Hero's Curse

by Jack J. Lee

  I don’t remember passing out. I woke up to intense pain; someone was getting nowhere trying to tug my helmet off. The motion wasn’t doing good things to my neck, shoulder, and upper arm.

  “Young man, change back to your regular clothes so we can bind up your wounds.”

  It took awhile to focus but when I did, I saw two elderly nuns crouched over me. I dimly heard, “Victor Paladin, did you hear me?”

  I followed her voice and looked straight up. There was a third elderly nun at my head. She was the one trying to pull my helmet off. My armor was designed to be put on and off by magic. It appeared it couldn’t be taken off any other way.

  I mouthed, “Azam-shay.”

  My head and upper back dropped as my helmet and backpack disappeared. I heard the nun say, “Shit, piss, and corruption!” The nun cursing for some reason hit my funny-bone. I would have started laughing if hitting the ground hadn’t hurt so much. I felt a slow trickle of liquid warmth spread down from my neck. The wound in my neck had reopened.

  Once I was back in the same t-shirt and jeans I had been wearing before I armored up, the nuns began cutting my shirt off to get to my wounds. I felt a needle enter my arm. It must have been morphine because shortly after the pain wasn’t as bad. I didn’t feel the urge to scream when they started cleaning and bandaging my neck and right shoulder. I was vaguely aware of a splint being applied to my left arm.

  I then noticed Aidan standing a few feet behind one of the nuns. He looked grim.

  My throat felt like it was stuffed with cotton, my mouth was so dry I could barely whisper, “Aidan, why aren’t you using magic to heal me?”

  The nun working on my neck interrupted him before he had a chance to reply. She sounded pissed, “We tried to. You resisted every effort we made.”

  Even with the morphine in my system, I wasn’t Mr. Happy. The penguin’s negative attitude wasn’t helping. I didn’t bother trying to hide the irritation in my voice, “I was unconscious. How could I resist?”

  Her voice became louder, “You young idi…”

  “Sister!” Aidan broke in like he was trying to put out a fire. “Sister Catherine, Victor really doesn’t know the answer to that question. He isn’t trying to be difficult.

  “Victor, you almost killed the sisters when they tried to heal you. Your unconscious defenses are uncommonly strong. You really don’t like having your soul touched.”

  I took a deep breath. I felt too shitty to lose my temper. “Alright, I was unconscious then, I give you permission now. You can heal me.”

  Aidan gave the weak smile of a doctor bringing bad news. “Unfortunately, you can’t just decide a thing like that, Victor. We don’t have the power to heal you against your will. To be healed by us, you have to trust us. Trust isn’t something you can choose to give. You either trust or you don’t. While you were unconscious, we learned that you do not have faith in anyone but yourself.”

  I couldn’t argue with the truth. My anger left and was replaced with fatigue. “What happens next?”

  He gave up on the fake smile. His voice was grim. “Tim’s on his way over with a doctor. You have lost a lot of blood so it’s not safe to move you.”

  “That doesn’t sound good.”

  “It’s not good. Victor, what happened to your right shoulder? A blade penetrated three millimeters of Enhanced Mithril strike plate like it was styrofoam. It had to be a named weapon with a spell of sharpness.”

  A thought dawned on me. “Why can’t I throw a healing spell on myself?”

  The pushy nun butted in again. “Don’t be silly. Your soul is down to almost nothing. Anything but the most minor of spells would destroy you.”

  “Sister Catherine is right, Victor. You’ve already cast two major spells today and you have lost a lot of blood. Blood sacrifices are powerful because of the connection life fluids have with your soul. You’ve lost too much blood.”

  “I’ve no regrets about ditching the shield, but I would have been better off with the usual healing spell.”

  He gave me a wry smile, “I was not going say ‘I told you so’, but since you have brought it up…” He shrugged. He didn’t look happy to be proved right.

  My blood loss was probably all from my neck. By instinct or luck, the rat must have been gnawing at my jugular vein. I’ve studied the human body and I’ve worked in hospitals to get fake IDs. The patient files I’ve been interested in are those of young men who die from trauma. Those who aren’t killed right away usually die of blood loss related circulatory shock. The physical signs of circulatory shock are rapid heart rate and rapid breathing. I had both. My eyes wouldn’t focus, my skin was cold and clammy, and my mouth was dry. The average male body holds six quarts of blood. It’s a commentary on my life but I’m no stranger to massive blood loss. From my physical symptoms and the blood flow I remembered coming from my neck, I estimated I had lost at least two quarts of blood. I could feel my body going into circulatory collapse.

