But another figure did come into view — a figure Peter knew well. The Captain. He was moving among the prisoners, using his whip with a steady hand, and even at this distance Peter could hear the curses coming from his mouth.
Smoke and ash were pouring from the mouth of the volcano, and the ground beneath Peter’s feet seemed to tremble almost constantly. The eruption was coming — and soon. There wasn’t much time left—even the Captain could tell that, evidently. But how to get the talisman?
Peter watched the Captain, remembering his fights with Mason back at school. He’d bested larger boys before, but a trained soldier? It would be like attacking his father, Peter thought.
He threw off the thought. It was something a child would think, and he was a man now. And so he kept his eye on the Captain, watching how he moved, looking for a weakness. But the man moved like the old solider he was: practiced, steady, with muscles taut and ready. There would be no opening—no opportunity to take the talisman without the Captain’s fist connecting with Peter’s windpipe.
Peter started forward anyway, making his way into the crowd of prisoners. He was closer to the Captain now—close enough to see the talisman swinging from a thin leather cord around his neck.
The volcano belched more smoke and ash, and Peter felt the ground give way underneath him. The earth seemed to tilt this way and that; all around him prisoners and guards alike were screaming as they fell and clutched at the ground. It was an earthquake stronger than any he had ever felt, and Peter knew what it meant.
But amid the screams Peter looked up and saw that the Captain, too, had collapsed on the ground and was struggling to regain his balance. And suddenly it was easy.
With the fleetness of foot that belongs only to the young, Peter dashed forward and knelt beside the aging soldier. He thrust a firm hand under the Captain’s chin, grasped the talisman, and, with a swift jerk, tore away the leather cord.
He was ten steps away before the Captain could yell, and fifteen before Peter could hear the guards stumbling to pursue him. They never had a chance. Running, running harder and faster than he ever had before, Peter was in the woods, the talisman held tight in his hot fist. He’d forgotten his aching shoulders, forgotten the sting of the reopened wound on his knee. He was running, and the soldiers could never keep up.
He kept running long after he knew that the guards had lost him. He ran deeper and deeper into the woods, hardly thinking of what lay behind. He splashed into a trickle of a stream, then up the opposite bank … and then he stopped short, because he could hardly believe what he saw in front of him.
CHAPTER
17
By the slant of the sun shining through the window, Julia could see that it was late afternoon. Supper soon, she thought, and then snuggled deeper under the covers. Bed was so lovely, so warm, even at this time of the day. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, ready to fall back asleep.
No. Supper. She would be expected to be dressed. With a frustrated sigh Julia extricated herself from the mess of blankets and padded over to the dresser. She could feel the December chill in the air, even in the sun, and she rummaged through the drawers for a sweater.
And then she stopped short, because lying there on top of the dresser, beside a photograph of her mother and the copy of Alice in Wonderland that Peter had given her, lay a six-pointed star cut out of an odd, greenish stone.
Khemia. The pendant. The prophecy.
It all came back to her in an instant. The fire, the Gul’nog, the falcon—where had he gone? She remembered flying on its back, flying into the dawn. She remembered a flash, and then … nothing. Nothing until she woke up, warm in her bed.
Julia reached out and picked up the pendant, turning it over and over in her hand. And then, feeling mightily foolish, she called out in a hoarse whisper: “Falcon! Falcon!”
It didn’t come. How would she ever get back to Khemia if it didn’t come? “Falcon!” she said again, louder this time, and then she heard footsteps on the stairs.
The door to her room opened slowly, revealing a thin, gaunt woman with hard eyes. Her stepmother. She looked Julia over and sniffed.
“I see you’re awake,” she said. “Thought you’d caught your death of cold out there. I suppose you still won’t tell us where your brother is?”
Julia shook her head mutely. Her stepmother heaved a mighty sigh. “Your father’s still out searching. No telling if he’ll find him—not with another cold night coming on. It’s a miracle you survived the first.” She gave Julia a hard look, and the corners of her mouth twisted up into something like a smirk. “Thought you’d be the little heroine and run away, did you? I look forward to seeing what punishment your father has devised for you. Get dressed, now. Cook will have supper ready soon.” And she shut the door behind her.
Tears welled up in Julia’s eyes as she stared after her stepmother. She had to get back to Khemia—had to get back now. She grasped the star pendant so hard that its points cut into her hand. If the falcon wouldn’t come to her, well, she would have to go find it herself.
She threw on the warmest clothes she could find and stomped into her winter boots. She didn’t know how long she’d have to be outside, and she could always discard the extra layers once she was back in Aedyn. She opened the bedroom door slowly, carefully, praying that it wouldn’t creak, and started down the stairs. But before she descended she stopped and hurried back up to Peter’s room. He kept an electric torch hidden in his dresser, stuffed underneath all his socks. She dug through the woolen mess, wondering why on earth he couldn’t keep the drawer organized, and then her fingers closed on it.
