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gas released from deep within the earth. Marcus had heard the old stories—stories already ancient in his time—of an island beyond the sea, and organized the evacuation of Khemia. And after six long weeks at sea, weeks without good food or water or space to move, Marcus saw mountains in the distance.
    They found themselves in a wild new country—a land of forests and beaches, a land of bright light and mysterious shadows—and set about making a home there. The first crude shelters they built gave way to houses, and the houses to towns, and final y a great castle crowned over the island. It was from this castle that Marcus ruled, and the land grew fertile with justice and peace, just as Khemia had before it.
    But there was unrest among the lords. There were whispers in dark rooms and murmurs of treason, which Marcus ignored at his peril. He was an old man by this time, his judgment clouded by the desire for ease and a belief in the loyalty of his people.
    His death, some said, was hastened by the hand of one of the lords, but Marcus’s health had already been failing and nothing could be proved.
    The lords took power, three of them crowning themselves regents, and the days of peace were ended. They cal ed themselves the Jackal, the Leopard, and the Wolf, and they enforced their power ruthlessly, enslaving any who refused total obedience to their own selfish ideas and demands.
    They had been granted unnatural long life by virtue of three ebony amulets which they wore about their necks—and as time went on, they became only more cruel. Marcus’s paradise, said Gaius, became a prison.
    Julia was quiet throughout the story. She sat with her chin resting on her knees, staring wide-eyed at the man before her. As he fel silent she asked again, in a hushed voice, “Who are you?” He smiled at her question. “I was with Marcus on Khemia, and I was loyal to him throughout his reign. When the Lords of Aedyn revolted I escaped to these woods. They sent out search parties to try and find me, but they never succeeded. The woods are dark and deep, and are a safe refuge for a fugitive like me.”

    “And what are we—Peter and I—what are we doing here?”
    “I cal ed you,” Gaius said simply. “I went to your world and made a way for you to come here.”
    “The garden,” said Julia. “You’re the monk—the monk who was…”
    “Murdered,” he said grimly. “Yes, I’m the monk. I built the garden as a gateway for the Chosen Ones when the time was right. I was told to cal until they heard and answered. And you came.”
    “Told? Who told you?”
    “One even greater than Marcus, child. For there is a greater story—a deeper story. A story which rules al stories. And a story of which you are part.” Julia began to think that someone had made a very big mistake.
    “I’m not…Gaius, I’m not the chosen one. Peter and I…”
    “Who are you to say, my dear, whether or not you are meant for great things?”
    Julia shivered.
    “Tel me—tel me about this place. Tel me how you can be here if you were—” she swal owed. “If you were murdered back in Oxford.”
    “I told you before that I have a little magic,” said the monk. “Because I died in another world my spirit can remain. And I am needed here to tel the story.
    The people must not forget. This is where we come to remember.” He lifted his head and looked around.
    “This is the garden of the Great King. It is the place where the faithful have gathered every year for the past five centuries to tel the story of the exodus from Khemia. And now we also tel the story of our enslavement in Aedyn.”
    “Aedyn?”
    “This island, fair one. This is Aedyn.” Julia nodded as the monk continued. “This garden is where the faithful gather to remember the past and look forward to the future. A future…” He paused. “A future in which two strangers from another world—
    the Chosen Ones—would come to this land and set it free.”
    “What do you want us to