Читать книгу The Familiars: Secrets of the Crown - Adam Epstein - Страница 6

“Have there been any reports of humans casting magic since the green flash?” Queen Loranella enquired of the council and the concerned citizens who had gathered in the grand hall of the New Palace of Bronzhaven. Not a single voice called back from the room – the only response was a shaking of heads and anxious murmurings.

Aldwyn sat in Jack’s lap in the back row of the high-ceilinged chamber, alongside Dalton, Marianne, Skylar and Gilbert. The six of them had travelled here with Sorceress Edna, who had received word of the emergency meeting from one of the queen’s courier eagles shortly after the disenchantment. By the time they had taken to the roads, most of the water released by the dam had sunk into the earth, so at least the group was spared having to swim to the palace. Instead, they made the short trip on foot, witnessing some of the profound effects already being felt by the loss of magic: the enchanted scythes that were responsible for chopping down the wheat and corn crops lay lifeless on the ground, awaiting human hands to manually use them; healing wizards were turning away sick patients from their doorsteps, unable to help them; and rock beetles were pouring out from the ground now that the bug plugs were broken – an unpleasant nuisance to everyone but Gilbert. While their old teacher, Kalstaff, would have surely kept his concern and worry hidden from his young pupils, Sorceress Edna wasn’t shy about sharing her own. “This is bad, very, very bad,” she kept repeating until they had reached the castle, whose walls were charred and smoking from the fires caused by the fallen torches.

Aldwyn looked to the front of the grand hall, where the queen was standing at the head of a long, crescent-shaped table, five chairs to her left, another five to her right. The men and women occupying the chairs wore different-coloured wizarding robes, all distinct to their local region. Each was accompanied by their familiar – ranging from the common pot-bellied weasel to the truly bizarre wall-crawling dingo.

“Those ten sitting on either side of Queen Loranella are the council elders,” Dalton whispered to Marianne. “They represent each of the ten provinces of Vastia.”

The room itself was grand, with high-vaulted ceilings and stained-glass windows, the largest of which depicted a swirl of silver dust rising up above the Peaks of Kailasa. Hundreds of notables had gathered to fill the benches that stretched in long rows across the hall. Wizards and non-spellcasters alike sat side by side, waiting impatiently for answers.

“The spirits from the Tomorrowlife have come back to curse us,” a voice shouted from the crowd.

“No, it’s an estriutus burst,” another citizen interrupted.

“I’ll wager my goat farm that those ore miners in Kailasa struck a spell vacuum – sucked all the magic out of the world!” said a country villager. Aldwyn thought his theory even more desperate than the first two.

“I’m afraid it’s worse than that,” said Queen Loranella in a steady voice that was comforting in spite of the gravity of the situation. “This is neither a cosmic event nor an accident. It’s a purposeful attack, and a focused one at that: not all magic has been displaced from Vastia, only that cast by humans. And it is no coincidence that animals have retained their gifts. I am certain that it is an animal who is responsible for bringing this dispelling curse upon our land.”

Aldwyn knew just who the queen was talking about.

“Paksahara,” Queen Loranella continued. “A spell so powerful and encompassing could only have been cast from the Shifting Fortress. And since she stole my wooden bracelet, Paksahara is the only one with the ability to harness its powers.”

Aldwyn had been told of the Shifting Fortress, a secret tower whose location changed each day. From the top of the Fortress, powerful spells could be cast that affected all of Vastia. He knew that while under the control of the queen, the Fortress had been used to protect the lands – but he shuddered to think how Paksahara would wield its ancient magic.

“Well, I will not just lay down my wand and give up,” a bearded wizard called from the crowd. “I’ll defend myself with sword, and shield, and bare fists if needed!”

“Urbaugh won’t be the only one. I’ll be at my brother’s side,” said another citizen in the hall, who definitely shared a family resemblance to the bearded wizard. “Who here is frightened by a carrot-eating hare anyway?”

Defiant laughter briefly lightened the mood. They wouldn’t be laughing, Aldwyn thought, if they had seen Paksahara’s skills of sorcery or the coldness behind her pink eyes.

