Demi Heroes

by Andrew Lynch

  The crowd cheered. Cutlasses were drawn, and hands were bound. Within seconds everything was ready for Lucian and his group to lose their lives by taking a long walk off a short plank.

  The five of them were lined up next to the plank, the wolf choosing to sit next to them as if it would be the sixth to take the fatal walk. The pirates started to set the plank out.

  Unsurprisingly, his team seemed perturbed at the turn of events.

  ‘Sir?’ Darrius asked once he’d been bound, his voice shaky. Lucian said nothing.

  ‘I still have no wish for our commander to get us killed, Lucian,’ Jess said, certain that he had just condemned them all to a watery grave. Lucian said nothing.

  ‘An all right bunch this lot. I reckon I can talk my way out, don’t worry, boss. Arr!’ Khleb said with a grin, copying the pirate’s lilt, seemingly unaware of his predicament. Lucian said nothing.

  ‘No can swim,’ Gar said, eyes fixed on the deceivingly calm waters, any notion of seasickness forgotten. Presumably the thought of being in the water instead of on a piece of wood above the water had gone through his mind. Lucian said nothing.

  ‘Don’t worry, friend. Swimming won’t help you here,’ Darrius said, voice low, almost mournful.

  Lucian didn’t trust himself to say anything. He needed to focus, forget about what he was putting his group through.

  They were surrounded by a wall of sharp steel on one side, and a vast blue expanse on the other. Finally, the Captain drew his own bejewelled cutlass, signaling the start of the execution. Silence from the pirates as their Captain gave a short speech to commemorate the occasion.

  ‘Any man on the Torpid Rebel will tell you one thing about the Captain: He’s a fair man.’ Solemn nods from the sailors, as the Captain continued. ‘A fair man knows that a tiring swim, a profound struggle to keep fighting against your own weakness, is no way to go. A fair man offers his prisoners the chance of a quick death.’ A quiet chorus of ‘Arr' rippled through the crowd.

  The Captain pointed his cutlass at Lucian. ‘But this man, claiming to be a leader of these men... he’s a coward!’ The sailors grew angry at the words. ‘He didn’t even take his final guess. He gave up. Not only on his life, but on theirs too.’ The Captain’s voice was steely at the idea of someone not protecting those under their command. ‘So he shall get no such mercy, for a fair man is a balanced man, knowing when to bend or break, but also when to be hard.’

  He raised his cutlass to the sky. ‘Men, take your positions!’

  Four sailors stepped forward and placed their swords to the group’s necks. They stiffened at the idea that Lucian was about to get all of their throats slit. Lucian could feel their anxiety at trusting him. Trusting his unknown plan. Hoping he had a plan at all.

  ‘So I ask, do any of you, excluding the coward, wish for the mercy of the blade?’

  Lucian sent a small prayer hoping none of them would say anything, and he gently shook his head, hoping they would take it for the message it was. Surely they trusted him enough to not ask for their throats slit. Long seconds stretched out, and Lucian was poked by the Captain’s cutlass to stand before the plank. He looked back at his group, who gave him a mixture of icy glares and pleading eyes.

  Gar drew in a breath, about to speak. Lucian readied to stop him, knowing the culture of Karakgar would approve of death by the blade. He let out a cough instead. His group said nothing.

  ‘Very well. You shall all be left to the mercy of Goddess Ocean. Walk!’ And the Captain jabbed Lucian in the back, hard, pushing him forward with the sharp steel.

  The sailors began jeering, shouting things so foul that Lucian would have blushed if he hadn’t been on the edge of a very plank-shaped death.

  Lucian took two forced steps forward. The rocking of the ship made him almost lose his balance. He needed to make it to the end of the plank. He steadied himself, quite a feat with his hands tied behind his back, and edged closer.

  And suddenly, he was there. It had been significantly shorter than he’d thought, and he could have sworn he’d only taken a few shuffling steps. The shouts of the sailors behind him continued. He could feel the wall of angry silence that was his group. They'd make enough noise when it was their turn on the plank, but for now they were blindly trusting him to do something spectacular.

  The wolf let out a howl, stolen by the ocean wind.

  His toes hung over the end of the plank. It wobbled and bounced, all vibrations magnified by the motion of the ship. He struggled to keep his balance as he looked over his shoulder.

