“It probably makes sense for you to tell me more about this man you saw.”
Peter nodded, and replied, “There isn’t much more to say. He asked me where I was staying, where my parents were and then, at the end, asked me if I really wanted to know what was happening—or was I too blinded by promises that had been made to me.”
Jenny nodded, taking it all in. “And he used your actual name?”
“I’m pretty sure he called me Peter—no, Master Peter.”
“That’s an old-fashioned way to speak to someone.”
“Well, he did look pretty old, and he had a huge, gray mustache.”
Jenny nodded again. Peter was not sure if this meant she found his answer useful or was instead just politely acknowledging his reply.
They walked along, each in their own thoughts, until Jenny asked, “What do you really think about Orb? You told us everything that happened, but I can’t figure out if you believe he is a friend, or foe.”
She pulled at her skirt. “What have we gotten ourselves into?”
Peter grimaced. He had indeed told them about all his adventures with Orb. For better or worse, he had not left anything out, but he had definitely held his tongue regarding how he felt about Orb. For one thing, he had gotten all of them into this situation and it seemed like a bad idea to make everyone doubt what they were doing. What good would that do? More importantly, he was not entirely sure what he thought about Orb.
There were times when he wished they had never met. There were also times, like now, when he realized just how amazing his life had become because of Orb. Orb was like a new kid in town. Full of surprises—some good and some bad. He was also an ancient force from an entirely different race that was so much more powerful, and advanced, at least when compared to humans, that Peter was not entirely sure he was capable of actually knowing, and understanding, Orb.
“Peter?”
Peter saw the church in the distance and recognized that his answer would need to be short. Eli was not kidding about coming after them. He went with the truth.
“I truly don’t know. I think Orb looks after himself. If we are helpful to him he is helpful in return.”
“And what if we are not helpful to him?”
“I don’t know that we want to find out.”
Jenny dodged a hole, frowning. “I still don’t understand exactly what we’re supposed to do when we reach the last receptacle. I don’t know why Orb needs five of us, and I wonder what happens after this battle with the final guardian. Do we really just go home? What will home be like if Orb gets his wish?”
Peter thought about Big Ed and the others back home, drifting in a fog that Orb had imposed on them. Jenny was asking a lot of the same questions he had pondered. Was he just going to go back to school after all of this? Would gym class, or even history class not taught by a coach, mean anything if they successfully unlocked all of Orb’s power? Would Orb want to keep them around, or would he instead discard them?
“I don’t know, Jenny.” He paused, then added, “There’s another question you haven’t asked—what happens if Orb, and all of us, lose?”
Jenny stopped and looked at Peter, her eyes wide. “Do you really think that’s possible?”
Peter started walking again, still preoccupied with how much time they had before the others arrived, and Jenny hustled to catch up.
“I don’t know. I do know that, according to Orb, his enemy—Cube—was strong enough to defeat him and then somehow break him up and imprison him in the receptacles. Orb has said that Cube has returned. I have no idea what will happen.”
“Why didn’t you say all of this to the entire group?”
It was a good question, but Peter avoided it by pointing in front of them at the church. The large front door was still shut. There was no sign of the little man with the big mustache. “We’re here.”
Peter and Jenny walked up to the front door. Unlike the building they were staying in, this door still had a large, metal handle—the kind you grab and then use your thumb to push down the lever at the top. Peter looked at the handle, but then decided the more polite option was to knock. In the middle of the door was a large, wrought iron ring. Peter pulled it up and then let it fall back against the door. There was a smooth depression in the door where the knocker had repeatedly hit—back when this town had people living in it.
The knocker screeched from the movement, then thudded loudly against the door. Peter stepped back, shared a quick glance at Jenny, and then stared at the door. There was no sound from inside or detectable movement. Peter counted in his head to ten, then repeated the knocking. This time he let the knocker fall two times.
Again, he stepped back and waited.
After what seemed like an eternity, but was in reality only another ten seconds, Peter shrugged and returned to the door. He put his right hand on the large handle, his right thumb on the lever, and pushed down as hard as he could. Nothing happened. He repeated the effort, this time using his left thumb too. For a moment there was only a stalemate—Peter’s thumbs versus the ancient handle—then something clicked. The lever went down, and Peter stumbled inside several steps as the door swung open inward, revealing nothing but darkness within.
Peter took a few more cautious steps into the darkness. He could sense Jenny behind him. He wished he had thought to bring a flashlight. As if on cue, a small flame sprang into existence about ten feet in front of them. The flame, which hovered about four feet in the air, bounced a little as it drew closer. Jenny came to Peter’s side, then reached down and grabbed his hand as they both slowly backed away from the approaching flame.
Jenny squeezed Peter’s hand and he squeezed back. Peter was just about to turn and run when he heard the door close heavily behind them.
Both their backs made contact with the closed door at the same time, and both Jenny and Peter screamed into the darkness out of fright as the flame grew closer. They turned and hugged one another, trembling, when the flame grew close enough for Peter to see that the flame was from the wick of a large, mostly melted candle. Orange wax spilled over the sides, forming a small pool around the metal saucer which supported the candle.
