The next day dawned as beautiful as the one that preceded it. The rising sun bathed the castle in its soft, warm light. A gentle wind tugged at the flag of the Lords of Aedyn, high on the battlements of the citadel. And far away the same sun filtered through the leaves of the great forest of Aedyn, waking those who would do their best to tear down that flag and replace it with the emblem of the Lord of Hosts.

Peter woke early from a dreamless sleep. He swiped away a spider that had spent the night as an uninvited guest inside his blanket and sat up to stretch his arms. Today he would train his troops for battle!

Peter threw his blanket to one side and went to a nearby pool to wash his face. Afterwards, he sat by the edge of the clearing for some moments. This was where the training session would take place later. It was ideal. The archers would stand at the north end and shoot southwards. He stood there for some moments, the early morning sun flaring in his golden hair while the soft, cool wind disheveled it. He must tidy himself up before the training session, he decided. 

After all, he wanted to command the respect of his troops—just like his father, who never appeared before his men in a less than pristine state.

And command them he did, as many hours of sweat and hard work found him, at the end of the day, at the edge of the forest clearing watching fifty novices practicing their archery. It had been a difficult day, but Peter knew his archers had become as expert as he could hope. There would be one last volley before they broke for the evening meal.

"Draw! Aim! Release!"

The air filled with hissing as the arrows sped on their way, thudding into the ground at the far edge of the clearing. Their shooting was not perfect, but it would serve. It would cut enemy troops to pieces and destroy their morale. Especially if they were expecting to fight slaves armed only with their fists and wooden staffs.

"Stand down! Collect your arrows!"

The archers walked to the far edge of the clearing to retrieve their arrows, and returned them to their quivers. They stood milling around, exchanging stories of how they had come to the forest and anticipating the battle that would take place on the following day. Some drank from the pool of clear blue water at the north end of the clearing. It had been a long, hot day.

Two figures, radiant even in their dull forest garb, emerged from the forest. The chatter died away as Julia and Gaius entered the clearing. They had been observing the final volley.

Gaius raised his hands. "My friends, I am entrusted with the story of our people. I have told you its past. How the Lord of Hosts called us out of Khemia to this paradise. How this paradise was lost. And soon I will be able to tell the story of paradise regained! For tomorrow we shall again make history. We shall march on the citadel and overthrow the lords who have enslaved us all these centuries. Your children will tell this story to your grandchildren, and they will tell it for many generations to come!"

He smiled as the cheers resounded throughout the clearing. "And now—" he broke into his twinkling smile—"Now you must eat! Fruit and bread are to hand. And then you must rest, for at sunrise we fight!"

He had barely ceased speaking when the familiar aroma of fresh bread began to spread through the clearing.
 

Peter was enjoying a particularly succulent piece of rare and refreshing fruit when he noticed Julia coming towards him. He scooted over on the log so that she could sit down beside him. She looked serene here, he thought—more at peace with herself than she had ever looked back in England. But then, he realized with a start, he had never really paid a great deal of attention to her in England.

They were silent for a long moment as they sat together, enjoying the fresh night air and the excited sounds of the freed slaves all around them. And then Julia asked something that Peter would never have expected:

"What happens if we die here?"

He looked up at her, startled. "We won't die here."

"How do you know? We're going into battle tomorrow. And we both know what those lords are capable of."

"Yes…" Peter nodded, and then put on his brave-older-brother face. "I expect we'll be fine, Julia. Just fine. And once the battle's over we'll find a way to get home."

"How?"

"I don't know."

And there was silence again. Julia leaned her head on Peter's shoulder and sighed heavily. "Sometimes I miss home," she said. Peter nodded wordlessly. "I miss Grandmother and Grandfather and I miss Scamp and I miss clean sheets and warm blankets. And I miss Mother."

"I do too," said Peter.

They spent another moment like that, sitting together and watching the fire burn, and then Julia lifted her head up and smiled at Peter. It wasn't easy to be a hero, they silently agreed, but the time had come to grow up.

Continue to Chapter Nineteen.