The Familiars #4: Palace of Dreams

by Adam Jay Epstein

Skylar seemed to be on board with the plan, as she was already flying ahead. Then Gilbert was off, making the first two jumps effortlessly. Aldwyn leaped from the ledge next, his paws touching down on the paper lantern closest to him. It cracked under his feet, but before it gave way he bounded again.

  Aldwyn quickened, jumping across three more lanterns. Gilbert continued to set the pace out front. But just as the tree frog landed on the next lantern, the paper split in half. Gilbert narrowly made it off in time, just before the lantern debris scattered to the ground.

  Aldwyn was now staring ahead at a six-foot gap. He didn’t have time to think about it, though. He simply had to keep moving. And that’s just what he did, jumping through the air to the next lantern. His front paws nearly slipped upon making contact, but his claws took hold and he was able to pull himself to safety. Aldwyn made one more leap and joined Gilbert and Skylar on the ledge of the outer wall.

  Skylar flew above the courtyard and glanced down.

  “It’s clear,” she said.

  Aldwyn and Gilbert sprinted down the staircase, until they reached the ground. Skylar fluttered to their side. Party decorations, half-eaten plates of food, and a table filled with unopened gifts all remained untouched, evidence of a celebration cut short. The three familiars quickly passed the golden eel pond and headed for the front gate.

  “Wait up,” Gilbert said.

  Hopping over to the table where he and Anura had been sitting during the queen’s birthday festivities, he grabbed his orienteering stone and cloth map.

  “Thought these might come in handy,” Gilbert said, hurrying to catch back up with Aldwyn and Skylar while slinging the map’s tie string over his shoulder.

  Aldwyn wasn’t so sure the map would help, seeing how Gilbert failed to find Yeardley. But he’d already taken it, so there was no point leaving it behind now.

  The familiars were halfway across the courtyard when the tower bell started clanging.

  “They know we’ve escaped,” Skylar said.

  Aldwyn and Gilbert began to sprint, but the front gate was already swinging shut. Even at top running speed, Aldwyn knew he wasn’t going to make it. He turned to a nearby dining chair on the courtyard patio and telekinetically flung it into the path of the closing gate. The force of the steel door was too much for the metal chair to hold, and it snapped in two as the gate closed completely.

  The three animals had to change direction. They turned back to see Navid and Marati emerging from the palace with a dozen soldiers of the Nightfall Battalion. The familiars were being surrounded.

  “Surrender now,” Marati called out. “There’s nowhere for you to go.”

  “We fought side by side,” Aldwyn said. “Practically stood together in the circle of heroes. Why would we do something like this? It doesn’t make any sense.”

  “It’s not my job to decide if you’re innocent or guilty,” Marati replied. “But I know we can’t let you run away.”

  “Navid, we’re friends,” Gilbert said. “Please.”

  “I’m sorry. There’s nothing I can do.”

  Aldwyn hadn’t noticed until now, but Skylar was removing something from her satchel.

  “Eat this,” she whispered, handing prickly blades of grass to both Aldwyn and Gilbert. “Trust me.”

  The two immediately swallowed them. The soldiers were now tightening their circle around the trio with swords drawn. Navid bared his fangs, and Aldwyn knew all too well the powerful venom blasts he was capable of shooting from them. Marati had already summoned her astral claws, sharp blue glowing blades commanded by the mongoose.

  Suddenly Aldwyn felt a throbbing below his shoulders. It made him wince.

  “What did you just give me?” he asked Skylar.

  “Icari weed,” she replied.

  Aldwyn searched his memory. He had heard that component mentioned once before, but he couldn’t remember when.

  “Remind me what that does agahhhhhhh . . .” Pressure was building up and then a searing pain rocketed along Aldwyn’s spine. It was like a pair of knives had been stabbed through his back. As quickly as the shock of pain had rattled him, it was gone. Gilbert was writhing as well. Then Aldwyn realized that something was starting to poke out from the tree frog’s back. They were slimy, bat-like wings! Aldwyn glanced around to see that he, too, was growing wings of his own, but unlike Gilbert’s, they were covered in the black-and-white fur of a Maidenmere cat.

  “Fly!” Skylar shouted.