As they watched, the candle rose a little higher, revealing the face, and the mustache of the old man he had seen earlier. The man smiled ever so slightly, the right corner of his mustache rising a bit, then asked, “So, you do want to know, Master Peter.”
Without waiting for a response, the man gestured that they should follow him, then turned and walked back into the church, the light from the candle he now held at his side showing them the way. As they went farther into the church their eyes adjusted to the dim light and, more importantly, the sun streaming in from the stained-glass windows on either side of the church partially illuminated the interior.
The church was simple, clean and, like the rest of the town, devoid of people. Peter stared at the rows of heavy, wooden pews. Jenny’s eyes went to the large crucifix behind the altar.
The small man used his free hand to gesture toward the pews. Peter looked to Jenny, who nodded. Peter waited for Jenny to sit on the arm at the end of one of the pews; her skirt billowed out as she extended her legs into the aisle. Peter sat sideways on the arm of the next pew, and the man with the mustache blew out the candle and sat heavily on the pew across from them. The man was not much shorter sitting down than he was when standing up.
“Where would you like to start, Master Peter?”
Peter thought of ten different questions, but then settled on one that seemed to make the most sense. “Who do you work for—Orb or Cube?”
The man’s mustache twitched. He calmed it by reaching up and teasing the right side back into a tight point.
“I thought you might start by asking my name, which, by the way, is Bartholomew.”
Peter felt a little embarrassed that he had skipped right past asking the man’s name, but then remembered the others who were now likely on their way. “I’m sorry, Bartholomew, it’s jus
t that we don’t have a lot of time before the rest of our group arrives and—”
Bartholomew released his mustache and waved his hand as he shook his head. “We have all the time we need, Master Peter. Time is fungible in this place.”
“Fungible?” Peter asked.
“It means malleable,” said Jenny. When the confused look on Peter’s face did not change she added, “He’s saying that time can be changed, or manipulated here.” She looked at Bartholomew, “Right?”
Bartholomew nodded. “Precisely, Mistress Jenny.” He then stared hard at Peter. “In regard to your question, Master Peter, I do not ‘work’ for anyone. My role is to ensure that the Game is played fairly, and that all participants have the information they need to make their decisions wisely.”
“What do you mean, ‘Game’?” asked Peter. “And please just call me Peter.”
Jenny added, “And you can please just call me Jenny.” She stiffened a bit. “I am older than Peter, but I’m not that old.”
Bartholomew nodded. “Let me answer your question about the Game by asking you—what is it that you hope to achieve?”
Peter looked at Jenny, then said, “We are here while Orb recharges. Once he is fully recharged we’ll go to Costa Rica and reunite him with his last receptacle.”
“Ah,” said Bartholomew, “and then what happens?”
There was silence until Jenny softly replied, “We don’t know.”
Bartholomew pulled at the end of his mustache again. “And how is it that you came to join what you are calling Orb?”
“I found him in a dried-out river that is next to my family’s farm,” offered Peter.
“And did you have to overcome a guardian of some kind?”
“No,” Peter said slowly, trying to make sure he was not missing anything. “There was a squirrel, but that came later.”
Jenny gave Peter an odd look, trying to remember how the squirrel fit into the story.
“Do you think, perhaps, that that river itself was a guardian? Removing the water freed that portion of Orb?”
Peter pondered that thought. “I guess I never thought about it in that way.”
“Did Orb ever tell you that he—I am assuming you are using ‘he’ versus ‘she’ to identify Orb but please correct me if that is not the case—that he, Orb, was the one who succeeded in drying up your river?”
Peter’s eyebrow rose up and his cheeks grew a little red. “Orb is the one who helped get the water back to our river!”
“Um,” murmured Bartholomew. “I will let you ponder that further on your own but for now let’s return to the planned finale.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “What has Orb promised to do for you if you help him reunite with his final receptacle?”
Jenny looked at Peter, who was quite angry about the river and the notion that he had been duped, then answered for them both. “We were actually just talking about that. Other than returning to our homes, Orb has not promised us anything.”
Bartholomew smiled and said, “Other than the fact that the river remains flowing, the job with its perks remains with Big Ed, etc., etc.”
Peter’s eyes widened at Bartholomew’s mention of Big Ed.
“And,” Jenny added, “We’ll save our world from the destruction that would be caused by Cube.”
Bartholomew scratched at his chin. “And why would Cube want to destroy the world?”
Jenny looked at Peter, who shrugged.
“Orb told you Cube was already in charge, correct?” Bartholomew continued, “Orb has been broken into manageable pieces for thousands of years under Cube’s reign. What has changed?”
A lengthy silence ensued as Peter and Jenny pondered these statements.
“That’s a good point,” Jenny finally agreed. “Orb implied that the return of Cube would be a disaster, but he didn’t say why.” Jenny pursed her lips, embarrassed at her willing embrace of Orb’s story. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it earlier.”
Bartholomew smiled. “You have been charmed, bedazzled to some degree. Look where you are and what you are able to see and do. Did you ever imagine in your wildest dreams that this would be your life?”
