Paksahara repeated, with tears of gratitude. “The queen has gone mad. She’s intentionally sabotaging the order and safety of Vastia and its people, making it defenseless to an invasion from the outside lands. I’ve tried to reason with her, but she won’t listen. I’m just fortunate to have escaped before any harm was done to me.”

“Where is she now?” asked Skylar.

“She’s gone back to the New Palace,” replied Paksahara, “but she will return at sundown, when Kalstaff’s protective spell expires, to eliminate the only thing standing in the way of her plan. We must save the wizards at once.”

“Are they hurt?” asked Skylar.

“No, Kalstaff’s spell has kept them from harm. But not for much longer. Quickly, follow me!”

They began to move down the tunnel, deeper into the belly of the castle. They passed cells now empty but with claw marks on the walls and fang marks on the bars. Aldwyn realized this hadn’t been a dungeon solely for Vastia’s most dangerous
criminals of yesteryear but a keep where magical beasts and animals had been imprisoned as well.

“How have you made it so far unaided by wizards?” Paksahara asked the three familiars.

“We didn’t think it was possible at first either,” said Skylar. “But maybe we animals have more power than humans have led us to believe.”