Destroyer of Legends

by Clayton Wood

  “That’s really fucked up,” he opined. “Like, royally fucked up.” She batted her eyes at him.

  “Do you still love me?” she inquired.

  “I mean, yeah.”

  “All in all, I have to say that was pretty damn entertaining,” she mused, smiling at the memory.

  “You’re a twisted, conniving bitch,” Hunter grumbled.

  “Yup.”

  “So we’re really okay?” he pressed.

  “Of course babe,” Sukri reassured, wrapping an arm around his waist and giving it a squeeze. He smiled, shaking his head.

  “Shit babe, I still can’t believe you did that.”

  “If you want, I can have Xerxes give you another head injury and make you forget all about it,” she offered.

  “Pretty tempting, actually.”

  “Gotta say, watching her with you made me jealous as fuck,” Sukri admitted. “Gonna have to reclaim you tonight, if you know what I mean.”

  “That a promise?”

  “Oh yeah,” Sukri replied. She stared at him for a long moment, smiling to herself.

  “What?”

  “I’m glad you’re back,” she stated. “I missed you. And I love you. I mean that.”

  “Love you too Sukri.”

  “Good,” Sukri replied. She turned then, pulling him down a side-street. “Come on,” she urged. “Everyone’s been waiting for you to wake up.”

  * * *

  Xerxes, Vi, and the rest of the gang – including Camilla and Dominus – had congregated at the Lucky Nuts, bartender Tykus alive and well at the bar. They were all sitting around tables they’d pushed together, as before, with Xerxes sitting on the floor…and still managing to tower over them. They all stopped talking once Sukri and Hunter walked in, their heads turning to look at Hunter. They all raised mugs of beer to him, cheering loudly.

  “There he is!” Tykus cried. “The hero himself!”

  Xerxes stood, having to hunch over to prevent himself from scraping his head against the ceiling. The big guy stomped up to Hunter, giving him a big bear hug with all four arms…and crushing Hunter’s wings against his back.

  “Ow,” he blurted out. Xerxes let him go, beaming down at him.

  “WELCOME…BACK,” he greeted.

  “Thanks big guy,” Hunter replied with a smile. “Good to be back.”

  “My turn,” Vi called out, standing from her chair and walking up to Hunter, giving him a hug as well…and picking him clean up off the floor. Somehow she managed to squeeze him even harder than Xerxes had. She lowered him to the floor, grinning at Sukri. “How’d it go?”

  “Exactly as we expected,” Sukri answered with a wink.

  “Hunter!” Vi admonished, feigning shock. “How could you?”

  “Ha ha,” Hunter grumbled. “Go fuck yourself, by the way.”

  “I told her not to do it, but she insisted,” Vi confessed. “You guys good?”

  “Yeah,” Sukri answered.

  “Told you he likes it non-consensual,” Camilla piped in, giving Hunter a smirk, then taking a gulp from her mug. Everyone turned to give her a withering look.

  “The only reason you’re still alive is because you helped us,” Hunter shot back. “Bitch.”

  “I second that,” Vi piped in.

  “Third,” Sukri added.

  Xerxes grunted, glaring down at Camilla.

  “I appears I’ve overstayed my welcome,” Camilla replied. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll be leaving soon.”

  “It does,” Hunter agreed.

  “Have a seat,” Dominus urged, patting an empty chair. Hunter took the former duke’s offer, sitting down, with Sukri sitting on his other side. She put a hand on his thigh, and he put his hand on top of hers, flashing her a smile.

  “How’re things going?” Hunter asked.

  “Very well, thanks to you,” Dominus answered. He had bandages wrapped around his belly and on the stump of his right arm. “How much do you remember?”

  “Not a lot,” Hunter admitted. “I remember fighting Zagamar, but not much after that.”

  “I told him about his fall,” Sukri offered.

  “The Kingdom of the Deep helped kill the rest of the Svartálfar,” Dominus explained. “We burned all the bodies once a favorable wind came.”

  “To blow the smoke into the Deadlands instead of corrupting the Kingdom,” Vi added.

