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“He’s my friend, Beetus,” says a dripping Sospa.
Out of the corner of my eye, I can see a quivering Mama Bear edging her way closer. I put up a palm to let her know it’s fine. I doubt she’ll believe me. I know I wouldn’t.
“He’s a bear,” Sospa explains.
“Indeed he is,” UrRahUm remarks, folding himself in half to stare at the grinning furball swinging on his tail, back legs dangling.
I reach down and pull on Beetus’ torso before Mama Bear decides to turn grizzly in defence of the menace. The cub refuses to let go, gripping on for all he’s worth.
“Come on, monster,” I tell him, extracting one paw at a time. “Come to Auntie Edi.”
He finally transfers into my arms, wraps three limbs around my neck and waves a paw at his relieved parents. I grasp Sospa’s soggy hand and hustle her in the direction of her uncle.
“Everyone,” I begin, raising my voice to get the attention of the pack. “This is UrRahUm. He’s going to help us.” I nod to the bears still hanging from the trees like oversized bats. “You can come down now. He’s calm. He’s our friend. He won’t hurt you. Will you, UrRahUm?”
“Da dee da rum rum da de da,” sings UrRahUm, following the slightly unhinged ditty with a wide yawn. His back end splats into the puddle. “Bumbly bum bum dee.”
“You sing better than Wings,” Sospa remarks and Curt busts out laughing. The eponymous eagle folds back his wings and scowls.
“UrRahUm, the laughing wolf is my mate, Curt.”
The cat stares at me with surprise. “A wolf mate? Aren’t you human, Storyteller?”
“Please don’t start,” I sigh, channelling Decipa Longfang.
“I did wonder about the name Furtletooth when it popped into the heavenly realm with your wrinkly face.”
I decide to ignore the fine lines inference, instead stating, “It’s a long story.”
“It always is,” UrRahUm agrees.
“You can say that again.”
“It always is,” he repeats, without a trace of humour.
I forge ahead. “This is Alpha, our pack leader. Beside him, the Alpha of Alphas, the leader of the southern wolves. Prince Adamo of the bears and you already know Serpen.”
“He killed me,” the cat whines, screwing up his face as though about to burst into tears.
Every eye stares at Serpen with shock, even Anguis’s.
“It’s a long story,” the former king tells them. “I’m not homicidal.”
“Not anymore,” mutters Adamo.
“It had to do with breaking the amulet curse, for your information,” says Serpen, glaring at the ginger prince. “There was a chain. I didn’t try to hurt him and I die...” He glances at Sospa and trails off. “Never mind.”
“Bend down,” Sospa tells UrRahUm. When he obediently lowers his head, she strokes his ears and cradles his huge face in her skinny arms. He purrs in response.
“So, Urrrrumum,” Alpha begins, sounding like he’s gargling with vinegar.
I’m honour bound to correct him. “UrRahUm.”
“Yes. Orayrammm.”
“Ur... Rah... Um.”
“Arr Ree Rim.”
The cat puffs loudly, rolls his eyes and delivers a loud green spark from his backside.
“We’ll call you Cat,” says Curt, trying to rescue his brother.
“You can’t do that,” I protest, thumping his bicep.
“Why not?”
“I don’t call you Wolf.”
“Yes you do.”
“Whatever. It’s rude. Call him by his name.”
“We’re not going around that again,” says Curt, nodding at his stuttering brother. “We’ll still be mumbling by the time the serpents get here.”
“Fine,” I concede. “Call him Kit. Is that alright with you, UrRahUm?”
The tigerlion shrugs. “I’ve been called worse. Poopmage as I recall.”
“What’s the difference between calling him Kit or Cat?” asks Alpha.
Wolves.
“Take my word for it,” I reply. “There’s a difference.”
“Fine. Cat, Kit, Urrrrrumum. Can you defeat the serpents?” Alpha asks, losing patience with the niceties.
