Despite the winter air, it grew warmer with each passing minute. The darkness had given way to the familiar red glow, while the reek of it bit the nose and stung the eyes. The noises were very loud now, and, judging from the troll's uncertain steps, the ground was trembling again.
Peter, who hung upside down over the troll's shoulder, head aching, knew that they had reached the crater – and that the moment of his planned death now approached. He had kept a close eye on the way the group had come, hoping to see a glimpse of one of the Elves, but the steep path remained empty. He fought with the rising despair, but was nearly ready to put hope aside.
Now, as the troll stopped and he heard S'Hadh's rasping orders for his bearer to set him on his feet, fear again gripped the boy. His time was nearly gone. Suddenly he was dropped from the troll's shoulder and fell hard. The snow was gone here. The heat had melted it away, so he fell on stone. He blinked into the noxious air and coughed, hurting in new places. The troll and four of the Goblins surrounded him, while the largest Goblin supported his master.
The wizard turned and walked toward the eerie light that shimmered from below the stony edge of the precipice. The smoke whispered around his tall shape and mingled with his icy-grey hair. "Bring the boy to me!" he ordered.
Peter swallowed hard on a dry throat, and as two of the Goblins dragged him to his feet, he felt sick. He didn't need any of his celebrated imagination to know that the time had arrived. A glance at his captors' faces told him that they were uneasy as well. Standing on top of a volcano ready to erupt would make anyone uneasy – even a Goblin.
"He won't keep his word. You'll never make it to safety," he began hoarsely. "He cares nothing for you or--"
He was shoved forward roughly. "Ssssilence! The Masssster would never break hissss word!" one of the ugly creatures hissed, and shoved him again toward S'Hadh, standing at the rim of the crater; waiting.
"You wish!" he retorted.
"Attempting to thwart their loyalty is useless, boy."
The warlock's voice was unimpressive, and his breath heaved – a certain sign that his injury was affecting him. "They fear my wrath more than death."
Peter straightened. "They fear your wrath, old man?" he scoffed, hiding his growing horror. "How can that be? Even as you're dying you want to kill yourself. Why should they fear you?"
The cold black eyes seemed to take on a preternatural brightness. "Child's play, my boy. Because death is not the worst thing that can happen to you. And if my wound allows me the time, I will demonstrate." He nodded at the two Goblins holding Peter, and they dragged the struggling boy to the wizard's side. "Your will to resist is impressive," the wizard remarked calmly, "but it will not save you." He made gestured wearily downward. "Have you ever seen what it looks like inside your island?"
Peter was forced to the edge, and he dared to look down. Big mistake. The sight of the roiling lava with its swimming black spots, the geological heat, and the reek and noise sounding like a hungry carnivore awoke the mortal fright in him. Pressing his lips together, he tried desperately to mask it. If he had to die now, would not give S'Hadh the satisfaction of his terror. "Looks like hot soup," he said, forcing the words out through a grimace, but even in his own ears his voice sounded hollow.
The shadow of a smile flickered over the wizard's face –admitting that the boy's refusal to show his fear woke the villain's respect. Then, suddenly, he pressed his hand against his wound, and moaned piteously. He whispered something, and a purplish light played around his long fingers. He pressed his eyes shut and took a deep breath before relaxing. The tall Goblin supported him by wrapping one thin arm around his waist, and the warlock nodded to him before he rose to his full height again. "The time has come. Send the others away. Only the two holding our little friend here shall remain. I'll help them to escape afterward."
The tall Goblin nodded and barked something in his crude language to the others. They quickly backed away, performing several deep bows as quickly as possible.
Peter's met S'Hadh's gaze and saw the brutal finality in it. A fist gripped his stomach and twisted it, while his heart started to pound. It is one of the worst situations to find yourself in – to see disaster approaching, unable to do anything about it; forced to watch helplessly. Peter Pan had faced death often, but the raw cold that crept through him was the worst ever, and had nothing to do with the wizard's evil winter. Perhaps because he was so tired; perhaps because he knew that, with his death, his friends and allies were hopelessly lost as well – or possibly because he saw the cruelty with which he was to be murdered.
None of that mattered, because the only thing going through his mind was that he would be thrown into that glowing mass beneath him. What had Hook said to him only a half hour ago? That he had saved the man from the most painful death possible, getting him through the hole before the lava could reach him? And then he remembered the flash of heat that once grazed his leg when he flew through a thunderstorm.
He swallowed hard, his breath in his throat as the wizard turned toward the crater and lifted his hands. Evil words came to his thin lips – words that should never be spoken. Like an answer, the mountain began to roar again.
