Читать книгу The Familiars: Animal Wizardry - Adam Epstein - Страница 10

As promised, before leaving Bridgetower Aldwyn had enjoyed a delectable piece of fresh fish. Then, tucked in the crook of Jack’s arm, he’d been carried across the wide stone overpass built above the moat that surrounded the easternmost wall of the city. Upon reaching the other side, the old wizard led them along a dirt road that wound its way towards the highlands. It wasn’t long before they passed a caravan of driftfolk, tattooed travelling merchants selling beads and spices out of the back of their mule-drawn wagons. As the driftfolk crowded around the trio, Aldwyn caught a whiff of orange-mint and cumin clinging to their garments. Kalstaff purchased a small pinch of nightshade before they continued on their way.

Their journey took them through hills cloaked in emerald whistlegrass humming an outdoor symphony as the wind blew over the rolling slopes. Aldwyn listened as Kalstaff told Jack how every field had its own song. Each told a different story, some playing triumphant marches in honour of battles fought there long ago, others whispering lullabies for those who had slept soundly under the starlight.

They left the whistlegrass behind them, and, having veered off the main road, made their way across the Aridifian Plains, an expanse of rock and sand where what little vegetation remained had been singed black. Aldwyn quickly spotted the reason why: volcano ants! These bright red insects had built thousands of anthills, with tunnels that stretched down to the earth’s very core. The magma that spat out from the tiny hills had charred everything green in its path and a traveller had to be extra careful not to set their boots on fire while stepping through these parts.

Aldwyn thought himself a fairly knowledgeable cat, but he was already realising just how little he knew of the natural wonders that lay outside Bridgetower’s walls.

The last hour of the trip had been nothing but field after field of half-harvested crops. The barley stalks hung limply, a result of the sudden hail of snow and ice that had fallen on that otherwise warm summer day. During the long walk back home, Kalstaff and Jack had only taken a short rest to shake the sand out of their leather boots. Now, as the sun was setting, they were crossing a tiny stream and heading for an isolated meadow whose name, Stone Runlet, was written on a signpost.

Stepping out of the runlet’s ankle-deep water, they entered the low-lying field. Up ahead, Aldwyn spotted a small stone cottage on the edge of a wood. Fruit trees, berry trees and oak trees with leaves the size of pie crusts lined the glen. A boy around the age of fourteen with a square jaw and broad shoulders sat under one of the trees reading an oversized book bound in a beautiful leather binding. Above him, a girl, who also appeared to be about fourteen, sat on a thick branch juggling three walnuts. Ringlets of blonde hair were falling over her face.

“Marianne, Dalton, we’re back!” Jack called out.

The girl swung down from the tree, making a perfect landing on the ground below. The boy carefully marked his page before closing the book, then stood up. The two walked over to welcome the returning travellers.

Aldwyn could now see that both the boy and the girl were accompanied by animal companions of their own. A blue jay sat on Dalton’s shoulder, its feathers a deeper shade of blue than the sky itself. Marianne was joined by a red-eyed swamp frog, its bright orange feet clinging to her cloak. Aldwyn couldn’t help but wonder what special powers these two familiars possessed.

“Let me see,” said Marianne as she ran up to Jack. “What did you get?”

“A cat. And his eyes are the same colour as mine. He’s still got his claws, too. I bet he could do a lot of damage in a fight.”

Aldwyn was jolted from his comfortable resting position as Jack, in a burst of excitement, thrust him out for the older kids to see.

“He’s a little skinny,” said Dalton. “But so are you.”

“Am not.”

Dalton ruffled Jack’s hair, then turned to the blue jay. “What do you think, Skylar?” he asked.

Hold on, thought Aldwyn—did the boy, Dalton, expect a bird to answer his question? How bizarre was that? Aldwyn had always been able to understand humans, but as far as he knew no human had ever understood him.

Skylar whispered something back into Dalton’s ear, and the boy chuckled to himself.

“That’s not fair,” said Jack. “What did she say?”

“That your cat looks like he needs a bath.”

“Another thing you two have in common,” joked Marianne to Jack.

“Very funny, sis,” replied Jack, who tucked Aldwyn back under his arm.

“Come along,” said Kalstaff. “We’ve had a long day. Let’s have some supper and get an early night.”

Dalton and Marianne turned back to the cottage. Jack sighed, looking disappointed.

“Already? But I haven’t even shown him how I can levitate stones over the pond with a hover spell. Or taught him how to cast a smoke burst.”

