The Familiars: Secrets of the Crown

by Adam Jay Epstein

  Aldwyn could tell by the smiles on the children’s faces that they had heard this from the same source she had – Kalstaff.

  The front door of the Archives opened, and the librarian entered. Curiously, she was empty-handed.

  “You forgot the candles,” said Jack. “How are we going to be able to see?”

  “Yes,” replied the librarian, somewhat sheepishly, “they’re in rather high demand right now. The shops were sold out. I’m so sorry, Your Majesty.”

  “No need to apologise,” said the queen. “We’ll work by moonlight if necessary.”

  The librarian walked back to her seat behind the front desk, stepping right past a trio of the slimy bookworms that had found their way back inside during her absence. Aldwyn found it curious that now she ignored them, seeing how quick she had been to retrieve her broom before. Perhaps the exhausting day of research had taken its toll on her as well.

  “You said most of the Almanacs were in the Reference section,” Marianne called to the librarian. “Where are the rest?”

  “Let me check the catalogues,” she replied. Aldwyn was certain she was fatigued now, as this was the first time all day she hadn’t had a ready response to one of their queries.

  “I think I’ve found something,” said Dalton, sounding rather unsure about it.

  “You did?” asked Jack.

  “Yeah, right here, in the Wizard’s Almanac of Fables,” said Dalton, his excitement growing. “It’s written in Elvish, but I think I can translate it.”

  “Move over, move over,” said Sorceress Edna. “I’m fluent in all dialects of the Wood People.” She nudged him aside with her large rear end so that she was sitting in front of the book, and put her magnifying glass up to the page. “Ah, yes. The boy is right. Cheluji tui kiraumo. Snow leopard’s crown.” She continued to scan the page, deciphering bits and pieces. “The story tells of a young elvin warrior who went searching for this mythical treasure. Lots of details about the rituals he performed before leaving, and the possessions he brought with him.”

  Everybody was huddled around Edna now, hanging on the sorceress’s every word.

  “Any clue as to what the Crown is or where it is hidden?” asked Marianne.

  “Patience, young lady,” answered Edna, who moved the reading lens slowly across every word. “Tanah nok tahni. He carried with him a crocodile-tooth dagger, and wore mufahji round his neck. Rain charms.” She flipped to the next page.

  That’s when Aldwyn’s attention was drawn to the librarian again. She was on her knees, muttering aloud before the three thumb-long bookworms.

  “Uh, Jack.” He nudged his loyal.

  “Not now, Aldwyn,” the boy replied without even giving him a look.

  Aldwyn found the librarian’s actions quite peculiar. Had she lost her mind? Was she trying to reason with the worms? Whatever it was, it wasn’t normal. Maybe she—

  Were the worms getting bigger?

  Oh yes, they most certainly were. They were now as thick as watermelons, and as long as pythons.

  “Jack!” Aldwyn shouted, clawing at the boy’s sleeve.

  “Ow,” cried Jack. “What did you do that—”

  Then Jack saw it too. In the short seconds it took to get the young wizard’s attention, the slither of bookworms had expanded to the size of wine barrels. The librarian remained on the floor, reciting what sounded a lot like a magic spell.

  “Guys,” Jack called to the others, “you better look at this!”

  Everyone turned round.

  The once tiny and harmless-looking bookworms were now eight feet tall, their mouths surrounding a circle of teeth. The librarian stood beside the salivating creatures, her meek, shoulder-slouching demeanour gone, replaced with a scary confidence.

  “What have you done?” asked Queen Loranella.

  “The better question is how?” said Feynam. “How is a human still capable of casting magic?”

  “They’re not,” answered the librarian.

  Her body began to twist and contort; her ears started to grow and her nose shrank. Grey hairs sprouted from her flesh. Her brown eyes turned bright pink. She was shape-shifting. And when the transformation was complete, Paksahara was standing before them.

  “Normally, bookworms only have a taste for parchment,” she said. “But I think in this case they’ll make an exception.”