Peter shook his head. “But you’re saying that Orb lied to us? If you are telling the truth, then what actually happens when we go to Costa Rica?”
It was Bartholomew’s turn to look shocked. “Lied? I never said anything of the kind. I believe that Orb has been able to charm all of you out of asking more questions, but Orb does not lie. He simply shares the portions of the truth that are convenient to his position.”
“And how is it that you know all of this? Does Orb, or Cube, know that we are talking to you?” Peter demanded.
“Yes, of course. It is all part of the larger Game. I occupy this area just as others like me reside in other spots in the event that the Game flows through their region. Protocol dictates that one of these locations be used to ensure fairness.”
“Can Orb, or Cube, hear us now?” asked Jenny.
“No. I mentioned that time is fungible in this spot. It is also protected from intrusion.”
“How do we know that you’re not Cube, or that what you say is actually true?” Peter asked.
The little man smiled. “That, Peter, is the best question you have asked. Sadly, I can give you no proof. You must decide what to take from this conversation as part of the larger decisions you will soon make.”
Peter scowled, growing angrier at what he felt were vague, conflicting answers. “You asked me if I wanted to understand what was truly happening, but you haven’t told me anything.”
“I believe that you will find you have learned much through this exchange—most importantly the need to ask questions. I do understand, Peter, that a large burden has been placed upon you. Normally the players are mature members of their species. I am sorry this decision must come from someone so young.”
“What decision?” Jenny asked.
“That will be made clear when you reach your final destination.”
“Are you saying the decision is Peter’s to make? Or can I or one of the others take the burden?”
Bartholomew shook his head. “Orb chose Peter as his vehicle. You and the others are here to help him. You will each participate in the Game, but none of you can do anything on Peter’s behalf.”
Jenny, a little bit angry, continued, “You just said it wasn’t fair to ask this—whatever ‘this’ is—of someone so young. I’m older. Let me be the one.”
“It is not up to me to decide, Jenny. The pieces are in motion. There can be no changes.”
Peter, who had quietly watched the last exchange, thought of another question. “What is it about this place that makes it special, Bartholomew? Are you guarding it for someone, something?”
Bartholomew stood, brushed his mustache briefly, and partially bowed. “I am at the service of the Game and whoever passes through this spot. I do not guard anything, as nothing needs guarding. This place is special and will always be so. That is why pilgrimages from different religions continue to make this site their focus even though the town is no more.”
Peter and Jenny, who knew nothing about the history of Real de Catorce, stared in return.
Bartholomew, who appeared eager for an audience, added, “Did you know that your human ancestors were so keen on coming here that they actually drilled a tunnel through a mountain. They started from either side of the mountain and almost missed connecting the tunnel in the middle. This tunnel is what Orb partially collapsed to ensure that you, and he, would not be disturbed.”
“They drilled a tunnel through a mountain just to be able to be here?” Jenny asked.
“They thought they were doing it for the gold, which is long gone, but this place has a special power that continues to draw people in.”
“Does this place belong to Orb, or Cube?” Peter asked.
“Another good question, Peter. No, there is more to the universe, much more, than just those two species. What is here is
connected, but also separate. What is here ensures that the rules of the Game are followed, which is done in part via interactions like this.”
Jenny stood and brushed impatiently at her skirt. “Now you’re just speaking in riddles.”
Bartholomew shrugged. Peter stood as well, a little worried about what Jenny might say next.
Jenny leaned down to Bartholomew’s level, took a deep breath, then let it out. “Please just answer me this, Bartholomew. Are we in danger—and does talking with you put us in even more danger with Orb, Cube or anything else?”
The little man returned her stare. As he did he slowly grew in stature until their roles were reversed and Jenny craned her neck to stare at him. She took one step back, then two, until she was pushed against the side of the pew. Peter retreated as well, and he reached out for her hand and pushed against her as Bartholomew grew still taller, wider and decidedly less friendly.
In a voice much deeper, grimmer than the one he had used before, Bartholomew growled, “You have been in danger since the moment Peter touched Orb. Orb already knew we would speak as part of your journey to attempt to reclaim his last receptacle. He has no choice in this. It will soon be up to all of you—Peter in particular—to decide the fate of this world.”
Bartholomew’s head stretched and curved down toward them, mimicking the movement of a snake—if snakes had oversized mustaches. The muscles in his neck flexed and vibrated. Peter and Jenny pushed even closer together, trapped against the pew.
“The last thing I can tell you, Peter, is that nothing is permanent. Life can take many forms, but its essence continues regardless of the shell it assumes. You must remember that when you play the Game. You must also remember that things are often not what they seem.”
With that, Bartholomew shrank back down to his original size, pulled at the tip of his mustache, smiled, and whispered, “Now go.”
They walked quickly. Bartholomew had spooked them to the point that neither of them could think of anything more to say. Soon, Peter and Jenny found themselves back in the street outside the building they shared with the others. They were still holding hands when the large wooden door creaked open and Eli, Irene and Matt walked out.
The Promise of the Orb Page 13