The Familiars (25 page)

“That’s impossible,” replied Paksahara.

“We’ve seen things that might change your mind,” said Skylar.

Their descent became steeper and steeper as Paksahara led them farther, her floppy ears and fluffy bunny tail bouncing with every step.

“But clearly you are devoted to your loyals to have risked so much.”

“I would do anything for Marianne,” said Gilbert.

“And I for Dalton,” said Skylar.

“What about you?” Paksahara asked, turning to Aldwyn.

“I’m not even a true familiar,” he said. “I have no magical abilities. Yet I take great pride in serving Jack.”

“It sounds like all of you would give your lives
for these wizards,” said Paksahara. “I felt that way, too, about the queen,” she added with a sad twitch of her nose.

Just then, a voice in the distance cried out.

“Help, somebody! Please!”

Aldwyn’s heart jumped upon hearing the voice.

“We’re coming, Jack!” shouted Aldwyn, and he started racing toward him. Gilbert began jumping like mad, too, and Skylar was half fluttering, no longer thinking about the pain in her wing.

“It’s just up ahead,” said Paksahara, her long legs hopping, effortlessly keeping pace beside them.

“Hang in there, Marianne!” called Gilbert.

Gilbert had tears in his eyes when they entered the circular dungeon chamber. On the walls Aldwyn spied swords and shields. Taming whips and muzzles gave more evidence that animals had once been imprisoned here, too. The floor was cold, wet, and had claw marks scraped into it. The damp room had no cobwebs—even spiders seemed to be avoiding this dank pit. And there on the far wall were Jack, Marianne, and Dalton. Still dressed in the sleeping linens they
were kidnapped in, they were shackled by their wrists, held fast by iron dispeller chains. A rusty bucket half filled with water rested at their feet. Kalstaff’s protective forcefields were not glowing strongly anymore; they appeared on the verge of disappearing.

Gilbert jumped to Marianne’s side, clutching her leg with his webbed hands; Skylar hobbled to Dalton, nuzzling her head against him; and Aldwyn ran to Jack as if they had been companions always.

“I knew you’d come for us,” said Jack, wanting to embrace Aldwyn but unable to, his arms held by the bonds. “I knew it.”

“I have so much to tell you,” said Aldwyn, burying his whiskers into Jack’s shin. “I don’t even know where to begin.”

“The queen left just a short while ago,” said Dalton. “You must free us from these chains. We can’t cast spells while we’re shackled.”

“I know the spell that will conjure a force key to unlock them,” said Paksahara. “Familiars, stand before me and face your loyals. I will channel all our powers together. You, too, Aldwyn.”

Aldwyn, Skylar, and Gilbert backed away from the wizards and lined up in front of Paksahara.

“What did she say?” asked Jack.

“She’s going to summon a force key,” said Aldwyn.

“I didn’t know rabbits were capable of such powerful magic,” said Jack.

“Tell the boy I’m no rabbit,” said Paksahara, sounding rather insulted. “Rabbits are for lowly cider house magicians. I am a hare.”

The distinction really didn’t seem that important to Aldwyn; what mattered was freeing Jack and escaping this dungeon at once.

Paksahara held up her furry gray paws and began chanting.

“Dovolajen oknamut supentin!”

“Hare?” said Gilbert quietly to himself.

Aldwyn turned to look at him.

“Hare,” the tree frog repeated a second time.

“Zi po ukoteni wysove,”
Paksahara continued to incant, her paws now glowing green.

“Gray hare,” said Gilbert, still working out some kind of puzzle in his head. “Gray haired.
Gray hare witch!
”

“Ekonpiske v prave,”
said Paksahara, her voice rising.

Energy was crackling at the tips of her paws.

“Noooooo!” screamed Gilbert. He leaped, shoving Aldwyn and Skylar out of the way just as a deadly bolt of energy shot toward them from Paksahara’s paws. It hit the wall, leaving a gaping hole.

“It was you,” shouted Gilbert, pointing to Paksahara. “You were the witch all along.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Skylar.

