The Familiars: Secrets of the Crown by Adam Jay Epstein, Andrew Jacobson Page B

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.
    Aldwyn and Skylar had set a swift pace, but having seven toes on one foot didn’t help Gilbert keep up. He complained incessantly about tiny pebbles getting stuck between his extra digits. It wasn’t until Aldwyn suggested the tree frog hitch a ride on his back that they began to make up for lost time. Aldwyn didn’t mind the additional weight; hearing Gilbert’s haikus about lily pads and lost loves recited directly into his ear was a different story.
    Later, with the afternoon sun no longer hanging as high in the sky, the Ebs appeared before the familiars, a thick wide swathe of bluish green water that cut the land in two. Beyond it, Aldwyn could see the tall trees of the Hinterwoods, and towering over them the snow-peaked Kailasa mountains. The smell of the great river – a mix of fish and damp earth – reminded Aldwyn of his days spent in Bridgetower, whose western wall hugged the Ebs itself.
    As they got closer, they could see that the river was littered with debris – capsized boats torn to shreds and wooden planks with giant bite marks in them. The familiars had ferried across this river once before, only this time on their crossing, it looked like the mighty Ebs would be inhabited by much more treacherous scaled creatures than river flounder.
    The road that the familiars had been following led them to a small dock, or what little was left of it, where a half-dozen floating rafts were tethered. A soldier armed with bow and arrow was ushering travellers aboard one of them, while a second ferry – empty save for a single oarsman – was preparing for departure as well. The animal trio was stopped at the foot of the dock by a second soldier, this one holding a sword.
    Skylar reached her beak into her satchel and pulled out Queen Loranella’s letter. She held it out for the soldier, who unfolded the parchment. It took him but a moment to read it.
    “My apologies, noble familiars,” he said and bowed deeply.
    He returned the queen’s letter and stepped aside, allowing Aldwyn, Skylar and Gilbert to pass.
    “Now this I could get used to,” said Gilbert.
    They hurried towards the passengerless raft, but before they got there, the sword-wielding soldier called out, “I wouldn’t recommend taking that vessel if I were you. I’d stick to the other one.”
    Aldwyn wasn’t sure why they were sending out a ferry with just a helmsman, but he and his companions would heed the soldier’s warning. They headed for the crowded platform.
    “I don’t feel so good,” said Gilbert as they were waiting in line to step on to the raft.
    “Gilbert, we’re not even on the ferry yet,” said Skylar.
    “It’s the anticipation.”
    “You got any better ideas?” asked Aldwyn.
    “How long would it take to get to the bridge in Split River?” responded Gilbert.
    “Three days,” said Skylar. “And three days to get back here. By that estimation, we’d have just a few hours left to find the Crown and defeat Paksahara.”
    “So I’m guessing that’s out of the question,” replied the tree frog queasily.
    The single-manned raft left first, heading towards the other side,