“There will be plenty of time to show off your skills tomorrow,” said Kalstaff. “But remember, familiars are only meant to use their natural animal talents. Casting human spells is frowned upon. It’s much too dangerous for them.”

Jack reluctantly put Aldwyn down and sulked off, following Kalstaff and the two older wizards-intraining to the cottage. But Marianne’s frog and Dalton’s blue jay lingered, curious to meet the newest resident of Stone Runlet. The bird carried herself with a certain aloofness, back straight and beak held high. Her feathers were exquisitely unruffled and she wore a jewelled anklet. The frog had big bulging eyes that gave the impression that he was in a constant state of surprise. The suction pads on his toes made wet blurping sounds with every step. As Aldwyn approached them, the blue jay got a closer look at his fur.

“Are those fleas?” she asked.

Aldwyn glanced down at the tiny black specks on his white patches.

“What? No, those are freckles,” he responded.

“Then why are they moving?” she asked as one of the specks jumped off his fur.

Aldwyn quickly brushed them away before extending a paw.

“I’m Aldwyn,” he said, eager to change the topic.

The blue jay reluctantly put out her wing for a shake.

“I’m Skylar,” she said. “And this is Gilbert.”

“But you can call me Gil, or Bert. Gilbert is fine, too,” said the frog eagerly. “Do I have any flies in my teeth?”

Gilbert opened his mouth for the others to see. Skylar simply rolled her eyes and continued.

“Well, if you’re serious about being a great familiar, there’s no better place to learn than here,” said Skylar with a hint of pride in her voice. “Of course, some would make an argument for Turnbuckle Academy, or possibly studying with Sorceress Edna, but I just don’t…”

Though Skylar kept talking, Aldwyn’s mind had wandered. He was thinking about Grimslade and how the cold-blooded bounty hunter was probably still scouring the streets of Bridgetower looking for him. One thing was certain: he’d never look for him here.

After letting this pleasant thought roll around in his head for a minute or two, Aldwyn turned his attention back to the conversation.

“…and Kalstaff has a spell library that would rival any in the queendom,” Skylar was saying, still not having come up for air. “He’s a master sorcerer, skilled in multiple circles of magic. Necromancy, conjuring, abjuration.”

“And he makes a tasty beetle soup,” said Gilbert. Skylar just shook her head at him.

“What? That’s important too,” Gilbert added defensively

Skylar shrugged and turned back to Aldwyn, who was doing his best to hide the fact that he had no idea what she was talking about. “Kalstaff was one of the three great spellcasters who helped defeat the Dead Army Uprising, but that’s common knowledge. Which legendary battle is your favourite? Kalstaff was in all of them, you know.”

“Gosh, there are so many to choose from,” said Aldwyn, trying to stall. Skylar waited for a response. “But if I had to pick, it would probably be the one where he used the magic…” She continued to stare at him. “…to defeat that scary thing…” Still staring. “…on the mountain.”

Her attitude changed instantly. “Oh, the Clash of Kailasa,” she enthused. “A little-known engagement, but noteworthy for his use of weevil dust.”

“My thoughts exactly,” said Aldwyn.

Just then, Gilbert’s tongue shot out from his mouth and plucked a juicy horsefly right off Aldwyn’s tail. He swallowed it whole, then looked up guiltily.

“I hope you weren’t going to eat that.”

“Nah, it’s all yours,” replied Aldwyn.

“Don’t mind him,” said Skylar. “He’s amphibiously challenged. Now where was I? Oh, yes. I was telling you how lucky you were to be here. Kalstaff’s students go on to do great things: serve her glorious majesty Loranella, become temple masters, or explore the Beyond in search of new frontiers. And their familiars are always at their sides, aiding their loyals in any way they can. The last student, Galleon, graduated from here a few years ago. He and his familiar, Banshee, have been defending the town of Split River from sea monsters and elven pirates ever since. Very heady stuff.”

The prospect of having to fight sea monsters and elven pirates didn’t exactly fill Aldwyn with joy, but for the moment, Stone Runlet seemed like paradise—especially given the difficulties he was leaving behind in Bridgetower. Of course, passing himself off as a familiar was not going to be easy, even for a clever alley cat such as himself.

Skylar looked over to see smoke beginning to pour out of the cottage’s chimney.

“Gilbert, let’s see if we can’t be of assistance,” added Skylar. “Aldwyn, you might want to wash yourself off down by the runlet first. See if you can’t do something about those freckles.”

With that, she beat her wings and flew off towards the cottage to catch up with Dalton.

“Is she always like that?” asked Aldwyn.