“Her spell will never hold!” shouted a townswoman. “This will all be over by the morning’s sun.”

These boasts, as unsubstantiated as they might have been, still seemed to lift the morale of the masses and rally the hall.

Queen Loranella raised her hand to quieten the people. “I’d like to hear what the council—”

Just then, what sounded like nails scraping across a mirror screeched through the hall. Aldwyn looked up to see the circular pane of stained glass – the one that depicted the Kailasa mountains – begin to transform. The triangles of different-coloured glass began to shift, rearranging on their own to form a different picture – that of the grey hare, Paksahara. The image smiled down menacingly on the assembled, and then the lips of the stained-glass hare started forming words.

“Question: What’s a wizard without magic?” Paksahara’s voice taunted them. “Dragon food,” she continued, as her nose twitched happily.

Dalton had to hold Skylar by her tail feathers to keep her from flying up, so spitting mad was the blue jay.

“Now, I’d love to take all the credit for this cruel turn of events, but you have Loranella to thank as well,” continued the face in the glass. “If it wasn’t for my old loyal foolishly underestimating me, I never would have been able to betray her.”

“I know how much you desire my crown,” said Queen Loranella, “but what good will it be if no one is there to follow you?”

“You may rule with the will of the people,” replied Paksahara, “but I shall do it under the fear of clenched paw.”

“When I find you, you’ll face the sharp end of my blade,” threatened Urbaugh, rising to his feet.

“And while you’re off searching for me, who will be there to protect your family?” asked Paksahara, a frightening chill in her voice.

The word ‘family’ made Aldwyn snuggle closer to Jack. It was perhaps the thing he longed for more than any other.

“We defeated you once,” shouted Skylar, her voice bold and trumpeting. “Don’t think we won’t come after you again.”

Gilbert cowered inside Marianne’s shirt pocket. “Speak for yourself,” he said out of the corner of his mouth.

The pink panes that formed Paksahara’s stained-glass eyes turned to the three familiars in the back row.

“Such animosity,” said the hare, “when we’re on the same side. If you were smart, you’d leave your loyals behind and join me. Many animals already have.”

“We’re the Prophesised Three.” Aldwyn jumped in. “It’s our destiny to stop you.”

“Prophesies are made to be broken,” said Paksahara. “I won’t underestimate you this time. I even considered disenchanting animal magicians, just to eliminate you as a threat. But that would have left me in a bit of a pickle.”

Queen Loranella spoke up again, and this time her voice sounded fierce.

“Why do you choose to show yourself like this?” she enquired of her former trusted companion. “What is it you want?”

Paksahara turned her glass face back to the queen. “For all on two feet to bow down before me. For you to relinquish your throne and pledge your allegiance to the original rulers of Vastia. For you to let me enslave you, the way you did me – you called me familiar, but in reality I was nothing more than your servant.”

“I was your loyal and you my companion. We were a team,” said the queen. “I will never bow down to you.”

“I was hoping you’d say that. I’m quite looking forward to hearing you beg for mercy.” The sunlight gleamed through Paksahara’s stained-glass visage – it was strange for something so terrifying to be so beautiful too. “Upon the arrival of the next full moon, a new Dead Army will rise, one comprising animals, and it will not stop marching and conquering until every human has surrendered to it.”

The glass panes began to shake once more, but this time, instead of reforming into their original picture, the window shattered. Triangles of coloured glass, sharp as knives, rained down upon the queen and her councillors. Elders ducked beneath the table, while the gathered townsfolk covered their heads with their arms. With no magic to protect them, the shattered glass impaled itself in flesh and fur. It was only after the last shards had settled that humans and animals came out from their hiding spots. But they did so cautiously, fearing that Paksahara could return at any moment. A quick survey told Aldwyn that, fortunately, no one was badly hurt from the blast; as far as he could see, there were just cuts and grazes. Queen Loranella signalled everyone to return to their seats.

“Let’s not panic,” she said, trying to bring a sense of peace back to the grand hall.

“If we are to have any hope at all of regaining our magic, we must find the Shifting Fortress,” said Sorceress Edna, rising to her feet. “It is the only way to stop Paksahara’s plot.”