The warlock turned back to Peter, who couldn't hold back a shiver anymore. "Do you know why this volcano is called the 'Mount of No Return'?" S'Hadh rasped quietly. "Because no one who has ever sat one foot at its top has survived." He watched the two trolls and the other Goblins running down the mountain. "No one!" he repeated, then turned his gaze back to Peter.
The boy's face was pale and filthy, his eyes reddened, almost black with fright, biting his lips to hide how much they trembled. His breath was uneven, and it was obvious that only the Goblins' claws held him on his feet. S'Hadh waited for a moment; waited for the boy to plead for mercy, but he did not. "As I said, it will be quick," the wizard finally said when he realized that the eternal boy would not beg for his own life. "But for your friends it will be long minutes of panic and terror until they see that there is no way out for them – until the fire comes."
It was an invisible blow that sent Peter reeling. "Why?" he whispered, moistening his lips with his tongue. His mouth felt like sand. "Why must you kill them as well? Is it not enough that you've killed Hook and now murder me?"
"No. I may have not succeeded in conquering the whole world – but it will lose its seed of dreams and hope. At least the first part of my plan will come to pass. No one will ever look for the second star to the right ever again. And no one will remember Peter Pan, the boy who would never grow up, because there will be no one alive to tell your story!"
Peter started as he heard those words. "You listened to what I told Wendy?" he gasped.
A small smile again flickered across S'Hadh's lips. "I have ears everywhere, boy–especially in my own domain. Nevertheless you managed to trick me, but that is history now." He paused a long moment, looking into the crater. Peter knew that the final moment had come. Almost softly S'Hadh continued: "Good-bye, Peter Pan. This is probably the only hell you have to face." He waved toward boy's captors. "Now."
The icy panic broke through his control, and with a shout Peter reared back kicking, threw his head back at one Goblin's face, while the two creatures tried to shove him over the edge. He could feel gravel sliding under his moccasins, pebbles rolled into the fiery abyss, and for a moment he slid inches as the heat grew, but still he fought with all his strength – even if it was useless, attempting to defeat two Goblins with his bare hands. But he didn't quit. Panting, he planted his feet and managed to wrest one arm from their clumsy hands. His small flying fist struck one Goblin on its flat nose, a surprisingly vulnerable spot on a Goblin, and the creature howled in pain and kicked at him. Peter lost his balance and fell, but with the speed of desperation, he swept his leg under the creature and off its feet. At the same time, he struggled against the second Goblin that grabbed him by the hair and wrenched his head back so hard that Peter saw shadows crossing before his eyes.
"He must live as he crosses the barrier!" S'Hadh's voice sounded as if from far away, and suddenly the wicked grip loosened from his scalp. For a moment he felt only the relief of the pain in his neck and shoulder – and found himself being rolled toward the edge. With another shout he struggled again and saw that beneath him the fiery lava bubbled, as his head shoulders were forced over the crater, hair and eyebrows already singed.
Suddenly his executioner shrieked, and the hands disappeared from his body. Fighting for breath in the heat, he hastily crawled away from the edge and turned around. The Goblin lay beside him – a bright arrow sticking from its back. And then another shrill yelp sounded from further away, accompanied by a shout that made Peter's heart leap.
"ELVES!"
A wide smile split the boy's face – and vanished as the second Goblin threw itself on him. The foul breath, the sharp teeth and the blank hate in the yellow eyes awoke a deep loathing in Peter. There was a different pain as the sharp claws of the skeletal creature drew blood from his left arm, while it tried to shove him into the crater. But Peter's aggression had returned with the knowledge that the Elves were nearby. Help was so near--he had to hold on! Suddenly he found his opponent's weak spot and kicked its belly with all might. The Goblin was thrown back and …
… fell over the edge. Its scream dropped away, then suddenly cut off.
Panting, Peter sat a second near the edge of the crater and tried to catch his breath and to orient himself as a pair of long legs stepped into his range of view, clad in leather and mail. He raised his eyes up the body of the large Goblin that S'Hadh had leaned on. An evil smirk appeared on its dark face, drawing its leg back for a kick. Acting on instinct, Peter rolled away and heard the Goblin cursing in his snarling tongue. He grabbed Peter from behind, lifting him into the air. Crying out in shock, he looked back, directly into the Goblin's face.
"What now?" the beast hissed and only laughed as Peter tried to kick at his captor. "Thissss issss ussselessss! Go to hell!"
The boy yelled in new rising panic as the Goblin now approached the crater-edge, ready to throw him over the edge.
NO! He'd been so close to escape! So close to rescue!
Frantically, sight blurring with the pressure of the enemy's arms, he kicked and struggled, but the Goblin's grip was iron, holding out the boy to fling him and…
And Peter fell hard to the ground as the Goblin suddenly let him drop. The beast collapsed beside him like a load of rocks, a curved sword protruding from its belly.
