Chosen Ones (13 page)

Peter looked around him, feeling the heat of the sun on his neck. He noted that some guards had assembled on a raised rocky platform of land outside one of the main gates. They were gathered around the clay cannon, which they had mounted on a wooden trestle. Ahead of them lay the great forest, stretching far into the distance. The cannon pointed towards the wood. Unless the cannonbal travel ed a very great distance, they would be able to see where it hit the ground ahead of them.

The guards were kicking two slaves who had been instructed to secure the cannon on the rock platform. An open canvas sack of gunpowder was placed beside the cannon along with two cannon bal s. Some horses loitered nearby, tearing at the long grass that grew alongside the rocks—stal ions of the Jackal, the Leopard, and the Wolf, and a fourth for the captain of the guard.

The captain marched towards Peter.

“Show us how to load this infernal device. And no tricks. Clear?”

“Clear,” muttered Peter as he poured gunpowder into the barrel and careful y lowered a cannonbal on top of it. He checked that the touch hole was fil ed with gunpowder, placed a piece of wadding on top, and stood back from the weapon.

“It’s ready.”

It was ready…and as soon as fire hit the gunpowder everything would explode in his face. He took a deep breath. “Captain, those horses wil bolt when they hear the noise of the explosion. They might injure themselves. Can you get someone to lead them back a bit and hold them?” The captain grunted his assent and shouted toward the slaves.

“You there! Take the lords’ horses over there against that wal . And don’t dare let go of them.

They’re far more valuable than you are.” He turned back to Peter. “Now tel us what to do, and what to look for.”

Peter looked at the rock platform. The cannon was in its center, about twenty paces from the horses against the wal . A number of guards in addition to the captain were mil ing about, al fascinated by this new piece of technology, and by its side was an open canvas bag of gunpowder. The Jackal, the Leopard, and the Wolf stood on a platform some distance away, surveying the scene before them. It was perfect.

“The cannon wil fire one of these bal s a distance over there, towards the forest,” Peter said, pointing. “I want you and your men to watch careful y for signs of impact. Then we need to go to where the cannonbal has landed, and work out how far it has travel ed. That wil help us calibrate the weapon. Is that clear?” Peter was trying very, very hard to sound like his father, trying to sound commanding and authoritative.

“Perfectly. You four! Stand over there. Keep your eyes peeled straight ahead of you. Don’t look round! I don’t want you missing this bal when it hits the ground. Now”—he turned back to Peter, who was intent on the slaves moving the horses. “What else?”

“Wel ,” he said, trying to look once more like an emissary of Albion, “I ought to have the privilege of firing the weapon. After al , I designed it. I’l just need a match.” He looked over his shoulder expectantly.

Peter was taking a gamble and it paid off. The captain looked at him with suspicion.

“Oh no, you won’t. No way I let a boy like you fire this thing. Now show me what to do, and no tricks, now.” Peter, feigning disappointment, nodded and stepped back to al ow the captain to see more clearly.

“You light the match, and hold it against this piece of wadding, here. The powder wil catch fire, and this spreads into the main body of the barrel.

The rest of the powder wil explode and propel this bal far out across the field. There wil be lots of smoke, and a lot of noise. That means it’s worked.” The captain nodded gravely. “Understood. Men, prepare yourselves!” He looked around, and Peter hurriedly stepped back. He began to walk towards the horses, hoping nobody would notice what he was doing. Luck seemed to be on his side now.

“Three! Two! One! Here we go…”

The captain’s voice faded into the distance as Peter broke into a sprint. He must get to the horses before…

The force of the explosion hit Peter between his shoulder blades. He was knocked forward and stumbled on the grass, throwing his hands forward to catch himself. And then, in the smoke and the chaos, he clawed his way upright and ran for the horses. He dashed for the captain’s horse, tore its lead from the hand of a dazed slave, and began to ride furiously through the choking clouds of smoke and debris towards the forest.

The horse responded powerful y to his urgings, leaping over low hedges and streams and gal oping

towards the green mass of trees on the horizon.

Freedom! But Peter’s heart sank as he heard the one sound he had dreaded, the sound he had hoped never to hear: the sound of other horses behind him.

He was being pursued.

It was difficult to think about any strategy when he was so focused on guiding the horse to safety and staying upright in the saddle. His only plan was speed. The horse responded to his urging and pressed on towards the safety of the trees. It was a fine horse—a thoroughbred, he thought vaguely, a horse that would be a champion back in England, but he could not shake off his pursuers. He dared not look backward, as he might lose his balance, but kept pressing the horse for speed, more speed.

Minutes seemed like hours as his horse gal oped towards the treeline, its nostrils flaring. He was nearly there! Maybe he could lose his pursuers in the trees…Peter could see that there was a gap ahead, perhaps leading to a trail. The trees raced to meet him, and parted to al ow him to enter their sanctuary. He guided the horse in the right direction, hoping it would not take fright at the mass of trees.

And behind him, he could stil hear the relentless beating of hooves. He had not been able to shake them off.

Peter reined in the horse, leading it off the trail and into the trees. He stroked his animal and spoke softly to it, dismounting. Peter stood in silence, waiting for his pursuers, hoping they would hear neither his own heart racing, nor the horse’s heavy breathing.

