Flight of the Outcasts

by Alister E. McGrath

  “So did I.”

  “We defeated the Jackal, the Leopard, and the Wolf. You’d think I could handle the headmaster.”

  “Or at least Bertram and Louisa.” Julia grinned, and at the sight of it Peter gave a low laugh.

  “Good old Bertie. We’ll have some fun with him this holiday, eh? Oh …” Peter hopped off the bed and retrieved his schoolbag, which lay still unpacked just inside the door. He opened the satchel and took out a small package wrapped up in brown paper and string. “Here.” He held out the package to Julia. “Got this for you. Merry Christmas.”

  Julia took the package from his hand and untied the string carefully. She peeled apart the wrapping to reveal a worn, leather-bound book. Alice in Wonderland. She looked up at Peter in surprise.

  “Because you were right, you know. About dreams and other worlds and all that.” And then it was Peter’s turn to be surprised as Julia threw her arms around him.

  CHAPTER

  3

  Christmas was wretched, of course. That morning Peter and Julia had woken to find a new, clean blanket of snow covering the house, the trees, and the yard, and they both felt the tingle of anticipation that arrives on such a morning. But it didn’t last long.

  They went downstairs to find their father, their stepmother, and Bertram and Louisa all sitting around the tree drinking hot chocolate and laughing together just like—well, just like a real family, Julia thought. The two children had already picked out which presents they wanted to open first.

  Louisa got a dollhouse and Bertram got a new fishing rod and tackle box, complete with its own set of lures—“So that we can fish together in the spring,” the Captain said. Julia got a dress that she strongly believed was a hand-me-down from Louisa (judging by the smirk) and a pendant from her grandmother. It was carved out of some sort of greenish stone and shaped like a star with six long points. It hung on a thin gold chain and was accompanied by a short note:

  I found this by the pond in our garden, Julia dear. I can’t think where it came from, but it seemed that it would suit you. A most unusual pendant, but I do hope you like it. Much love and a very merry Christmas to you.

  Julia held the pendant in the hot palm of her hand. Something felt familiar about it — something that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. She fastened the chain around her throat and tucked the pendant into the high collar of her nightgown. The stone was cool against her skin.

  Peter received a worn velvet box from his father. It opened on a hinge to reveal a tarnished compass that had seen better days.

  “That compass has weathered many a storm with me,” said the Captain. “I hope it will remind you to steer your course in life straight.”

  Peter and Julia’s stepmother murmured her agreement. “Your father’s right. You need some sense of direction.”

  Peter looked at his father, looked at his compass, and then looked at Bertram’s new fishing rod. “Thank you, Father,” he said, and then shoved the box in the pocket of his bathrobe and tried very hard to forget all about it.

  After they had opened their gifts the children all went upstairs to change for Christmas dinner. Julia took off the necklace and put on her new dress, twisting and turning in front of the mirror to see how it looked. It didn’t fit right—too big in the waist and stretched too tight around the shoulders. Definitely Louisa’s. But her father smiled when he saw it and said, “There’s my girl.” It was the first time he’d said this to her since he remarried, and she went into his arms for an embrace. He held her strong and close, and she breathed in the familiar scent of tobacco and aftershave.

  “Do you”—she paused, not wanting to ruin the moment. “Do you ever miss Mother?”

  She listened to her father breathe—once, twice, three times. “Of course I do. I miss her every day.”

  Julia tightened her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek against the buttons of his shirt. “Me too,” she said.

  “But now you’ve got Louisa to play with, darling, and we’re a whole family again.” Julia stiffened, pulling away from her father. “And that’s the best Christmas present of all, don’t you think?”

  She forced a smile. “Yes, Father. Best it could be.”

  The Captain patted her shoulder. “Run along now and tell Cook we’ll be ready in a minute. Plum pudding, darling … won’t it be lovely?”

  “Just lovely, Father.”