Peter let out a sob of relief, no longer trying to mask the turmoil in his soul. His limbs trembled as he tried to roll himself onto his knees; hearing S'Hadh's voice through the dull thunder of the volcano. The wizard cursed hideously in his sickening language, only feet away, and the boy watched with a mixture of horror and fascination as their enemy sent a streak of deep purple light in the direction of his rescuer. A cry rose up, and Peter knew that the light had struck the ancient warrior. He disappeared in the gloom, but the boy couldn't tell if the Elf had fallen to the ground or had simply … vanished. He hadn't had a chance.
"Coward!" he shouted weakly, and rose on shaking legs. Through the mist he saw the tall slim silhouettes of other Elves, struggling against the Goblins. Only one troll was still on its feet, which meant another had been defeated.
"They arrive too late!" S'Hadh addressed the boy, who turned toward him. The wizard shambled toward Peter; his face twisted in ancient utter hatred – a hate so deep as to drown hell, never allowing any light into the space where once a soul might have dwelt. "They will not save you!"
"They are already doing it!" Peter retorted; his voice far from firm.
The wizard's dark wrath seemed to drain Peter of any power or courage he had. "But before they defeat my servants, your bones will be melting in lava!" the warlock snarled, coming nearer.
"Stay where you are, you corrupt old obscenity!" the eternal boy hissed back, his eyes flickering toward the sword sticking out of the dead Goblin. S'Hadh caught the movement as suddenly another javelin-like shaft shot out of his fingers, and the corpse of the Goblin disintegrated into a heap of ash – weapons as well. Peter gasped. The sight was dreadful, and he knew now how the Elf had died. He felt his gorge rise.
"Now, boy!" S'Hadh ordered and his now glowing eyes boring into Peter's soul, while he pointed at the crater.
"NO!"
Another shaft left the wizard's finger and dug a smoking hole into the stony earth at his feet.
Peter jumped, startled. "I will NOT throw myself to my own death!" he cried – and another shaft gouged his right leg. The pain was searing, and with a scream he fell to the ground.
"Now you know--some suffering can be worse than death!" S'Hadh stated flatly, and if Peter hadn't been distracted by the pain of the strike, he would have heard how the wizard's breathing heaved. Every manifestation of magic the villain performed drained more out of him, along with the fact that the dreadful wound from the Blade was bleeding again. If he had only been able to physically shove the boy into the crater, he might be able to defeat the Elves later, might have been able to defend himself with his magic. But if he but touched Peter, the boy Prince would die instantly, and then the volcano would not erupt, even if S'Hadh pushed the boy in afterward.
It was no longer a question of the wizard's defeat, but of his revenge – not only on that tiresome, exasperating little troublemaker who had turned his majestic victory into utter defeat, but on the whole world.
S'Hadh had never known hope, never a dream – not after his family was killed all those centuries ago. All feeling died with them that day. The center of his being remained a terrible empty hole since that day. The only treasures that woke a fire in him were knowledge … and power. He had seen what those foolish sentiments did to the humans, saw the simpering smiles, the tears, the weakness that dreams and joy brought to others, and he determined to stay far above them. And, since no one seemed to understand him – not even Giliath, who called himself his friend – he was compelled to free himself of all emotional bonds forever!
Never again would he hurt as he did that night, seeing parents and siblings die. And if he had to face death now, too, then he would take every mortal hope with him. They would learn what it meant to live as he had, and therefore he would destroy Neverland – and that cursed BOY, by any means!
Peter, still holding his leg, the streak black and cauterized by the bolt, blinked up to the tall warlock; his mind not grasping what was happening. As he saw S'Hadh lift his hands again, he gasped "NO!" and rolled quickly aside. He avoided the indigo shaft of light this time (it was shorter, less powerful), but a new one was already forming in the wizard's hands. "Leap, boy, or I will sting you again," S'Hadh taunted.
Peter, still sprawled in the muck of what was left of the snow, started to crawl away. His leg seemed afire. He wanted to scream, to whimper; to beg the warlock to stop this torment, but his pride and his will were too strong. He looked up at the looming shape; the ice-grey hair and black cape lifting in the wind. The wizard's ancient face seemed to melt in the smoke, only his glowing eyes now visible. For a moment Peter remembered another time, as though he had seen this before, and …
And behind S'Hadh, a second form emerged in the fumes, drawing nearer. A black frock-coat embroidered with silver and gold, and a curly black mane blew in the wind; a short sword winked in the left hand, while a sharp hook glinted on the right – now lifted for a deadly blow.