One of the council elders, wearing a blue scarf on her head, spoke up. “We can put together a team of trackers and a volunteer citizen army. Try to have eyes everywhere at once.”

“No, Vastia is too big,” responded Queen Loranella thoughtfully. “We have only eight days until the full moon rises. Without the bracelet, finding the Fortress is a hopeless task.”

A hush descended on the hall, and there was a silence that seemed to go on for ever, until the elder from the Estovian province, recognisable by his black gown, spoke up. “There might be another way,” he offered. He had grey, lifeless skin and eyes sunk back deep into his sockets. Only patches of long stringy hair remained on his scalp, as if the rest had fallen out in clumps.

“If you hold truths, speak now, Feynam,” said the queen.

“I have no knowledge of the Shifting Fortress’s secrets. But if I still had my magic, there’s someone I would talk to – the famed architect Agorus, the man who built the Fortress itself. Of course, given the circumstances, I’m unable to commune with the dead.”

“Then why did you even bring it up?” shouted a voice from the crowd. “You’re just wasting our time.”

“We need another plan,” said a different citizen.

Out of the corner of his eye, Aldwyn saw Skylar whisper something into Dalton’s ear. Then he watched as the fourteen-year-old boy slowly began to nod. Dalton stood up and cleared his voice. A familiar could communicate with their loyal and any master wizard, one who had the many years of training needed to become adept at comprehending animal tongue. But common man and lesser wizards were unable to understand the words that animals spoke.

“My familiar can do it,” Dalton told everyone. “Skylar has become versed in more schools of magic than the one her kind is born with. She has studied necromancy. She believes she can speak to the non-living.”

Aldwyn knew his fellow familiar had experimented with dangerous magic. He had watched her try to bring a beetle back from the dead, with hair-raising results. He also suspected there was more to the mysterious bejewelled anklet she wore than she had yet revealed. But as every single head in the hall turned towards Skylar, he wondered whether the blue jay would really be able to do what she had just claimed she could.

“She is a blue jay,” said Feynam. “Her talent is illusions. No animal has ever been known to commune with the dead. Why should she be different?”

“She strives for more,” said Dalton, defending his familiar.

“Such conjuring is forbidden for non-humans,” said another member of the council. “Look what happened to Paksahara!”

“Things are changing,” said Queen Loranella. “And with our own magic gone, we have to put faith in our animal friends.”

The queen left her spot behind the table and walked down the aisle towards Skylar, who remained perched on Dalton’s shoulder.

“You familiars are just full of surprises, aren’t you?” she said, a note of hope coming through in her words. “Perhaps this is the next step in your journey to fulfil the prophecy.”

By mid-morning the next day, the queen’s royal carriage was rolling south, across the Brannfalk Pass and towards the rolling hills that hugged the east bank of the Enaj. Without the aid of Loranella’s swift-step spell, the horses pulling the coach could only travel as fast as their own hooves could gallop. The queen had decided to leave at dawn, concerned they wouldn’t be able to find what they were looking for by moonlight alone.

From inside the gold-trimmed carriage, Aldwyn stared out at the lush green slopes and flocks of sheep, whose wool had taken on the same emerald hue as the grass they ate. He sat on Jack’s lap; his loyal looked eagerly out of the window as well, for as little of this land as Aldwyn had seen, Jack had glimpsed even less. Dalton and Marianne were seated beside them, along with Skylar and Gilbert. Marianne had dozed off, her head slumped on Dalton’s shoulder. Skylar studied a pocket scroll on necromancy, reading the words silently to herself as she prepared for the task ahead.

“Even muttering Wyvern and Skull’s chants in your head comes at a price,” warned Feynam. He stretched his arms out from beneath his black robe, revealing dark, twisted veins on his hairless arms. “I’ve read from those scrolls too often.”

The elder was sitting on the bench opposite the young wizards, next to Queen Loranella, Sorceress Edna and Stolix, who had dozed off round Edna’s neck. Feynam had been invited along to lead them to the location where the Shifting Fortress had been originally built – the same spot from which it was believed Agorus could be summoned from the Tomorrowlife. Aldwyn hoped Feynam’s expertise in necromancy would be useful, but right now the elder was just giving him the creeps.