“You had better hope so,” our newly minted Kit replies. “Otherwise, you all perish horribly.” He catches sight of Sospa’s wide eyed alarm and adds, “Except you and the furball. You’ll be safe with me.”
An excited Beetus yips straight down my ear.
“Can you show us some magic?” asks Big Wolf, giving off an air of scepticism.
“Yay, magic,” sings Sospa, leaping up and down with glee.
Beetus detaches from my neck, claws his way down my body and bounds up beside mini snake, turning happy circles and staring at the tigerlion with anticipation.
“You need proof of true magic?” Kit asks Big Wolf. (I’ll call UrRahUm that from now on since it’s less to write.)
“Of course we do,” snaps Alpha. “We’re betting our lives and those of our children on you, so, yes, we need to see this magic of yours. If you can, now they’ve broken you out of your cage.”
“If I can?” says Kit, the look in his eyes reminding me of a miffed sergeant major. “You think a true mage would lie?” He stretches out his entire body in a downward cat arch, pops upright and vaguely wafts a paw in the air, letting loose a string of meows and howls. “Rarrr reooow meeeeeeow mew purrrrrrrr.”
A wide grin spreads across his face and he taps a claw on Alpha’s nose. An almighty puff of smoke covers the man, leaving those nearest coughing and waving hands in front of their faces. When it clears, a fluorescent green wolf stands in his place, fur puffed up, clothes vanished. He looks like a squeaky toy given out with takeaway meals.
The entire pack takes a large step back, with the exception of the mini snake and furball who are thoroughly enjoying the show. Adamo’s guffawing breaks the shocked silence.
“What?” asks Alpha, staring at the stunned faces and the chortling ginger prince. Another universal intake of breath greets his audible words, since he just spoke as a wolf for the first time. “What’s the matter with you all?”
“Erm,” mumbles Curt, pointing at Alpha’s green paws. “Look down.”
Alpha follows his brother’s instruction, eyes straining as he realises he has a long wolf nose to peer down. Then he catches sight of his lime paws and stares between his own legs to spot the fluffy tail. I can see the wheels grinding as his mind struggles to process his predicament. “I can speak,” he says, shuddering at the sound of his own voice. “Yes, very clever. Please change me back. I grant you clearly do have magic.”
“I can’t,” says Kit and sits down again with a terminal thud.
“Oh, please.” Dulcis shuffles over to the cat to plead for her fluorescent father. “He’s very sorry he doubted you.”
“I’m sure he is,” chuckles Kit. “But that transformation has to wear off on its own.”
“Fabulous,” growls our jolly green Alpha. “How long?”
Kit’s eyebrows join and his whiskers vibrate as he thinks. “Two, maybe three seasons, usually.”
“Two seasons,” Alpha yowls.
“No. I’m joking,” says the cat, getting his own back. “It’ll wear off right about... now.”
There’s another puff of smoke and our human Alpha returns, fully dressed as before.
“Alright, it’s an impressive trick,” says Curt.
“I do not do tricks,” Kit replies, waving a clawed toe at Curt. “I ask the true magic and await the response.”
I’d love to ask him a world of questions, but time is a luxury we don’t have. “That serpent Armpit is coming. Please, can you help us?”
Kit peers at all the scared faces surrounding him, at the two wide-eyed children, the pregnant Dulcis and finally back at me. “The serpents can be defeated by sending them all far away,” he says. “But that’s deep magic. I’ll need you, Storyteller, and the DreamWay.”
Never heard of it. “What’s that?”
“Your book.”
“Oh, you mean the MagicCast.”
“Never call it that,” Kit snarls, in the voice of lightning. Sospa and Beetus both squeal and clasp one another in fright. The cat glances at them and forces himself to calm down with two reverberating puffs. “Apologies, but that term is of the utmost darkness.”
“Sorry,” I squeak, extracting my nails from Curt’s bicep. “It’s what Armpit called it.”
“He wants it and her for the magic, right?” Curt asks, rubbing his sore arm.