Two figures passed by him slowly, clearly on the watch for him. Peter watched as one pointed and murmured to the other. They both dismounted and approached on foot. His heart pounding more than it had even during the explosion, Peter hurriedly searched around him for anything he could use as a weapon. There were no swords mounted on the horse’s saddle and no good rocks lying anywhere about.

Peter looked up, aware that it had gone very quiet. And then, to his astonishment, he saw two slaves before him.

“Lord Peter,” said the first, his head bowed low,

“I believe we can help you keep safe from pursuit.”

“I—what?” Incredulous, Peter kept a hand on his horse’s saddle, ready to flee at a moment’s notice.

“We must go deeper into the forest,” said the second slave. “They are sure to send out search parties. We must keep to the trees—tracks can be fol owed.”

“I am Philip,” said the first slave, sensing Peter’s hesitation. “This is Andrew. We only need press on a bit longer, for the guards fear the woods. But we must go quickly.”

“Come, let us go,” said Andrew, and Peter nodded his assent. For what other choice did he have by now?

The trio remounted and headed into the forest.

Peter could not help but notice that the slaves were leading him. They seemed to know where they were going.

Within the castle the Lords of Aedyn were huddled together in a conference, trying to make some sense of the reports that had reached them and the curious evidence of their own eyes. The cannon had exploded, igniting a nearby bag of gunpowder.

Shards of clay and the explosive force of the cannon had seriously injured five guards, burning one of them almost beyond recognition, and that worthless captain of the guards had been kil ed instantly. It was, thought the Wolf, a grim day indeed.

He looked sharply at the man who stood trembling before him. A grimmer day than most for him, he thought.

“Your fault again, Anaximander,” he said without emotion. “You have failed as usual—failed miserably and completely. And now, before you die, answer me this one thing: Where is the traitor Peter, and when can I expect to have the pleasure of hanging him?”

Anaximaner cringed before the lords. He knew they would not be pleased with what he had to say, but his fate would be al the worse if he concealed it.

“There is no sign of the fair stranger. Nor is there any sign of the two slaves assisting in the…

test.”

The Leopard leapt from his throne with a snarl.

“Are you tel ing us that they have escaped?

Three of them?”

Anaximander very much hoped that the earth would open up and swal ow him. As it did nothing of the sort, he only nodded and continued.

“And three of the horses are missing as wel . It looks as if the renegades seized the animals and made for the forest.”

To this there was no response: the lords were silent. And then Anaximander saw that the Wolf’s knuckles were white as he gripped the arms of his throne. He raised a hand to summon the guards, and the Lord Chamberlain was dragged, shrieking, from the Hal .

Without missing a beat, the Jackal turned to the others. “And what of this cannon? Do we conclude that it malfunctioned accidental y? Or that the traitor deliberately designed it to explode?”

“We saw it ourselves,” the Leopard reminded him. “The captain fired the cannon, not the fair stranger. I suggest”—and here he began to look very proud indeed—“that we make more of these cannons and see if we can get them working properly. We have nothing to lose by doing so.” The Wolf nodded. “Very wel . We may need these weapons soon if we are to face a threat from the forest.”

Deep in the forest preparations were being made for the Great Remembrance. The seats in the garden were gradual y being fil ed, although it was obvious that the garden had been intended to hold a much larger crowd. Many were absent. But the faithful few were gathered—Lukas and his band of men, dressed in their characteristic green, Alyce and Helen, and those who had not been conscripted to slave for the lords inside the castle. There was excitement in the air and rumors surged through the crowd. This year would be different!

Julia was led to a seat behind the stone chair where she waited as the others took their places. She was dressed in a radiant white robe. Alyce had helped Julia get dressed, combing her hair until it flashed like gold in the early evening sun. And now she waited to be cal ed forward.

As the disk of the sun final y slipped from view silence fel over the assembly. A great eagle flew down from the heights of one of the surrounding trees, its majestic wings beating the air as it descended. It landed on the ground in front of the great, empty throne at the center of the garden. A few moments later, Gaius, also dressed in white, mounted the throne. He looked out over the gathered crowd and spoke.

“Friends, I am the keeper of our memories. You al know that tonight is a special night. It is not like any other night of the year. For this is the night of the Great Remembrance, when we cal to mind how we came out of the doomed land of Khemia to this fair land of Aedyn! The dark Lords of Aedyn have forbidden us to speak of this, but truth can never be silenced! We must never forget the true story of the great exodus from Khemia. You must learn this story by heart. Write it on your mind and engrave it on your hearts! And remember wel : the story has not yet ended. It wil not end until the Lord of Hosts himself returns and redeems us.”

Then he closed his eyes, and began to speak in a voice that Julia had never heard before—a voice that seemed not quite his own. It was a voice ful of memory, a voice ful of pain. The monk held within him five centuries of tears and anguish, she remembered.

“This night is like no other night,” Gaius was saying. “For tonight we remember how the Lord of Hosts brought us al out of Khemia. He snatched us from the jaws of destruction and brought us to this rich and pleasant land. We remember with thanks his servant Marcus, who faithful y led us to this land.” Around her, Julia noticed that everyone was passing round morsels of some kind of food. Those who had plenty shared with those who had none.

Alyce slipped across to where Julia was sitting and pressed something into her hands. Julia examined it cautiously. It appeared to be dried fish of some sort.