CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER
15
Alyce!”
Julia stumbled into her arms, almost missing her in the darkness. “Alyce! How did you find us? Have you heard news of Peter? How did you get them to let you in?”
She was interrupted by Alyce’s laughter. “Quiet, child, quiet! Enough time for all your questions. Here, I’ve brought you a meal.” She produced a bag heavy with two loaves of bread. “Not much, I’m afraid, but it’s all that the guards would allow. And I’ve brought someone to meet you.” Even in the blackness of the cave Julia could hear the smile in her voice. “My son, Alexander. I’ve been telling him tales about you since before he can remember.”
Julia reached out and touched the boy’s shoulder, and a small, shy voice asked “Is this Lady Julia?”
“It is,” she responded. “The Lord of Hosts called us once again … but I’m afraid we’re not doing so well as last time.”
“That is not for you to decide,” said Alyce. “In the midst of the darkness you cannot understand how the Lord of Hosts is using you. Sit down and eat while I tell you a tale.”
Louisa took the loaf of bread Alyce held out and tore off a chunk from the end, passing it to Julia. The girls sat back against the wall of the cave, feeling the dampness seeping beneath their clothes. They munched gratefully on the bread. It had been a long time—too long—since they had last eaten, and neither knew when they might eat again.
“Your work here has not been in vain,” Alyce began. “When you gave the people water, they heard your message. There have been murmurs, rumors. The people of Aedyn know you have returned. And they will not long suffer their Deliverers to be locked up in a cave.”
“Do you mean … will they …” stammered Julia, not daring to hope.
“Your presence has brought the people hope,” Alyce said simply. “They are, at this moment, meeting secretly to plan your rescue. It will not be much longer, children.” She glanced over her shoulder, back toward the entrance of the cave and the guards who stood watch there. “We must not tarry overlong. The attack will come before daybreak. Be ready when it comes. You and your brother”—Alyce dropped her voice—“You have a plan, of course. A plan to take us all back to Aedyn. The Lord of Hosts told you what to do, just like last time.” She spoke with a quiet certainty, and Julia had not the heart to tell her that the Lord of Hosts had been silent. She had no idea how to get the prisoners back to Aedyn—no idea where the boats were kept and no idea how to sail them if she did.
“Of course,” Julia said quickly. “Of course we have a plan.” And even in the darkness she could sense Alyce’s smile.
“I thank the Lord of Hosts that you’ve returned,” she said. “And I thank him that my son has seen this day, and that he will have such a tale to tell his children.”
“They said I can’t fight,” Alexander put in. “They said I’m too small, and I’ll just get in the way.”
“There will be time enough to fight,” said his mother gently. “Time enough, when your height matches the size of your courage.” She pulled both of the girls into a quick embrace. “By daybreak. Be ready.”
“We’ll be ready,” promised Julia, in as confident a voice as she could muster. Alyce took her son’s hand and led him out toward the entrance of the cave.
“You have a plan?” Louisa asked as soon as they were gone.
Julia was quiet for a very, very long moment.
“I’m sure we’ll think of something,” she said finally.
Through the entrance to the cave Julia and Louisa watched as the small patch of sky turned from gray to dusky purple to black. There were no stars they could see—none that were not covered by the gloomy smoke that spewed from the volcano and blanketed the island in clouds.
“So this plan,” said Louisa.
“Stop it,” Julia snapped. “You know I haven’t got a plan.”
“Then maybe you should think of something?” suggested Louisa. “While we’re waiting, I mean.”
Julia nodded, then leaned back against the wall of the cave and closed her eyes. “The first thing is to get the Captain’s talisman,” she said.
“Why?”
“Because it’s the second half,” said Julia. “Do you remember the pendant my grandmother sent me for Christmas?”
“It was something odd, wasn’t it? Shaped like a star?”
“Yes. Made of a green sort of stone, with six points. And it would fit just exactly into that talisman the Captain wears around his neck.”
“And what will happen if you put the two halves together?” Louisa asked.
Julia gave her stepsister a look. “What did you think your song was about?”
Louisa sat back and thought very hard. “The shadow outdone, the Host shall return,” she remembered. “So if you get your pendant from home, and put it together with the Captain’s …”
“Exactly,” said Julia.