  The three towering slitherers advanced on the wizards young and old and their familiars. The quickest of the worms charged at them with its mouth wide open, smashing aside chairs and scroll cabinets along the way. The group fled from the long wooden table where they had been sitting, hurrying to take cover behind the stacks.

  “The book!” cried Marianne.

  But before any of them could go back for it, the charging demon worm halved the table, sending the Wizard’s Almanac of Fables flying, the jug of water rolling to the ground, and Edna’s magnifying glass shattering on the floor.

  “Last chance to surrender,” Paksahara called out. “Join me, familiars!”

  Despite these most dire of circumstances, Aldwyn would never accept her treasonous offer to betray Jack, and he knew that Skylar and Gilbert would never leave the side of their loyals, either. He focused on the fallen book and telekinetically lifted it into Dalton’s hands.

  “Quickly, this way,” said Feynam to the others. “There’s an exit in the back.”

  The elder led them, running down the narrow aisle. He was the first to emerge out the other side, and he never saw it coming. One of the bookworms opened its giant mouth and swallowed him whole. It happened so suddenly that it almost didn’t seem real. Everyone was left in stunned silence, except for Stolix, who had somehow remained asleep through everything thus far.

  “Any of you want to reconsider?” Paksahara asked the familiars with a sneer.

  Ramoth looked to Loranella. “My loyalty had been teetering before,” he said, showing his true colours. “Besides, I never like ending up on the losing side of a battle.” The firescale snake darted out from the stacks and took his place alongside Paksahara.

  “Children, run for the front door,” instructed Queen Loranella. “Edna and I will distract the worms.”

  The wizards in training and their familiars sprinted for the entrance as the gigantic and clearly very hungry bookworms were bearing down on them. Queen Loranella and Sorceress Edna hurried in the opposite direction, throwing books at the purple beasts to bait them away from the children.

  Skylar spread her wings and made a bookshelf stuffed with dusty tomes appear between them and the worms. Aldwyn hoped the illusion would fool the tiny minds of the oversize grubs, or at least buy them a little time.

  Dalton flipped open the Wizard’s Almanac of Fables as he fled, picking up where Edna had left off, searching the text as fast as he could.

  “Dalton, what are you doing?” asked Skylar. “You can read the book later!”

  “Not if I don’t make it out of here alive,” he replied.

  Just then, a blast of electricity shot over his head, straight through Skylar’s illusion. Apparently, Paksahara had grown impatient with waiting for the worms to finish off her opponents. They took cover behind a bookshelf. “Niti wengi,” Dalton read aloud from the Elvish fable. “A great big tree.”

  Aldwyn concentrated on a pear-shaped globe on one of the pedestals and flung it across the room, using only his mind. For a second he was quite pleased with his effort, but then Paksahara effortlessly shot it down. She didn’t see the second globe coming from behind her, though, and it momentarily knocked her off her feet.

  Aldwyn was starting to feel victorious when a sweat-inducing heat boiled up behind him. He turned to find Ramoth, scales aflame, ready to strike with his searing fangs.“Traitor,” shouted Aldwyn.

  “I am a snake after all,” replied Ramoth. He was about to strike, but his attack was thwarted when a splash of water doused the fire burning on his skin.

  Jack stood with an empty jug in hand, the one that had fallen from the re
ading table but fortunately had not spilled all of its contents. Though stripped of his newly blossoming spellcasting abilities, Jack remained cocky in the face of the danger. He gave Ramoth a swift kick that sent him sailing across the room into a pile of scrolls. Aldwyn and his loyal shared a nod. No words were necessary to communicate their bond.

  Dalton was still struggling with the foreign text – “The warrior travelled to some kind of tree, one whose branches…” he translated as the battle continued. “I’m not sure what these next words mean.”

  And he wasn’t going to have time to figure it out. One of the giant paper-eating grubs shoved its head through the bookshelf and snapped the tome straight out of Dalton’s hand. Even worse, its teeth caught one of his fingers as well, biting it clean off.

  Dalton cried out with pain and stumbled away from his attacker. He shoved his injured hand to his chest and tried to stave off the bleeding with his tunic.