Frozen, Peter stared at the man who had come to finally take the dark wizard down. The very same man he thought brutally murdered by the three trolls ... the one he had longed for to see again just to tell him what was so important for both of them …
… the man that had come in his last nightmare to help him and--who had been killed in that dream by the bolt the warlock hurled at him! His nightmare! This was exactly like his nightmare, and…
Gasping Peter tore his eyes away from Hook, hoping he did not betray the man's presence, but it was too late. S'Hadh had seen Peter's eyes change, knew that someone approached from behind and spun about; his hands raised, dimly surrounded by deadly light.
Peter screamed, and with the speed of thought, threw himself on the wizard's back; knocking him to the ground. He saw the eerie glow darting from the warlock's fingers, and heard Hook's cry, but he couldn't look at the buccaneer. He knew that he had to avoid S'Hadh's hands! Peter called on all his skill and boyish experience to stay on the warlock's back and to keep him from flipping over. It was like trying to control a troll, and he stank of death.
S'Hadh let out a shout of rage and suddenly rose up, sending the weakened boy tumbling off his back. Near him, S'Hadh crouched and stared at him, again lifting his fingers in Peter's direction. The boy acted on instinct, grabbing up a fist-sized stone and threw it at the wizard, striking the warlock's temple, and S'Hadh collapsed.
Still fighting for breath, Peter looked around when he heard another moan not far from him. Over there, he saw Hook lying on his back, unmoving. A thin band of smoke rose from his chest. "No!" the leader of the Lost Boys whispered when he saw what had happened. "No! Please no! PLEASE!" This time he did plead – not to the wizard, but to that higher power who seemed always to be looking after him.
Tears blurred his vision – the terrible helpless feeling of failure. He saw that his horrible dream had really been a kind of prophecy, and Hook truly had fallen prey to S'Hadh's mysterious powers. The momentary burst of joy he'd felt at seeing Hook alive had become a knife in his soul.
A movement at his side, and he saw S'Hadh laboriously trying to rise, holding his injured head. The sight of the wizard who had made his life a misery during the last horrible days, threatened his land and friends, hurt them and now killed the man who had gone from enemy to friend, woke in the boy a blinding animation. All his sorrow and pain and anger were focused into a consuming rage.
Surrendering to this liberating wrath, he rose, dashed to the fallen pirate-captain, and took Celeb-Valar, which had slipped from Hook's grip. It still shone, and its hilt felt warm in Peter's fingers. He whirled to see the wizard had risen to his feet, swaying. S'Hadh clutched his side now and his old face was ashen-yellow. He turned his eyes to his young enemy – no longer pale, but furious. Trembling, he gathered all his power one last time and the evil light shone in his quivering fingers.
Peter dropped to all fours as the spell shot his direction. It flew past him – he felt its heat on his back—down the mountain and exploded against the side of the mountain, back the way they had come – and where the Elves now routed the rest of the Goblins. Thalion, at the head of the troop, saw the deadly light, shouted a warning in his language to his comrades and the Elves fled–trying to put some distance between them and the new avalanche, as the spell bored into it and exploded.
Peter desperately hoped that Thalion and his remaining comrades survived the bolt, but returned to his purpose, and he turned back to the wizard – the creature that knew neither empathy, nor compassion, nor mercy. S'Hadh's eyes were coal-black again. The spell had exhausted him. In spite of this, he raised his hands, as if to send deadly power at the boy, but Peter was upon him.
"You want to die, old man?" the eternal boy snarled; his eyes flashing. "I grant your wish!" The blade glowed brilliantly, so close to the destiny for which it was created, and the Prince of Neverland drove the curved blade deep into the wizard's chest.
S'Hadh gasped; his black eyes bulging from his ancient visage. He brought his hands up, and Peter quickly leaped back, out of their deadly range. Fighting for breath, the warlock clasped his fingers around the hilt, trying to drag it out, but the Elfish sword, forged for this purpose; filled with the only power that could kill him, didn't give away. Its light seemed to grow, until it filled the wizard completely, the creature that hadn't seen true light in centuries. It poured out of every inch of his body, his nostrils, his eyes, and S'Hadh cried out, echoed in the volcano's roar and shaking. Panting, Peter watched his enemy stumbling away. S'Hadh might have taken a mortal injury–finally–but he still fought death.
The dying thing staggered toward the crater's edge as the ground beneath them heaved again, and looked once more at the eternal boy; not accepting what happened. He--most powerful of all wizards--had been defeated by a human child, whose life and joy had been stronger than all of his evil and hate. Could Giliath have been right all those centuries ago? The Elf tried to teach the young boy S'Hadh once was that not magic and power were not answers for survival and inner peace, but faith … love ...
The eternal boy, who stood bruised and weeping near the man, proved Giliath right, because he DID love, even if he didn't acknowledge it.