The tigerlion pads in a circle as he ponders. “He believes the Storyteller can give him the power he craves and also reverse his degeneration.”
“You mean that slug thing?” I ask.
“Yes,” Kit agrees. “It happened to all his ancestors who used dark magic. One day he’ll dissolve and be gone from this realm.”
“And can she?” Serpen asks. “Reverse the slug?”
“No.” Kit does a cross paw side step as he replies. “The book is nothing but a doorway to the realms.”
Serpen frowns. “So why don’t we just tell him that?”
“I told them all,” Kit sighs. “In every single generation. He will never believe you. His corrupted heart only desires dark magic now.”
“I burnt the book,” I add, “but Armpit said I can’t destroy it.”
“There he told the truth. For once,” Kit replies. “If you burnt it, it will have been reborn.”
“Like a phoenix from the ashes,” I remark.
“What’s a phoenix?” asks Curt, sliding his nail marked arm around my waist.
“A bird on fire,” I reply. Gulid squawks and takes a large hop backwards. “It’s just a legend, a story,” I add. He hops back even further.
“Right, so where is the book now?” Primus asks, stepping out from behind his father.
“This is the Alpha Alpha, the Southern Alpha Heir,” I tell Kit, as an aside.
“Call me Primus.”
Kit doesn’t respond, so we endure a bout of silence. They all stare at me for some unfathomable reason.
Curt nudges me with a bicep. “I think we’re waiting for you.”
“To do what?” I ask, confused.
“To tell us where the book is,” Dulcis offers, gently.
“I don’t know. I burnt it, remember,” I point out. “It didn’t come back to me in a magic puff. Ask Kit where it is. He’s the mage cat.”
Kit turns two circles, lifts his front paws into the air and announces, “The book is always where the Storyteller says it is.”
“That’s helpful, since I haven’t the foggiest idea,” I respond.
Kit claps his front paws together as though praying, does a little jig on his back legs and sings, “Tell me a story.”
Curt snorts. Dulcis beats me to the slap.
“Tell me the story as you did in the cage,” Kit continues, dropping back onto four paws.
“Where do I start?” I ask, thinking out loud.
“Not at the beginning,” quips my mangy mate. “None of us have that long to live.”
“Extraneous chatter is an unnecessary distraction,” states Kit, fixing his gaze on the wolf.
Closing my eyes, I conjure up a mental image of the magic book as I last saw it. “With heartfelt thanks for bringing her to her new home, certain she would never return to the old, the Storyteller threw the magic book onto the raging bonfire and watched its pages burn, the ash rising into the night sky as an offering to the heavens. The shrivelling leather cover curled around its dying pages trying to shield what lay within, as a ruined edge fought to survive where the mould had taken h...” I stop and my eyes pop open before a gut wrenching groan escapes my lips.
“What? What’s wrong?” asks Curt. “The story wasn’t that bad.”
“I know where the book is,” I moan.
“Tell me,” my wolf insists, with a longsuffering tone.
“I’m so sorry. I’m the Storyteller. I could have sent the book anywhere in my imagination. Why there? Why? I could have put it in a cave or up a tree. You could have found it in your pyjamas.”
“I don’t wear...”
“Shut up.”
“Where did you send it?” asks Alpha.
That frown makes me suspect he’s already guessed. “The castle,” I state. “It’s hidden in the castle.”
“Then to the castle we must go,” Kit announces.
“Erm,” says Serpen, raising a hand.
“To the castle we must go. Fala la la la la la la la,” Kit repeats, bursting into song as though in a Christmas musical, complete with lethal jazz paws.
“It’s not that simple,” says Serpen, sticking a pin in Kit’s happy bubble.
“You don’t say,” drawls the tigerlion. “Enlighten us.”
“We flew over my former home, twice. It was brown.”
“Your appalling sense of decoration is hardly my concern.” The cat completes the snark by blowing a sparkly raspberry.
