The Familiars #3: Circle of Heroes Page 6

  “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

  The 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.

  Skylar and Banshee each ate a nut. Gilbert, however, had trouble breaking the hard shell with his delicate teeth, so Skylar used her beak to crack one open for him. Banshee swung herself into the tree and collected every last cluster of bronze-colored nuts, leaving the branches bare.

  “That could keep an army going with no sleep for days,” said Simeon.

  With renewed energy the group departed Tavaris’s cottage and returned to the quest at
hand. The farmlands were not far from the calm, green waters of the Enaj River. The animals walked up to the river’s edge to get a drink. Gilbert, who had been snacking on salted maggots for much of the journey, lapped up twice his weight in water.

  Skylar, Aldwyn, Simeon, and Banshee started quickly upriver, but Gilbert was staring into the water, no longer drinking but watching something.

  “Guys, it’s Loranella,” he called out.

  Aldwyn doubled back and looked into the river. Gilbert’s puddle vision showed Queen Loranella standing in the garden of the New Palace of Bronzhaven with two of her riders. A courier eagle delivered a rolled-up piece of parchment. Loranella took the message and read it silently to herself, then looked up.

  “The glyphstone in Bridgetower has been destroyed,” she said to the riders. “And Paksahara’s minions have divided. Half are going to join the zombies already marching on the glyphstone of Jabal Tur, and the other half will no doubt be headed here, to Bronzhaven, to destroy the third. Ride to Jabal Tur and warn Urbaugh and the others. Tell them that their most perilous battle is yet to come and they must remain persistent, for we cannot allow another glyphstone to fall. Let us just hope the Three have found the seven descendants.”

  Both men nodded before galloping off on their horses.

  Aldwyn and Gilbert had seen enough of this vision of the present to know that there was not a second to lose. They had to get to the Yennep Mountains and find a lightmare.

  The band of five approached the nearest bridge and began to cross the Enaj.

  On the opposite bank, several fishermen stood knee-deep in the water, casting their lines in hopes of catching something to eat. As the animals got closer, one of the anglers spat at them.

  “If you don’t walk on two legs, you can’t be trusted,” he said.

  Banshee looked like she was about to charge him, but Simeon held up his paw.

  “Just ignore him,” said the bloodhound.

  “Yeah, you better keep walking,” the fisherman called out. “It’s an animal just like you that’s responsible for what’s happening to these lands. We know all about the queen’s rabbit and what she’s up to. You all deserve a lot worse than my spittle on your fur!”

  Aldwyn noticed that Banshee wasn’t the only one who let the man’s words get under her skin. Skylar appeared upset as well. She lifted her wing, and Aldwyn watched as a giant shark-toothed eel leaped out from the river, snapping at the fisherman. He stumbled back, falling into the water and soaking himself from head to toe. A satisfied grin crossed Skylar’s beak. Her illusions were becoming ever more effortless and never failed to catch their intended targets off guard.

  “I forgot what happens when somebody gets on your bad side,” said Banshee, coming up beside Skylar.

  The animals continued along, the Yennep Mountains firmly in their sights. They crossed a field ravaged by floods, the earth so damp that it was like walking through quickmud. There were small farmhouses sunk into the ground with boarded-up windows; whether residents were holed up inside or had simply abandoned them was impossible to tell.

  They hurried on. Near the foothills of the Yennep Mountains the plains became rockier and less fertile. This was a region known as the Chordata Plains, a dry and arid landscape, which made it all the more strange that a flock of swamp storks were huddled nearby.

  “You’re a little far from the marshlands, aren’t you?” asked Skylar.

  One of the long-beaked birds lifted its head.

  “Paksahara’s army has made it unsafe for any animal who refuses to join her. I would rather suffer than stand by her side.”

  Another stork looked to the animals hopefully.

  “We know who you are. We know what you’re doing. And we’re rooting for you.”

  Aldwyn and his companions nodded their thanks before continuing on. They headed farther east, fueled not only by the neveryawn nuts but by all those like the displaced storks that were counting on them.

  “Guys, would you mind giving me a minute?” said Gilbert. “All that water …”

  He hopped over to a private spot behind a large rock.

  Aldwyn and the others held up for a moment. The wind was blowing in strongly from the north, which, Aldwyn thought, made it quite strange that a solitary black cloud was somehow approaching swiftly from the south.

  “It looks like smoke from a fire,” said Simeon, who had also noticed the cloud. Particles fell as it passed overhead. Some of the black residue from the cloud stained Skylar’s feathers. She lifted her wing to inspect it. “Obsidian,” she said. “Paksahara must be sending it forth from the Shifting Fortress to raise more of her Dead Army.”

  She had barely gotten the words out when Aldwyn felt a rumble nearby, where black specks of the obsidian had burrowed into the ground as if they were worms fleeing the sunlight.

