The Familiars: Circle of Heroes. Adam Epstein
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“That’s terrible,” said Gilbert, his voice sounding even croakier than usual.
“Soon after, Galleon got a job here in exchange for room and board. He performs twice a day and washes dishes and cleans chamber pots in between.”
“And Banshee?” asked Skylar.
“They had a fight years ago and she returned to her monkey village,” said Edgar. “As for me, winters can get pretty cold around here. When I heard about this gig, I jumped at it.”
“Like Grimslade said, the howler monkeys live in the Forest Under the Trees, high up in the canopies,” Skylar reminded Aldwyn and Gilbert, her voice filled with concern. “I was hoping we could avoid a trip into those dangerous treetops.”
From beyond the velvet divide, a heckler could be heard shouting, “I got an idea. Why don’t you make yourself disappear?!”
“Sir, could you at least stand up when you insult me,” Galleon snapped back. “Oh, you are standing up.”
The next thing Aldwyn knew, a bar stool was flying through the curtain and over his head.
“You might want to head for the exit,” advised Edgar. “This could be messy.”
The familiars pushed aside the velvet curtain and re-emerged into the cider hall. A pint-sized elvin pirate now had Galleon in a headlock.
“Nobody ridicules me without paying dearly for it,” squealed the elf as he tried to squeeze the air out of the magician, who was three times his size.
Galleon manoeuvred himself out of the elf’s stranglehold, but now the short roughneck’s accomplice was lunging towards him with a rusty knife in his hand.
Aldwyn used telekinesis to pull the knife from the accomplice’s hand and smacked him over the head with it, knocking him out cold. Then he, Gilbert, and Skylar made a run for the front door, dashing by belligerent patrons rising from their seats, all too eager to brawl.
More pirates swarmed in, but the familiars battled past them, bursting out on to the pavement. Skylar turned back to the inn one last time. “Galleon had such promise,” she said.
“Do you think they’ll write fables about the three of us?” asked Gilbert after they had been travelling in silence for a while. “Ones that will be preserved in the Vastian Historical Archives long after we’ve entered the Tomorrowlife?”
“I think there will be a whole section there dedicated to us,” said Skylar. “Just look at how much has been written about Kalstaff, Loranella, and the Mountain Alchemist.”
The Three had been heading due south on a dirt road that led to the Forest Under the Trees. Like the Kailasa mountains, the Forest was a landmark that was visible from far away. Even from this great distance, Aldwyn could glimpse their destination on the horizon, but the journey would take them the better part of the day, as they were not likely to be able to hitch a ride this way.
“Do you think they’ll throw us a parade?” asked Gilbert, still lost in his daydream. “I love parades.”
“Don’t you think you’re both getting a little ahead of yourselves?” said Aldwyn. “I mean, we haven’t found even one of the seven descendants yet.”
“But we will. It’s our destiny,” said Skylar.
Aldwyn quietly continued walking.
“Well, it doesn’t matter what they do to honour us,” said Gilbert, “as long as my family is there to see it.”
Aldwyn looked down at his father’s necklace. The whisper shells hanging from it held the voices of both Aldwyn’s mother and his twin sister, as well as his own. This was all he had left of his family.
“I’m sorry, Aldwyn,” said Gilbert. “I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s OK. I haven’t given up hope that my sister is out there somewhere. Of course, finding her is another story. She doesn’t even know I exist.”
“When this is all over, we’ll help you,” said Skylar. “Whatever it takes.”
They might not have been blood, but Skylar and Gilbert certainly felt like family to Aldwyn.
It was nearing dusk by the time the trio reached the edge of the woodlands. Aldwyn had a fleeting memory of the last time he had walked beneath the emerald shade of these Colossus trees; he had been with Jack, not long after they had first met. Together they had peered inside the web of a spider nymph and come face to face with a gundabeast. Aldwyn hoped he would not be seeing either of those unfriendly forest inhabitants again today.
Skylar was flying ahead of Aldwyn and Gilbert, doing reconnaissance.
“Where do we begin?” asked Gilbert, looking up at the miles of green stretching above them.
“Shhh,” Skylar called back to him. “I hear something.”
Aldwyn listened closely and then he heard it, too: the distant sound of drumming. Boom bah bah boom. Boom bah bah boom. The Three followed the beat, which was very clearly coming from somewhere above them.
Skylar flew over to a large, twisty tree with rough bark.
“Over here,” said Skylar. “It’s a spiralwood. The way it corkscrews should allow you to walk up it like you’d climb a set of stairs.”
Aldwyn dug his claws into the trunk and scampered up a few feet.
“Works for me,” he said. “Gilbert?”
Gilbert’s suction pads didn’t have any trouble pulling him up the bark, either.
“There’s a reason they call us tree frogs,” he said.
Skylar flew beside them, and the familiars ascended higher and higher, approaching a dense layer of pale green leaves that formed a kind of natural ceiling. They pushed their way through it and found themselves looking up at yet another canopy; it was as if they had reached the second floor of a building. It was brighter here than below, and colourful flowers were straining towards the pinhole shafts of light that pierced the foliage above. Hundreds of white butterflies with green-and-silver wings were flitting about in the gentle breeze.
A colony of day bats emitted high-pitched squeals as they flew right past Aldwyn, Skylar, and Gilbert and began feasting on the fluttering insects, plucking them out of the air and swallowing them whole. It was only a matter of seconds before the butterflies were gone and the fearsome-looking creatures turned their attention to the familiars.
“Guys,