  ‘One question!’ shouted Lucian, his mouth filling with sea spray.

  ‘Quiet, men! The coward wishes to speak!’

  ‘Would you grant a dying man’s wish?’

  The Captain took a moment to consider this. ‘I assume that ye weren’t a coward ye whole life. Perhaps, even, this is the first time ye've been a coward. So aye, I shall grant ye wish, as I remain a fair man.’

  Lucian kept his balance as a wobble threatened to send him into the ocean. ‘Is that a promise?’

  ‘A pirate’s promise, aye. As long as ye don’t ask me not to kill ye.’ The sailors had a small chuckle at this.

  ‘I only want knowledge, Captain.’

  ‘Then ye shall ask, I shall answer, and ye shall take the final step.’

  ‘Captain, I wish to know who killed me.’ Lucian could see the flash of realisation cross the Captain’s face. The Captain had realised that Lucian had never - technically - agreed to give up his final guess. And “technically” was all a pirate needed to win a game. He’d been outplayed. Such was the pirate’s code.

  ‘I wish to know your name.’

  Chapter 12

  The final day on the Torpid Rebel had been tense between Lucian and The Captain. However, the crew of the ship had just been happy to get some entertainment, and The Captain really was a fair man. Gar and the others hadn’t taken too kindly to having swords at their throats, and Darrius' sailor had been a bit too enthusiastic, but fortunately the Sickman had been close to hand. And the Imperial ship was safe. Lucian felt just a little bit like a real Hero.

  Once they’d arrived in port, The Captain had stayed true to his word and made sure they had enough supplies to last, even going so far as to procure some horses - in terrible health - and throwing in a few cutlasses. Lucian told himself that they hadn’t been thrown at him, but the bandage on his arm said otherwise.

  With no money to waste at the port town, they left as soon as they arrived, and rushed towards the location for Moxar’s next encounter. After a day’s travel through lightly wooded forests, planted with evergreens Lucian hadn’t seen near the capital, they realised the map had become a bit vague this far out. An easy remedy would have been to pick up a local map, but hindsight was a wonderful thing.

  They had stuck to the main road so far, but the map showed they needed to branch off. It just wasn’t clear exactly where.

  ‘Arr, it has its pros and cons, I'll grant ye that,’ Khleb said.

  ‘Stop talking like that, it’s annoying. And take that thing off,’ Darrius told Khleb, pointing at the eyepatch he wore. They were discussing the merits of the cutlasses they had been given. ‘I don’t need to be cutting great swathes out of my enemy. We've got Gar for that. I’m a duellist, I simply don’t know the weapon well enough. It’s closer to Lucian’s hatchet than to my rapier.’

  ‘Tragically, I must agree with the repulsive man,’ Jess said. ‘You have not needed to duel anyone since we started following Moxar. Learning a more suitable weapon would be prudent.’

  ‘Oh come on... that’s a foolish thing to say! My skill at arms is secondary to the point. If I don’t carry a rapier, then no one will know I’m a duellist. It’s a self fulfilling prophecy!’ Darrius pointed to Lucian. ‘Besides, it’s down to our leader, anyway.’

  Lucian said absently, trying to focus on the map. ‘It does sound like it would benefit the group, sure.’

  ‘Well, he’s busy reading a map. Cle
arly not paying any attention.’

  ‘And aren’t you here as a bard, not a duellist?’ said Lucian. ‘I’ve never seen you actually hold an instrument or sing. You also haven’t complained once about losing all of those unplayed instruments in the wagon.’

  ‘Right, well, I mean...’ Darrius became flustered at this. ‘I didn’t want to scare off the wolf. You never know how wild animals will react to unnatural noises. Oh! And I did sing, remember? I replicated the Aviq’s prize song.’

  ‘I’m not counting that.’ Lucian shrugged off the memory of the awful singing. Jess nodded in agreement.

  They all looked at the wolf, who was keeping pace with them from the tree line. Still there. Silent. It wasn’t hunting them - occasionally it would run off and return a few hours later, a fresh coat of red covering its muzzle.

  ‘It follow this long. We name,’ Gar said.

  ‘Capital idea, old chap. Any thoughts?’ Darrius threw it out to the group.