“No,” said Gilbert. “Today she’s positively cheerful.” He put a webbed foot on Aldwyn’s paw. “But she’s not all bad. Get past the high-and-mighty, know-it-all attitude, and you find a bird that will always watch your back.”

“So, what’s for dinner?” asked Aldwyn, whose whiskers were once again all a-tingle.

“I like the way you think. I have a feeling we’re going to be good friends.”

“Hurry up, Gilbert!” called Skylar from the open doorway to the cottage. “You’re going to let in the wind fairies.”

“I just try to block out the sound of her voice,” said Gilbert. “It makes the day go by a lot faster.”

Gilbert hopped ahead, but Aldwyn hesitated. Although the prospect of a dip in the runlet sounded most disagreeable, it seemed unwise to ruffle Skylar’s feathers.

“Aren’t you coming?” asked Gilbert.

“You go ahead,” said Aldwyn. “I think maybe I will freshen up after all.” Gilbert shrugged and continued towards the cottage.

Aldwyn turned back towards the runlet, which split the meadow in two. In spite of the absence of the crowded streets and marble towers of Bridgetower, this open and empty place already felt strangely like home to him. He trotted ahead, each step cushioned rather pleasantly by the soft grass beneath his feet. His paws, hardened from a life of pounding the city’s cobblestone streets, could get used to this!

Aldwyn reached a shallow part of the runlet where he could sit comfortably on the shore while splashing himself gingerly with the water. He began flicking his paw, sending drops of icy water onto his fur. Then something upstream caught his attention: a school of odd-looking tadpoles. Aldwyn rose up on his hind legs to take a closer look at the unusual swarm of baby amphibians. They had white, egg-shaped bodies with veins of red streaking through them. As the tadpoles passed by, something strange happened: they seemed to slow down and stare right at him. That’s when Aldwyn realised that these were not tadpoles: they were a pack of swimming eyeballs. Their detached optic nerves wiggled through the water behind them like tiny tails! By the time this shudder-worthy vision had fully registered with Aldwyn, the school of eyes had been taken swiftly downstream by the current.

He had to get another look; his first had been so fleeting he couldn’t be sure if what he had seen was really true. Aldwyn hurried along the shore, trying to catch up with the fast-travelling eyeballs. Were they moving freely on their own? Were they the gruesome remains of some hideous crime? Ahead, Aldwyn spied a log that crossed the runlet. If he could reach it in time, he might be able to pounce upon it to get a better glance. He sprinted faster and then took a jump for the length of fallen tree. His claws dug into the wet bark as he steadied himself on the slippery birch. Aldwyn peered down to see the escaping eyes rush past him, under the log and into the light rapids beyond. Aldwyn made a desperate attempt to grab the last of the bobbing and weaving eyeballs, but in his haste took a tumble and found himself neck deep in the freezing runlet. By the time he had waded back to shore, any evidence of his mysterious encounter had disappeared.

On the walk back from the runlet, Aldwyn shook the wet from his fur and gave some thought as to whether or not to speak of this most recent brush with the unbelievable. Would his new companions think him crazy? Best not to find out, he decided. He still wasn’t sure how much trust he could place in these strangers. Aldwyn knew from his experiences in Bridgetower that most animals were only out for themselves and he found it hard to believe that these two would be any different.

Aldwyn approached the front door and entered the cottage. It was a quaint dwelling if ever he had seen one. Kalstaff and the young wizards were sitting on vine hammocks strung up to the ceiling in front of a fireplace, eating two-day-old dried mushroom salad. The uneven floor appeared to be made of tree roots woven together; long twisting coils of birch and oak that created a solid surface to stand upon. A collection of antique weapons was mounted on the wall, mostly tarnished swords but also more unusual tools of combat, like a spiked club, a trident and a halberd—trophies from the valiant battles of Kalstaff’s past. In the centre of the room hung a hive of twigs and wax, glowing from the lightning bugs that swarmed inside and around it.

Aldwyn poked his nose in a bowl of gizzards that had been left out for him, but an unexpected wave of exhaustion overcame him. For the first time in his life, he was too tired to eat. Which made sense, given all the day’s excitement: he had been chased by Grimslade and his demonic shadow hound, seen magical animals in the familiar shop, ventured miles beyond the walls of Bridgetower and discovered that he would be a young wizard’s familiar. Not to mention his run-in with the swimming eyeballs. He could only imagine what other surprises were in store for him tomorrow. Suddenly, Aldwyn’s eyes became very heavy and before he could even find a cosy place to curl up on the floor, he fell into a deep sleep.