Possible Hero

by Sean Heslin

  For example, they both knew that mankfrees, although fond of peppermints, would do the trick for less than a tickle under the chin.

  “Anyone fancy a sing-song?” asked Pib for the umpteenth time in so many minutes.

  “No!” came the standard reply.

  “Spoilsports. I only thought it might make us feel better. Well, me anyway. You’re all worse than mister Harweld. And less interesting.” She pouted; a clever expression with no nose.

  “Harweld the manaphite?” said Yrinmet. “I hate that overgrown mushroom. Have you any idea how many agents he sent after me over the years?”

  “Eighty-seven,” said Pib, beaming to be of use.

  “Really? Huh, I wonder what happened to them all. Anyway, whatever, how is it with all these trained hunters, I finally get caught by people not even trying to get me?”

  “Fair's fair,” drawled Terand. “I got you first.”

  “Yes, and look what happened to you. Where was it I escaped from anyhow?’

  Perci looked up. “We left you in Harweld’s office. Say what you like, but that guy has good brandy.”

  “I was that physically close to him? Blast, I’ve been trying for months to get a spore sample. I wanted to make him a son. Or a daughter. Or whatever the hell applies to him. Or it. Sheesh, I hate living on this world, too many complications.”

  “Been to any others recently?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes. I went to a lovely place that had red grass and…”

  He stopped talking.

  “And what?” asked Rancha. There was no response.

  People stirred one by one and looked at the spot where Yrinmet had been. He wasn’t there any more.

  “Oh great,” said Perci “He’s only gone and bailed out on us.”

  Rancha shook his head. “I don’t think so. We would have seen him gesturing or incanting or something. I think our host has taken him somewhere else for a little while.”

  “Is that good or bad?” asked Milspeth.

  “If he cracks, very bad,” said Terand glumly. “That guy would join Eric in a flash, given the chance.”

  “What about the demon's curse?” said Rancha, his spiny features making his frown deep and unrelenting. “He can't go too far from us, right?”

  “What about it?” said Terand. “We only know about it what he told us. It could be total garbage for his evil megalomaniac schemes that men were not meant to know.”

  They looked at him. He shrugged.

  “Well, it could be.”

  The glow about them decided at that point to fade back into the all-pervading dark.

  “Okay, that is a problem.”

  “Who said that?”

  “Me.”

  “Oh.”

  “Consider,” said Perci “we are a mile underground, and the curse means that Yrinmet cannot travel further than a mile from our location.”

  You could hear the shrugs.

  “Just one of those things,” said Jocene. “Besides, both of those snippets are from the same source and anyway, currently useless to us. Well done for listening though.”

  “Hmm.”

  “So what do we do now?”

  A pause.

  “Twenty questions anyone?” asked Pib cheerfully.

  Chapter 50

  “Not every answer has a question.”

  - The Eighth Prime Potentate, reviewing the national budget, 1612 C.M.

  “Is it made of glass?”

  “No. Seventeen.”

  “Would we find it in a house?”

  “Yes. Eighteen.”

  “Does it have walls?”

  “Yes! Nineteen, come on almost there…”

  “It’s a house isn’t it?”

  “Twenty! Well done you did it! Your turn.”

  “But I don’t wanna!” grouched Perci.

  “Aw, go on. Be fun.”

  “No!”

  “Okay, okay,” said Terand, breaking in. “How about we play a nice game of seeing who can stay quiet for the longest?”

  “That trick only works on kids! And it's a mean one at that,” said Pib.

  “Only because you are afraid of losin',” said Terand

  “Perhaps you should be the best and show us how it is done?” said Perci.

  Terand couldn't argue with that logic. There was a scraping noise as he mock-sagged, defeated.

  “How about a nice crossword puzzle,” suggested Milspeth. “I think I've got some in my bag.” There was a scrabbling sound in the dark.

  “No good,” said Rancha. “We can't see the page to write on. Besides I'm rubbish at them.”

  “Would a candle help?” she asked, rustling in the dark.

  Nobody spoke for a moment.

  “You mean t' tell us,” said Terand slowly, “That you have had candles all this time and somehow neglected t' tell us about them?”

  “Um, sorry. Is that a problem?”

  “Gimme those!”

  There was the sound of Terand snatching something, then some rustling as he attempted to locate some matches, or a flint.

  A bright flare of light caused everyone to squint in displeasure and to see colourful spots. A candle was lit and then used to light others that were strategically placed around the cramped chamber.

  “Try not to knock 'em over,” said Terand to Perci, who harrumphed indignantly.

  “Well done to the light bringer,” said Jocene archly. “Now what?”

  “Charades anyone?” asked Pib.

  “No!”