  Although Aldwyn had never sprouted wings before, his body seemed to know just what to do. Muscles began contracting and expanding, and the wings on his back flapped. He was up off the ground. And Gilbert was right beside him.

  “Get back here!” Marati cried.

  It was too late for that. The familiars were soaring skyward. Navid fired a venom blast but it fell short. Marati’s astral claw was immediately weakened by the distance it had to travel.

  “After them!” Navid shouted from below.

  Aldwyn turned his attention to the clouds before him. The Icari weed had taken effect so quickly he’d barely had time to process it. But this would not be the moment to reflect, as a half-dozen members of the Nightfall Battalion were flying through the air behind them with wands outstretched. The fastest two caught up to Aldwyn and Gilbert in mere seconds. They were about to ensnare them with golden lassos.

  “Creeping vine, possum tail, make them move like a snail!” Gilbert incanted.

  Suddenly the two wizards slowed to a near crawl. They tried to talk but even their lips appeared to move in slow motion.

  “Quick thinking, Gilbert,” Skylar said.

  “A snail spell,” the tree frog replied. “One of Marianne’s favorites.”

  “Well, she would be proud,” Aldwyn said.

  Gilbert had little time to bask in the praise, as more members of the Nightfall Battalion were gaining on them.

  Aldwyn remembered some flight tactics from Crady’s Book of Aerial Wizardry, a text he had studied back at Black Ivy Manor. He was just hoping that some of them would be helpful here.

  Aldwyn spotted the floating torches that always stood high above the castle walls. But rather than avoiding the bright-glowing flames, he began flapping toward them. Skylar and Gilbert did the same, and the three slalomed between them. The closest pursuing member of the Nightfall Battalion hit the first torch, accidentally setting his robe on fire and forcing him to retreat. The three animals continued to execute hairpin turns and mid-flight reversals that would have made Crady himself proud. Their impressive aerial acrobatics led one of the three remaining Nightfall Battalion soldiers to veer headfirst into the parapet of the palace’s high tower.

  Aldwyn, Skylar, and Gilbert cleared the outer wall of the castle and were soaring over the city. A searing white blast shot past Aldwyn’s head. If he hadn’t already had a chunk missing from his ear, he would have now. Aldwyn glanced back to see the last two Nightfall Battalion members charging, both with wands outstretched, one’s tip still smoking. Skylar and Gilbert joined Aldwyn as he dipped down a busy street, the buildings towering like canyon walls on either side. They were zipping underneath canopies. Vendors stared up at the strange sight of a cat, frog, and blue jay flying through the air.

  Another bolt of lightning came close to frying Gilbert. Aldwyn focused his mind as he passed over the next building, telekinetically pulling shingles from the slanted wooden rooftop and flinging them backward like diamond throwing stars. The barrage of projectiles hit the last two Nightfall Battalion soldiers, knocking their wands from their hands. They instantly began to plummet, heading straight for the pavement. But before they made impact, Aldwyn glanced down and moved a vendor’s hay cart with his mind, setting it directly in their path.

  Escape seemed within reach. That’s when Aldwyn saw a furry black-and-white feather drift from his back. Then another. And another. He was losing his wings. The Icari weed was wearing off. He looked over to Gilbert and saw that his slimy bat wings were beginning to break apart as
well.

  “Skylar,” Aldwyn called out. “You have any more of that Icari weed in your satchel?”

  “That was all of it,” she replied.

  Aldwyn surveyed the cityscape before them. The outer ring of Bronzhaven was filled with modest residential houses and small parks with well-trimmed lawns and absolutely nowhere to hide. Farther ahead was an orchard of trees and thick bushes.

  “Over there,” Skylar said, pointing to the orchard. “It will cushion your fall.”

  It seemed as good a plan as any, except Gilbert was never going to make it. One of his wings had fallen off and he was spiraling downward. He was trying his best to stay afloat, but it was only resulting in an awkward nosedive.

  Gilbert’s touchdown was bumpy to say the least, but it didn’t seem to leave any permanent damage. Aldwyn dropped to the grass feet first, as cats have a tendency to do. Skylar hovered above them.

  “More of the Nightfall Battalion will be coming,” Skylar said.