“My puddle viewing. Don’t you see? She’s the gray hare witch. Not Agdaleen.”

Paksahara stood across from them, smoke drifting from her paws, the pinks of her eyes glistening evilly.

“I don’t understand,” said Skylar. “You’re working with the queen?”

“Oh, no,” replied Paksahara, her once innocent voice now flat and cold. “The queen has been imprisoned for many moons, trapped as a hare in a cage in the palace. Perhaps you’re unaware, but my magical talent, my innate ability, is . . .”

“Shape-shifting,” said Skylar.

“What’s she saying?” asked Dalton. “Would somebody please tell us what’s going on?”

Paksahara flicked her finger at the children, and an airy cloud surrounded them. Dalton opened his mouth to speak again, but no sound came out. The three young wizards had been silenced by some kind of spell.

“Animals have served man for far too long,” continued Paksahara. “I have seen the paintings on the walls of the Kailasa caves. We once ruled this land, until the humans erased our proud history. It’s time humans were caged and put on leashes. It’s time for wizards to serve familiars again and for a four-legged creature to sit on the throne of Vastia: me.”

Aldwyn was stunned.
She was the enemy responsible for Kalstaff’s death and all the misery that had followed? An animal? A familiar?

“These young wizards, they’re not a threat to you.” Skylar tried to reason with her. “Let them go.”

“Don’t try to fool me, stupid bird. I saw the three stars in the sky fall over Stone Runlet,” said Paksahara. “A prophecy that three young
spellcasters would defeat me. They have to die. First, however, I’ll take great pleasure in killing the three of you.”

She raised her paws in the air.

“Ekonpiske v prave,”
the hare incanted.

Two balls of lightning formed in her paws, and she reached toward Aldwyn, Gilbert, and Skylar. The double blast of energy cut through the air, heading directly for them. There was no time to move and nowhere to run. But before the familiars were struck, one of the metal shields hanging on the wall flew from its rack and blocked Paksahara’s attack. The bursts of lightning sparked then fizzled upon contact with the steel plating.

Skylar and Gilbert turned to Aldwyn as the circular shield continued to float between them and the gray hare.

“Aldwyn? What’s going on?” asked Gilbert.

“I have no idea,” he replied, just as confused as his fellow familiars. Aldwyn’s head was dizzy with questions: How had the shield moved through the air on its own? Had it been his doing? Did he have telekinetic powers after all?

A loud crack rang out as the shield exploded
into hot metal shards, obliterated by another of Paksahara’s lightning bolts. The familiars scrambled, running off into three different directions.

The familiars’ hope had been to divide and conquer, but Paksahara had no trouble attacking in three directions at the same time. She extended a paw toward Gilbert, and he was immediately lifted off his feet, as if the air itself were holding him up by his throat. Paksahara then thrust her other paw at Aldwyn, sending a barrage of ruby needles flying like darts across the room. He made a running dive and managed to dodge all but one, which grazed his left hind leg.

“There’s nowhere to hide,” said Paksahara. “I’m going to send you all to the Tomorrowlife, just like I did Kalstaff.”

With a flick of her tail, she invoked a gust of wind that engulfed Skylar in its powerful swirl before flinging her into the wall.

Although Aldwyn felt a sharp, jabbing pain every time his injured leg touched the ground, he kept moving while he tried to think. Could he actually move things with his mind? There was only one way to find out: he would try.

As Gilbert struggled, still caught in the stranglehold of Paksahara’s spell, Aldwyn focused on the rusty bucket of water. He had no idea how telekinesis worked, but concentrating really hard and focusing his mind seemed a logical place to start.
Lift. Lift. Lift. Lif—

And just like that, the bucket was floating up off the ground. Now what?

Aldwyn didn’t have a chance to experiment with his newly discovered talent any further: Paksahara fired a surge of purple energy at the bucket that destroyed it in a flash. Though Aldwyn’s first deliberate attempt at magic ended quickly, it had been enough to distract Paksahara, and she released her stranglehold on Gilbert. The tree frog landed on the ground, clutching his throat and taking big, heavy breaths.

