Everyone sat there in silence. Alice got up and began pacing.
“It is foretold,” she mused, “well, the prophecy’s been there for a long time then, and we must be the 6 children of 12 years old. You guys are all 12, right?” She looked at them expectantly. Everyone answered yes. Although, Peter didn’t know if he was exactly 12 yet. He could be 13 and not even know. He hadn’t kept track of time. He only knew he’d survived each passing day without starving to death or getting mauled by someone or something. He was sure the same thing would be for Helen too.
Alice paced some more, pondering the meaning of the prophecy. “Shall come to the forsaken kingdom… So what’s the kingdom? There are 4 in Iddenu, so which one?”
Skylar looked like she was trying to figure it out, too. She was tapping her foot with her arms crossed, her brow creased. “And claim the prize that must not be named? What prize? And why’s it not named?”
“Well, December 21st must be the deadline….” Alice said.
Skylar’s yellow eyes lit up in excitement. “The winter solstice! That’s when there’s the winter moon! That has to be some sort of key.”
“And the rest of the prophecy just says that the curse will be gone and we’ll have finished the quest.” Alice chimed in.
“Yes,” Luke said, but then sounded uncertain, “but I think that’s some time from now. Old Joe, what day is it?”
Old Joe walked over to a wall that had lines drawn on it, to keep the time. “June 23rd.”
“Of course!” Skylar said as she smacked her forehead like she should’ve known this. “The summer solstice was 2 days ago!”
Richard seemed uneased by this. “Why…why would we be kidnapped on the summer solstice?”
“Well the Dueglesteiners must know something,” Helen said, “If they knew to bring us together on the summer solstice to start the prophecy, then they must know more about the prophecy as well.”
Old Joe, who had been mostly quiet this entire time, said something. It was a mutter at first, so Peter asked, “What?”
“It’s all falling into place,” Old Joe said, louder this time. Then he shook his head, seemingly clearing his thoughts. “the Duegesteiners need you kids. And they need you soon.”
“Why do they need us Old Joe?” Peter asked.
Old Joe looked at them, then his entire attitude changed. “Well, ya kids need some sleep, an’ it’s gettin’ dark.”
Peter didn’t understand why his old friend would change like that all of a sudden. It was strange, and Peter didn’t like it.
〜
Peter insisted on taking the first watch. But Old Joe protested that Peter wouldn’t stay up alone. When everyone was asleep, the silence in the night made Peter’s thoughts run wild. He felt like he shouldn’t have brought the others here, and he didn’t like the amount of memories brought back to him from this place.
Old Joe walked slowly over to Peter when the others were asleep, sitting in front of the fireplace.
Then, Old Joe said what Peter had been thinking over and over again for years.
“It’s not yer fault, ya know.”
Those words brought back such a flood of memories Peter had to take a second to regain his composure.
“Yes, but I blame myself.”
“Why?”
Peter looked at Old Joe, who had been his grandfather on his mother’s side’s best friend. Old Joe was there at Peter’s birth and visited just about every week. Even though they weren’t related by blood, Peter still felt like Old Joe was a part of his family.
“Because I could’ve saved her,” Peter said, as he swallowed the lump that was already forming in his throat.
“No ya couldn’t and ya know ya couldn’t.” Old Joe said, gripping Peter’s shoulder.
“Why didn’t ya come here with me? I coulda raised ya.” Peter looked into Old Joe’s pleading eyes, wanting desperately for Peter to be with him, for them to be like a family again. But Peter was unsure.
“I was…afraid. I felt it was my fault and you were already old. I didn’t want to be a burden and… I felt if I lost you I’d have lost everything.”
Now the memories came flooding back. Of the night it all happened.
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Peter remembered being young, about 5 or 6, and his mother was tucking him in for the night. He could only remember a little bit of her, it had been so long ago. He couldn’t remember her name, but he remembered her face and her voice. How she’d sing him his favorite lullaby every night. Just like that night.
She had just kissed his forehead when they heard his father shout. His mother whipped around, her red curls brushing against Peter’s face. She opened Peter’s bedroom door which looked down into the steps below. Orange light and heat instantly filled the room.
“Peter,” his mother said, “go to the roof. Okay, honey? And don’t come back here, you understand?”
Peter nodded, and his mother helped him to the roof. The flames were coming into his bedroom now, and his mother shut the trapdoor. But she was still inside.
Peter didn’t know why, but he felt he needed to go. He needed to help his mother.
Peter had opened the trapdoor as the flames rose up, engulfing him in flames.
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Back in the present, Peter felt his hand unconsciously go underneath his shirt. He slowly pulled his shirt off his head, staring at the mess of burns underneath. They covered his chest, nearly reaching his neck but was only covered by the collar of his shirt. They were also on his back, but they weren’t as bad as his chest.
“I should’ve died, I should’ve been with them, I should’ve-” his voice broke and he sobbed into his hands. It was too much now. He had blocked those memories for years, never daring to try to see that horror again.
But now that he had experienced those memories once more, the emotions that had been boiling inside him for years finally exploded.
After the fire, there were some days he’d stay in one spot and wouldn’t move. Some days he wouldn’t eat by choice. Some days, he’d beat himself up. Mentally and physically.
He didn’t know why, he didn’t know how. He was so young. But after being bounced around from place to place, never really having a home, never having a family, it felt like the pain was too much.
Even though fire gave him warmth and light, every time the group made one, he made sure to keep his distance from it.
Fire was hungry. Fire was pain. Fire had taken everything away from Peter and he felt the same terror even now as he stared into the orange flames in Old Joe’s fireplace.