  “We should go to Turnbuckle Academy and find our loyals,” Gilbert said. “They’ll be able to help us.”

  “No,” Skylar was quick to respond. “We can’t put them at risk. If they appear to be accomplices, they’ll be in as much trouble as we are. Besides, our first priority is saving Queen Loranella.”

  “And how exactly do we plan on doing that?” Aldwyn asked.

  “There are only a few in Vastia who know how to cure a parasitic poison,” Skylar replied. “But just one is far enough removed from the politics of the palace to be trusted. The Mountain Alchemist in Kailasa.”

  “He wasn’t exactly welcoming the last time we went to him for help,” Gilbert croaked.

  “He did come through for us, though,” Skylar countered.

  “Yeah, after he nearly killed us!” Gilbert exclaimed. “And I seem to remember him telling us never to come back to see him again.”

  “I don’t know what other choice we have,” Skylar replied. “If we head south, to the forest surrounding the Smuggler’s Trail, its magic will keep us hidden from anyone who comes looking for us. Then we can continue on to Kailasa.”

  Aldwyn turned back and took one last look at the palace. He knew they wouldn’t be able to return until they had cleared their names.

  5

  GAME OF SLUGGOTS

  In the morning sunlight, sheep grazed peacefully across the plains east of the Smuggler’s Trail. They were of little interest to the spyballs flying above. Which is precisely why Aldwyn, Gilbert, and Skylar had spent the last few hours hidden among them, disguised beneath one of Skylar’s illusions. And although this gave them safe cover, it also slowed them down.

  “All they eat is grass?” Gilbert asked. “That’s it. Every meal. Grass!”

  “You pretty much just eat bugs,” Aldwyn said.

  “But there are so many different varieties. Caterbeetles for the hearty meat lover. The delicate sweetness of a mosquitoette. Or the earthy zest of a dung roach. I could go on.”

  “That’s okay,” Aldwyn said.

  “When that flock of spyballs soars past, I say we make a break for the edge of the forest,” Skylar said.

  They waited until the winged eyeballs completed their flyover and disappeared into a low cloud bank. Once they were gone, Aldwyn—with Skylar and Gilbert sitting atop his back—split off from the herd, eager to slip under the thick brush of leaves and branches.

  Inside the woods it was cool and quiet, and it took only a few steps to feel like the fields behind them were miles away. Now safely hidden, Skylar dispelled the illusion.

  “If we keep moving in this direction, we should come across the Smuggler’s Trail,” Skylar said.

  “We still haven’t talked about what was written on the floor of our dungeon cell,” Aldwyn said as the group continued onward. “What if it was a clue?”

  “Spuowbip wjots sby udpjbm uosdwoyt,” Skylar recited from memory.

  “How do you do that?” Gilbert asked, impressed even though he had seen Skylar’s perfect recall on display many times before.

  “I’m not sure what the words mean,” Skylar continued. “Could be elvish. It also sounds like the ancient tongue of the driftfolk.”

  “I don’t think I mentioned it before, but when the words formed, they were written backward, from right to left,” Aldwyn said.

  “That’s how the elvish script their sentences,” Skylar said. “Perhaps along the way to Kailasa we can find someone to help us translate it. Or maybe the Alchemist can do it himself.”

  As the familiars walked deeper into the forest, Aldwyn could sense that they were not alone. But each time he turned, all he heard was the faint rustling of leaves. He remembered the last time he had traveled here and how this enchanted place hid things right before its visitors’ very eyes.

  Skylar led them farther still, until they came to a well-worn dirt path. This was the Smuggler’s Trail. Hoof marks and dry leaves covered the road.

  “Let’s lie low for a few hours,” Skylar said. “Like I said, whoever comes looking for us won’t be able to find us here.”

  She gestured to an oak tree that provided ample cover. The Three walked beneath it and started to settle in. But just before Aldwyn got comfortable, he spied a gathering beyond the oak, one he hadn’t seen before. Humans, animals, and magical creatures of every kind crowded the grounds. Wooden shelters built into the tree trunks and tents made from old linens and tapestries encircled a campfire. Trolls and fairies sat side by side before the flames. A pair of tiny hippopotamuses were bartering with a slithering mound of moss.