  It wasn’t lovely. Peter was in a rotten mood and sat sullenly in his seat at the table, picking at the roast and mashing the peas with his fork. Julia was quiet because Peter was quiet, and Bertram—horrid Bertram — filled in the silence with a long story about how he’d gotten some other boy in trouble at school.

  “He’d been sniveling in the baths during the science lecture,” Bertram was saying, “and I told Professor Rotswort he was there, and you should have seen him when he came out! He was all red and blubbering, and he got a beating for skipping class.”

  “How very sportsmanlike of you,” Peter said, and the table went silent. Julia found herself clenching her fist around her knife. Her knuckles had gone white.

  “Young men,” said the Captain, taking a long sip of wine from his glass, “who do not know the meaning of fair play ought not to lecture those who do.” His eyes moved from the wine in the bottom of his glass to his son’s ashen face. “Apologize, Peter.”

  Peter pushed back his chair from the table. He stood. He picked up his glass of water. And he flung it straight into Bertram’s fat face.

  It was a few hours later that Julia found herself once again knocking on Peter’s door. After several knocks there was still no answer.

  “It’s just me,” she said against the door. “I brought some things from the kitchen.” She heard a grunt on the other side and thought it sufficient permission to enter.

  Peter was standing by the bed, stuffing a bundle of clothing into a sack. He was wearing a hat and boots, and his winter overcoat lay unbuttoned over his shoulders. A scarf and pair of gloves—nice leather gloves, probably Bertram’s—lay beside the sack.

  Julia took it all in with a moment’s glance. “Where are you going?” she asked.

  “Away,” said Peter. “To Oxford, maybe. Grandmother and Grandfather would understand.”

  Julia set the plate of sandwiches she’d brought from the kitchen on Peter’s dresser. She thought for a moment. “Can I come with you?”

  “Of course not. You’d only slow me up.” Peter folded a navy blue sweater into a clumsy square and shoved aside the other contents of his sack to make room for it.

  “I wouldn’t,” said Julia. “You think I want to stay here a minute longer? They’re just as awful to me — especially since they think you tried to drown Bertram. Let me come, Peter.” He shook his head and resumed his packing, but Julia grabbed his coat and turned him around to face her. “I’m coming. I’ll meet you out back in ten minutes—just give me ten minutes, all right?”

  Peter started to speak but then stopped, his mouth hanging open. He nodded toward the plate of sandwiches she’d left on the dresser. “Don’t forget to wrap those up. We might get hungry on the way.”

  Twelve minutes later (it had taken her the extra two minutes to wrap up the sandwiches, Julia said) they met by the back door of the house. Julia was bundled up in several layers of scarves and had her ice skates tied to her bag by their laces.

  “Skates?” said Peter.

  “For the pond in Oxford,” said Julia.

  “Ah,” said Peter. And they were off.

  They had to cross a long stretch of lawn before they hit the trees that lined the drive, and Julia spent the walk hoping that no one would think to look out the window just then and see them running away. In this she was not so fortunate, but it would be a few minutes yet before she found this out. Peter had his compass out and was insisting that the shortest path to the train station was, in fact, through the woods.

  “I don’t care,” Julia said. “We’ll lose the way if we don’t go by the ro
ad. You remember how hard it was to find our way through those forests in Aedyn? We ought to have gotten lost a hundred times.”

  “But we’ll be seen if we go by the road,” said Peter. “Come on. North by northeast.” He plunged into the woods, and Julia had little choice but to follow.

  It soon became clear that they should have left a few hours earlier if they were going to leave at all, for the night was just beginning to press against the sky and the branches of the trees above them were starting to cast long shadows over the snow. They walked quickly, not talking much. Peter checked the compass from time to time, sometimes changing direction slightly to stay perfectly on course, and Julia followed behind him, tramping in his larger footsteps.

  It couldn’t have been ten minutes since they had reached the woods—though it felt much longer indeed—when they came to the stream. It was swollen with the melted ice and rain from the storm, and rushing much faster than they had last seen it in the summer. Peter paused, uncertain how to proceed, and checked his compass again. There was no way to jump the stream now.

