A New Hero

by Curtis Jobling

  As if to emphasize this point she raised her shield before them, catching an arrow in the wood with a resounding thunk. Trick nodded.

  ‘I’m cool with that!’

  He didn’t need telling twice. Trick was more than happy that the Shield Maiden was his protector. Climbing into the arena had taken all his remaining nerve after his duel with Gorgo. He was a spent force now, his legs trembling as the battle raged around them.

  ‘No time like the present,’ said Erika, reaching over her shoulder to where a bundle of spears was holstered. Trick fixed his gaze upon the supposedly impregnable tower, only accessible via the corridors and avenues that circuited the amphitheatre. Trick prayed that the Shield Maiden had as good an aim as he believed. He’d seen her skill with a spear on the docks when she’d pinned Kuro to the floor. As if in answer, her first spear hit the bottom of the tower, reverberating where it buried itself in the timber.

  The plan was bold. By peppering the warlord’s tower with her spears, Erika would provide Kuro and Kazumi with a route to Boarhammer’s balcony. The ninja and samurai would then scale the fortified tower and dispatch the Lord of Sea Forge. Two more spears found their mark, wobbling where they struck the timber of the tower. Trick’s thoughts returned to Toki as he searched the arena for his friend once more.

  With the Thieves’ Guild joining the fray, confusion reigned, and the Skull Army rushed in from the main gates to the aid of their gladiator brethren. Soon thieves and slaves were locked in mortal duels with Boarhammer’s forces. All the while, monsters kicked and clawed, bit and bashed, attacking the combatants indiscriminately.

  Trick even spied the drunken gladiator who had brawled with Mungo and Zuma in the Broken Shield Inn – Crixus, he’d called himself. He was there in the middle of the melee, trident in hand, seeking out his foes. It was hard to tell whose side he was on, so chaotic was the battle. Of course, Trick’s warrior companions were causing the most damage. Trying to keep track of them made his head spin.

  Kuro and Kazumi fought back to back, katana and naginata slashing about them and finding man and monster as they made their way ever closer to Boarhammer’s tower and their makeshift steps. The two made a great team, their movements almost balletic as they cut a swathe through their foes in the sand.

  Zuma was a blur, darting between the armoured men, his macuahuitl splitting steel and breaking bones. The Jaguar Warrior’s face was a mask of grim delight. With a shiver, Trick realized the Aztec enjoyed this, revelled in the kill. He wasn’t alone, either. Mungo was now free from his bonds, shouting and screaming as he straddled the giant centipede. He rode it across the sand, grasping its antennae as he steered it over the Skull Army. They shrieked as they were crushed beneath its hundred clawed feet, while the blue-woad warrior whooped with berserk, bloody glee.

  Then Trick saw Toki.

  The young Viking stood beneath the four dog-headed bat creatures that were chained to the boulder. With a swipe of Ravenblade, he hacked at the links of one of the chains, shards of twisted iron flying. The monster beat its wings, chancing a bite at the red-haired youth. He smacked it away with the flat of the blade, sending it flapping clear. Catching the broken length of chain in his free hand, Toki quickly bound it round his arm and ran after the creature, his feet kicking up sand.

  ‘Toki!’ screamed Trick, almost distracting Erika from her task.

  If the young Viking heard Trick, he didn’t show it, and the Norseman allowed the bat monster to take flight. It tried to escape the arena, only for Toki to poke and prod it with the sword, guiding it in another, far more dangerous direction.

  ‘Oh God,’ whispered Trick.

  ‘What?’ asked Erika, firing another spear across the arena and finding her target.

  ‘He’s going for Boarhammer,’ said the boy. ‘Alone!’

  Dumb instinct kicked in suddenly and unexpectedly. Trick dashed headlong across the bloodstained sand towards the warlord’s tower.

  ‘Come back!’ the Shield Maiden shouted. ‘Trick!’

  ‘He needs my help. Keep those spears coming!’ the boy called back, ducking beneath the lunging attacks of gladiators, guards and gargantuan monsters. He looked up as he ran. Toki was directly overhead, gliding towards the balcony, the bat-beast snarling as he steered it towards the tower’s top. Trick didn’t have a clue what he was doing. This was rash to the point of suicidal, but he couldn’t allow his friend to fight Boarhammer and his cronies alone.