  The loyals and their familiars tried to make a run for it once more, racing past the aisle of whisper shells as the creature chewed the invaluable book to shreds.

  Paksahara was back on her feet, and she seemed quite entertained as she watched one of the other bookworms reach out to swallow Skylar.

  “They say the early bird catches the worm,” the hare said, delighted. “This time, it’s the other way round!”

  The bookworm was just about to bite down on the blue jay when a splintered stick pierced its throat. Queen Loranella had torn off the bristles and used the sharp end of a broomstick as a spear. She gave the handle a twist, and the beast’s head collapsed limply.

  Paksahara flew into a rage. She conjured two massive energy blasts in her palms, then shouted at her opponents – “This was fun. Now prepare to become food for the worms!”

  “Food?!” a groggy voice called out. “Is it breakfast already?”

  Aldwyn spun round to see that Stolix had finally awakened.

  “Quick,” said Edna to her familiar. “Immobilise her!”

  Stolix breathed out her paralysing mist, sending the cool vapours right into Paksahara’s nostrils. The hare’s muscles immediately tightened, and she was rendered motionless, a frozen look of anger on her face.

  The two remaining giant purple worms encircled Paksahara protectively, preventing the wizards and familiars from attacking the defenceless hare.

  “Let’s get out of here,” said the queen. “That spell doesn’t last long.”

  Dalton grabbed Scribius off the floor, and then he and the others were running for the door without looking back. If the Archives held any other clues as to the whereabouts of the Crown of the Snow Leopard, they would soon be lost to the digestive juices of the bookworms.

  Dalton lay on a slender bed in the Royal Cleric’s chamber as the palace healer’s black raven ran a wing along his arm. During the whole trip back to the New Palace he had clenched his jaw, never once letting on how excruciating the pain must have been. Now Aldwyn watched as the bird’s healing feathers worked their magic. The stump where Dalton’s little finger once was began to puss and ooze as flesh and bone sprang forth, like a newly forming twig on a sapling. Within seconds, it had regenerated itself and looked as good as new.

  Across the room, Marianne sat before a fireplace where wood crackled warmly in the hearth, having been lit by flint and stone rather than a magic spell. She traced her finger along a wrinkled parchment map, while Jack spun a pear-shaped globe in one and then the other direction.

  “A great big tree,” Marianne repeated. “That only narrows it down to, oh, every forest in Vastia.”

  “Could be in the mountains too,” added Jack.

  Sorceress Edna let out a sigh of frustration as she paced behind them. “This is bad, very bad. Even worse than before, I’m afraid.”

  Aldwyn leaped on to the windowsill and looked outside. Night had fallen, and the moon was beginning to rise up over the Yennep Mountains. It was three-quarters full, just seven days away from reaching the end of its lunar phase, when Paksahara’s grim promise would be fulfilled and a new Dead Army would rise. In the courtyard below, Aldwyn could see Queen Loranella standing with a band of cloaked warriors – some the queen’s finest soldiers, others disenchanted wizards – all beside their steeds. Many were accompanied by their familiars. Among them stood Urbaugh, the bearded spellcaster from the council meeting, and his brother. There had been rumours of suspicious activity on the northwestern border of Vastia, and while it was little to go on, in the face of such a grave threat, even the smallest lead was worth pursuing. The queen touched each of the warriors’ shoulders as they bowed before her, then they took to their steeds and rode off.

  “Hmm-hm hm hm-hmm hm hm…”

  Aldwyn spun round to see that the humming was coming from Gilbert yet again, the same melody that had been stuck in the tree frog’s head since their encounter with Agorus.

  “Gilbert,” snapped Aldwyn, exasperated. “What’s with the humming?”

  “No, wait,” said Skylar, suddenly taking great interest in Gilbert’s out-of-tune music making. “Keep going.”

  “Hm hm hm hmm-hm hm?” continued Gilbert.

  Skylar joined in, chirping along in harmony. “Hmm-hm hm hm-hmm hm hm. I know this song. It’s a lullaby. They used to sing it to us at Nearhurst Aviary.” She searched her memory, then began singing. “Hiding high upon its head, Draped in white shimmering gown, Lie the keys to the past, In the snow leopard’s crown. Gilbert, you’ve been trying to give us clues all this time!”

