“I’ll be back soon, Julia. Don’t leave the garden, all right? You promise you’ll stay here?”
She nodded through a sleepy haze. Satisfied, Peter headed out of the garden and back to the path, certain that it would lead to a stream.
It was really only a few minutes later—though it felt like much longer—that Julia finally woke to find her brother gone. She extracted herself from the canopy of branches and paced over to the stagnant pond, wondering what Peter had done with himself. She vaguely remembered something about a stream and supposed he had gone off to find water. She debated trying to follow him and concluded that she would do just as well to remain in the garden. There were no predators here—none that she could see, at least.
It was at that moment that she realized she was being watched.
It was some instinct she hadn’t known she possessed that warned her of the danger. She stayed very, very still for a long moment, afraid to do so much as breathe. Perhaps if she didn’t move, whatever it was would move on. Her eyes darted from side to side, searching for an escape route—or, failing that, some sort of weapon. There were a few mossy stones that had been pushed out of the wall by the sprawling roots of the trees, but they lay too far away to reach. Perhaps if she ran…
There was really only one thing to do. She turned, slowly and deliberately, and looked the enemy straight in the eye.
It was a man. He stood beside the stone chair, his hands clasped in front of him. He wore a long, hooded robe, and his face was hidden in shadow. And yet Julia could feel his eyes on her. She stood poised and ready to flee, every muscle tensed.
But then he held out a hand to her, and a low, solemn voice said, “Welcome, Julia. We have been waiting a long time for you.”
There was a long, wary pause as Julia sized up the stranger.
“Who are you?” she asked cautiously. “What is it that you want of me?”
The man pulled down his hood, and for the first time Julia could see his face. He was old—far older than her grandfather, Julia thought. His face was etched with deep lines—one of them a pink scar running the length of his cheek—and his white hair only thinly covered his scalp. But his eyes were bright, and he was smiling.
“My name is Gaius,” he said. “And I want you to fulfill a prophecy.”
There was another long moment in which Julia simply stared at the man. He was mad, she thought—mad, and possibly dangerous. She thought again of the stones that lay near the wall and wondered if Peter was nearby. Maybe he would come if she screamed…
“You need not worry,” said Gaius. “I have no intention of hurting you. I would like, if you will permit me, to tell you a story.”
She nodded, never taking her eyes off his.
“Good,” he said. “Now, perhaps I can make you more comfortable?” He gestured to a blanket and cushions spread out on the ground. Julia stared—none of it had been there a moment before. Gaius smiled. “I have a little magic,” he said simply.
“Yes…of course,” said Julia dumbly. She moved to the blanket and sat down against a cushion, wondering if this was how Alice had felt when she got to Wonderland.
“This is an old story,” began Gaius, “and I am the only man yet living who can tell it true. It is the story of a good land and a good people, and how they were brought to ruin.”
There was once a country, said Gaius, that lay far beyond the seas. This was a beautiful land, with lush meadows, fragrant woods, and crystal clear rivers dashing down the hills onto the great fertile plains of the south. This land was Khemia, ruled over by Marcus, the crown prince of the Dynasty of Ilium. It was a place of peace, and all its peoples lived in harmony.
It was in the sixth year of Marcus’s reign that disaster struck. A dormant volcano erupted, enveloping the land in a blanket of deadly gas released from deep within the earth. Marcus had heard the old stories—stories already ancient in his time—of an island beyond the sea, and organized the evacuation of Khemia. And after six long weeks at sea, weeks without good food or water or space to move, Marcus saw mountains in the distance.
They found themselves in a wild new country—a land of forests and beaches, a land of bright light and mysterious shadows—and set about making a home there. The first crude shelters they built gave way to houses, and the houses to towns, and finally a great castle crowned over the island. It was from this castle that Marcus ruled, and the land grew fertile with justice and peace, just as Khemia had before it.
But there was unrest among the lords. There were whispers in dark rooms and murmurs of treason, which Marcus ignored at his peril. He was an old man by this time, his judgment clouded by the desire for ease and a belief in the loyalty of his people.
His death, some said, was hastened by the hand of one of the lords, but Marcus’s health had already been failing and nothing could be proved. The lords took power, three of them crowning themselves regents, and the days of peace were ended. They called themselves the Jackal, the Leopard, and the Wolf, and they enforced their power ruthlessly, enslaving any who refused total obedience to their own selfish ideas and demands. They had been granted unnatural long life by virtue of three ebony amulets which they wore about their necks—and as time went on, they became only more cruel. Marcus’s paradise, said Gaius, became a prison.
Julia was quiet throughout the story. She sat with her chin resting on her knees, staring wide-eyed at the man before her. As he fell silent she asked again, in a hushed voice, “Who are you?”
He smiled at her question. “I was with Marcus on Khemia, and I was loyal to him throughout his reign. When the Lords of Aedyn revolted I escaped to these woods. They sent out search parties to try and find me, but they never succeeded. The woods are dark and deep, and are a safe refuge for a fugitive like me.”
“And what are we—Peter and I—what are we doing here?”
“I called you,” Gaius said simply. “I went to your world and made a way for you to come here.”