“He’s referring to the mould,” I add, nodding at Serpen, “and he’s right. It looks like it’s spread everywhere.”
“Oh, the mould,” says Kit. “Nasty, slimy stuff. Bad stinky magic. Horrible on my paws.”
“It killed my people,” Serpen snaps.
“I know,” a scowling Kit replies. “It always did. Witless snakes.”
Serpen bristles. “We only became serpents to fight you cats.”
“Is that what you told yourselves?” Kit growls. “No. The cats were already gone. You were never meant to be serpents, but you would insist on dabbling in things for which you had no knowledge or aptitude. Nevertheless, we must go to the pungent castle, the Storyteller and I. The DreamWay will not be removed from its new resting place without us both. You should all hide, as it’ll take an inordinate amount of time to walk there, since the human can’t run.”
“I can run,” I retort. “Just not for long. Besides, I’m not walking to Castle Slimemould. Wings will take us. The mould doesn’t affect eagles.”
Gulid squawks and his feathers slump again. Wings wraps a wing around his shoulders in solidarity.
“Yes, I’m sorry, Gulid, but we need you too,” I say, resting my fingertips on his feathers. “I promise whatever happens, we’ll do the best we can to release your eagles and not hurt them.”
“Oh, the eagles will be fine,” Kit rumbles. “Once the serpents are dealt with, the spell over them will break. I assume our two feathery friends will fly my noble self to the castle, where I shall await your arrival upon the next flight.”
“You’ll await us both,” states Curt, a glare daring me to argue. “Castle Slimemould sounds just lovely, by the way.”
To tell the truth, I’m relieved he wants to come with me. Sacrificial lone hero is not my trope.
“Agreed,” say I, magnanimously. “I mean you coming, not the castle bit. So it’s the two eagles, Kit, you and me.”
“I, also, should come,” says Anguis. “You need someone who knows the castle well.”
“Actually, we don’t,” I tell him. “I know exactly where the book will be, the library, and I’ve been there before.”
“Briefly,” argues Anguis.
I lay a palm on his chest, ignoring my grizzling wolf’s jealousy. “I know you’re trying to protect me, Anguis, but no. Stay with your people. I don’t want you up there. Everyone else should hide. Alpha?”
“Good of you to remember I’m here,” Alpha snaps.
“When Armpit wakes up and discovers Kit gone, they’ll come for the town first. You can’t go back there, or stay here.”
“Yes, I had figured that out,” says Alpha.
The cat taps his claws together as he thinks. “Without me, his amulet can’t drain any dark magic and the fire breathing serpent will not arise in the future, but he’s now gorged. Until he uses it all, he’ll still be lethal. And there are a great many serpents with him.”
“We’ll move further south to the hills,” Alpha announces, raising his voice, so all can hear. “The children will hide in the deeper caves and there’s tree cover for us all. We’ll stay there until Edi returns and the serpents are gone. And if they do come, it’s easier to run.”
Sospa taps on Kit’s side. “Can you change?”
The cat sighs. “No, little one. I was stranded this way when I sent all the cats away.”
“Are you the only cat left?” she asks, stroking his fur as though to comfort him. He nods, sadly. “Why did you send them away?”
“They hurt everyone and tried to steal the DreamWay from the Storyteller.”
“Is that Edi?” Sospa stares at me and I shake my head.
“My Storyteller,” says Kit. “She restored my voice, but passed into the heavenlies before I could change and her book disappeared.”
“If I find the book,” I ask, “can my storytelling bring you back as a human?”
He smiles at me and in that moment I sense the burden of centuries resting on his shoulders.
“Yes,” he replies, “and thank you for the thought, but I’m ancient and have long resided in this form. I would die almost immediately. Cat I must stay until my time has passed. But before I flow forwards to be with my Storyteller once more, I want to race through the sunlight as far and as fast as I can, until I can run no more.”
“Me too, my friend,” I whisper, resting my head on Curt’s shoulder. “Me too.”