  Trick channelled all his concentration into his frantic dash, pushing the fear from his mind and ignoring his aching limbs. He skidded under a scything sword swipe like a world-class limbo dancer before hurdling the low chop of a pole-arm. He swung out his quarterstaff, cracking a gladiator across the wrist and snapping the bones, before bringing it round before him. Then he was at the foot of the tower, driving the end of the staff into the sand. It dug in, the staff bending as Trick used it like a vaulting pole. It propelled him high towards the first spear, three metres off the ground, then clattered to the ground behind him.

  The Shield Maiden was a wizard with weapons, but agility was Trick Hope’s forte. The sure-footed nimbleness that had made the rooftops of London his playground now came to his aid. He caught the spear shaft and swung, hauling himself on to it with the agility of a spider monkey. The next spear was already above him, followed by a third. He glanced quickly towards Erika and saw the Viking concentrating on hitting her mark, before he leapt for spear number two. Then he was moving, finding rhythm, the momentum carrying him higher like a gymnast on the bars.

  Trick was halfway up the tower when he heard a hideous howl from the bat creature above. Peppered with arrows and crossbow bolts, the monster began to tumble from the air, some way short of the balcony. Toki was moving, scrambling up its tumbling body and making a leap for the tower top.

  Trick caught sight of his friend disappearing on to Boarhammer’s viewing deck, to a chorus of screams, cheers and jeers. The winged monstrosity was plummeting now, snapping the two uppermost spears from the tower wall, bouncing off the supporting beams. Trick hugged the timber panels as it tumbled by, narrowly missing him.

  Suddenly he was stuck, twelve metres up the tower, but four metres below the balcony. He could hear the fighting up there, and heard Toki’s roar as he engaged the enemy. Trick glanced desperately back at the arena.

  No sign of Zuma; the Jaguar Warrior was lost in the melee. Kuro and Kazumi remained surrounded by the enemy, bloodied but unbeaten, unable to reach him. Mungo had switched beasts, ditching the slaughtered centipede for a great purple toad. Its hide was peppered with arrows, as was the blue-woad warrior, but he rode it with deft skill as they trampled the enemy in bone-crunching bounds.

  The battle still raged, but Erika stood motionless in the eye of the maelstrom. Her spears were all gone and only her shield remained. She immediately understood Trick’s desperate look and nodded.

  Erika took a deep breath and aimed. The shield spun through the air like a discus, rising higher as it neared the tower. Trick gasped as it hit the wood above his head, splitting it as the metal edge buried itself deep in the dark timber. He crouched and leapt, snatching at the shield’s rim. He grabbed hold, struggling and scrambling to clamber on to its battered surface. He looked up. The distance to the balcony had been halved. He jumped off the shield and the makeshift ledge gave him greater power, like a diver’s springboard.

  Trick caught the railing just as one of Boarhammer’s soldiers peered over the edge. The boy grabbed the chinstrap of his helmet and yanked him down, smashing the guard’s face into the railing. He went limp. Muscles burning, Trick crawled up and over the man’s unconscious body and arrived on the warlord’s balcony.

  The scene was freeze-framed for Trick. The horrible drawn-out moment was captured as time seemed to slow. Toki crouched low as eight of the warlord’s best soldiers encircled him, their master hovering behind them. Wounds criss-crossed Toki’s body, inflicted by the gaggle of brutes. They coaxed an attack from him, drawing
him on to the offensive. It worked. As the Norseman lashed out with Ravenblade, tearing a bloody gash through the nearest two Skull Army soldiers, Boarhammer leapt in. His spiked mace descended, striking Toki with such ferocity that it broke the Viking’s helmet in two.

  Toki went down in a heap, red hair darkening as blood spread from the fresh wound. Boarhammer shoved his men aside and stood over him triumphantly, his mace raised once more. Trick’s heart stopped beating, frozen in his chest as he foresaw his friend’s fate. He saw Ravenblade on the floor, dropped when Toki had been felled. He was beaten, perhaps already dead. If he wasn’t, the killing blow was about to fall. The mace was dropping when Trick leapt, snatching up the black sword as he threw himself between friend and foe.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Ravenblade flew straight and true in Trick’s outstretched hand, intercepting the terrible golden mace. He caught the weapon’s head with the flat of the black stone sword, expecting the reverberations to explode through his arm – or at the very least that Ravenblade would shatter.