“Well, that makes things much simpler,” said Louisa. “How, exactly, are you going to get your pendant?”
“That’s the part I’m still working on.”
“Ah.” And the girls were silent again.
Neither knew quite how long the silence lasted before they heard a new sound outside, coming from the mouth of the cave. Footsteps. Shouts. A cry—of triumph or of pain they could not tell.
“How many do you think there are?” breathed Louisa into Julia’s ear. “How many have come to rescue us?”
“I’ve no idea. If only it wasn’t so dark …” Julia shook her head. “Come on. Let’s get closer to the entrance. Maybe we can slip out.” She stood and put out a hand to help Louisa to her feet.
The two girls made their way to the entrance of the cave. The only light came from a torch the guards had stuck into the ground a few steps away, but even its meager glow seemed bright after the darkness of the cave. Julia could make out a few figures—two wearing Khemian armor, the others dressed in the rags of the prisoners. The prisoners seemed armed with little more than rocks and sticks, but they were fighting with all the strength and courage of men of Aedyn.
Julia knew exactly what to do. She and Louisa were going to make their way out of the cave without being noticed—it would be easy, in this gloom—and they would get behind the prisoners. Then she would call out and announce that she was free, and that she had been sent to deliver the prisoners. They would rally to her, and the guards would be overwhelmed. The Captain would hand over his talisman without any fuss. It would be easy.
She turned to Louisa and whispered, “Follow me.” She reached out and took her stepsister’s hand, and they crept along the wall toward the entrance of the cave. And then they stopped cold in their tracks, for they could see another figure by the pale light of the torch. Something that was not a man …
Julia froze.
The Gul’nog swung his massive arms through the band of prisoners, scattering them right and left like so many matchsticks. Even the Khemian guards cowered before it. No one was foolish enough to fight it—they simply fled, and Julia felt the hope sinking within her.
The single torch had been knocked over in the confusion—perhaps by one of the guards, perhaps by the Gul’nog. Julia watched as the dim glow became brighter, the fire spreading slowly at first, then more swiftly. The girls could feel the wave of heat on their faces and arms—a heat entirely different than the dense, muggy air to which they had become accustomed.
The fire illuminated the land around the cave, every blade of grass casting a long, sharp shadow over its neighbor. Each rock, each tree stood out starkly, and by the light of the fire Julia watched as the prisoners fled. And then the fire engulfed the mouth of the cave, and they could see nothing but the flames in front of them.
Neither Julia nor Louisa had ever experienced heat like this before. Julia had burned her hand once on a hot pan—not badly—just enough for her to remember the sting. But this heat was new. The searing air singed their faces, and both girls shrank back into the cooler depths of the cave. The rock floor was damp—there was nothing to burn in the cave, and they would be safe until the fire and the Gul’nog had both passed them by.
They retreated further and further back, away from the crackling heat and the choking smoke that filled their lungs. Julia had never thought that a fire could be so loud—had never thought that it could boom in her ears until all other sounds were drowned out. And so it was that she barely heard the roar of the Gul’nog, and when she turned around she saw a monster in flames.
He had come through the fire for them. This creature of night and shadow—he had sensed the presence of the Deliverer, and he had leapt through a blaze that would kill a man. Flames licked his face, his arms, his legs, but he seemed unharmed. He opened wide his mouth and roared again.
Louisa’s fingers slackened in Julia’s hand, and without a word she slumped to the ground. Julia fell to her hands and knees, feeling Louisa’s limp body beside her. There was nothing to do. Nothing to do but wait for the Gul’nog, and whatever horrors he had in mind for the Deliverer. There was no place to run, nowhere they could go to escape. And so Julia closed her eyes and, in her last moments, breathed up a prayer. It was a prayer without words, without hope, without expectation.
But it was enough.
With a rush of wind another figure came through the flames. Julia opened her eyes and at first could hardly make out what it was—a creature that seemed not to touch the earth, that tore at the Gul’nog with claws and wings and …
Wings. It was the falcon—the falcon that had brought them across the sea! Julia stifled a cry as she realized who had come. She wanted to go forward—wanted to throw her arms around the falcon—but she held back, watching the two dark figures battle against the glare of the fire. The falcon’s claws were deadly, tearing at the Gul’nog’s flesh and doing the damage that the fire could not.