The Mount of No Return rumbled and shivered again. The dark wizard lost his balance, knees giving out; his body finally succumbing to its injuries and his unnaturally long life. Far below, he saw the roiling lava; patches of dark crust swimming on the surface. For a long moment, he felt free--the first time since the brutal attack on his village--as every weight left him and he soared in the air. He could fly. Something reached the dark void where once a heart had beat and filled him: Happiness. The world grew silent, and the lava glowed like the sea at sundown – shimmering in warm red-gold, waving and inviting. He didn't even scream, dead before his body hit the lava, swallowed into the foundation of the island …
Peter stood looking wide-eyed at the spot where only seconds before S'Hadh stumbled. He didn't need to look into the crater to know that the dark warlock, the menace that had threatened Neverland and all inhabitant of the world, was gone – swallowed by the same weapon whereby he would have wreaked vengeance against Peter and against the whole world.
Celeb-Valar had completed the purpose for which it was made.
The war for Neverland was over!
The fairies, pixies, Sheeries, gnomes and all the other Little People, the Indians, the animals and plants were safe again. The children were safe!
But at what a price! So many Elves had fallen in this fight, as well as fairies, pixies and – what cut him like a knife – Indian warriors. And he was certain that the pirates had losses as well. Hook had sent his whole crew into the battle the enemy and—
Hook!
The high-spirits that had wakened in him were instantly displaced by dread. Breath catching in his throat, Peter turned toward the body of the pirate-captain, hurled to the ground like a rag doll. Swallowing the lump in his throat, the boy slowly walked with heavy heart to the buccaneer and sank to his knees beside him. The black frock-coat and the waistcoat were burned over the pirate's chest, and a thin wisp of smoke rose from the scorched fabric. Hook's face was white and he seemed not to breathe anymore.
Tears blurred Peter's sight and a sob escaped him. No! This couldn't be! Not Hook! Not this powerful man!
The boy stretched a hand toward the buccaneer, but his fingers trembled, and he didn't touch him. "Hook?" he whispered. That is, he wanted to say it, but no sound came out. His throat was constricted, painful, with grief and unshed tears, and the boy bit his lower lip. Finally finding his voice again he choked: "Hook? Do you hear me?"
No reaction.
"James!" he murmured, dread filling him. The thought that the buccaneer really could be dead terrified him more than death in the volcano had. "Why?" he whispered, disregarding the previous thought as grief turned to anger, mingled with his sorrow, and burst out of him. "WHY?" he cried. "Why did you come at him from behind? I warned you, didn't I? Hook, you promised! You PROMISED!" Tears rolled down his dirty cheeks. "You promised, you stupid codfish!"
He put out his hand again, this time touching the burnt velvet of the coat and waistcoat, pulling them away from the body. The material of the coat disintegrated under his fingers, but that of the waistcoat had to be parted. Peter ripped it, sobbing now. "You idiot man! Why, for heaven's sake? Did it violate your precious pride so much to listen to me?" He pulled at the fabric again, and looked on the buccaneer's chest and the remains of the bandage, dark and reeking. And the skin he saw there was … reddened.
Peter blinked. No blisters. No burnt flesh. Only a patch that looked sunburned. Hastily he yanked open the waistcoat and dared a closer look. No deadly wound gaped in the man's chest!
Slowly the boy came to see that this meant the buccaneer was only … unconscious, not dead, not even seriously wounded! With trembling fingers, he grabbed the pirate's shoulders and shook him. "Hook? Wake up!" He swallowed the next sob rising in his throat; this time out of relief. "WAKE UP! Damn you, don't think you can take your beauty-sleep here, while the whole world stands at the edge of destruction!"
The volcano thundered again, stronger than before, and the temperature edged higher. Peter bit his lips. The Mount of No Return might not erupt, but the lava was still rising. And he and the buccaneer were still near the edge of the crater. The boy shook Hook's shoulders harder. "Wake up! We have to leave this place! Wake up, Hook!" he yelled and suddenly found his right wrist in an iron grip and a hook about his left, and forget-me-not-blue eyes, reddened with exhaustion.
"Hammer and tongs, Pan, shut up and stop shaking me! I already have a headache bad enough to kill a troll!" Hook moaned, cursing at the boy for being so rough.
The boy didn't try to hide the broad happy grin that spread over his face, new tears blurring his sight. "You stupid old codfish!" he choked out. "You tricked me!"
Something faint smirk twitched at the corner of the pirate's mouth, as the man was almost embarrassed. "Don't tell me that those tears are for me."
A snort escaped Peter, while he retorted with a watery voice, "Tears? for you? It's only this smelly volcano that's making my eyes sting." They both knew that it was a lie. Hook blinked up into the tear-stained face of the boy and felt an unusual wave of tenderness for the youth.