Gilbert had his attention fixed on the charcoal-coloured snake curled up on the floor across from him. This was Feynam’s familiar, Ramoth, whose scaly body was capable of turning to flames at will.

“I don’t like the way he’s looking at me,” Gilbert whispered to Aldwyn. “I know that look. He’s picturing me between two slices of bread.”

Normally, Aldwyn paid little attention to Gilbert’s paranoia, but there was something about the way the reptilian familiar was licking its lips that made him think that perhaps frog wouldn’t be the only thing on the snake’s menu if it got hungry.

“It’s just over this next rise,” Feynam called out to the coachman who held the reins of the four horses.

The carriage pulled to a stop, and Dalton nudged Marianne awake. She looked at him with a shy smile, then spotted some drool left behind on his shoulder and quickly wiped it away.

“I don’t normally drool in my sleep,” said Marianne, blushing.

“It must be a side effect of Paksahara’s spell,” said Dalton.

Aldwyn had seen these two playfully tease each other before, and he was coming to learn that this was how young boys and girls showed affection.

Sorceress Edna pushed her way out of the carriage first, which was no surprise, since she had complained most of the way about feeling cartsick from the bumpy ride. The others followed, Gilbert making very sure to keep his distance from Feynam’s serpent as he hopped down to the ground.

They all walked from the road to the top of a small hill, where a large grey stone jutted out from the green. It was polished smooth and stamped with a circle with eight lines jutting out from it. Embedded in the ground beyond it was the sunken imprint of what looked like a long-disappeared castle. The massive indentation had four long sides and burrowed several feet deep into the earth. The architectural fossil had now been filled in with the same grass that covered the hillsides.

“This is the cornerstone of the elusive Shifting Fortress,” said Feynam, gesturing to the grey obelisk with his bony hand. “It was left behind as a monument to remind all where the grand tower first stood.”

“And you believe the spirit of Agorus resides here?” asked Loranella.

“Every departed soul has a gateway to the Tomorrowlife,” explained Feynam, “a place of profound importance to them. I am confident this is that place for the mighty architect of the impossible.”

Skylar fluttered from Dalton’s shoulder to the base of the stone. She unrolled the scroll at her feet, then grasped a talonful of silver powder from her satchel.

“Silver dust is a weak substitute for obsidian,” said Feynam. “You’ll be lucky to hold this spell long enough to get any answers at all.”

Skylar seemed undaunted and ignored the elder’s words. She closed her eyes, concentrated, and then started her incantation.

“Agorus, hear my call and speak once more,” she chanted to the sky. She tossed the powder into the air and intoned: “Mortis communicatum!”

Nothing happened for so long that Aldwyn thought Skylar’s spell must have been unsuccessful. But then a bluish mist began to form in the air and curl round the stone. It grew more and more solid, and Aldwyn saw a faintly glowing figure emerge from it. As the spirit became more concrete, Aldwyn was taken aback: what had taken shape in front of him was not a man, but – a beaver!

“I knew it,” said Feynam. “There is no way a bird could cast such a powerful spell!”

“I’m sorry,” said Skylar to the four-legged creature. “I was trying to commune with someone else.”

The beaver looked at her, exasperated.

“You mean to tell me you’ve woken me for nothing?” he said. “I was in the middle of the most peaceful sleep.”

“Perhaps you can still help. Is there a man who lingers by this stone in the Tomorrowlife?” asked Skylar. “A famed architect who goes by the name Agorus.”

“Now you’ve got me confused,” said the beaver. “Are you looking for a man or for Agorus?”

“They’re one and the same,” said Feynam, growing impatient.

“Then you’re out of luck,” replied the beaver. “It’s a shame too. If you had been here looking for a beaver named Agorus, you would have found him.”

The group stared back at him in disbelief. He smiled and gave a little wave.

“You are the famed architect Agorus?” asked Feynam.

Aldwyn had known at once that it was true, recognising that yet again they had made a wrong, very human, assumption – that man was responsible for the greatness of Vastia’s past rather than animals.