  “We’ve been using giant horse-drawn rakes to drag the remains into the Fringe,” Dominus continued. “We’ll bury them deep beneath the ground there, and cover them with neutral soil.”

  “And Zagamar?” Hunter asked. “He may have died when he hit the ground, but he’ll come back to life eventually…and anyone who goes near him is gonna get turned eventually.”

  “True,” Vi admitted. “That’s why we decapitated him, covered his body with cement, and dragged him out into the Deadlands. Your mother came by yesterday to pick him up.”

  “My mom?” Hunter blurted out. “Why?”

  “She’s a Legend,” Dominus answered. “She cannot be transformed by him.”

  “Ah.”

  “She’s bringing him to the Deep,” Vi stated. “She’ll drag his body by a rope, then throw him into the pit. No one will ever be able to resurrect him again.”

  “Thank god,” Camilla muttered. Hunter scoffed.

  “Technically this is all your fault,” he pointed out. “If you hadn’t sent me into the crypt, Zeno never would’ve been able to resurrect him.”

  “True,” Camilla admitted. “But it was the Guild of Seeker’s mission to resurrect him one day. If Zeno hadn’t, one of his successors would have.”

  “And you were the only one who could beat Zagamar,” Vi piped in, “…by pitting him against himself.”

  “True,” Hunter admitted. He explained how he’d been able to read Zagamar’s memories at the end, anticipating his every move in advance.

  “I rest my case,” Camilla concluded. “If I hadn’t sent you to the Crypt of Zagamar, you never would’ve been able to defeat him. And even if he hadn’t resurrected now, he would’ve eventually…and no one else would likely have been able to destroy him.” She smiled. “It had to be you.”

  “How convenient,” he grumbled.

  “She is correct,” Dominus piped in. Hunter gave him a look.

  “Says the guy who tried to murder everyone at this table,” Hunter shot back. “Except for Camilla,” he added.

  “Actually, I did try to have her killed, along with her family. After they fled Tykus during the civil war,” Dominus confessed.

  “So that was you,” Camilla murmured. “Nice try.”

  “You do realize you’re a supervillain,” Hunter grumbled.

  “To be fair, I’ve also tried to save everyone’s life at this table,” Dominus pointed out. “Having done both, I would much rather have you all as my allies than my enemies.”

  “Hear hear,” Vi agreed. “But if you double-cross me again, I’ll kill you. Definitively.”

  “I have no doubt you would,” Dominus replied.

  “Guess that settles that,” Hunter decided. “Don’t expect us to be best buddies though.” Dominus gave a rueful smile.

  “I’ve learned not to try to predict the future.”

  “Just to prepare for it,” barkeeper Tykus piped in, refilling the beer mugs that needed it.

  “Thank you your highness,” Vi said, winking at the man. “Kinda miss warrior Tykus though.”

  “There’s plenty more of me to go around,” Tykus promised.

  “You ever go real dark?” Vi inquired. “Like ‘serial killer Tykus’ or ‘wife-beater Tykus?’ Or like, ‘drug-addict Tykus?’”

  “I’m not certain,” Tykus admitted. “King Tykus handles all the other Tykuses. But I suppose I’ve tried just about everything by now. We all go back to share our experiences at the end, to gain wisdom from them.”

  “Wisdom from being a drug addict?” Vi asked.

  “There is wisdom to be gained from e
very experience,” Tykus pointed out. “If you’re open to receiving it. Living the lives my subjects do gives me compassion for them…and understanding of their difficulties.”

  Vi considered this, then started to take a swig from her mug. But Dominus stopped her.

  “I propose a toast,” the former duke declared, turning to Hunter. “To the hero who defeated one of the greatest Legends of all time,” Dominus stated, raising his mug. Everyone else raised theirs. “An Original who defied a kingdom, a Lady, the Duke of Wexford, and King Tykus himself…and ended up saving them all.”

  “To Hunter!” everyone cheered, clinking their glasses and taking a gulp. Hunter did as well, setting his mug down and wiping the foam from his mouth.

  “To my greatest pupil,” Vi added, grinning at Hunter and taking another swig of her beer. “Hunter…destroyer of Legends!”

