They landed within the hour, Adalene glad they were once again on land. Her seasickness had gone down over the course of their journey, but she would still get nauseous at times.
This island was bigger than the last one they’d been to. It spread out for miles, thick forests and streams filling the land.
The beach was where they’d make camp. It was close to The Bowen and they could easily watch the forest behind them in case of any enemies.
As the others set up their supplies for the makeshift camp, Peter was assigned the role of collecting firewood. Although he hated the job, he decided it was best not to start another fight with anyone today.
He grumbled under his breath as he walked along the edge of the forest, first picking up fallen branches on the ground that were small enough to be good kindling. The larger ones would start the fire and hold the flame longer, but the kindling was what kept the fire going after the flames would start to die down.
It wasn’t the job itself that Peter didn’t like, it was what it would start. He’d had a bad relationship with fire in his life, and every time they’d start a fire Peter would feel the phantom pains of the fire burning his chest, the scars all along his torso that would never heal completely. Even the magical water from the River Sanitatem couldn’t heal them. He thought they’d never go away, an eternal reminder of how he’d tried to save his family.
He brought back a pitiful amount of firewood and said he’d get some more. He enjoyed the silence of the woods, the pure beauty of it all.
The way the sun peaked through the trees, the creatures that roamed the small ecosystem. Peter wished he could stay in this calm, peaceful world forever, far away from the troubles and stress of their quest.
Despite constantly needing to move, Peter liked to slow down and rest for a little while. The events of the day had worn him out, and now he longed for a rest.
But it seemed he would not get one.
As Peter stood up after getting another tree branch, he could tell somebody was behind him. Before he could react, there was a sword at his throat and a hand on his shoulder.
Peter sighed in frustration. “Don’t tell me. You’re a Dueglesteiner and there’s a whole lot more in these woods and now I’m your prisoner.”
There was a moment of silence, then the person holding him hostage said, “How’d you know?” he sounded young, not much older than Peter, and curious as well.
“Hmm…let me think…maybe because your country is the only one constantly chasing me and my friends?” Peter asked sarcastically.
“Would you shut him up?” another voice asked, and a middle-aged Dueglesteiner walked out of the bushes, revealing himself.
“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding-” Peter started to say, but the middle-aged Dueglesteiner raised his sword and struck him across the head with the handle, knocking him out.
…
As Peter slowly came to, he realized that the sand was right on his cheek, his hands were tied behind him, and the others were around him.
They were sitting up, of course, but no. Peter had to be in an uncomfortable position on the sand.
Peter immediately tried to sit up, using his upper body to get up. It didn’t work, so he put his hands on the sands and pushed up that way.
Once he was up, he looked at his friends sitting around him. They looked somewhat ashamed that they’d been captured once again so easily by the Dueglesteiners, but Peter soon found out why.
There had to be at least twenty Duegelsteiners surrounding them, varying from a little older than Peter to the middle-aged Dueglesteiner who knocked Peter out.
Peter opened his mouth to say something to the others when the soldier who knocked him out started to pace around them, a questioning look on his face.
“So, it looks like you children are wanted,” the Dueglesteiner produced a stack of posters, each with a sketch of the children including Skylar, but excluding Adalene.
When the soldier showed Peter his own, Peter leaned closer to it in confusion. “What?” he exclaimed, “That looks nothing like me! I mean, look at my nose! It is not hooked! And just where are my freckles? You can’t even tell I have red hair! You know, I am disappointed in the-”
“Peter…” Luke warned, giving him a look. The soldier holding the poster was glaring at him, his left eye twitching and Peter thought he was thinking about shutting Peter up again.
“I-I mean, it’s wonderful artistry!” Peter tried again, forcing a smile on his face, “Such beautiful sketchmanship!” He wasn’t even sure that was a word, but from the annoyed but calmer look on the Dueglesteiner’s face what he’d said had worked.
“You see,” the soldier said as he began pacing again, “There is just one problem. There is no elf in the posters like this one here,” The Dueglesteiner pointed to Adalene, who looked about ready to murder every single soldier in the vicinity. “Instead, there is this, ‘Protector’ the long-haired girl with a moon birthmark. The poster says her name is ‘Skylar Vurlice’.”
The soldier had mispronounced Skylar’s last name, making it sound nothing like the name he’d heard Skylar say.
