The Forgotten Prophecy

Chapter 15

'What do you mean it's on fire?' Peter knitted her brows in puzzlement.

'You see the smoke?' Matthew said and pointed ahead. Peter's eyes widened in shock.

'We gotta help them!' she said and was about to kick her horse and run, but Matthew grasped her reins and roughly pulled them back to stop her before she could escape him.

'It might be dangerous!' he said, his jaw clenched from anger.

'We need to lend a hand! I'm going with, or without you.'

Peter forced his hand away, spared him one last scornful look, and took off. Matthew ran a hand through his hair in frustration. He couldn't leave her alone under those circumstances, let her get hurt because of a stupid fire she was so careless to throw herself into. He sighed and kicked his horse.

As he neared the village, the smell of fire and burnt wood attacked his nostrils, and the smoke blurred his vision. He could hear people screaming for help, others run to save their homes and families; everything was in chaos. Matthew urged his agitated horse further into the settlement, where the shouting was even louder, and hoped Peter hadn't already got in trouble.

With panicked glances he searched for her amidst the smoke and the shadows, only to find her fighting against six huge men who looked like they had the upper hand. They had done a marvelous job in surrounding her from all directions, keeping her trapped with no way out. Peter was firing curses at them, but her stance showed that she knew the odds were against her.

Matthew came to a halt, and swiftly jumped to the ground. He took out his sword, and quietly approached them. He saw two of them launch towards her, but he let them. He knew Peter could easily take them down, so he lunged at the others.

He grabbed one's head and brought it down to his knee. The collision caused a satisfying crack, and the man collapsed on the ground. Another came at him with his sword, so he ducked on the left, and slashed his chest. That gave him enough time to face his third opponent. He brought his shield against his sword, grunting at the impact. He was strong, but slow, and Matthew swiftly dodged his strikes and managed to get behind him, plunging his weapon into his back. His previous opponent was obviously scared to death, 'cause he had sneaked off to save his life without Matthew noticing him.

He looked around and saw Peter cleaning up her sword. He was so furious with her. She never stopped to think beforehand, she was always reckless and stubborn. With his mouth set in a hard line and eyes that blazed with rage, he marched towards her and grabbed her by the collar. He didn't like how worried he was about her, how the thought of her being wounded made him see red.

'Have you gone crazy?' he snarled at her. 'Did you really think it would be that simple?'

'So, what? We took them down, alright!'

'What if I hadn't got here on time? They would have teared you to pieces!'

Peter looked at him guiltily, and he understood then that she had regretted opposing him.

'Say it,' he probed.

'I'm sorry,' she said through her teeth.

'Sorry, what?' he pretended he hadn't heard her.

'I'm sorry!'

'That's better.' Matthew sighed in content, his face relaxing a bit, and started looking her up and down to see if she was hurt. 'Are you alright?'

'Don't worry, I'm fine.'

'Thank God. I feared the worst.'

They stared at each other, relief written on their faces. His eyes bored into her, making Peter shyly peer at him.

'Promise me you won't run off on your own again,' he said softly.

'I promise.'

He nodded and released her.

'So much for a normal day out in the field, huh,' she joked. 'We should help them put out the fire.'

'Yeah.'

The fire was still raging on that part of the village, despite the joint attempts of the people to put it out. They carried buckets of water from the well or threw heavy leather pelts to diminish its power. It took them a while before they managed to extinguish the fire, and when they deemed it posed no threat, they patted each other's back and exchanged words of applause.

Matthew and Peter were fixing their armours and tended to their horses to search the area when a short old man approached them. His hair was white, kept in a low ponytail, and deep wrinkles had formed around his eyes and mouth.

'Who are you, lads? You ain't from this village, right?' he inquired.

'No,' Peter answered back, 'we were just passing by and decided to check if there was any trouble.'

'Thank you. For helping us. Much appreciated.'

The man turned to leave, but Matthew decided to add something. 'Hey. Uhm...we were looking for someone in these parts. A blacksmith called Jacob Black. Do you happen to know anyone by this name?'

The man was a bit startled for a second, but quickly masked his surprise. 'No. You won't find anyone by that name here. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to help the others. Have a good day,' he said in a level tone and walked away.

Matthew sensed something was off, like he was hiding something.

'Interesting. He is hiding something,' Peter said as if reading his thoughts.

Matthew kept observing his retreating figure. 'You think so?'

'Let's find out.'

They mounted their horses and followed the man. Maybe he was the key in finding the blacksmith they were looking for.

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A/N: Any ideas about who he might be? Don't hesitate to share your comments. As a fellow writer says, don't be a silent reader ;)

Phrase of chapter: πατρίς γαρ ἐστί πάσ᾽ ἴν᾽ ἄν πράττῃ τις εὖ / a man's homeland is wherever he prospers - Aristophanes