  “Oh, honestly,” said Julia. “You know we’ll never get across it like this.”

  “If it were only a bit colder I suppose you could jolly well skate across!” said Peter shortly.

  “I don’t suppose it gets any narrower if we follow it for a bit …”

  “No. It’ll be worse further on. This is the only place you can jump — don’t you remember? We used to do it back when we were kids.” Peter turned the compass to one side, perhaps hoping it would tell a different story.

  “Then I suppose we go back to the road.”

  “No, we’ll be seen. I already told you.”

  Julia put her hands on her hips and raised her chin in a way that befit the Chosen One of Aedyn, and probably Peter would have relented had he been given the chance. In fact, he had already opened his mouth to say “All right, have it your way,” but another voice—a thin, nasal voice—came first.

  “Naughty naughty, trying to run away! Wait until your papa hears.” It was Louisa, standing a ways back from them and half hidden in the trees. Peter’s heart plummeted into his stomach. She was going to ruin everything. Everything.

  “Go away, Louisa,” said Julia sternly, her pointed chin still raised. “You’re not wanted here. Go back home and tattle on us like the little beast you are.”

  “And if I do they’ll know right where to find you,” taunted Louisa. Peter and Julia looked down: she was right. Their tracks were laid out in the snow, plain as day for anyone to follow. Louisa put her hands behind her back and started humming—she was always humming, thought Julia.

  “Next time,” Peter said to his sister, “remind me to run away in the summer.” And remembering the strength that had come to his fingers when he held the bow and arrow and faced the dark lords of Aedyn, Peter knelt down, scooped up an icy fistful of snow, packed it into a ball, and hurled it at Louisa.

  She shrieked and threw up her hands, but not quickly enough, and the snowball smacked right into her nose. Peter laughed and launched another, then another, until Louisa started to run. And he really cannot be blamed that she had lost her bearing and ran toward the stream, and not back in the direction from which she had come.

  Water that has just been frozen has not forgotten its chill, and Louisa screamed as it closed over her. Julia found that she was screaming too, and she and Peter both rushed forward to help her. But as they raced to the water they found that they were standing not on the bank of a stream but on the edge of an icy chasm, and before they could cry out they were both falling in.

  CHAPTER

  4

  Get off! Get off of me!”

  Peter came to his senses and rolled over onto his side. A gasping, spluttering Louisa lay on her back, her perpetual smirk replaced by a look of stark terror.

  “What … you … where did you take me? What did you do?” She was practically screeching.

  “I didn’t do anything. You followed us and then you ran the wrong way and we had to rescue you.”

  “Some rescue! What is this place, anyway?”

  Peter looked around. They were inside a massive stone room. Chandeliers hung from a ceiling far above their heads and elaborate stonework covered the walls. He looked about for Julia and found her collapsed at the far end of the room. As he watched she propped herself up and stood, looking out a small window. She turned to face them, and Peter recognized the smile on her face.

  “We’re back,” she said simply. “We’ve made it back.”

  “Made it back where?”

  “Oh, do be quiet,” Peter snapped at Louisa. He hopped up and went over to the window, standing beside Julia. The window was long and narrow, but they were high up and he could see a long way, over rolling hills and valleys, all of it lush and green and just as he remembered it. He breathed in deeply, letting the air of Aedyn fill his lungs, and for the first time in a long time he felt that he was home.

  “It’s all so quiet,” said Julia, and with a start Peter realized that it was. They were in the Great Hall of the Citadel of Aedyn—there was the dais where the three thrones of the Lords of Aedyn had sat, and there was the blackened spot on the floor where he had shown them how to use gunpowder—but there was none of the ordinary noise and bustle that one would expect to hear in a castle. No servants going about their duties, no clomping of heavy footsteps on the stone floors.

  “What’s going on?” whined Louisa behind them. Peter stifled a low groan, and Julia turned and went over to her. She put out a hand and helped her to her feet. “We’re in a place called Aedyn. It’s a different kind of world, and I think we must have been called here. Peter and I have been here before, so you’re just going to have to trust us, all right?”