She pulled the torch out of the drawer, slammed it shut, and snuck down the stairs and outside. It was just as cold as it had been that Christmas morning — colder, perhaps, with the sun just starting to set. She breathed out, watching her frozen breath hanging for a moment in the air.
Julia shoved the torch into one of her pockets and strode along the path to the river, just as she and Peter had done before. It felt like ages ago, she thought. So much had changed since that morning. They’d been back to Aedyn. They’d been called to save the prisoners. She’d ridden on a falcon …
Now that she was alone and in the open air there was no need to be silent. She cupped her hands around her mouth and cried out, as loud as she could. “Falcon! Falcon!” She searched the skies for any sign of it, hoping for the familiar sight of its broad wings swooping down for her. But the skies were empty.
Julia heaved a mighty sigh and trudged into the woods. She may as well make for the stream. If the falcon wouldn’t come, she’d have to get into Aedyn another way.
It wasn’t long before she reached the water. It had frozen over in the cool nights since that Christmas morning, and it was hard enough for Julia to walk on. She stomped on the ice angrily—how was she supposed to get back if that portal wouldn’t open?
When a sharp stamp with her boot failed to break through the ice, Julia sat down on the bank of the river put her chin in her hands. Think, she told herself. Think. There must be a way back, or the Lord of Hosts would never have sent me to get the pendant.
The Lord of Hosts. Of course.
Julia shut her eyes tight and prayed as hard as she knew how. “Take me back,” she whispered. “I want to help your people, and I know you can hear me, even in this world. Take me back to Khemia.”
She opened her eyes, expecting to see the river flowing and swirling as it had been before. But nothing had changed.
Julia lifted her head to look for the falcon, but night was falling. It was too dark to see much of anything in the sky. Julia rifled in her pockets for Peter’s torch, fumbling with her chilled fingers. She clicked on the switch, and a bright beam of light illuminated the opposite bank.
But something had changed. The trees—the shadows were all different. There was an odd smell that hung in the air. And the cold … the cold was gone.
Julia stood and looked around, her eyes wide. Could it be �
�� could it possibly be …
“Julia!”
She looked up and gasped. It was Peter, looking like he’d just run a race. He was panting and sweat was dripping down his forehead, and something awful seemed to have happened to his knee.
“Peter, what …”
“I’ve got the talisman,” Peter interrupted. He held out his hand, revealing the green stone that lay within. “I got it from the Captain. There was an earthquake, and I took it. I think … I think the volcano …” He doubled over, choking, gasping for breath.
“Here,” said Julia. “I’ve been home. I have the other piece.” She pulled it out of her pocket.
Peter opened his mouth to ask her how she’d gotten home, how any of this had happened, when there came a roar that sounded like the end of the world. Both children looked up, above the trees, and saw that the ash spewing from the mouth of the volcano had filled the sky. The crest of the mountain collapsed in on itself, the rocks crashing and tumbling over themselves in a mighty cascade. It was the end.
And as they watched the eruption something new came out of the earth—something that was neither ash nor lava. A shadow, a wraith, and it seemed to unfold itself from the rocks and reach out towards the sky. Julia felt all the courage leach out of her as she watched the figure growing, growing, growing.
"There’s no time left,” said Peter. “Here.” He held out the Captain’s talisman, and Julia took the star in her hand and fit it into the piece that Peter held. The two halves locked together, and a thread of light shone for a moment in the space where they met.
"What happens now?” said Julia.
Peter looked at his sister and shook his head. “We wait,” he said. And they both held tight to the pendant as the shadow filled the sky.
EPILOGUE
Louisa opened her eyes, blinking as her vision adjusted to the darkness. The cave, she thought. She was still in the cave. But Julia—where had Julia gone?
She stood and crept along the cave wall, stopping when she came to the entrance. She blinked in the halflight of morning, shielding her face from the sunlight. The ground outside was charred, and as she poked at the earth with the toe of her shoe a swirl of ash rose into the wind.
She watched the ash swirling, rising, and then, as she lifted her eyes, she saw something else. It was a shadow … a shadow that seemed to grow more substantial as it spread itself over the sky. Louisa shrank back into the cave, wondering where she could hide, wondering if Peter and Julia were safe.
And then there came a light, brighter by far than the shadow, stronger than any light Louisa had seen. It was as if the sun had come to earth. And the sound, like a thousand bells, reverberating inside her head. Louisa fell back to the ground and stared, her eyes burning. She couldn’t close them, couldn’t look away from the light. The light was speaking to her, calling to her.
She stood and walked out of the cave, following the path down to the mine. It was time.
ZONDERKIDZ
Flight of the Outcasts
Copyright © 2011 by Alister McGrath
Illustrations © 2011 by Wojciech Voytek Nowakowski
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