Flight of the Outcasts

by Alister E. McGrath

  From there it was simple to find his way back to Julia and Louisa, and found his sister sitting upright with her back against a tree as she waited for him, her eyes wide as she tried to see into the darkness. Louisa, it seemed, had finally been able to get to sleep.

  “I thought you’d left us,” Julia said simply. “Are you … what happened?”

  “The guards woke up,” said Peter. “They chased me, and then they called one of those Gul’nog creatures, and … well, I had to run.”

  “Did they follow you?” Her voice was urgent, frightened. Peter shook his head.

  “Not this far. I got away.” He paused and grinned. “And I got something else.” He held out the roll of parchment, wrinkled and sweaty where he’d been grasping it.

  Peter rolled out the paper on the ground, and he and Julia both knelt over it. The dawn had just begun to touch the sky after the endless night, and there was just enough light for them to make out what tales the parchment told. It was a map — a map of the whole world. Khemia, its volcano drawn in detail, was at the center of the map, and Aedyn lay near it, marked by its citadel and the King’s Garden. But there were other islands too—more than a score of them. There was Melita, with its great cliffs, and there was Tunbridge, with its acres of vineyards.

  “I had no idea their world was this big,” murmured Julia.

  “Neither did I,” said Peter. “It’s a whole world—and maybe a whole universe beyond it. Look here — there’s something written on the volcano.”

  They both strained to see what it could be but the light wasn’t strong enough, and they resolved to wait until the morning. And then, just as Peter was about to roll up the parchment, Julia pointed to some words at the top.

  “Wait. This here—these words. What does it say? The script is so old-fashioned; I can’t quite make it out.”

  Peter leaned forward. The letters were slanted and highly designed, like something out of a Bible from hundreds of years ago. He squinted his eyes and peered a bit closer.

  “The two come … something. The two … something one. With something comes power, control something … something.”

  “Well, that’s tremendously helpful,” said Julia with a sound that might have been a snort had she not been trying to keep quiet. “Here, let me try.” She leaned over the parchment, tilting her head to let what little light there was fall on the words. “The two come … something.”

  “Together!” cried Peter. “You see? That right there—that’s a g.“

  “That’s a g?” Julia seemed skeptical.

  “Yes, and here”—Peter pointed as he read. “'The two come together; the two … become one. With—what’s that, a u? — union! With union comes power, control over all.’ “ He leaned back and rubbed his hands together, obviously quite pleased with himself. “You see, my dear sister? Nothing to it!”

  Julia’s brow was furrowed.

  “What’s wrong?” Peter asked.

  “That’s the song Louisa was singing when we got back from the mine. Part of it, anyway. How would she have known those words?”

  “It can’t be the same words.” Peter sat back and considered for a moment, then shook his head. “You must be mistaken.”

  Peter knew perfectly well that Julia had a stubborn streak, and he should have known better than to awaken it. Her back stiffened and her eyes squinted as she glared at him.

  “I am not mistaken, Peter Grant. She’s been humming that song ever since we got to Aedyn, and I heard her singing the words when that horrid guard was marching us to the volcano yesterday afternoon. You heard it yourself—you stopped, and then he whipped you. I know that was part of it—that bit about unity and power and control. I’m certain of it.”

  Peter looked over at Louisa. She was sleeping peacefully, her hands curled up under her head in place of a pillow and the threadbare blanket hunched up around her shoulders.

  “What does she have to do with this place?” he asked, bewildered.

  “She can’t have been here before. No one but us has been here,” said Julia.

  There was a long moment as they watched their stepsister sleep. Finally, Peter reached out and rolled up the long piece of parchment. “We’ll ask her about it in the morning,” he said. “Look—morning’s not far off. Try to catch a few minutes’ sleep before then.”

  He tucked the roll under the crook of his arm and lay down against a tree. Julia gave an unsatisfied harrumph! and did the same. But the thoughts that occupied her mind that night, in the minutes before she fell into an exhausted sleep, were not of Louisa and the song. They were of the talisman that had lain against the Captain’s chest. She knew she had seen it somewhere before.

  CHAPTER

  12

  Julia woke first, not quite an hour later. It had been a troubled evening, and her eyes were red-rimmed and weary. She poked Peter and Louisa awake and peered out from the trees toward the camp. None of the prisoners were awake yet—or at least she didn’t see any people moving about.

  “Good morning,” Louisa mumbled, rubbing a hand across her eyes. She stood up and stretched her arms up above her head, and as she did she began to sing that same haunting melody that had become so familiar.

  “Stop singing that!” demanded Peter. Louisa looked up in surprise.

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s a horrid, awful song. Look at this!” Peter unrolled the scroll of paper that had been tucked under his arm while he slept. “Here—right here. This is what you were singing.”

  Louisa’s gray eyes went wide as she looked at the writing along the top of the parchment. “I didn’t know,” she said. “It’s just something that’s been in my head for—for ages. Just a melody I picked up somewhere.”

  “But there was more to what you were singing,” said Julia. “More than just these two lines.”

  “ ‘Flooded by light, the shadow outdone, the Host shall return; the darkness shall fall,’ “ Louisa recited. All three of the children looked back at the words that crawled along the top of the parchment.