  Chapter 46

  The gardens outside of the Acropolis were just as Dominus remembered, untouched by the ravages of the Ironclad assault not long ago. Sunlight shone from the heavens, its warmth contrasting with the crisp coolness in the air. The coldest months of the year were here at last, the days short and evenings long.

  Dominus smiled, feeling the grass beneath his bare feet as he walked, and glanced at King Tykus, who was walking at his side. The king had invited him for a stroll, and seemed a little quiet, even wistful.

  “The world is quieter now,” Tykus noted, as if reading Dominus’s thoughts. “Everything is slowing down.”

  “We deserve a rest,” Dominus replied. Tykus chuckled.

  “Indeed we do.”

  They passed a long row of hydrangeas, their small purple-blue flowers having already begun to wilt. A few bees still buzzed around them, landing atop them and gathering their nectar. Dominus watched them, thinking back to his own hives in Wexford.

  “The original Duke of Wexford was a beekeeper,” Tykus informed him, following Dominus’s gaze. “A bit obsessive about it, actually…like he was about everything else.”

  Dominus frowned; he hadn’t realized his progenitor – the model duke, whose Ossae still lived within his ancestral shrine – had been a beekeeper as well. Most of their family history from that time had been lost. But of course Tykus would remember; his bones held those memories far more faithfully than any book.

  “He told me once – during one of our walks, naturally – that he was trying to create the perfect bee,” Tykus continued. “He became very upset when I laughed at him.”

  “Laughed?”

  “Yes,” Tykus confirmed. “He asked me why I was laughing. I’d never seen him so offended!”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “That his efforts were pointless.”

  Dominus stopped in his tracks, turning to face Tykus.

  “Pointless?”

  “Of course,” Tykus replied. “You see, the bee was already perfect.”

  Dominus just stared at him.

  “Your ancestor was never satisfied with the ways things were,” Tykus continued. “Neither are you. Which is precisely why I hired you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Perfection is a process, not a goal,” Tykus explained. “You’re obsessed with perfection…and have spent your entire life trying to perfect yourself, the kingdom…and your bees.”

  Dominus started to respond, then realized that Tykus was entirely correct…as usual.

  “You and Nature have that in common, I suppose,” Tykus continued. “Always pursuing perfection. But Nature does it effortlessly…it doesn’t have to try. Because, like perfection, Nature is a process, not a thing.”

  “I don’t understand,” Dominus confessed. Tykus chuckled.

  “Most don’t,” he agreed. “We live such short lives, seeing only what is. What exists. But I have lived across millennia. And what I have seen is a world in flux. To you, a river is a thing. To me, it is a process; water flowing down from the sky, taking the path of least resistance across the earth, then returning to the sea, where it will rise again to the sky. Leaving ever-deepening chasms in its wake, cleaving the land in two.”

  Dominus nodded; it was clearly true.

  “Life is the same,” Tykus continued. “It is ever-changing. Ever-improving; that which excels continues, that which does not, ends. Each generation of life comes from that which excels, and in turn the wheat will be separated from the chaff. Again and again, forever.”

  “Of course,” Dominus agreed.

  “These bees then,” Tykus stated, gesturing at a few of them, “…have survived countless millennia. They are still here after a culling the scope of which we cannot fathom.” He raised an eyebrow. “How could you argue that they are not already perfect?”

  Dominus considered this.

  “They are perfect for themselves,” Dominus countered at last. “But not necessarily for humans.”

  “Aha!” Tykus cried, lifting both hands in the air. “And there we have it. Nothing is perfect to you unless it is perfect for you.”

  Dominus took this in, not saying anything. There was nothing to say…it was true. Tykus resumed their stroll, and Dominus followed at his king’s side.

  “I do recall some of your conversations with young Axio before he became me,” Tykus revealed. “The day you first met him, you asked him who the king serves.”

  “I recall,” Dominus stated.

  “He didn’t know the answer, so you gave him one. Do you remember what you said?”

  Dominus thought it over.