“You’re a beaver,” exclaimed a startled Gilbert, giving voice to the surprise that could be read on everybody’s face.

“Well, I should hope so,” said Agorus. “That’s how I left this life, and that’s how I’ve stayed. Although if reincarnation were a possibility, I always wondered what it would be like to come back as a gazelle – a handsome, elegant creature indeed. Now tell me, blue bird, how many years have passed since the Turn? Two, three?”

“A little over four thousand,” said Skylar.

“Huh. Time goes fast in the Tomorrowlife. It seems like just yesterday I was overseeing the team of Farsand lifting-spiders who built the Shifting Fortress. I’m sure you noticed their insignia carved into the stone.” Agorus gestured to the circle on the cornerstone with the eight lines sticking out of it. “Amazing creatures. Ten times the size of regular spiders, with webbing strong enough to carry a boulder. But none of it would have been possible without my meticulous design. And the Fortress – what a miracle of engineering it was, if I do say so myself! Walls as strong as steel, a casting tower that could spread magic from Liveod’s Canyon to the southern tip of the ever-flowing Enaj, and a teleportation globe buried into the glass floor, randomly spinning so the Fortress never appeared in the same place twice, making it impossible to ever lay siege to it.”

“We come with a question in dire need of an answer,” interrupted Skylar. “Is there another way to summon the Shifting Fortress beside the wooden bracelet?”

“Wooden bracelet?” asked Agorus. “I’m not sure what a wooden bracelet has to do with the Shifting Fortress.”

“My bracelet,” said Queen Loranella. “It was a relic possessed by my great-grandfather, the king. I retrieved it from the Sunken Palace during the Dead Army Uprising.”

“You speak of a history I am unaware of. Back in my day, the Shifting Fortress was not summoned by some wooden trinket. There was meant to be only one way to bring forth the mighty tower. Seek the Crown of the Snow Leopard! That is how the First Phylum intended it.”

“Please, slow down,” said Skylar. “First Phylum, Crown of the Snow Leopard… knowledge of these things has been lost to time.”

“The First Phylum are the seven tribes that ruled over Vastia,” said Agorus with an exasperated sigh. Suddenly, his faint glow began to disappear. “The strongest and most powerful wizards of the…”

“Wait, don’t go,” pleaded Skylar.

But it was too late. The mist pulled Agorus away. His voice trailed off as his form dissipated into the Tomorrowlife once more.

“I’m afraid your components were too weak to hold the spell,” said Feynam.

Aldwyn thought there was no need for the elder to rub it in – he could see that Skylar was disappointed in herself by the way her wings slouched and her beak hung down.

“But it was enough time to get a clue,” said Queen Loranella. “The Crown of the Snow Leopard,” she repeated aloud. “If we find this magical item, perhaps the tide can still be turned.”

“In all my years of study, I have never heard of such a crown,” said Sorceress Edna. “And my memory is like that of a steel trap. Nothing escapes it.”

Though Skylar had succeeded in contacting Agorus, they were left with new mysteries – what was the Crown of the Snow Leopard? Where would they be able to find it? What did it have to do with the Shifting Fortress? And what was the First Phylum? Aldwyn knew he wasn’t going to be of much assistance in answering these questions, seeing how his knowledge of all things magical was still in its infancy.

“Hmm-hm hm hm-hmm hm hm…” someone began to hum.

Everyone turned to see who the off-key tune was coming from: it was Gilbert.

“Sorry,” said the tree frog when he felt everybody’s eyes resting on him. “I don’t do well with uncomfortable silences.”

“We’ll have to search through the dustiest of tomes to have any chance of learning about the Crown and its whereabouts,” said Queen Loranella. “I suggest we start at the Vastian Historical Archives.”

Skylar was still collecting her components, and Aldwyn couldn’t help but notice that she looked rather drained, almost as if her blue sheen had lost a little of its lustre. As she took to the air, a pair of her tail feathers dropped to the ground. Feynam walked up alongside her, and Aldwyn overheard him whisper, “Remember what I said, little bird. There will be consequences.”