  “Why don’t they have all of it written out?” asked Peter. “Why only the first two lines?”

  “Maybe they don’t know the rest of it,” said Louisa with a shrug. “Here, what’s this?” She pointed to a spot underneath the drawing of the volcano on Khemia. It was an elongated star with six points, and beside it had been scrawled in an unsteady hand, quite different from the writing at the top of the map, “The two come together.”

  Julia couldn’t take her eyes off it.

  “It’s like the talisman the Captain was wearing,” she said. “Don’t you remember, Peter? It had six sides, and there was a space cut out in the middle that would fit a star like this.”

  Peter shook his head. “I didn’t notice any talisman.”

  “He was wearing one; I’m sure of it. Alyce told us about it, remember? And you know what else she was saying. The prisoners are digging for something. What if this star is what they’re searching for? It it’s the right size it would fit inside the Captain’s talisman, and then—well …” She pointed again to the writing. “ ‘With union comes power; control over all.’ They’ll have control over …” She paused, uncertain how to continue.

  “Over that power in the earth,” said Louisa. Peter and Julia shot her surprised glances, but she continued. “Isn’t that right? That woman at the mine was saying there’s something in the ground that wants to come out, and maybe with this”—she pointed again to the drawing of the star—“maybe if the Khemians have this they can control that power.”

  “But you’re forgetting the next two lines,” said Peter. “What does the rest of the rhyme mean? The Host shall return, right?” said Peter. “So what happens when you put the two halves together?”

  But before any of them could speak again a long, low horn sounded, and in a moment the camp was abuzz with the sounds of prisoners rising from their beds and guards urging them along, none too gently. Peter rolled up the parchment and, with a quick glance a
round, found a tree that had been burned and hollowed out. He stuck the rolled-up paper down into the trunk and, satisfied, turned back to the girls.

  “We’ll keep it safe there,” he said. “We’d best go with the prisoners back to the mine. At least we can be of some good there.”

  But something was happening in the camp. The guards were moving among the prisoners, scattering them with a show of their whips. The guards were all yelling at once, but the three children were too far away to hear what they were saying.

  “Come on,” said Peter, and they all crept forward, keeping low to the ground and trying not to make any sounds.

  “Something was stolen from us last night!” one of the guards was crying. His whip was unfurled, and he flicked it menacingly as he spoke. “The thief will come forward at once! The thief must show himself!”

  Julia’s face went white. She looked over and saw that Peter’s had gone even paler.

  “What is it?” said Louisa. “You’re the thief? You stole that map last night?”

  “Of course it’s me,” Peter said.

  “Well, you’ll just have to give it back,” said Louisa firmly, and both Peter and Julia recognized the sing-song voice that she had always used back at home when she wanted to be particularly vile. “We’ve had a good look at it and we don’t need it anymore, and if you don’t give it back they’ll just start hurting someone else.”

  “I won’t do that,” Peter hissed through his teeth. “If they want it that badly there must be some reason. We keep it hidden here. We’ll go back to the mine and just … do our best to keep our heads down.”

  It was clear that the discussion was over. Peter stood and made ready to dash out from the forest into the camp, but Julia grabbed at his arm.

  “Wait a moment,” she said. “Before we go out there we ought to ask the Lord of Hosts for his protection. We won’t be able to turn the people back to him unless we know he’s fighting on our side, will we?”

  She reached out for Peter and Louisa’s hands, feeling a bit foolish. They all stood together in a circle and closed their eyes as Julia spoke.

  “Lord of Hosts, today we … we ask you to be with us. Give us strength for the task we are about to complete. Show us how to reach the hearts of your people, and show us the way to take them back home.” She stopped and lifted her head, smiling at Peter and Louisa. They squeezed one another’s hands tight, not yet willing to let go. And as they stood there a wind moved through the trees, the freshest breeze they’d felt or breathed since they’d come to Khemia on the back of the falcon. They all breathed it deeply into their lungs, wanting it to linger and blow away all the evil and wickedness of this place.

  “Come on,” said Peter, smiling at the two girls. “It’s time for us to go.” They went once again to the edge of the woods, and breathed a sigh of relief to find that the guards had moved on. They wouldn’t be seen coming out from the trees.

  They joined the line of prisoners who were marching—shuffling, really—down the rocky path to the volcano. Louisa was humming softly to herself as they went, and Peter remarked privately to Julia that she was getting downright batty about that song.

  “At least she’s not singing it,” replied Julia in a whisper. “Imagine if one of those guards heard her singing, and they realized she knew the other half of their poem or prophecy or whatever it is.”

  “That’s true,” Peter acknowledged, and they walked the rest of the way in silence.

  It was just a few minutes later that they reached the volcano. Julia looked around for Alyce as she picked up her water bucket, but there was no sign of her in the sea of faces before her.

  The work began just where it had stopped the previous day. The men went back to the deep pits that they were digging in the earth, shoveling up dirt and rocks that the women carted away for the children to sift through. Peter, Julia, and Louisa moved among the workers with their buckets, lifting dippers of water to parched and weary lips. And with each drink they gave they repeated their call to turn back to the Lord of Hosts.