  ‘Brownfur?’ Khleb suggested.

  ‘Brownfur?’ mocked Jess. ‘Oh yes, a genius idea. How about Fourfeet? Perhaps, Manyteeth? Every time you open your mouth, somehow, even after all these years, I still underestimate the excrement that will find its way to my ears.’

  ‘Piss off. I suppose you want to call it something ridiculous, like, Quelthalion of the Seventh Moon? Poxy bloody Elf names!’

  ‘Guys, don’t start again,’ Lucian said, his mind on other things as he finally gave up looking at the map. ‘We need to find a way to the next Quest encounter on our list. We need to ask for help.’

  As if on cue, the wolf moved ahead of the team, still sticking to the trees. Their horses plodded along slowly. Once the wolf reached the crest of the small hill, it gave a brief howl. The horses all pricked up their ears at the sound of a predator, their instincts kicking in, despite having gotten used to the wolf’s presence at their side over the last day.

  ‘What do you think she did that for?’ Darrius asked.

  ‘To get our Attention. Wolves don’t bark, so she just wanted us to look, I guess,’ Lucian answered. ‘Let’s go'

  Drawing up alongside the wolf, their horses now skittish, they saw exactly what they needed. People they could ask for directions.

  ‘Anyone else think that’s weird?’ Khleb asked.

  ‘Makes sense, she could smell campfires and wanted to let her pack know,’ Lucian guessed. ‘And small bands of people turn up all the time on a Hero’s Quest. Even in the middle of nowhere.’

  ‘Wolf understand. We need to find help. She find help.’ Gar said.

  ‘How do you know so much about wolves anyway?’ Darrius asked.

  ‘Oh, you know, books. Can’t read a book about travelling and logistics without reading about the dangers you might face,’ Lucian replied. ‘Anyway, let’s see if they know the way to the next location.’

  ‘What is the next place anyway?’ Khleb asked. He really didn’t pay enough attention.

  ‘The bandit camp.’

  Several brightly coloured caravans were scattered around a fork in the road. The left fork headed down onto the plains and grassy lands, stretching as far as the eye could see. The right path did its best to wind around mountains, quickly going out of sight only a few hundred metres past the fork.

  The fork itself was in a clearing, surrounded by scrubby, windblown trees, leaves stripped by the strong winds. It nestled on the edge of a cliff.

  Unfortunately the Company map had depicted this entire area - including the grass plains and mountain range - as being forest. Lucian suspected the cartographer had just made it all up when he got past what he knew.

  ‘Could this be the bandit camp we're after?’ Darrius asked.

  ‘Seems unlikely. It’s right on the main road that everyone would have to take to travel through these parts,’ Lucian said. ‘Let’s try and be on our way quickly. I’m sure we’re ahead of Moxar now, but with his endurance and speed, he could be days behind or only hours.’

  The wolf decided to sit this little encounter out and stopped following them, instead skulking behind one of the bushes, as they entered the group of caravans. The denizens of the camp displayed themselves. Bright colours everywhere, with vibrant purples, garish violets, and splashes of bright whites. Lucian had seen several of their type in the capital, but they preferred to travel and keep to themselves.

  No one stopped them until they drew up in the middle of the makeshift caravan town. Suddenly having all eyes on him, Lucian felt the tingling of a sinister undertone. He tried to look unthreatening.

  A man, the only one dressed in different colours - greens and blacks - stood to greet the visitors. His caravan was separate from the others, on the far side of the forked road, near the cliff.

  ‘Hail, travellers!’ he said for all to hear, giving a flourishing bow. ‘What brings you to our Forking City?’

  ‘Well, you’re on the main through road for the North West of the Empire. We kind of had to come,’ Lucian said. ‘Also we need directions.’

  ‘Come you have, and come you shall!’ the man replied. ‘Please, stay the night and rest here. You are most welcome! We will raise your spirits around our fires.’

  ‘Raise other things too,’ Khleb muttered.

  Lucian turned in the saddle, and motioned for Khleb to be quiet.

  ‘But boss...’

  ‘I don’t want to hear it, Khleb. Hush.’

  ‘Uhh, sir?’ Darrius drew his horse close to Lucian so that no one could overhear. ‘He’s right. Forking City? Come we shall? This is a scandaler camp.’