“So you have magic after all, cat,” said Paksahara. “It’s a shame you won’t have time to learn how to use it.”

She narrowed her pink eyes viciously, about to cast another spell. Then three popping sounds could be heard—Kalstaff’s protective bubbles had burst. Jack, Marianne, and Dalton remained
chained to the wall, and now they were no longer immune to Paksahara’s evil magic.

“Now there will be nothing to stand in my way,” said Paksahara.

From her paws, she unleashed a spear of white light aimed directly at Jack’s chest. Aldwyn could only watch in horror as it struck his loyal—but rather than searing a hole straight through his body, the beam bounced back toward Paksahara. She was knocked across the room, her gray fur singed.

Aldwyn at first couldn’t understand what had just happened. Then he saw Skylar, who had recovered from Paksahara’s attack and was holding up a trembling wing. As she lowered it, the bubbles returned. Aldwyn realized that Skylar had cast a sneaky illusion, one that made it seem as if the protective shells had gone when in reality they were still there. While the trick had nearly made Aldwyn’s heart stop, it had given them their first successful strike against their enemy.

But Paksahara was far from finished. She rose to her feet, more hateful than before.

“Very clever,” said Paksahara, “but illusions won’t save you.”

“Don’t do this,” implored Aldwyn. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Gilbert remove Marianne’s pocket scroll from the gold-capped tube he’d picked up in the stairwell. It seemed he was looking for a spell. “I’m sure Queen Loranella could find a place for you on the Council,” he continued, trying to stall her. “Think about it, animal and man working together. It could be the start of a new Vastia.”

“The new Vastia I imagine has no place for those who walk on two legs,” said Paksahara.

At which point Gilbert triumphantly shouted, “
Convulsare minimosus!”

Paksahara only shook her head.

“And what powerful magic does that spell con—
hic
—jure?” she asked, putting a paw to her chest.

“Hiccups?” said Aldwyn in disbelief to Gilbert. “That’s what you had me stalling her for?”

“It was between that and burping,” said Gilbert. “This is a practical joke scroll.”

“You three are pa—
hic
—thetic,” said Paksahara. She held her breath for a moment, and when she exhaled, the diversion was gone as quickly as it
had come. “Now, where was I?”

Just then, a whooshing sound could be heard behind them—the third day’s sun had set, and the bubbles protecting the young wizards had evaporated for real this time.

“And about time, too,” said Paksahara. “Step out of my way. In exchange, I promise I will kill your loyals painlessly.”

Aldwyn stared at the wall of beast-taming weapons, but he couldn’t clear his mind fast enough. Too many thoughts were swimming in his head for him to focus.

“Three times this must be said,” incanted Paksahara, “and one alive will soon be dead.” Her attention turned to the wizards, her eyes landing coldly on Dalton. “Shrivel and wither.”

Aldwyn closed his eyes and willed the whip off the equipment rack. The brown leather strap wobbled through the air and was immediately dispatched with a fireball from Paksahara’s free paw.

“Shrivel and wither,” she said, finishing the second refrain.

Aldwyn knew she only had one more incantation left. He had to stop her before those three words
spilled from her mouth.

“Shrivel . . .”

Aldwyn focused on the two swords mounted on the wall rack. He concentrated mightily and they started to rattle.

“. . . and . . .” continued Paksahara.

The swords lifted from the wall and hovered in the air. Then a shock of electricity slammed Aldwyn off his feet. Paksahara had shot off another deadly bolt, breaking his mental grip and causing the weapons to crash to the ground.

“. . . wither!” Paksahara said triumphantly, completing the spell.

A thin pulse of bloodred energy fired out from her paw, slicing through the air straight for Dalton’s heart. Aldwyn looked up from the floor to see Skylar flying upward, broken wing pumping as fast as it could, to intercept the deadly attack. Paksahara’s death spell made contact with the blue jay, felling her instantly. Dalton opened his mouth to scream, but no words came out. He was still muted by the silencing spell. Aldwyn’s heart twisted in a knot. Gilbert seemed frozen in a total state of shock.