  “I believe I said that the king’s duty was to preserve the identity of his people. Their customs, the noblest of their bloodlines, and their lands.”

  “That’s precisely what you said,” Tykus confirmed. “You have an excellent memory. But I have a better answer: the king’s duty is to perfection. To see Nature’s wisdom and emulate her. And to apply Nature’s process – the process of perfection – to those he rules…and himself.”

  Dominus glanced down at the king’s bare feet, and his own.

  “That’s why you connect with Nature,” he realized. Tykus winked.

  “Precisely,” he agreed. “As you told Axio, you tended to your bees not for the honey, but for the perspective.”

  Dominus gave a rueful smile.

  “I knew all along, without knowing,” he realized.

  “You applied your wisdom to the Kingdom instead of the world,” Tykus stated. “Your myopia limited you.”

  They walked in silence for a while, until Tykus cleared his throat.

  “Zagamar was the great Trial for humanity,” he declared. “No different than the trials Nature brings to every generation of life. Simply greater in scope and degree. We have survived him, and so we live on.”

  He paused, as if searching for the right words.

  “You told Axio that each caste plays a vital role in our government, from the lowliest peasant to the king himself…and that each is necessary to preserve the integrity of the kingdom, just as each type of bee is integral to the health of the hive.”

  “I did.”

  “But the hive is also dependent on Nature,” Tykus pointed out. “Without plants that flower, the hive will die. My kingdom too will perish without the help of those outside of it.”

  “Such as me,” Dominus realized.

  “And others,” Tykus stated. “Would we be having this conversation without Hunter? Or Vi? Or the Ironclad? Or Xerxes, without whom you would have succumbed to your illness long ago?”

  Dominus shook his head.

  “You told Axio that people were tribal…that they had loyalty first to their family, then their friends, then their nation and their people,” Tykus reminded him.

  “These constitute the ‘us,’” Dominus replied.

  “Quite right,” Tykus agreed. “And you said that beyond these psychic borders are the ‘them,’ those that do not belong.” He glanced sidelong at Dominus, raising an eyebrow. “What is the lesson here, Dominus?”

  Dominus frowned, mulling it over.
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  “That the ‘us’ had to be larger,” he answered at last. “More inclusive of others.”

  “I agree,” Tykus replied. “And that is why I forged an alliance with Neesha long ago. And with the Kingdom of the Deep, promising never to attack them. Even as I set hard limits on my kingdom, I expanded my circle of ‘us.’”

  “While maintaining our culture,” Dominus realized. Tykus nodded.

  “A delicate balance,” he admitted. “To protect one’s way of life – a thing that has true value – one must avoid its corruption. And corruption can come from outside…or within. We must preserve it if we value it. But not to the exclusion of other cultures. For we can learn from others, and take what is good from their ways, just as they can do with ours.”

  Tykus stopped, turning to Dominus and putting a hand on his shoulder.

  “Culture is subject to Nature, Dominus. An endless process of perfection. That which excels continues, and that which does not, ends.” He gave Dominus a grave look. “We must excel, Dominus. We must prove ourselves worthy of the future.”

  Dominus nodded.

  “With your wisdom, we have, and we will,” he replied. Tykus sighed, taking his hand off Dominus’s shoulder.

  “And that is precisely the problem,” he lamented. “Men will follow any man as long as he seems to possess confidence. It is human nature to equate confidence with competence, though the two are not often related.”

  “Rarely, in fact,” Dominus agreed with a smirk.

  “Most men are a hair’s breadth from being won over by a tyrant,” Tykus mused. “Tyrants are utterly confident. They don’t ask for permission, nor forgiveness. They take whatever they can, however they can.”

  “Like Zagamar.”

  “Like Zagamar,” Tykus agreed. “And wise men like me can only win by creating this,” he added, gesturing all around them.

  “I don’t follow,” Dominus admitted.

  “Great fortresses!” Tykus exclaimed. “Great walls! A mythology of perfect men, of the natural separation of wills. Aristocracy.” He gave a conspiratorial smile. “All of this,” he added, spreading his fingers out wide and wiggling them in front of Dominus’s eyes, “…is an illusion.”