The Familiars: Secrets of the Crown

Once they had reached the edge of the city, where the gold- and silver-flecked street turned to dirt, they turned west and headed down the fence-lined road that would lead them through the outer villages of the western plains. It was fast going, save for Gilbert, who Aldwyn noticed was hopping about rather strangely.

“Why the waddle in your step?” asked Aldwyn.

Gilbert hemmed and hawed a little. “This is how I always walk.”

Aldwyn looked at the tree frog sceptically. They had travelled many miles together, and this was definitely a new gait for him.

“OK, the truth is I’ve been practising some of the spells in Marianne’s pocket scrolls,” said Gilbert. “And it turns out I don’t have much of a knack for this whole magic thing.”

“What does that have to do with your funny walk?” asked Aldwyn.

“Have either of you counted the toes on my right foot lately?”

Aldwyn and Skylar glanced down at Gilbert’s webbed foot. And sure enough, where there should have been four toes, there were seven!

“Gilbert,” exclaimed Skylar, “how did you do that?”

“I tried to conjure a trio of enchanted bows. Apparently my b’s sound more like t’s when I’m chanting. I’m just lucky I didn’t try to transform myself into a bird.”

His two companions tried to keep from laughing.

“Did I ever tell you about the first time I tried to conjure a flame fairy?” asked Skylar. “It didn’t go according to plan, either. Her hue was more yellow than orange.”

“And then what happened?” said Gilbert.

“That’s it. They’re supposed to be orange. It was very embarrassing.”

Gilbert shook his head. “Remind me not to have you cheer me up in the future.”

“I haven’t exactly mastered my telekinesis yet, either,” said Aldwyn.

“Well I, for one, feel far more prepared this time,” said Skylar. “This month of study and training has sharpened my spellcasting abilities considerably.” Then, noticing her companion’s looks, she added, “You’re right. I’m not so good at the whole cheering-up thing, am I?”

For most of the morning, the three animals continued through the Bronzhaven Plains. Being autumn, the weather was brisk, even more so given the disappearance of the queen’s weather-binding spells. The outer villages were surrounded by squares of tall wheat, and if Aldwyn hadn’t seen the portcullis at the palace’s entrance, he might have thought the name Bronzhaven came from the brownish-gold colour of the high stalks.

By the time high sun had arrived, the familiars were rounding a bend where they were treated to a kaleidoscopic rainbow of colours. There before them, to the right and left, was a patchwork of vibrant flowers – shimmering reds, electric blues and tiny golden bulbs that sparkled as bright as any coin.

“A Xylem garden,” explained Skylar, as usual never one to miss an opportunity to show off her abundant knowledge of all things. “Every flower, herb, or spice a wizard would ever need is grown in these hills. Kalstaff often said if he hadn’t become a teacher he would have tended one of these component nurseries.”

Aldwyn, even though he hadn’t been a familiar for long, could already recognise a few of the more popular varieties. There were orange mint leaves, cumin and patches of grey rigour weed alongside pink-petalled flowers that looked like butterflies and bushes with white berries that jangled like bells in the breeze.

As they walked through the garden, the animals were careful not to step on any of the blossoming buds. But Aldwyn found himself undeniably drawn to a leafy green herb. Hypnotised by it, he stepped over some tendrils lying on the ground and reached out his paw. “Aldwyn!” called Skylar. “Don’t touch that.”

He was just about to grab the herb when he felt something brushing up against his ankle. He looked down and saw that constrictor vines were twisting round his ankles. He backed away from the plant and the vines recoiled.

“I don’t know what happened,” said Aldwyn, hurrying away.

“Catnip,” replied Skylar. “It’s irresistible to you felines, but one should never steal it from a Xylem garden. Or anything else for that matter.”

“Wish you had mentioned that before,” said Gilbert, sounding strangely constricted.

Aldwyn and Skylar spun round to see the tree frog held tight in the grip of more constrictor vines. His webbed hands were covered in purple, and he had berry juice on his mouth and chin.

The vines began pulling Gilbert towards the undergrowth. Aldwyn’s attention homed in on a rusty rake lying in a dirt patch of the garden. He lifted it telekinetically, swinging it through the air and causing its five metal pricks to impale the green tendrils. They let Gilbert go, and the tree frog made a giant leap and landed between Aldwyn and Skylar.

“Can we at least try to make it to the Ebs before getting killed?” asked Skylar wryly.

The trio continued on. With the capital city far behind them, the roads became eerily calm. It seemed as if few humans were willing to risk all but the most necessary journeys during such uncertain times, preferring to lock their doors and keep their windows shuttered. Aldwyn couldn’t help but wonder how useful that tactic would be if Paksahara decided to come knocking.