  Instead there was a shock of blue lightning as sparks erupted up and down her length, runes flashing into life along the obsidian shaft as Boarhammer’s spiked mace was deflected. The warlord’s cry of horror was a high-pitched shriek of pain and outrage, as he tumbled into his men. Trick landed upon Toki’s body in an ungainly tangle of limbs as he raised the sword again and flashed her at his enemies. The Skull Army soldiers hesitated.

  ‘Speak to me, Toki,’ hissed Trick, his eyes never leaving the assembled soldiers.

  The men advanced now, their initial shock at the boy’s dramatic arrival subsiding. Trick knew what they were thinking, could see it in their eyes as they snarled and grimaced. He may have stopped their boss’s attack, but he was just a kid, right?

  ‘You impress me, boy,’ said Boarhammer, his voice a gurgle that choked back his pain. ‘I can find a place for you in my master’s ranks. You have pluck. Nerve.’

  Trick was lost for a response, before falling back on the timeless insult of spitting and sneering. Boarhammer returned the sneer.

  ‘Shame if you have to die today, boy, but if your heart is set upon it …’

  Trick ignored the warlord, instead nudging his friend where he lay.

  ‘Tell me you’re alive, Toki!’

  There was a spluttering cough from the floor at last. ‘You think I die that easily?’

  A fist rose into the air, wavering before Trick. He gave it a quick bump with his free knuckles before turning to Boarhammer.

  ‘It’s over, Pigmallet. Call off your dogs or they die a heartbeat before you.’

  ‘You think you scare me? A lone boy before my Blackguard?’

  The sunlight flickered on the assembled combatants as dark shapes flitted above them and shadows flashed over the group. Two figures landed on either side of Trick, one in a battle-ravaged kimono, the other clad in black.

  ‘Who said he was alone?’ hissed Kuro, as Kazumi twirled her naginata.

  Trick’s grin was fierce; the odds had suddenly improved. He picked up a piece of Toki’s broken helmet, feeling the metal’s jagged edge rough against his palm.

  ‘Two more craven cretins to be slaughtered,’ laughed Boarhammer. ‘It’s been far too long since I killed a man, or woman for that matter. I shall enjo–’

  His boast was cut short as the shard of broken helmet struck him between the eyes, splitting the bridge of his nose.

  ‘You talk too much, Pigmallet,’ said Trick, as Kuro and Kazumi sprang forward.

  Boarhammer might have been stunned, but his men were ready. They met katana and naginata with raised weapons, the deafening clash making Trick’s skull ring and teeth hum. The two warriors each had three Blackguards to contend with, trading blades and blows, swords and slashes. All the while the ninja and samurai kept the enemy away from the boy and their fallen comrade, fending off the attacks. Trick dragged Toki clear towards the balcony’s edge, away from the heart of the battle.

  ‘It’s OK, Toki,’ he said, patting his friend’s shoulder where he was slumped. ‘Stay with me, mate. Just stay with me.’

  Trick looked up just as the battle took a bizarre turn for the worse. Through the brawling warriors and soldiers, he caught sight of Boarhammer raising his giant golden mace. Trick didn’t have time to wonder what the veteran warlord was doing. Boarhammer threw his head back, squealing like a stuck pig, a stream of unintelligible words erupting from his frothing lips. With horror, Trick realized that the berserker of old had returned.

  Then the golden mace came crashing down, the enraged Lord of Sea Forge driving it into the wooden planks as if he were delivering the coup de grâce upon his most hated foe. The tower shook, timbers bowing and breaking as a great shockwave seized it. The fighters fell into one another, losing both footing and composure in that moment of madness.

  A gulf opened up across the balcony as it rocked and swayed, torn apart by the mighty blow. Three of Boarhammer’s men tumbled into it, screaming and wailing as they fell into its depths, torn apart upon spears of splintered wood below.

  Toki suddenly slid towards the yawning chasm. Trick moved fast, hooking his leg through the balcony railing and reaching for his friend. He grabbed Toki’s shoulder with his left hand, briefly halting his progress. Trick felt his fingers straining, knuckles popping, as the Viking slipped from his grasp. His locked leg gave, sending the pair of them a metre closer to the drop before his foot found the railing again.