  “Now...mm...then. What's all this noise?” came a cracking voice from the corner.

  “Goe!” cried Milspeth. “You're awake at last! You took long enough, didn't you? What happened to looking after me?” Milspeth was gentle with her words, clearly more worried for Goe than herself.

  Goe dodged the gentle smack heading his way and blearily looked about. What he saw didn't seem to faze him in the slightest.

  “What a...mm...boring place. Reminds me of that time I was in the south of Jaanse. It was a sunny day, I think...”

  “Not now with any of that nonsense, Goe. We are trying to get out of here. Do you have any ideas?”

  “Hmm? Oh, that's easy. All you need is...mm...a...”

  There was a whoomph of air and Yrinmet materialised a foot above the ground. He dropped the remaining distance and groaned pitifully.

  He coughed up blood and attempted to lift his face from the floor. His outfit had been ripped in several places and open wounds on his face and hands oozed liquid life. Judging by the struggling way that he tried to roll over, there were a few cracked ribs under there as well. He spluttered up more red and spat out a loose tooth.

  “Oh! You poor dear!” Milspeth was over like a shot, inspecting him for the worst of the damage and efficiently practised basic healing arts, mostly involving alcohol swabs and bandages. Yrinmet groaned more at the ministrations, but seemed too weak to protest greatly.

  Jocene loaned her customary needle and thread for a particularly nasty wound across the back that looked to be the mark of a whip. “You appear to have been through the worst. Are you still your own person?”

  “...uh.”

  “Get on with it then,” said Perci.

  “...wah?” uttered Yrinmet, just about focusing beyond the pain.

  “What happened to you wherever you went?” pressed Perci.

  “Guy, Eric. Had...metal thing. Hurts.”

  He tried to pull off a bandage from his upper arm, but Pib's little hands prevented him.

  “What else?” prompted Jocene.

  Yrinmet gazed into the middle distance as if remembering something that had happened a long time ago.

  “Asked...questions. 'Bout why here, what know...stuff.”

  “And?”

  “Said, here to stop...him. Be nice to know, stop what?” he started coughing again, more blood trickled down his chin.

  Yrinmet took a haggard breath and continued.

  “Laughed...told me he was b
uying a new house. Said he was opening lots of...possibilities...”

  “How?” asked Rancha. “What did he mean?”

  “Dunno, didn't say...tired now...”

  Yrinmet gently collapsed sideways and his breathing grew slow and even. They did their best to make him comfortable, then sat back again.

  Jocene spoke first. “Go on then, somebody. Let's have a clever interpretation.”

  “Dammit, this is serious!” snapped Rancha. “Of all the ways to get people to talk, and Eric chose torture? It was banned nearly everywhere for a reason!”

  “But why did he pick Yrinmet? Or any one of us? We don't even know what Eric's plan is!” Perci stamped back and forth in agitation.

  “And that's the point,” said Jocene. “Eric doesn't know that we don't know anything, and the constant 'Please stop, I don't know anything!' tends to drive any inquisitors to torture after a while. I know, I've been there. It hurts.”

  “We have to get out of here before he takes somebody else,” Rancha waved his stony claws. “Come on! There has to be something we haven't thought of?” He looked desperately about the group. Nobody looked back. A deep gloom had penetrated the atmosphere in the little cell, driving them all to silence.

  Except for Goe, who was squirming about waving a hand in the air.

  “Goe? You have a suggestion as to how to get us out of this mile-deep hole in the rock?”

  “Yes, I do! I tried to...mm...say so before.” He grinned a wrinkled grin.

  “And how would that be?”

  “Like this.”

  He brought his two hands together rapidly and there was a small thunderclap.

  A candle gently tipped over, spilling its wax over the cold stone floor.

  Chapter 51

  “Information, it's a revolution!”

  - Advertising campaign for Harl's Enchanted Encyclopaedias, forever up to date, but increasingly difficult to carry. 2871 C.M.

  Eric felt that the lengthy session in the special room downstairs had gone well. When the wizard had been pulled up from the buried cell, there had been a little bit of dimensional instability, causing warping and fuzzing, making the man barely recognisable. This had worried Eric at the time, uncertain as to the cause, but it had seemed to be causing some considerable pain, so he went with it.

  Strange though, Yrinmet was not even on the TIN lists. Eric had not even considered him as one of the potential heroes till now, mainly because he was a known quantity. They had met before, in a less convivial situation, where they had butted heads over a now desolate piece of landscape. Well, they had glowered at each other from some distance apart. If it was not for the name, Eric would not have even known that the wizard then and the sorceror now were the same person, not that had even seen his face properly on either occasion. Pity.