  They hadn’t been there an hour when the earth began to shake again. It lasted only a moment, but all the workers and guards were knocked to their knees. Peter saw, far away from where they were working, that another fissure had opened up, and he could have sworn that he heard a distant scream as the rotten gasses poured out. He got to his feet and made his way to where Julia was working.

  “Alyce was right,” he told her through gritted teeth. “There’s something evil in the earth. These earthquakes are getting closer together the farther down those men dig.” He nodded toward the mine. “It’s as if they’re releasing something from deep down—Something really horrible.”

  “That dark power,” said Julia simply. “What could it be, do you think?”

  “I’ve no idea. Maybe it’s just a sign that the volcano is about to erupt again, or maybe … maybe it’s something worse.”

  “Maybe it’s both,” said Julia contemplatively. She and Peter both turned to gaze at the peak of the volcano. Hot, acrid steam was pouring from its mouth.

  “Either way, we’re running out of time,” said her brother.

  It was just then that Peter felt a hand grip his arm. He was swung around to face a burly, foul-smelling guard. The guard leered at him, and through the haze of putrid breath Peter could see that half his teeth had rotted out of his mouth.

  “Caught ourselves a thief, we have! Eh! Bruno! Look what we’ve got here!”

  Another guard turned and came toward them. He grabbed Peter’s chin and lifted up his face, peering at him through squinted eyes. “That’s him all right,” he grunted. “He’s the one. I’d know that stinkin’ face anywhere.”

  And then, with an ugly laugh, they each took hold of an arm and marched Peter away.

  CHAPTER

  13

  Julia stared after them in horror, her eyes wide as saucers. She gave a choking, gasping sob and took a step forward, but then stopped herself. She could do nothing for Peter now — not just one girl against two guards. She cast her eyes frantically around for Louisa, and, seeing her close to the edge of the pit the men were digging, dropped her bucket and dipper to the ground with a splash and sprinted over to her.

  Tears stung her eyes as she ran, and by the time she reached Louisa her face was a red and slimy mess of tears. She grabbed her arm and clung to her. “Peter!” she gasped. “They’ve taken Peter!”

  “What? How?” Even with the heat of the place Louisa’s face had gone absolutely white.

  “The guards—they found him. They knew he was the one who had taken the map and they marched him away somewhere. I don’t know what’s happening to him—we have to find a way to rescue him!”

  “How could we rescue him? It’s just us now—and we don’t have any swords or anyone on our side. We don’t even know where they’ve taken him.”

  “But the people—the people we’ve been talking to—surely they’ll help us! We’ll find Alyce and she’ll know what to do …”

  Louisa’s ashen face looked, all of a sudden, very tired indeed. She shook her head. “They’re under the threat of death as it is. We have to find a way to overthrow all the guards, not just the ones who took Peter. We can’t help him until then.”

  Julia wanted very much to slap her. “What do we do now, then? Keep giving out water while Peter’s taken captive?”

  “Yes,” said Louisa. “That’s what the Lord of Hosts brought you here to do, isn’t it?”

  Louisa closed her eyes and seemed to sway back and forth. Julia began to wonder if her stepsister was ill. She watched her for a moment, mulling over what she’d said.

  “Yes,” Julia replied at last. “I suppose that is why we’re here.”

  “Good,” said Louisa. She opened her eyes and regarded her stepsister. “Go get your bucket and let’s get to work.”

  It was a long and difficult morning, punctuated by a few small tremors in the earth. None of them were large enough to do much more than slosh a
round the water in Julia and Louisa’s buckets, but Julia was wary, remembering what Peter had said about running out of time. And so she spoke ever more urgently to the people, reminding them of all the Lord of Hosts had done for them and urging them to return to him. No one responded with much more than a nod or a grunt, or sometimes a raised eyebrow. No one seemed to recognize the Deliverer of Aedyn.

  As Julia moved through the crowd of prisoners she kept a close eye on her stepsister. The color hadn’t returned to Louisa’s face, and her eyes seemed larger and more distant with each passing hour. As she moved between the miners Julia could hear Louisa humming snippets of the song. She swayed back and forth as she sang, not quite steady on her feet. As the sun rose in the sky she seemed to wilt, her shoulders sagging in on themselves, her hand shaking each time she lifted the dipper of water to the lips of a slave. And as she faded, the singing grew louder.

  Julia was desperate to keep her quiet — desperate to keep the guards from hearing the words she sang. I must get closer to her, she thought. Close enough to silence her. She wove her way nearer to her stepsister, pausing to lift the dipper of water to the lips of slaves she passed, keeping her eyes always on Louisa and praying that no one else would hear the song.

  But in this she was not so fortunate.

  The sun was just reaching its highest point in the sky when a guard passing nearby happened to hear Louisa’s song, and stopped to listen. Julia didn’t notice him until he called out.

  “You there!” he cried. “That song. What’s that you’re singing?”

  What color there had been in Louisa’s face abruptly left it, and Julia thought she might be about to faint again. Julia put down the bucket of water and started toward her.