  ‘Let me go, Trick,’ wheezed Toki. ‘Better I fall than both of us.’

  ‘I won’t let you die,’ shouted Trick, raising Ravenblade in his right hand.

  The sword came down as he released Toki’s shoulder, cutting into the collar of the Viking’s cloak and sinking into the timbers of the sundered tower. The black blade remained in place, as the ragged, green cloth tore a little more while Toki slowed. He dangled over the edge, saved for now, his cloak held fast. Trick frantically grabbed the balcony railing, hauling himself upright as he looked over the arena.

  The fighting had spread below, thieves and slaves side by side on the sand and terraces. Fires burned, torches having been put to Boarhammer’s arena as the poor and unfortunate fought back. Sea Forge’s wealthiest citizens screamed as they fled, aghast that the unsavoury spectacle now threatened them. The tower shuddered and the deck shifted beneath Trick, as if he were on a sinking ship. It was coming down, without a doubt, and when it did they would all go with it.

  Across the swaying, shuddering balcony he caught sight of Kuro, wrestling with a foe. His katana was gone from his hand, and the Blackguard held a knife to the ninja’s throat. The two teetered momentarily, before a shockwave shook the tower and they toppled over the side, still locked in their deadly embrace.

  That left just Kazumi. She faced the two remaining soldiers of Boarhammer’s retinue, and her naginata snagged one and tossed his bleeding body aside.

  A fat hand suddenly slapped Trick hard across the face. He fell to his knees, head spinning and vision blurring. Trick brought his gaze back to Boarhammer, and saw the Lord of Sea Forge standing over him.

  ‘You’re a plucky sprat, I’ll give you that. Seems a shame to kill you.’

  ‘Kill him, Uncle!’ came a reed-thin voice from the rear of the tower, where the blond-haired child’s face poked out from behind the velvet curtains.

  Boarhammer waved a heavy, jewelled hand to silence his nephew. ‘Quiet, Hugo. All in good time.’

  Behind the warlord, Trick spied Kazumi dispatching the last of the combatants. She spun, eyes fixed on Boarhammer. The warlord berserker caught the look on Trick’s face and began to turn.

  ‘The bigger they come,’ said Trick hastily, holding Boarhammer’s attention, ‘the harder they fall. That’s what they say, right?’

  It bought the samurai the time she needed. She leapt, weapon high, over the yawning chasm towards Boarhammer’s back. Trick’s heart soared as she pounced, only to break in his chest a split second later. A long-shafted
arrow shot up from the arena, ripping through her so she spun in mid-air. Her naginata flew from her hands, and then she too was falling, swallowed by the widening gap in the broken timbers, until she was lost from sight. All that was left was the arrow, quivering in the wall at the balcony’s back, black feathers stained red. Boarhammer caught the naginata without looking, an outstretched hand reaching behind his back.

  ‘My compliments to the archer,’ he shouted, his voice gurgling within his monstrous, heaving chest. He held the naginata forward, the blade wobbling beneath Trick’s chin. The steel tip lifted the black moon pendant where it rested against the sweating hollow of the boy’s throat. ‘What an intriguing trinket … What is that? A crescent moon? Where did you get such a thing?’

  Trick couldn’t speak. He was paralysed with fear.

  ‘He’s the Black Moon Warrior, you fat tub of guts,’ said Toki, wheezing where he hung over the chasm. ‘If you haven’t already heard of him, you will do. Your time’s over, Boarhammer. My friend will bring your master to his knees.’

  ‘The “Black Moon Warrior”, eh? I’m sure Boneshaker is quaking in his boots. My master will be so pleased to receive your head.’ The naginata cut the cord and with a deft flick Boarhammer tossed the pendant in the air. He caught it in a pudgy hand. ‘Pick up your sword, boy. Defend yourself.’

  Trick remained on his knees, still shocked by what had happened to Kazumi. She had been there one second, gone the next. Death was that fast?

  ‘Your sword, boy,’ repeated Boarhammer, the hideous voice stirring Trick from his shattered thoughts. He looked at Ravenblade, buried in the floor, the only thing preventing Toki from sharing Kazumi’s fate. Smoke was billowing from the chasm now – the base of the tower had clearly been put to the torch.

  ‘I can’t,’ said Trick. ‘My friend. The sword.’