  “I have?” asked the tree frog. “I mean, I have!”

  “There’s more to it, though,” said Skylar. “That’s just the end. How does it start again?”

  Gilbert hummed to himself for a moment.

  “That’s easy,” he said. “When night falls hear the dog’s bark, Howling to the tallest clouds. Secrets of yore buried, Beneath green needle shrouds.”

  “Go on,” said Skylar.

  “That’s all I remember. I always fell asleep right about then.”

  Some long-forgotten memory was bubbling up in Aldwyn too, and when he opened his mouth, the words just tumbled out.

  “When night falls hear the dog’s bark,

  Howling to the tallest clouds.

  Secrets of yore buried,

  Beneath green needle shrouds.

  Between the root of all roots,

  Where every fear sinks away,

  Are stairs with no bottom,

  Unless eyes find sun’s ray.

  Through brown mist stone arrows point,

  To where the ladybirds rest.

  A supper to be placed,

  In the great spider’s nest.

  Now comes a black crescent sword,

  Cutting through the emerald night.

  At last the waking moth,

  Flies to the rising light.

  Hiding high upon its head,

  Draped in white shimmering gown,

  Lie the keys to the past,

  In the snow leopard’s crown.”

  Skylar and Gilbert both stared at him.

  “I don’t know where that came from,” said Aldwyn, who was just as surprised as they were.

  “Someone must have sung it to you too,” said Gilbert.

  “But who?” asked Aldwyn. “I don’t remember at all.”

  No one on the rooftops of Bridgetower had ever showed him any kind of tenderness, let alone soothed him to sleep with a lullaby. This memory must have been from before. From Maidenmere. Had he heard it from his mother or father?

  “It’s not just a nursery rhyme,” said Skylar. “I think it’s a puzzle, or rather a series of clues. Perhaps if we can decipher them, it will lead us to the Crown of the Snow Leopard.”

  Scribius had transcribed every word that Aldwyn had said so that the entire nursery rhyme was now written down neatly on a piece of parchment. Marianne, Dalton and Sorceress Edna gathered round to study it.

  “Black crescent swords,” scoffed Sorceress Edna. “Dogs barking to the clouds! I think
we’d be better off sticking to this great big tree that the Wizard’s Almanac of Fables mentioned.”

  “Hold on,” said Dalton. “What if Skylar’s right? Maybe this nursery rhyme does contain clues. It’s possible the book and the lullaby are talking about the same thing.”

  “Yes,” added Marianne. “We’re looking for a great big tree, aren’t we?” Then, turning to the parchment, “And the nursery rhyme talks about green needle shrouds. That sounds like a pine forest to me. What if this tree is in a pine forest?”

  “And the only pine forests in Vastia,” chimed in Skylar, “are the Yennep Wilds and the Hinterwoods.”

  “Unfortunately neither are inhabited by dogs,” said Dalton.

  “True,” said Skylar. “But the Hinterwoods have dogwood trees!”

  “What did she say?” Marianne asked Dalton.

  “The Hinterwoods, they have dogwood trees,” he repeated.

  “And there’s one whose bark stretches as high as the clouds,” said Marianne. “The mighty dogwood at the centre of the Hinterwoods.”

  The familiars and their loyals looked at each other, a sense of excitement brewing. Aldwyn even felt his whiskers beginning to tingle, the way they always did when a new adventure was about to begin.

  “You’re getting ahead of yourselves, children,” said Sorceress Edna, still sceptical. “This is all just speculation.”

  Suddenly, the door opened and Queen Loranella entered.

  “Your Majesty, we believe we’ve figured out where the tree is,” said Jack excitedly.

  “Jack!” scolded Sorceress Edna. “What did I say?”

  “Our familiars have recalled a nursery rhyme that was told to them,” said Jack. “One that speaks of the Crown of the Snow Leopard.”

  “The first clue leads to the Hinterwoods,” added Marianne.

  “Then our search should begin at once,” said the queen.