“The garden,” said Julia. “You’re the monk—the monk who was…”
“Murdered,” he said grimly. “Yes, I’m the monk. I built the garden as a gateway for the Chosen Ones when the time was right. I was told to call until they heard and answered. And you came.”
“Told? Who told you?”
“One even greater than Marcus, child. For there is a greater story—a deeper story. A story which rules all stories. And a story of which you are part.”
Julia began to think that someone had made a very big mistake.
“I’m not…Gaius, I’m not the chosen one. Peter and I…”
“Who are you to say, my dear, whether or not you are meant for great things?”
Julia shivered.
“Tell me—tell me about this place. Tell me how you can be here if you were—” she swallowed. “If you were murdered back in Oxford.”
“I told you before that I have a little magic,” said the monk. “Because I died in another world my spirit can remain. And I am needed here to tell the story. The people must not forget. This is where we come to remember.” He lifted his head and looked around. “This is the garden of the Great King. It is the place where the faithful have gathered every year for the past five centuries to tell the story of the exodus from Khemia. And now we also tell the story of our enslavement in Aedyn.”
“Aedyn?”
“This island, fair one. This is Aedyn.” Julia nodded as the monk continued. “This garden is where the faithful gather to remember the past and look forward to the future. A future…” He paused. “A future in which two strangers from another world—the Chosen Ones—would come to this land and set it free.”
“What do you want us to do, Gaius?”
“That is for you to discover. All I can do is tell you of what has been. I can no longer change things. That is for you to do. And you will not be alone, fair one. You will be given a new power to help you fight.” He raised his head, listening. “Your brother comes. I must leave you.” He stood and helped Ju
lia to her feet. “I must warn you not to speak of this to anyone—not even to your brother.” Julia opened her mouth to protest, and Gaius put a finger against her lips. “No one may know what you have learned. Do you understand? You alone know these truths, and they are dangerous truths indeed. Not everyone you meet can be trusted.”
“But Peter…”
“You can keep Peter safest by your silence,” Gaius said. “He comes!”
Julia looked around, and then realized that Gaius was gone. He seemed to have melted into the shadows. But she was alone for only a moment before a wild-eyed figure appeared from between the trees.
“Peter! You found water?”
“A castle! Julia, there’s a castle! Come on!”
CHAPTER
5
There!”
Peter pointed triumphantly into the distance.
“Over there, through that pass in the mountains.” Julia caught up with him on the crest of a hill and stared into the distance. They edged their way forward into full daylight, making their way onto a large rock. It had steps cut into it, leading up to a kind of platform on its peak. Julia ran up, enthralled by what she saw. The ground fell away sharply beneath the rock to reveal a truly resplendent landscape.
Stretched out in front of them, as far as their eyes could see, was a gentle plain, bathed in the late afternoon sunlight, with rich green fields and hedgerows. There were meadows ahead of her reaching to distant hills, studded with flowers that lent a gentle perfume to the light breeze.
Far away, in the center of the enormous plain, was a great park enclosed by huge, strong walls with fortified gates set at intervals. And at the heart of the park was a castle. Its walls, towers and battlements rose from the plain, glowing in the curious slant of morning sunlight.
Peter turned to her, his eyes flashing with excitement. “It will take us ages to get there but we’ll make it. And there’s bound to be water along the way—and food when we get to the castle!”
Julia nodded absentmindedly. Food and water…and whatever Gaius intended his “chosen ones” to do, surely it had to begin at the castle.
They came down from the stone platform and wended their way down a steeply sloping hill. They soon found themselves in the midst of dense forest, but by keeping the mountains in sight whenever they came to a clearing they managed to stay on course. It was not, however, the most comfortable walk they had ever taken. If you have ever slept on hard ground with branches and needles poking into your back and no pillow or blanket, and gone long hours without food or water and then been asked to walk all day without proper shoes…well, then you have some idea of the mood Peter and Julia were in.
Peter took it better than Julia. He was remembering his time scouting in the woods—remembering how to walk and how to find a path, and how to avoid all the little pitfalls that would lead to a twisted ankle. As he reached the crest of a hill—this one steeper than most—he looked back to see that Julia had fallen behind. She was tired, he could tell. Her face was red from the exertion and she was breathing hard, and her hands were muddy from where she’d fallen and caught herself.
He took a low branch from a nearby tree and snapped it off cleanly at the trunk. By the time Julia had caught up with him he’d stripped it of all its twigs and leaves, and he thrust it at her without a word.
“What’s this?” she asked, puzzled.
“A walking stick,” he said. “It’ll help on the hills.” She nodded and grasped it.
“Thank you.”
Those were the only words that passed between them for some time. There wasn’t much to say. When the path was even and Julia didn’t need to concentrate so much on the terrain she wondered about her brother. There was something odd in his eyes, she thought. Something new. For lack of a better word she called it determination, but she thought, when she cast a sideways glance at him, that it was something more than that. But then the terrain would change again, and she would need to focus on her steps instead of pondering the many mysteries of Peter. And so they walked on, the castle always ahead, going more slowly now that the sun was high in the sky and beating down on them.