  “Gilbert, you might want to wrap things up over there,” he called out.

  Aldwyn saw the earth open all around them as bones broke through to the surface, coming together like pieces of a puzzle to form the skeletal remains of the great cats—lions, leopards, jaguars, and tigers. Clad in leather and metal armor that was rattling over their bones, they were a terrifying sight. Within seconds, dozens of zombie soldiers were lining up in formation.

  “It is Paksahara who raised us,” they chanted in unison. “It is Paksahara we follow.”

  “Now, Gilbert!” shouted Aldwyn.

  “Don’t rush me,” said Gilbert, who was still hidden behind the rock and completely oblivious to a skeletal jaguar rising up mere feet behind him.

  “GILBERT!” screamed Aldwyn. “Run!”

  Gilbert finally saw the beast. He let out a croak and sprinted alongside the others just as the jaguar’s jaws were about to close around him. “Why didn’t anyone tell me we were being attacked by zombies?” he cried.

  There was no time to answer. Aldwyn was telekinetically lifting and hurling rocks at the skeletal cats, which were all too quick to attack. Banshee made herself invisible and moments later reappeared on the back of a zombie tiger. The howler monkey swung her drum with tremendous force, knocking the creature’s skull around 180 degrees. Unable to see where it was going, the tiger ran straight for a boulder. Banshee leaped off just as the blinded beast made contact with the giant rock and shattered into a thousand pieces.

  Aldwyn’s eyes scanned for someplace to hide, someplace to escape to, but there was nowhere to go.

  “What do we do?” asked Gilbert, glancing over his shoulder in a panic.

  The situation seemed hopeless when Aldwyn heard a sweep of thunderous noise behind him. He looked up to see three white horses running downhill like an avalanche. More followed, leaving a trail of sparks behind them. In unison, the three horses leaped over the familiars, battering through the pack of skeletal cats and trampling a dozen of them underfoot.

  A deep, husky voice called out: “Jump on my back!” Aldwyn turned to see that the voice belonged to a tall steed with a silver mane and sparkling black eyes. The lightmare lowered its head, allowing Aldwyn, Gilbert, and Simeon to dash onto its back. Banshee jumped up as well. Skylar soared just above them.

  The stallion carrying the animals turned for the mountain and began galloping uphill as effortlessly as if it were crossing flat land. Half a dozen lightmares—for this surely was what these majestic and heroic horses had to be—were holding back the giant cats.

  Then a horn blared and one of the skeletal lions called out, “To Jabal Tur.”

  Upon his command, the zombie soldiers turned to the west and began marching toward the Enaj.

  “It was only a matter of time before Paksahara spread her obsidian across the Chordata Plains,” said the silver-maned steed. There was no sign of strain in the stallion’s voice, even though he was carrying five animals on his back up the rocky slope. Behind them, the other lightmares were galloping in step.

  “Who were those cats … before they became zombies?” asked Aldwyn. “And why were they all dressed in armor?” />
  “Prior to their death, they were resistance fighters, great cats who stood up against the oppressive rule of man.” He paused. “It’s another part of Vastia’s forgotten history, one that those on the flatlands know nothing of.”

  As the lightmare raced along in a flat-out gallop, Aldwyn recalled the pieces of Vastia’s forgotten history that he, Skylar, and Gilbert had discovered earlier on their journey. First, there had been the amazing drawings that had been painted on the walls of the Kailasa caves. They showed that before man, animals alone had ruled Vastia. And then there had been the story told to them of how the First Phylum was tricked into allowing a man to join the original council of seven animals. The leader of these conniving humans had been a man named Sivio, who eventually anointed himself king.

  “The great cats were massacred on these plains, leaving none to roam the land,” continued the steed. “Man tried to cover up the incident by saying that they migrated from Vastia to the Beyond, but in the dead of night their bodies were buried here in the soil of the Chordata Plains.”

  “More of man’s lies,” said Skylar, her eyes narrowing coldly. Aldwyn couldn’t remember a time she had sounded as angry as this.

  “History is filled with them,” said the steed. “Which is why the lightmares of Yennep have taken it upon themselves to be the recorders of truth. When Sivio began to cause discord among the original council, our herd was the first to resign. We isolated ourselves up here in the mountains, where we’ve collected relics of the past and chosen to remain at a distance from the politics of humankind.”

  As they continued higher and higher up the trail, Aldwyn noticed that the dusty ground had been hardened into brown stone—no doubt the result of hundreds of years of superheated hooves galloping across it.

  Aldwyn turned to Skylar, who still looked visibly upset.

  “What is it, Skylar?” asked Aldwyn.

  “If we stop Paksahara, who’s to say humans won’t repeat their past cruelties toward animals?” she replied.