Then he was distracted by the agony that suddenly came home. He took a deep shuddering breath, releasing Peter. Every inch of his body hurt and there was a horrible burning on his chest. His head felt as if it would explode and his limbs seemed to weigh a ton. He moistened his lips and asked hoarsely: "What happened?"
Peter swept a hand across his eyes, obliterating the tears. "You crept from behind S'Hadh. I remembered this scene I had in my nightmare, and you attacked him. But he … he sent this … this spell in your direction and …" Peter took a deep breath. "I only heard your scream, and…" He rubbed his nose.
Hook frowned. "I recalled what you'd said and leaped away as S'Hadh turned around," he murmured.
Their eyes met and the boy lowered his gaze, dashing new tears away; clearly having reached his limit. "I … I thought you dead and … there was Celeb-Valar and … and …" Another sob stifled his ability to speak, the events of the last hours crashing down on him.
"You killed him," the buccaneer stated quietly and saw the boy nodding.
"I … I was so mad and … and …" Peter's words stumbled to a halt, and he felt the man's hand touching his shoulder.
"Because you thought he'd killed me?"
Again the boy nodded, biting his lips. "I … I didn't want you to die. I still don't," he admitted.
That smirk returned to the face of the captain. "That's nice, for a change."
Peter's chuckle was interrupted by hitching from his sobs. Another deep rumble rose through the air and the volcano shook. A few stones rolled down from above. Startled, Peter glanced about and tried to pull the pirate to his feet. "Come on! I think this mountain has the hiccups, and we're too close to its gullet!"
Hook shook his head, taking the boy's wrist again. "No, Peter, I can't."
He blinked uncomprehending. "What do you mean with 'I can't'?"
The buccaneer closed his eyes a moment before he said quietly: "I am not able to climb out of this crater and then down the mountain. I … I'm used up."
Peter stared at him and laughed uncertainly. "Good one, Hook, but I'm not going to fall for it. Come on! We really have to go!" He rose and looked up at the new barrier, "And we have to climb." He glanced back and saw with rising dread that the pirate-captain hadn't moved. "Hook, come on! This joke isn't funny!"
Strange to hear something like that from you, of all people, Peter," the buccaneer answered quietly, but his eyes looked almost affectionately at the boy. He took a deep breath and added, "Go, Peter. You look like hell, yes, but we both know how stubborn you are. You'll make it down to the others."
The boy shook his head; his eyes widening. This wasn't a bad joke–the wizard's bolt had grazed him, but also drained off all strength left in him. He was simply too exhausted to even rise. Peter swallowed. "I won't go without you!"
Hook made a face. Sweet Lord, even those tiny movements hurt! "Be reasonable for once, boy. I can't even move, and certainly can't go rock climbing. Go, Peter. Go and find the others. I'm certain that in several days you'll be your cocky nervy self once again."
Stubbornly Peter pressed his lips shut, before he said firmly: "If you stay, I stay! And don't bother talking me out of it!" he snapped, as the buccaneer opened his mouth.
Anger shone red in the pirate-captain's eyes. "Curse it all, Pan, get your bloody arse off this cursed mountain, before it's too late!" Again the boy shook his head, and Hook almost exploded: "Would you force her to mourn BOTH of us?" He laid his head back, moaned, rubbing his brow; the outburst had intensified his headache.
Peter rubbed another tear away. "Why do you think Wendy would mourn for you?" he asked hoarsely, already knowing the answer. Of course Wendy would mourn Hook's death; she'd probably even cry. He didn't understand why the girl cared for the buccaneer so much, but it was a fact he wouldn't deny.
Hook tried to laugh; but it came out as a grimace. "We both know she will." And this thought hurt him. He didn't want her to cry. Wendy … his beautiful little storyteller, the sweet kitten with the claws and the dove-blue large eyes and the shining smile who had come to his rescue, despite all dangers … And there was the eternal boy, the curse of his existence since his ship had been washed to those forsaken shores an eternity ago. The very same boy who now wept for him and wouldn't leave him. Hook couldn't hate him any longer; he knew that. Maybe that all consuming hatred had left him. They both had lost their loathing for each other during this adventure, and found a kind of acceptance and comradeship – something he hadn't even wasted a thought of only a week ago. And he knew that he wanted the boy to live!
"Go, Peter. Go and tell Smee--"
"Tell him yourself!" the boy shot back and sat down beside him, pulling his knees at his chest and wrapping his arms around them. "I'm not leaving you, James Hook! So if you want me to live through this, then you'd better weigh anchor!"
Frustration burst out of the pirate-captain, and he rolled onto his elbow, facing the scowling child. "You damn, blasted, stupid, bloody--" He stopped as light suddenly shone in his eyes; blinding him. He gasped and glanced up. "Peter, look!"