  My blood type is O negative which means I can donate blood to anyone, but I can only get blood from my own exact type. Only one out of twenty blood donors have the kind I need. Only hospitals have the equipment and expertise to store blood. Multiple blood types are required and blood needs to be kept at precise temperatures.

  Aidan said the doctor was coming with more supplies. Unless they had a way of magically making O negative blood, this probably meant he was bringing saline. Even if the doctor arrived in the next few minutes, unless he had at least four pints of O negative blood, I was still up shit’s creek.

  I looked at their faces; all three of the penguin brigade and Aidan. Their expressions told me they thought I was going to die. For most of my adult life, dangerous men have wanted to kill me. I had just taken out twenty-six Redcaps by myself. The irony that a rodent would end up doing the job made me guffaw. Shit! That hurt. In between short rapid breaths, I whispered, “Aidan, the guy who stabbed me had a titanium spear. He called himself Raeleus.”

  “A Thiarna Dhia!”[5] The leprechaun was so excited he skipped his Irish accent and went straight to Elvish or Gaelic or something. His entire body shook with excitement. “Did he have a Mithril back-and-breastplate too?”

  I was starting to fade. “His breastplate looked like the spear.”

  Aidan went perfectly still. “After you killed him, did his spear and breastplate disappear?”

  I couldn’t see where he was going with these questions. I was too tired to care why. “After he was dead, I didn’t pay much attention to his gear…I think I saw a breastplate on his body. I have no idea what happened to the spear. It’s probably there by his body. I’m not sure.”

  Aidan literally started jumping with excitement. “Where is his body?”

  “Back down there, to the right”. He left without another word. It was just me and the nuns. Jehovah was an ass, but he had a sense of humor. The first and last memories I would ever have was being surrounded by grumpy penguins. I really wasn’t looking forward to being an angel. I could tell the nuns were as clueless as I was about why Aidan was excited. They were finished bandaging my wounds and were now praying over me. The drone of their voices was as good as any lullaby…

  “Victor! Victor!” I woke up and immediately wished I hadn’t. The morphine was no longer holding the pain at bay. I couldn’t keep air in my lungs. The nuns had backed off and Aidan was at my side holding my paralyzed right arm. While I was unconscious, he had drawn a spear and a motorcycle jacket on my inner forearm. “You have to stand.”

  He and the nuns lifted me up into a sitting position and then helped me stand. I could feel what little blood I had rush from my head. If they hadn’t been holding on to me, I would have collapsed. I tried to slow my breathing and got my bearings. If I had been able to move my arms, I would have pushed Aidan and the nuns off of me. If I was going die, I would end it standing on my own. They got the hint and backed off. My expression dared Sister Irritable to say something. She looked like she wanted to take a ruler to my knuc
kles but she didn’t say a word.

  Aidan was insistent, “Victor, look at the pictures I’ve drawn on your forearm.” I did, expecting three dimensional images to appear in the air. I just saw hand drawn pictures on my skin. With a tone of regret, Aidan said, “I had to jury-rig everything. I only had time to modify the breastplate. Please hold those pictures in your mind and say, Obex.”

  “Obex!” For the second time today, blue flames engulfed my body. Raeleus’ spear appeared in my hand and immediately dropped to the ground. I was back to wearing a motorcycle jacket. I got lightheaded again. Immediately Aidan grabbed me and said in my ear, “Now lad, say salveo.”

  “Salveo.” It started with a feeling of warmth at my wounds. The heat spread throughout my body and then reached my skin. For a few seconds, my body lit up like a light bulb. I felt like I did after my anti-scrying spell—totally hammered. My knees buckled and I grabbed onto Aidan. I realized I could move my arms; there was no pain.

  The leprechaun kept me from falling. His voice was gentle. “You can rest, warrior. You are going to live.”