  Skylar and Gilbert were now standing beside Aldwyn, staring at the sight.

  One of the fairies, who was broad-shouldered and bearded, flitted over and landed on a twig near Aldwyn’s face.

  “Welcome,” he said. “If you can see us, then you must be hiding from something as well. The Smuggler’s Den only reveals itself to those who wish not to be found. No one will ask you any questions about what you’re running away from here. And as long as you mean no harm to the others, you can stay as long as you like.”

  “We won’t be long,” Skylar said.

  “Well, if you’re hungry, we were just putting some coconut meat over the fire,” the fairy said.

  “We do have a big day ahead of us,” Skylar said.

  “Of course, you’ll have to contribute something in return,” the fairy said.

  “And what exactly did you have in mind?” Skylar asked.

  The familiars, with bellies filled, scrubbed a stack of pots and pans that stretched halfway up a tree, using wet rags and sticks to clean the grimy cookware. It seemed a fair trade-off, especially since they didn’t know where their next full meal was going to come from.

  Nearby a gold-backed baboon with a shackle still dangling from one of its wrists tended to the campfire, ensuring that the cooking flames would continue to burn until their next meal. He glanced over to Aldwyn, Skylar, and Gilbert.

  “Some of these people have been here so long they don’t recognize you,” the baboon said. “Not me. I’ve seen the statues they erected in Split River. I know it’s impolite to ask, but what are the Prophesized Three doing here?”

  “It’s just a big misunderstanding actually,” Skylar said.

  “Whatever it is, it must be pretty bad for you to be here,” the baboon replied.

  “No matter,” Skylar said. “It will all be righted soon.”

  “Righted, perhaps,” the baboon said. “But not forgotten. Accusations, whether they be true or false, are not washed out so easily. It takes more than truth to clean the stains that are left behind.”

  It was as if the baboon knew Aldwyn’s worst fear.

  “You can do a thousand good acts, but they’ll remember you for the one bad. Even if it’s just rumor and innuendo.”

  “That doesn’t seem fair, does it?” Aldwyn asked.

  “No, I suppose not,” the baboon replied.

  Aldwyn reflected on everything he and his friends had already been th
rough. He wasn’t going to let one false accusation wipe away all the good they had done.

  “What about you?” Gilbert asked. “What’s with the shackle?”

  The baboon stoked the flames again.

  “I was taken from my family and sold into the service of the Cyrus Brothers Traveling Animal Show,” he said angrily. Aldwyn knew how hard it was to be separated from family. That’s why he was so eager to find Yeardley—once all this was over, of course. “They chained me up pretty tight, too. They wanted me to dance for peanuts. But I learned a few tricks from the troop’s master escapist, a land octopus who goes by the name Torgo. Thought I’d hide here for a few months.”

  The fairy returned when the washup was done.

  “Same deal goes for lunch,” he said.

  Aldwyn, Skylar, and Gilbert set down their dishrags and sticks. They’d started back for the tree they planned to lie low beneath when they heard cheers and curses coming from a motley crew of ruffians gathered nearby. Curious, the Three stopped to look closer.

  A bull’s-eye had been nailed to a tree, and each player stood about ten feet away, throwing their own uniquely striped slug at the target.

  “Is that darts?” Gilbert asked.

  “Those don’t look like darts to me,” Aldwyn replied.

  Unlike the traditional version of the game, the slugs moved after they made contact, sometimes inching closer to the center, sometimes squirming farther away. If one of the slugs got too close to the other, they would fight until one was swallowed. Once everyone had taken their turn, the player with the slug nearest to the bull’s-eye was declared the victor.

  “I win,” a long-armed sloth exclaimed.

  She collected the pile of loot that had been wagered. The others appeared downright livid.

  “Look,” Skylar said quietly to Aldwyn and Gilbert. “A pair of elvin pirates.”

  “We’ll definitely want to steer clear of them,” Gilbert said.

  “No,” Skylar replied. “They speak elvish. And they’ll be able to read elvish.”

  “And you’re going where with this?” Gilbert asked.

  “The clue on the dungeon floor,” Aldwyn said, jumping in.