They reached the mountain pass in the early afternoon. The woods ended suddenly, as if someone had drawn a line beyond which trees were not permitted to transgress. Ahead of them were meadows, verdant with all kinds of grains, trees, and flowers. There was no sign of birds or any animals. In England, Peter thought to himself, surely pastures like this would be filled with cows and sheep, grazing contentedly on this rich grass, perhaps peering at them through gates as they passed. Or maybe plough horses would be tossing their heads, ready to begin work in the fields. Yet all that met his eye was a vast expanse of golds and greens, stretching far into the distance.
The plain ahead of them was divided up like a checkerboard into fields, each surrounded by hedges studded with bright flowers. The heads of the golden grain swayed gently in the warm breeze in some of these fields; others were dotted with all kinds of fruit trees, their branches heavy with the rich and ripening fruit. Julia gave a little cry of delight at the sight of them and, casting aside her walking stick, found the energy to run.
In later years Julia would try to describe that fruit and never quite managed it. None of it was like anything she’d ever had in England—the flavors were richer and deeper, the colors bolder, and the juice infinitely more refreshing. They ate until the liquid ran down their faces and hands and stained their tunics, and then they looked at each other and laughed.
It was the first that either of them had really laughed since arriving in Aedyn, and it felt absolutely magnificent. Nothing was particularly funny, but the relief and pleasure at finding the fruit was simply beyond compare. They laughed until the tears came, until they had to hold their stomachs for fear of bursting. And it was when the laughter had passed and they were lying on the ground, grinning at each other, that Julia heard the stream.
She would likely never have heard it had there been noises from animals, but in the clear air the sound was unmistakable. She sat up and stared.
“Is that—Peter, is that water?”
“Where?”
She listened very hard.
“Over there.” She pointed over her shoulder to the left. “Beyond that line of trees. I’m…yes, I’m certain it’s a stream.”
Peter was on his feet and bounding towards the trees in seconds, Julia following close after him. They didn’t need water quite as desperately as they had before they’d found the fruit trees, but they were both still thirsty and a long walk remained ahead of them.
They fell upon the stream like a lion on its prey. The water was cold and clear and they drank until they could drink no more. And then Julia splashed Peter—an accident, she insisted—and Peter splashed back, and soon both of them were drenched through. They lay back on the bank of the stream, letting the hot sun dry them. They spoke of nothing in particular—school, friends, their father—and then they fell silent for a long moment.
“I wonder what we’ll find at the castle,” Julia said, finally breaking the silence.
“A way home, perhaps?” replied Peter dryly. “I daresay we’ll find someone there who can explain all this to us—how we got here and why we’re here and how we can get back to Oxford.”
“You don’t—” Julia paused. “You don’t think there might be work for us to do here? Some reason for us to have been called? I mean—maybe it’s not time for us to go home yet.”
Peter gave her a very hard look. “I suppose we’ll find out,” he said. “In the meantime, we’d better keep moving.”
They made their way back to the field in the mountain pass. Some rough trails led through the waving grasses, all pointing them—or so it seemed to Peter—to the great castle in the distance, raised up from the surrounding land. He chose the trail that seemed most direct and they started forward.
Refreshed from the fruit and water and with the help of Julia’s new walking stick, they were able to move much more quickly
than before. It was perhaps twenty minutes before Julia stopped dead in her tracks.
“Oh, honestly,” said Peter through his teeth. “We’ll never make it if…” But he never finished his sentence, transfixed by the sight of his sister. Her eyes were wide with something like fear, and one finger pointed off to the east. Peter followed her gaze and saw them.
There were three men on horseback, following what he imagined to be another one of the paths to the castle. They were clad in black and hooded—even from this distance he could tell that their faces were covered. Something in their posture indicated that these were not friends. A chill went through the air, and the sun seemed to shine a little less brightly overhead as Peter finally understood: they were patrolling.
“Get down,” Julia breathed. “We need to find cover.” They looked around sharply—there were no trees for a mile, and the long grasses had given way to a field of wildflowers barely six inches high. This place would do little to hide them.
“Over there,” said Peter slowly, nodding his head back the way they’d come. “Get back into the tall grass, and with any luck…”
But it was already too late. The horsemen had seen them, and as one they shifted course, heading straight for Peter and Julia.
They tried to run, of course. Every instinct urged them forward, though it was hopeless from the beginning—who could ever outrun those stallions?
They were upon them in moments. Peter, in a last, desperate effort to conceal himself, flung himself into the long grass and tried to crawl away. Julia turned to face the horsemen and screamed with all her might—not out of fear, but rage.
No one was more startled by the result than she.
The scream that came from her lips wasn’t the high-pitched shriek of a young girl, but a sound infinitely stronger and deeper. It knocked the horsemen from their stallions and, far away, shook the leaves from the trees. Peter clapped his hands over his ears and moaned, the horses fled with panicked whinnies, and Julia, the cold rage still in her eyes, clenched her fists and screamed harder. She didn’t understand it—didn’t know where this voice was coming from—but she knew that the sun was shaking in the sky and that the three hooded figures were in pain.
The Aedyn Chronicles Page 3
