Chosen Ones (5 page)

Far away, in the center of the enormous plain, was a great park enclosed by huge, strong wal s with fortified gates set at intervals. And at the heart of the park was a castle. Its wal s, 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 wil take us ages to get there but we’l 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 hil . 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 pil ow or blanket, and gone long hours without food or water and then been asked to walk al day without proper shoes…wel , 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 al the little pitfal s that would lead to a twisted ankle. As he reached the crest of a hil —

this one steeper than most—he looked back to see that Julia had fal en behind. She was tired, he could tel . Her face was red from the exertion and she was breathing hard, and her hands were muddy from where she’d fal en 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 al 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’l help on the hil s.” 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 cal ed 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 al 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 fil ed 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 al 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 al 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 real y 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 fol owing 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 stil thirsty and a long walk remained ahead of them.

They fel 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 fel silent for a long moment.

“I wonder what we’l find at the castle,” Julia said, final y breaking the silence.

“A way home, perhaps?” replied Peter dryly. “I daresay we’l find someone there who can explain al 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 cal ed? I mean—maybe it’s not time for us to go home yet.”

Peter gave her a very hard look. “I suppose we’l 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, al 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’l 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 fol owed her gaze and saw them.

There were three men on horseback, fol owing 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 tel that their faces were covered. Something in their posture indicated that these were not friends. A chil went through the air, and the sun seemed to shine a little less brightly overhead as Peter final y understood: they were patrol ing.

“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 tal 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 stal ions?

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 al 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 stal ions 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 stil 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.

They were writhing, hands hard over their ears, desperate to get away but paralyzed by the screaming. As Julia stopped for breath they moaned and rol ed over, and then were stil .

She paused, breathing hard, and looked back at her brother. He was staring at her as if she were a stranger—some unearthly apparition. She put out a hand to help him up.

“How…what…”

“I don’t know,” she said bluntly. “Let’s get going before they wake up.”

Peter, never one to disagree with a girl whose screams could shake the sun, stood up and fol owed.

It was a very quiet walk. Julia was lost in her own private contemplation, and Peter was sneaking sideways glances at her. That screaming had not been normal, he thought. Something had happened to her—something horrible, probably. He longed to get to the castle, certain that al the mysteries of this place would be explained as soon as they arrived.

The castle wasn’t far away now. It dominated the horizon, raised up from the surrounding meadows as if it had risen from the earth in order to rule everything around it. Maybe they have cannons up on the ramparts, Peter thought to himself. If they had enough gunpowder, they could control the entire plain.

Surrounding the castle itself was a yel ow stone wal . They fol owed it for what seemed like ages until they came to a great wooden gate. Its planks were old, studded with nails and rot, but the gate was sturdy. Peter gave it a few kicks to no avail.

“What happens now?” Julia whispered.

“I’ve no idea,” he muttered. “Why don’t you try that screaming? Maybe it’l knock the door in.” This proved unnecessary, however, when the massive gate began to swing open with a solemn, creaking slowness. Peter and Julia looked at each other, shrugged, and entered.

O
nce inside the wal they were able to see who had opened it: a tal figure swathed in dark robes. They couldn’t see the face, and at first they both thought it was another one of the riders who had been on patrol in the mountain pass. But this figure was different—sunken, somehow, and lacking the raw power of the riders. The man—if it was a man—was silent as he pointed up towards the castle.

Peter found himself overwhelmed with the immensity of the building: it was more majestic, more splendid, than any castle he had seen on earth.

Even Windsor Castle (which he had once visited on a school trip) seemed to pale into insignificance alongside this great construction.

As they walked along the path changed to cobbled streets, flanked on either side by a series of low houses. The old stone buildings were covered with climbing plants rising high on each side. Each house had its own brightly colored door, but the paint was fading in places and patches of bare wood showed through where it had splintered off altogether. The doors and shutters were al closed tight, and Julia realized with a shudder that it was as completely silent here in the town as it had been back in the meadow. There were no people out at work—no women hanging laundry, no men whistling as they went about their chores, no children playing