Three

The Prophecy

"The prophecy was about us? You got that from a fairy tale, that a little prophecy and a rock based on it is about us?" I asked, bewildered.

"But just think about it…! There are two of us, not counting Snowy. We came to Egypt to prove a man was lying so we can throw him in jail…"

"So? I bet tons of people come to Egypt to find a man was lying!"

"Oh, sure, because everyone just drops everything and says 'hey, let's go to Egypt to make sure that he's deceitful!'"

"It could happen!"

"But it doesn't."

"How would you know?"

"I'm smart."

"You believe in a fairytale! How is that being smart?"

"It's not a fairytale!"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes!"

"Goodness, do you two fight like mad dogs," someone said from the door. We turned to see Rawnie standing there, arms crossed across her chest.

"How long have you been there?" Tintin asked.

"Long enough to know that you believe in fairy tales and you don't," she pointed at Tintin and then me as she walked between us. "Sit down."

After we were seated, Rawnie sat on the table between our beds, crossing her legs and holding the knee that sat on top with both hands.

"Now," she murmured, "You two are really sleepy and should be getting to bed soon—you're falling apart on each other even though you don't want to, and it needs to stop. I mean, come on, you guys are best friends!" After a few minute's pause, she added, "Kioni's gone home, if you two would like to come back to my house." I nodded and stood, Tintin getting to his feet at the same time.

"What about the room…?"

"Easy. Tell him there was a rat in here, he gives me my money back," Rawnie smirked.

After we got back to Rawnie's house, Tintin and I went right to sleep. We didn't bicker any more that night about the story; we just headed up to our rooms and went to bed.

I awoke to darkness. Rolling over, I peered out my window, thinking I would see gray clouds on the horizon through my tiny attic window, but instead the sky was blood red. Confused, I went downstairs, into the parlor of Aunt Martha's house. I called for her, wandering into the kitchen to find knives tossed around the floor and countertops carelessly. "Hello?" I called, going into Aunt Martha's bedroom, seeing the whole room ripped apart, the bed sheets were ripped and hanging from the ceiling, there were feathers floating around from the pillows, and the curtains were torn down. At this, I began to panic, and I went to the front door, which was being guarded by a man in a long, black cloak. "Where is everybody?" I asked and he turned his head, reached down, turned the door handle and opened the door, revealing a dark street. I didn't see them until I stepped outside, and after noticing I had tread on what felt like a dead mouse, I looked down to see a hand—a human hand, attached to a human arm, attached to a human body, attached to a human neck, attached to the Butler's head! I screamed in terror, thinking that someone had murdered him. Turning, I saw more people lying on the ground, some with stab wounds in their chests. At first, I didn't recognize them, but then I started to look closer and realized I knew them—well. There was Emilie, and my old schoolteacher, and Andrea the maid, Perkins, a several kids from school, Kioni, Niara, Rawnie, Snowy and…

"NO!" I screamed, sitting up. Rawnie was sitting on my bed, and I hugged her.

"Shh, shh, it was just a bad dream," she murmured.

"But it was so real," I sobbed, "Everyone was dead—you, Kioni, Aunt Martha…"

"It's all gone now, dear. You're safe."

"Is everything all right?" Someone asked from behind Rawnie. She turned a bit and I saw Tintin standing there, causing me to burst into tears again.

"Yes, she just had a nightmare, that's all."

"Well, is she going to be okay? Does she need anything?"

"Do you need anything, dear?" Rawnie asked me, and I shook my head. "No, thank you, Tintin," she dismissed him.

"What was your dream about, Nollie?" Tintin sat next to Rawnie on my bed, but I didn't answer.

"She doesn't want to talk about it," Rawnie muttered, irritated.

"That bad, eh?"

"Tintin, please go, you're distressing her even more…"

"No he's not," I said as he was turning to leave, and Rawnie raised her eyebrow at me. "What? Isn't it comforting to you Egyptians to have your best friend around when you're scared?"

The next morning, after I woke up, I went to a tiny stream shaded by a desert tree just outside Rawnie's house. I had been sitting there for a while when Tintin sat down beside me. We sat there for a bit in awkward silence before he finally said something.

"I'm sorry for yelling at you yesterday," he murmured, "After all, it was just a story…"

"No, I'm sorry for not believing you. I thought a lot about it, and I feel you're right about the prophecy being about us," I looked at him gently.