“You little-” Luke started, anger flashing in his eyes, “Of course, you don’t know how to pronounce it!”
“Humans,” Adalene shrugged, pointing out the fact once again of the mispronunciations they’d experienced in the past few weeks.
The Dueglesteiner stormed over to Luke, giving him a smack across the back of his head, then yelled at him, “Then how do you pronounce it, boy?”
“Verlice, you Dueglestein scum,” Luke spat at the soldier’s boots, angering the Dueglesteiner. Peter had never seen Luke so angry or disrespectful to any of the soldiers, usually being happy and upbeat, not to mention the peacemaker of the group.
“Why you little…” the soldier started, gripping Luke’s shirt, “That is no way to speak to somebody far older and wiser than you!” he raised his hand to slap Luke again, but Alice stopped the fight.
“If you please, might we continue this discussion like civilized people? I dearly dislike it when people quarrel amongst themselves like animals,” Peter had only heard Alice’s pristine and civilized self a few times, saying she hated the way she had to present herself back in Thuron, always quiet and polite during the formal parties she’d have to attend.
The soldier turned to look at Alice, who had straightened her posture and tilted her head in a polite manner. He glared at her but dropped Luke, who gasped at the wind being knocked out of him, and grumbled as he sat himself up as Peter had.
The soldier straightened now as well and began pacing once again. “My question to you, fugitives is: where is this girl, Skylar?”
Luke’s eyes flared with anger and pain, and Helen did her best to signal to Luke to calm down.
When nobody answered, the soldier’s eye began twitching again, and he grunted in anger. “Can’t talk, eh? Guess the only thing you kids answer to is violence,” the Dueglesteiner stormed over to Peter and kicked him right in the side. When Peter fell over, grunting and gasping, the others’ eyes widened, gasping.
“Where is she, you petulant kids?” the Dueglesteiner kicked Peter’s chest again, and Peter’s mind went back to the fire, the pain of the flames burning his flesh. His mind wandered to Boromir basically throwing Peter around, almost killing him in the process. Boromir’s foot crashes down on Peter’s chest, exploding his torso with pain.
The memories flashed by, only pain in misery coming from it. Although he tried his best to cover up his pain with humor, he was afraid of it. He couldn’t bear getting hurt, the painful memories it brought back of not just physical pain, but emotional and mental pain as well.
“Which one of you is the leader, fools?” the soldier demanded, lifting Peter in a sitting position by his hair.
“I am,” Peter gasped, lying to keep the others from the torment he was facing. He may be scared of pain, but one thing Peter was was stubborn. He’d fight until his last breath to keep anyone else from getting hurt. And if there was one thing Peter knew, it was that his stubbornness outweighed his fear.
“No!” Luke shouted, looking at the soldier, “It’s me. I am the leader.”
“He’s lying,” Richard protested, “I lead this group.”
“No, I lead zem,” Adalene also protested, “It is my duty to protect zese children.”
“That’s not true,” Helen responded, her deep blue eyes wide, “It’s me.”
“No, they’re all lying. I am the true leader. Everyone knows that.” Alice added.
“Tell me the real leader right now or I’ll kick his ribcage in!” The Dueglesteiner shouted to them, preparing his leg for a kick.
“I’d prefer it if you didn’t do that,” Peter joked but was given a light kick in his side for his sarcasm.
“Fine, it’s me.” Luke admitted, lowering his head, “Just…just leave the others alone.”
The Dueglesteiner walked over to Luke, whose eyes were staring off into the distance, afraid of what would happen next. The Dueglesteiner pushed Luke to the ground, facing the sky. The soldier pinned Luke’s shoulder with his foot and bent down to stare at him.
“Where. Is. The girl?” he demanded, giving Luke a kick in the side.
“Alright,” Luke gasped, “I’ll tell you. Just promise you won’t hurt the others.”
“Fine, I promise.” The Dueglesteiner grumbled, raising an eyebrow at Luke.
Peter, on the other hand, was completely confused. He looked to the others, hoping to see an answer in their eyes. But they looked just as surprised as he was.
Did Luke know if Skylar was alive? That would explain his undying hope that she was out there somewhere, but to say he knew where she was, was a stretch. Did Luke know something they didn’t? And how?
ns 15.158.61.5da2