The boy followed his gaze, and his heart leaped as he saw the clouds shredding. Warm golden sunlight poured down on him and the man beside him; bathing them in its brightness. The clouds, no longer heavy, were drifting apart. Azure blue sky winked through them and the winter wind had died to a breeze. The sun shone down on the partly snow-covered Mount of No Return, shimmered on the rocks and stones. From far away the panic-stricken screeches of the last surviving harpies reached them, as their feathers were set afire in the light of their greatest enemy: the sun. The darkness was broken, and the sight of blue skies made their hearts soar.
"We did it," Hook whispered and a real smile reached his face before he closed his tired eyes. "So, Peter Pan, this is all your doing!" he murmured quietly.
The boy grinned proudly. "Aye, James Hook, this is all my doing," he replied, remembering the last time they had exchanged those words. Then they had been true, but not this time. He smiled at the buccaneer, and took the man's hand in his. "Not really, not all my doing. It was your crazy, suicidal attack on the wickedest wizard the world has ever seen that gave us this victory."
Hook shook slowly his head. "No! It was you who finally killed him."
"With your sword."
"Not mine. I lost it somewhere inside this mountain."
"We'll find it!" Peter comforted him, and earned a chuckle.
"Keep it, boy. Maybe you'll remember me from time to time – in spite of your forgetfulness."
"Stop it, Hook!" Peter said sharply. "I don't have to be reminded of you, because you'll do it day by day by hunting me again."
Hook sighed irritated. "Pan, can't you grasp facts? Even you can't be that dense! I … CANNOT … CLIMB … DOWN … THIS … MOUNTAIN!" Anger shone in his blue eyes as he panted between each word.
Peter's own eyes shot daggers at him. "No, YOU don't get it! I … WILL NOT … LEAVE … YOU!"
They glared at each other--two pairs of very different angry blue eyes fought a silent battle, but were interrupted as the volcano gave another heave, and another different light appeared in their range of view. Peter's head spun toward the crater and he gasped. There, across the ground crept a glowing mass – slowly, steadily, beautiful in its own way and absolutely deadly.
"The lava!" the boy shouted. "It's coming!"
Hook shifted with some effort until he could see over his shoulder toward the crater. The boy was right – here it came – his death. "Run, Peter! Quickly!" he urged. "Leave NOW!"
Peter felt the dread awakening again, but not for him, but for the man at his side. "If you truly don't want me to die, Hook, then you'd better get up and come with me!"
Hook found enough strength to loose a whole tirade of savage curses, before he spat: "If you don't get up and run, you blasted brat, then I'll gut you from your ugly belly to your dirty throat! Be certain of it!"
Peter glanced at the pirate, again leaning on his left elbow – and he got an idea. "Just try it, old man! You're far too slow for me!"
With that he shifted out of the hook's reach and waited. And Hook reacted exactly as he thought the pirate would: he rose to a sitting position, wincing in pain. "If you think I'm going to fall for that trick, Pan, than you're thicker than I thought!" he growled, and Peter only smirked.
"What trick, codfish? If we have to die now, then I'll do it showing you that I was always faster than you!" The heat grew, but still the boy lingered near the pirate-captain. Peter hadn't lied when he had said he would only leave the coming hell with him. He would do just that! He owed Hook too much to leave him behind. 'You'll die alone and unloved – just like me.' He remembered those words, and when he saw how upset the pirate was now, he decided to skip his plan to force Hook to move. If they had to die, then he wanted it to happen in peace. His face softened as he gently said: "You will not die alone, James Hook. And certainly not unloved. We both know that Wendy really cares for you … and so do I."
His voice was nearly a whisper at the end, but the words seemed to echo in Hook. He felt tears rising and a lump in his throat as he met the boy's gaze, who crept nearer again.
"I'll stay at your side, James, no matter what!"
For a moment Hook was torn between the urge to slice the boy's throat or to pull him close. And the part that had awakened at his meeting with Wendy again before this all started overpowered the wickedness in him once more.
Peter gasped, finding himself in a weak embrace, but gave in and wearily wrapped his arms around the buccaneer, enjoying the hug.
The moment was brief, because Hook shifted now and whispered: "Help me up, you stubborn churl!"
With a happy sigh, Peter lifted his head and looked at the man he had somehow grown–almost–fond of. "I knew it!"
"You know nothing, you little fool!" Hook snarled while he tried to rise. Peter helped as best as he could. "I choose to not let her suffer because of your damn emptyheaded stubbornness. And I won't have you dying the hero's death, to be put on a pedestal and sung about!" He cried out in pain, as he forced his legs to carry him. The wound in his side from the harpy's talons wasn't the only thing that hurt--his whole body hurt like hell. He thought he could feel every single bone.
The boy laughed, supporting the buccaneer with an arm around his waist, and pulling the man's left arm around his shoulders. Behind them the lava came nearer. "Stop jabbering, old man, and WALK!"