  Chapter 10: True Love and Jehovah

  I was so FUCKING tired of passing out. When I woke, I was in a small room on an overstuffed recliner. Someone had put a new t-shirt on me. I was still wearing the jeans I had put on this morning. I had an IV in my arm. They must have been feeding me through the IV because I didn’t feel like shit. I had to pee in the worst possible way. The problem with getting liquid nutrition is the fluids have to go somewhere.

  I pulled the IV out carefully and put pressure on the puncture. Aidan and the penguins had left my pants on so my ass wasn’t hanging out. I was good to go. When I opened the door, I recognized where I was; the lower level at Rare Change and Medallions. A couple doors down I found a single seat rest room. There’s no pleasure like the sensation of letting go when you’ve been holding it too long.

  Sometimes I’m amazed at how much my bladder can hold. I was on the verge of being bored waiting for it to completely drain. I heard Tim’s voice, “Oh my God, Mr. Paladin has disappeared!” I could hear him rushing from room to room, looking for me like we were playing hide and seek. I hurried up, finished, washed my hands, and opened the door just as Tim was running by. “Tim, I was in the bathroom.”

  I try not to make the same mistake twice. When he lunged to hug me, I sidestepped and he missed. Tim wasn’t good at reading social cues. I could see he was going to try to hug me again. I put my hand out like a defensive spear pointed at his gut. I could see the neurons connecting in his head, ‘Oh, Mr. Paladin doesn’t like to hug; he’d rather shake.’ So he grabbed my hand with his both of his and started pumping it up and down. “Congratulations, Mr. Paladin. Oh my gosh! Destroying an infestation of twenty-six minions and retrieving Obex is absolutely amazing!”

  That reminded me, “What happened to my mount, Harley?”

  He kept shaking my hand. “Paladin mounts disappear as soon as they’re not needed. I don’t know where they go; Master Cahill might.”

  I firmly yanked my hand away. “Where is he, anyway?”

  “He’s busy linking your new jacket to the rest of your gear. What he’s doing is delicate, so he asked to be left alone. I’ve been in the room with you for hours. I just left to grab a sandwich.”

  When Tim mentioned food, I realized how hungry I was. “Where did you get the sandwich?”

  He blinked at the change of subject. “There’s a deli just down the block.”

  I motioned to him to follow me out of the basement. “Show me where it is. I’m hungry too.”

  The deli was just down the block, easy walking distance. Since Tim had already eaten, I told him I could go by myself but he wouldn’t hear of it. He wanted to help. As I walked, he was like a little dog, running around me and nipping at my feet. At the deli, I ordered five roast beef foot-long sandwiches with all the fixings and one large drink to go.

  Tim desperately wanted to help. To get him off my back, I let him carry my drink and the bag holding four sandwiches. I kept the fifth to eat as we walked back to the shop. We went downstairs into the tiny kitchen.

  “Tim, sit down.” I gestured at the table in the room. After he sat, I pulled a chair across from him. “Explain how I got healed and what the deal is with Obex.”

  “Oh, that’s easy.” Tim looked pleased. He liked to teach. “Since time eternal, the gods having been playing the Great Game. The goal is to amass the most power and to gather the most souls. A small part of the Game is called ‘Mythic Hero’. A god sends a hero across dimensions to kill a monster, take its treasure, and then bring it home. The Jack and the Beanstalk fairytale really happened. A human boy was sent to a different dimension and killed a giant and brought back his treasure. The definitions of hero and monster depend on where you stand. From the Jotunn’s or Redcap’s point of view, a human paladin is the monster and he’s the mythic hero. Every time a hero comes back with treasure, one god wins power and the other loses. The reason why every human culture has legends of mythic heroes is because human beings have been sent on mythic quests ever since we were created.”

  Tim wasn’t much of a give-and-take conversationalist. He was okay with being the only one talking. As long as I nodded my head every once in awhile, he was good. I was on my third sandwich and happy to keep on eating while he talked.

  “Mr. Paladin, you’re extremely unusual. Most paladins start training with a sword and shield very young, almost as soon as they can walk. Two hundred years ago a paladin named Roland Fare armed himself with a spear and a back-and-breastplate rather than the usual sword and shield. He was killed within hours of becoming a paladin. This isn’t unusual. Paladins are rare. When one dies, it takes months, if not years to find a replacement. When a new paladin is found, there are almost always a lot of minions that have to be dealt with immediately. Thirty percent of paladins die within days of taking their positions. However, most of those who are killed are able to send their gifts back to safety. After David killed Goliath, there’s no mention of him coming back with treasure. When Paladin Fare lost his gifts, his weapon choice was blamed. No one has asked for a spear and breastplate since.”