  “But how do we get home?” Louisa wailed. Julia stopped herself in the middle of rolling her eyes and tried to speak patiently.

  “I don’t know yet. First we have to figure out why we’re here.” She turned her head to look at Peter.

  “Right?”

  “Right. And we start by figuring out where all the people have gone.” He walked toward the big oak doors at the opposite end of the Great Hall and, with a great deal of pushing and grunting, heaved them open. “Follow me, ladies,” he said.

  The rest of the castle was just as empty as the Hall. There were no signs of a great struggle, and the place did not seem to have been long abandoned. There was no dust on the window ledges or chairs, and all the furnishings were perfectly in order. Indeed, it seemed as if the castle’s occupants had simply vanished.

  Julia and Louisa followed Peter down a long corridor lined with tapestries. At the end of the corridor he pushed open another door—this one not nearly as heavy and ornate as the entrance to the Great Hall. The three children entered a room warmly lit by the afternoon sun. Huge legs of cured meat hung from the ceiling and pots and pans lined the walls. Long tables fairly groaned under the weight of bulging sacks and heavy bowls. The fire in the grate seemed to have burned out some time ago, but a big black pot full of some kind of soup hung suspended from a chain above the ashes.

  “We might as well get something to eat,” suggested Julia. “We don’t know what we’ll find out there—and it may be some time before we have a decent meal again. Remember last time, Peter?”

  He gave a rueful grin. He did indeed remember. Upon their arrival in Aedyn they had found themselves without food or water for most of a day, and it was not a day he would care to repeat. “Agreed. Let’s take anything we can carry. Julia, see if you can find some skins for water, and Louisa, you take some of that sausage.” He gestured at a long string of links that was hanging near her head. “Here, put it in this,” he said, and threw his satchel at her. She caught it and looked at him.

  “Why should I?”

  “Because if you don’t we’ll leave you here all alone forever,” said Peter. “Get to work.” She stared at him blankly for a moment, then pulled down the string of sausages and started gathering it i
nto the satchel. Peter thought she might be about to cry, but instead she began to hum in her thin voice. Except her voice wasn’t as thin as it had been at home, and whatever melody she was humming wasn’t quite so tuneless.

  Julia, meanwhile, had found some wineskins and was starting to work the long arm of the water pump in the corner of the kitchen. Up and down it went, up and down. She motioned to Peter, and he came over to hold the skins under the steady stream of water. “You don’t have to be so beastly to her, you know,” Julia said under her breath.

  “Me? Beastly?”

  “You know what I mean,” said Julia, her eyebrows furrowed as she concentrated on her task. “She’s a spoiled wretch but it won’t be easy on her, being here. The least we can do is be decent to her.”

  “Decent? When was the last time she was decent to either of us?”

  “Never. But that doesn’t mean we can’t show her a little kindness.”

  Peter glanced over at his stepsister. “I suppose not,” he said. The skin was full to bursting, and Peter pulled it out from under the stream, tied off the neck tightly, and thrust the next one under the pump. “Does seem rotten luck, though. We finally get back here and we have to bring her along with us.”

  “I know.” Julia shrugged her shoulders and stopped pumping. The water slowed to a trickle—just enough for Peter to fill the last skin. He tied the neck of this skin as well.

  “Are you done with the sausages?” he asked Louisa.

  “Done.” She’d slung the satchel over her shoulder. “And now will you tell me where we’re going?”

  “That’s what we’re trying to find out,” said Peter. “Here”—he flung open a cupboard door and peered inside. “There’s bread and cheese in this cupboard.” He took out two hard loaves and a wheel of cheese and slid them over the counter to Louisa. “Carry those too, will you?”

  They exited the kitchen the same way they’d come and left the castle by way of a twisting, turning road that went down through the village and out into a green meadow. What Peter and Julia remembered as little more than a deer trail was now a heavily traversed lane leading … Peter pulled the compass out of his pocket and flicked it open with his thumb. South. The lane must be leading them down to the sea.