"Stop calling me that! I'm not that old!"
"Sorry, codfish!"
"Shut up, brat!"
They both grinned as they made their way ahead of the lava toward the avalanche. Again the mountain shuddered, and the allies had to fight to stay on their feet. Hook gasped. Every step demanded strength from him he didn't have. His legs ached, his back felt as if it would break any moment and his chest burned. And then there was this heap of stone in front of them. Again! "I really hate piles of stone," he said, his voice rasping, and Peter nodded.
"Aye! Agreed!"
"Peter? Captain?" Thalion's voice sounded distant, coming from the other side of the fall of rock, and they exchanged a glance.
"Thalion! Are you and the others are all right?" the boy called.
"Yes. We escaped the avalanche. Try to climb over it! The volcano is going--"
"--to vomit a bit; yes, we know." Peter shouted back. "I don't think it liked the taste of that wizard."
Hook shook his head. "You speak of this mountain like the Firebolgs."
Peter smiled briefly. "Hey: tell me where you are, and I'll tell you what you are."
The captain stared at him; glad for the boy's inept attempts at distraction. As long as he could quarrel with him – even in this teasing manner – he wouldn't consider the pain so much. "Don't tell me that you have learned this speech from your fairy." He glanced around. "By the way, where is that jealous little insect on two legs?"
"May we should look for her later and start to climb?" Peter suggested and pointed backwards. "Because it is getting really hot here!"
Hook sighed and progressed to the bottom of the avalanche. "You love to boss me around, don't you?"
Peter chuckled. "Well … YES!"
At that moment, another quake shook the mountain; making the ground beneath them buck like a new lamb. But the character of the shaking was altogether different, and the mountain seemed to finally give up, and fall to pieces. The lava halted as the crater descended, deadly flow returning to the source. But the repeated vibrations of the past week, weakening the structure of the whole, finally split the incline below the spot they stood from the rest of the mountain, and it fell away, creating a new, smaller mountain far below.
This time they both lost their balance and slid backward toward the new cliff. Loose grit rolled beneath them and pushed them along. Both yelped as they saw the abyss grow nearer, and Peter managed to roll aside and stop. But the pirate still slid past him. Acting instinctively, Peter gripped Hook's hand and held it tight. A strong jerk seemed to tear him apart, as he held onto a rock outcropping with the other hand, the heavy weight of the pirate dragging at him, as Hook rolled with a scream over the edge that just appeared, as if the island were hungry for the taste of pirate.
The boy moaned and he ground his teeth as his right shoulder dislocated at the joint and a whole new kind of pain ran through him. But he wouldn't let go of Hook's hand. Through tears he saw the pirate's face, ashen in panic, while his hook clawed for purchase on the crumbling edge, but it slipped off again, and he cried out in fear, glancing down.
Deep beneath him, Hook could see the glistening, melting treetops; bathed in the shining golden sun. And far away, could see Pirate's Cove and … his ship. The Jolly Roger lay there; waiting for her commander to return. Still captured by the ice, he knew that, since the spell was broken, she would soon be free. The sight of her gave him peace, and only the hope that a sweet little girl waited there to show him his damaged cabin beat in his heart. He could feel Peter's grip slipping, and took a deep breath; giving up for the first time in his life. Forgive me, little one! he thought, and thank you for caring!
Peter held onto Hook's hand for dear life. But the pain in his shoulder, neck and back was excruciating. Sobbing, he tried to pull the man back, which was, of course, useless. He was only a boy trying to hold on to a grown man. And strong as he was, even Peter Pan had his limits. He felt Hook's fingers slipping through his, his own grip on the rock weakening. Their eyes met and Hook saw the agony the boy was in. "Let go, Peter," he whispered. "Let go, before I take you with me."
But the Prince of Neverland shook his head. "Never!" he choked out, digging his already bleeding fingers into the stone – and then the rock was pulled from its seat. Peter was pulled over the edge together with the buccaneer; clinging to him. They both cried out, while Peter tried to find a happy thought – something—anything--that might keep both of them in the air, but his exhausted mind was blank. Peter glanced up to the sun; its golden light seemed to embrace him like a father. He thought he could see Tink above him; her ringing jingling in his ears.
… And he was a baby again, under a bush in Kensington Gardens, swept away by
a light …
And then the golden ball surrounded him and Hook, enclosed by hundreds of tiny shimmering wings – warm and comforting, singing and soothing, while he and the man fell down and down and down … until everything went black ...
TBC…
Dear Readers,
so - that was the finale battle. Neverland is save - and there are still many things open. So I hope you don't kill me for again giving you a cliffhanger.
Please review and thank you once again for all those couraging words you have given me until now.
Love you all
Lywhn