  I was biting down on my sandwich when I thought of a question. I put my hand up to grab Tim’s attention. He watched attentively while I took a second to swallow and take a swig of soda. “What don’t the other paladins like about Roland’s combo?”

  Tim stood up and pretended he was wearing armor. He pointed to his chest. “When Jehovah’s will is made manifest as a back-and-breastplate, it is impenetrable and impervious to anything, but it has limits. The advantage of a back-and-breastplate is that it provides constant protection to your vital organs. The disadvantage is that you can’t move it to protect your limbs or your head.” He now pretended to be holding a shield. “A shield at any one time provides less protection than a back-and-breastplate; it can only protect what’s behind it, but it can be moved to protect any part of your body, and it can also be used as a weapon. You can strike your enemy with the face or edge of the shield. The sight of potbellied, twiggy-limbed Tim pretending to be a knight raising a shield brought a smile on my face.

  “To claim a god’s gifts by right of conquest, the previous holder must surrender the gifts or be killed so suddenly that he doesn’t have a chance to send the gifts away. You’re the first paladin in at least five hundred years to reclaim lost gifts. It was very fortunate Paladin Fare had the healing spell on his breastplate and the Redcap you killed hadn’t used the spell recently. The healing spell needs a week to recharge.”

  It dawned on me I had done something impressive. I now had four of Jehovah’s gifts. Aidan had already modified the breastplate to integrate with the rest of my armor. It was interesting how weapons were named but armor wasn’t. I still preferred Sanguinis, but I could see the advantage of being able to call Obex if I ever ran out of ammo. “Tim, when I call my gear now, will my same phrase work? Oh, how do I choose between Sanguinis and Obex?”

  Tim
scratched his head, “To tell you the truth, I don’t know. I think that’s what Master Cahill is working on now. Normally, as his apprentice, I’d be helping him but he knew you’d have questions.” He broke out in a huge grin. “If anyone had ever told me I’d give up a chance to work on reclaimed gifts to answer basic Magic-101 questions, well, I’d have said it was crazy talk. But I have to tell you, it’s a pleasure helping you.”

  I carefully studied his earnest face. The guy had a serious case of hero worship. I wasn’t sure if it made him more or less annoying. I reached for a sandwich that wasn’t there. I had eaten them all and actually felt full. I was also really tired. Involuntarily, I let loose a huge yawn.

  Tim fretfully said, “Oh you must be exhausted. Look at the time; it’s close to 10 PM You should go home to your true love.”

  In my calorie induced stupor it took a second for his words to penetrate. When I lose my temper, I don’t get hot. I get cold. “Tim, you just said ‘true love.’ Why would you say that?”

  Even clueless Tim heard the ice in my voice. “Uh, well, you’re staying at the old paladin’s home, and he has two beautiful daughters. Most paladins marry amongst themselves—a relative of another paladin. All Jehovah’s Heroes have one true love.” He gave a sheepish grin. “It’s one of the perks of being a mythic hero. I just figured…”

  I can handle prison. I’ve been there before. I will take being a slave until I have a chance to rebel. I WILL NOT TOLERATE someone fucking with my mind or emotions. The shit that was going on with Mina now made sense. It wasn’t real attraction; it was a spell. I glared at Tim until he started to cringe. He didn’t know enough. I needed Aidan. “Where’s Aidan?”

  Tim stuttered, “In-in-in his work room, next to his office.”

  When I left the kitchen, Tim wisely didn’t follow me. I checked the door to work room. It was locked. When I banged on it, the door felt and sounded like I was striking a solid block of granite. “AIDAN, Open up! I need to talk to you!” There was no response. I considered a spell, and then reconsidered. Sister Irritable had said that if I cast another spell, it would kill me. I wondered if being healed changed those odds. There was another way, “Obex.” The spear appeared in my right hand. It had the spell of permanent sharpness, and it had sliced through my armor like it was butter. It should do the same to this door. I pulled back, aiming the spear at the lock.