The Gul’nog fought back, his fists tearing into the falcon’s wings, trying to cripple it and end the attack. But the falcon was the monster’s equal in strength and size, and the battle seemed to go on and on, neither side gaining any ground. Julia watched, hardly daring to move, hardly daring to breathe, certain that any second might be the falcon’s last.
And then, in the space of an instant, it happened. The falcon’s claw slashed through the air, and one of its talons sliced into the Gul’nog’s eye. The monster gave an unearthly cry and crumpled to the ground, both fists clutched tight to his face. And Julia was screaming, screaming with all the air left in her lungs, screaming even as the falcon turned and fixed its great eye upon her.
All the breath left her lungs as she looked into that eye. It seemed to hold all the pain of the world, all the wisdom of the ages. The falcon came toward her, slowly—it was tired, Julia realized. By the light of the fire that still raged outside she could see that its feathers were singed around the edges, and there were tiny rivulets of dark blood trickling down its chest.
It bent its head, its eye on a level with hers, and Julia instantly understood that she was meant to climb on its back.
“But where?” she asked. “Where will you take me?”
The falcon didn’t answer, but jerked its head to the side in that curious way of birds. Julia understood. Home.
“No,” said Julia. “Peter’s been taken away and Louisa’s fainted over there. I know the pendant’s back at home, I know that without the pendant the volcano will explode and we won’t be able to stop that dark power, but I can’t leave Peter and Louisa here. I won’t.”
And then something happened that Julia did not expect. The falcon tilted its head again, opened its beak, and let out a shrill cry. And then, out of the shadows, stepped an old man swathed in the dark robes of a monk. A man Julia knew well.
With a little cry Julia ran forward into his arms. It was Giaus—Giaus who had saved their lives in Aedyn more times than she could remember. The monk held her in a tight embrace, then lifted up her chin and looked deep into her eyes.
“The volcano is going to explode with or without the pendant,” he said, in a voice as warm and rich as she’d remembered. “The mine has gotten too deep, and the tremors are getting worse. You’ve seen this for yourself. The Khemians know that the power in the earth will finally be released. They think that with the united talisman they’ll be able to control it, but we both know,” he said, “that there is only one force in all the worlds that can control a dark power such as this.”
“The Lord of Hosts,” said Julia.
“He can destroy these demons,” said Gaius, “but if the power is unchecked it will take over our whole world. The two parts of the talisman must be united before the light can return.”
“I don’t understand,” Julia insisted. “Why does the Lord of Hosts depend on a talisman to come back to his people?”
“The Lord of Hosts never left,” replied the monk. “But he has given us clues and tools to find his presence. We don’t know what will happen when the two halves come together, but the prophecy tells us we will be flooded with light.” Giaus moved closer, and his arm came around Julia in an embrace. “We can’t know everything all at once, dear one. There’s always a mystery while we wait for the story to unfold.”
Julia nodded, considering this. “So I have to go home,” she said. “I have to go home to get the star pendant. And I have to go quickly, because”—she turned over her shoulder to look at the still form of her stepsister, lying in the shadows of the cave —“because there might not be much time left.”
“There is never enough time for all the good we wish to do in the world,” the falcon said. “But there is no time to hesitate.”
“What about Peter? I don’t know where he’s being kept—I can’t go home without him. What if he’s hurt? What if he needs me? And Louisa—do we leave her here?”
“Your brother and sister are under the protection of the Lord of Hosts,” said the falcon. A stern note had come into his voice. “It is time for you to do what is necessary, my child. You must find the pendant and bring it back here.”
He bent his knees and ducked his head in a sort of bow. Julia put out her hand to touch the top of its head, stroking the feathers at the crest of its head with a gentle hand. She hoisted herself up onto the falcon’s back, steadying herself between its wings and putting her arms tight around its neck.
“We must go through the fire,” the falcon told her. “Don’t be afraid. Hold tight.” And then he gave a strong beat of his mighty wings and rose up into the sky. Julia clung tight to its neck as the air whistled around her, and then she was soaring, soaring, up over the edge of the world.