"Should we go into town to try and find it—the rock?"

"I think it's worth a try."

Rawnie let us go into town alone, but Tintin kept his revolver in his pocket, just in case. We were walking through the dusty streets when we came across an alley, and I heard voices coming from it. I stopped and listened, Tintin doing the same.

"You sure those two kids didn't already check in there?"

"Positive! They've been hanging with that sorceress and her drunk teacher—'member, the one that the boss drugged to kill them?"

"Do you think she did away with 'em?"

"I bet. They probably didn't even see it coming."

"Should we still go make a fake reservation for the boss at the Hotel Pharaoh, just in case they got out alive?"

"No, they're obviously dead, or just not smart enough. They are just a couple of kids." Tintin touched my arm gently, and I turned. He mouthed, 'let's go,' and we left.

After walking for quite a while, we reached the place where the outdoor market had been held, only to find it empty. After wandering the vacant place for a few minutes, a man walked up.

"Sir!" I called, running to him, "Do you know where the man that sells rocks lives?"

"You mean Mr. Oyphemus? He lives just a few blocks from here. There be rocks outside his house, that's how yew know it's his place."

"Thank you, sir," I nodded before running off with Tintin to find Mr. Oyphemus and our rock.

We searched for about an hour and a half before finding the house with rocks outside the door. Tintin ran up the steps and knocked on the door. A little door inside the door opened, revealing a man's eye.

"Who's there?" He grumbled.

"Just some buyers looking for a rock we found of yours a few days ago at the outdoor market," Tintin explained.

"Which rock? I got thousands!"

"One with writing on it—really exquisite writing, if you ask me," I explained.

"All of 'em have writing on 'em, girl. If you really want this rock, yew better come find it!" He opened the door and Tintin and I walked inside, looking around in awe.

"There's so many of them," Tintin murmured.

"Of course there is. I told you, I got thousands!"

"Where should we start?" I asked Tintin, still baffled by the countless amount of stones scattered throughout the small house.

"Here," he bent to the floor and began shuffling through the rocks, briefly reading the inscription on each face before putting it back down. Even though I couldn't read Egyptian, I tried searching, too, though I was no use at all, for Tintin found the rock in my pile. "This is it!" He shouted, standing up, "Sir, this is the rock we've been looking for!"

"That one? All that trouble for that dinky ol' thing? It's hardly five Gollanons worth, if you ask me."

"We don't have a single Gollanon, sir," I murmured.

"Well that's too bad then, isn't it? I'll be taking that, then—" he reached over to take it from Tintin, who pulled away.

"No—we're not leaving without this rock!"

"What's so special about that rock, boy? You trying to kill someone with it?"

"Not at all, sir, you see, the inscription on the face is about us—Nollie and I. It says: 'there will be two.'"

"'There will be two'? I remember that one. I found it while taking a stroll near a demolished little house quite a while back. Never understood what it meant, really—put it up for sale right away."

"But nobody's tried to buy it from you…?" Tintin clasped his fingers around the rock before putting the fist to his lips, thinking.

"Well, there was this one man, this morning…"

"Who was he? Describe him to me," Tintin inquired, and Mr. Oyphemus raised his eyebrow.

"Are you with the police?"

"No, sir, just curious."

"Well, he was a stocky sort of man, with hardly any hair. About thirty or so, but not an Egyptian man, if at all he had her skin." He pointed at me, and I glanced at my hands. The man was British.

"Did he give you his name?"

" It's Wilkins. Peter Wilkins," a man growled, stepping out from another room. My eyes widened as he pulled a pistol from behind his back, pulled the hammer, and aimed right at Tintin's head. Quick as a flash, Tintin grabbed me and ducked down behind a bookshelf covered in rocks right beside us as Wilkins fired the gun. He was pulling the hammer back again and aiming when Tintin pulled his revolver from his pocket, pulled the hammer, and fired. His shot knocked Wilkins' pistol from his hand. Then, he eased me to the doorway and sent me outside, where I was safe. I never actually went outside, though, knowing that if I needed to defend myself, I had the rocks.

Wilkins ran up to Tintin, about to slug him in the face when Tintin took a rock and smashed it into the man's arm, knocking him off-balance and to the ground. Oyphemus grabbed Wilkins' pistol from the ground and was taking aim at Tintin when the red-haired boy fired right at his shoulder, knocking him to the ground. He turned to flee, grabbing the rock and me at the same time.