  Lucian looked back the way they had come and realised everyone they had just passed was female. How did he miss these things? He knew what he needed to work on for his next commerce break. After the missing the trap when they first met in the necromancer’s castle, not realising Markun was evil, and now this… maybe he wasn’t as observant as he thought.

  ‘Yes, of course I noticed that. It’s obvious.’

  ‘Very good, sir.’

  Lucian addressed the only man in the town again. ‘We wish information on where to go, nothing else. Thank you.’

  ‘Everyone thinks they want nothing else when they first arrive. Come, sit at my fire, and I will answer your questions.’

  ‘Boss, I know his type,’ said Khleb. ‘It’ll be quicker to play his game. No use hurrying him.’

  Lucian sighed.

  They dismounted, and their horses were quickly attended to by some of the women. The group sat down uneasily on the plush cushions surrounding the man’s caravan. Two attractive women lounged either side of him but he paid them no attention. Lucian could only draw his own eyes away when he realised they flinched at every word from the scandal master.

  The other women in the camp were clearly interested in the new customers. Lucian could hear the chirping of gossiping voices closing in behind him.

  Some standard greetings revealed that the man’s name was Pietr, and all the women were proud scandalers. Also Pietr had trouble getting through a single sentence without making some terrible form of innuendo.

  ‘Maybe you could help us, Pietr. We are trying to find a local group of bandits.’ Lucian finally managed to get to the point.

  ‘Bandits? Certainly the scandalers here enjoy a hard question like that, but not me. Why are you looking for them?’

  Jess and Darrius groaned and rolled their eyes. Lucian barely managed to stop himself joining them.

  ‘We're a group of adventurers, and we wish to keep the roads safe.’ The lie was an easy one to believe. Lucian hoped.

  ‘I'll be honest with you, I know of the bandits you seek. Some of them visit the Forking City. They never bring harm, so I don’t see why I should send harm.’

  ‘They're bandits, they attack innocents. We simply want to do the right thing.’ It occurred to Lucian that appealing to the moral code of a scandal master might be a poor choice.

  ‘I’m sure they do, but when times are hard, their - regular - custom is the only reason my gir
ls get fed.’

  ‘Maybe we could strike a deal?’ Lucian was reluctant to lie, but, as it happened, his sense of morality shifted greatly when he had no money. ‘You know how wealthy we adventurers can be.’

  Pietr licked his lips and looked at their outfits. Lucian knew that despite their weeks of hard travel and fighting, leaving their attire ragged, anyone that knew about such things could tell they were wearing some of the highest quality gear commonly available. Provided by the Company of course.

  ‘Yes, I suppose you may have some coin to your name. However, we are but an honest camp of simple scandalers and wouldn’t dream of taking your money for something as insubstantial as directions. ‘We do have wares you could purchase, and if I know my scandalers they have loose lips—' Darrius and Jess rolled their eyes again. '—when you get them in bed.’

  Lucian sighed, annoyed that everyone seemed to want to do business in this roundabout way. Whatever happened to just paying hard coin for information, he wondered. This far west of the capital they had an odd way of doing things.

  Lucian looked to Darrius, ignoring an excited Khleb. ‘Think you’re up to it?’

  ‘Oh. Umm. Well, I suppose this is my job,’ Darrius replied with a crack in his voice.

  ‘We need the information. I’m sorry to have to ask, but—'

  ‘Of course,’ Pietr interrupted. ‘There’s no telling which of them knows the exact information you need. But I'll do a group discount.’

  ‘Oh, no, that’s fine, only one of us will be using... their services,’ Lucian said awkwardly.

  ‘No problem. I meant you’ll get a discount the more you use, so it works out the same,’ Pietr said with a smile.

  Darrius cast his eyes to the ground. It hurt Lucian to ask him to do this, but they needed that information, and it was, technically, the bard’s job.

  Khleb saw Darrius hesitate and leapt to his feet. ‘Don’t you worry. I'll take the arrow for the team on this one!’ He said seriously, ‘I feel... I feel like it’s something I was meant to do. A calling, if you will. A destiny.’

  ‘Khleb! This isn’t just for fun. We need the information from them,’ Lucian warned him.