After he was done sobbing, he looked at Old Joe, his eyes red. “Why, old Joe? Why didn’t I die? I should be dead.”
“You’re special, Peter, dat’s why.”
“Yeah, well ‘special’ took everything away from me.”
Old Joe regarded Peter, then pat him on the shoulder. “Get some sleep.”
Reluctantly, Peter did, but he couldn’t help replaying the painful memory in his head over and over again. He had opened his mind to those memories again, and couldn’t help thinking about them.
〜
When he woke the next morning, he found out Old Joe had stayed up all night on watch. Peter couldn’t help feeling guilty. All he had done was mourn the loss of his parents once again.
“It’s okay,” Old Joe argued, “I barely sleep anyways now, when me mind’s always awake.”
Despite the lack of sleep, Old Joe was full of energy as he made them breakfast; scrambled eggs from his chickens. Luckily, Alice was fine with the eggs but insisted on not finishing the leftover tomatoes when Peter suggested she keep up her strength.
Everything was going well…until it didn’t.
Peter heard them coming before they even arrived.
Shouts and the thundering of horses’ hooves made everyone still, as if they all knew it had to be the Dueglesteiners. By the time he got to a window, they were at the top of the hill a hundred feet away from Old Joe’s hut.
“They’re here,” Peter said with a sense of finality. No matter where they went, the Dueglesteiners always seemed to find them.
Old Joe looked out too, but it seemed like he knew this would be coming.
“Old Joe?” Peter asked, “You still have that secret exit, right?”
“Of course!” Old Joe exclaimed with a look like he’d forgotten it. Old Joe’s eyes went to a glass case holding wooden carvings of animals from a small wooden duck to a wooden dragon that was a foot long.
“Help me!” Old Joe called as he moved over to the case. Luke and Peter jumped into action and with a bit of effort, they pushed it away to reveal a door that had been otherwise hidden by the case.
“This door has magic in it,” Skylar murmured to herself as if she could sense the power in it.
“Yes,” Old Joe agreed, “blessed by Sahir himself.” Old Joe boasted. Peter remembered the stories his mother had told him of the great wizard Sahir, who was said to heal any sickness and turn any metal into gold.
But Old Joe stopped bragging long enough to say to the door in an authoritative voice, “Open.”
Peter watched as the stone door slowly opened, with the sound of stone grinding against stone.
When the door opened, they could see a passage about 20 feet long, made of stone and at the end was the light of day.
“Ladies first,” Peter heard Luke say, and he gestured for Skylar to take the lead. She pulled an arrow from her quiver, and nocked it in place, slowly pulling the string back.
Alice went second, and Helen third. Richard was eager to be fourth. Luke gave Peter a look, then followed Richard.
Peter looked back at Old Joe, and asked, “Aren’t you coming with us?”
Old Joe gave him a sympathetic look smiling a sad smile, making his smile lines show by his eyes. Peter’s world fell apart as he saw the smile, the sadness in his eyes.
It was happening again.
“No,” Peter whispered, “No, you can’t-”
“Yer parents loved you, Peter. They loved you with all their heart.”
“Old Joe-” Peter tried to cut in, but Old Joe kept talking.
“When ya love someone, then ya sacrifice things for them. I never had a wife or children of me own, but I love ya, Peter, I love you as one of me own.”
“Old Joe, no.”
“So let me sacrifice somethin’ for you, Peter.” Tears were welling up in Old Joe’s eyes now, but he continued to give Peter that sad smile. Old Joe stepped back and out of the passage, then said to the door, “Close.”
Luke must’ve seen what was going on because he backtracked, and as Peter’s emotions grew more, Luke grabbed Peter from behind as he tried to move toward Old Joe. Peter yelled at Luke to let him go, tears flowing down his cheeks, and struggled to get out of Luke’s grip, but Luke was strong.
“Come on, we have to go!” Skylar shouted from ahead, but Peter didn’t hear her. All he could hear was Old Joe.
As the stone door closed, Old Joe nodded to Peter.
“Goodbye, Peter.”
Then the stone door shut, right as a tear trickled down Old Joe’s face.
“No…no!” Peter finally broke free of Luke’s grasp, pounding his fists on the stone door, hoping to open it.
“Open!” he shouted at it, “Open!”
But the door didn’t budge. Peter kicked at it with his broken boot, but it did nothing to the magical door.
In pain and in defeat, Peter sank to his knees on the floor, placing his fist on it again. Sobs racked his body, shaking him beyond anything Peter had ever experienced.
“Peter…” he thought he heard his mother say.
“Peter…” came the voice of his father.
“Peter…” Luke’s voice broke Peter from his trance, his hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Peter, I’m sorry, but we have to go.”
Peter only calmed down enough as they came out of the passage, and found a good spot to watch what would happen next.
As Boromir banged on Old Joe’s door, Peter held his breath. What was Old Joe going to do? For a paranoid old man, he was stubborn beyond belief. And Peter feared his stubbornness might tap into Boromir’s unchecked rage.
But deep down, Peter knew what would happen.
So why was he watching?
Peter watched as Old Joe came out of the door, acting as if he wasn’t expecting the soldiers demanding him to answer.
But a moment later, Old Joe must’ve made a mistake. Because Peter watched in horror as Boromir ran him through with his sword.
Peter gasped, and covered his mouth as he stifled a scream. The worst had happened.
No, no, no, Peter thought, This can’t be happening, he’s all I have left.
But even as the Dueglesteiners ran away, Peter kept finding his eyes wandering to Old Joe’s body, still lying in his open door...
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