  Eric had requested the services of some interestingly gaunt followers in his employ with a particular flair for their type of polite questioning. These dark-cowled people had been given about half an hour to glean what they could about the heroes’ purpose. They had only needed ten minutes.

  This particular adventurer's knowledge of Eric’s plans was rudimentary at best. He had made some very well-educated guesses, some of which Eric had not even thought of trying and filed for use at some future date.

  Eric had, now retrospectively quite foolishly, decided to have a little fun. He had told Yrinmet absolutely everything, down to troop positioning and the names of some of the horses.

  The reaction on the enchanter's part was intriguing to watch. He had gone from envy, to shock, to horror, to abject despair. Eric had then, for an encore, told him a few useful facts about the party members he was travelling with – figuring a little dissension amongst the ranks would not hurt. Yrinmet had wept piteously, possibly from the information, possibly from the metal rods that had been inserted into his sides.

  Eric was personally not naturally sadistic, but some of his employees were, so he had allowed them a few minutes alone with the prisoner before sending him back to the deep dark.

  He then went for lunch.

  Later, he had peeked into the Pit room to see how well the information had stewed in the inescapable chamber.

  Having just revealed his entire plot to the sorceror, he was less than pleased to see that the group had apparently transformed into lumps of flaming wax.

  Not pleased at all.

  Chapter 52

  “Stories end. Beginnings matter. We are but players in the lives of others.”

  - Veroabse, The Heroes, chapter 1. Date unconfirmed.

  The air groaned and the crew winked into existence, adopting the exact same poses they had been a mile and a half downwards. They were in a storeroom, similar to the one they had examined hours earlier. After the initial shock, taking advantage of this relative safety they checked all the right body parts were present, and stretched out with much creaking of joints. It had been a cramped and cold time in the deep.

  “That was a good trick,” said Rancha.

  Goe nodded and grinned, showing off his gums. “It was…mm…not that difficult. Just a knack really.”

  “Wish I had knacks like that,” said Terand raising his eyebrows and cricking his neck.

  “A knack that takes years of practise I thank you.”

  Terand made the old ‘oo-er’ face and Milspeth told Goe to stop showing off again. But nicely, as he had just saved them all.

  Pib was attending to Yrinmet, who was still breathing but didn’t seem to be making much movement or noise.

  “Guys,” she said, “I think we need to get him somewhere. He needs proper medical help. A healing salve or two at the least.”

  “I hate to be the voice of reason here,” said Jocene, “but we are in a fortress in the middle of the Plains where the only landmark is the Chasm of the Damned. Yrinmet isn’t walking anywhere, and no offence, but I don’t feel that our venerable friends here could survive such a trip”

  “No offence taken,” said Goe cheerfully. “You are older than me.”

  “So how does Eric get anywhere in a hurry?” said Perci.

  A pause.

  “Huh, well it was just a question.”

  “No, no,” said Rancha, wisely placating any impending annoyance. “That is a very good point. How does Eric go places? Or even that army Jocene heard? Where did they all go?”

  “That room we were in,” drawled Terand thoughtfully “Do you reckon that was some kind of, I don't know, teleporter?”

  “One that could be retargeted,” said Jocene, nodding.

  “Worth a go,” said Rancha. “Who gets to carry Yrinmet?”

  “Er, another possibly silly question…”

  “Yes, Perci?”

  “Why don’t we just go outside and let Rancha be that big blue thing again?”

  “Blue thing?” said Jocene, looking strangely at Rancha.

  “An Eithril,” clarified Rancha. “And we can’t because of the storm that grounded me on the way in.”

  “Oh. That. Fair enough.”

  “But well done, you are getting better at this.”

  Perci beamed.

  A small pallet was found in the storeroom, to which Yrinmet was tied. Pib volunteered to pull the structure as, to her, it weighed practically nothing. She had also become quite attached to the enchanter, a fact that made her blush a shade that Milspeth giggled knowingly at..

  The team struck out through the corridors. All seemed deserted still, only now moreso, for there were no more telltale footsteps in the distance, nor weird, inexplicable noises. All that was audible was their own shuffling feet and the whistling wind.

  It really did seem that nobody was at home.

  They tried most doors that they came across, finding nothing interesting aside from more sleeping quarters and storerooms. They peered out the occasional window, which was disconcerting for an unknown reason, until Terand pointed out that the duwaark was missing. This was odd in itself, for it was fairly obvious that it made a most effic
ient guard, so why get rid of it?

  They found a canteen area and ate their fill, and rested for a while. Yrinmet showed no signs of awakening, which was frustrating, for they could not find out if they were carting about a traitor or not.

  Most corridors were identical, and there was a repetitive layout. Perci stated repeatedly that he thought they were going round in circles and was ignored because everyone else had noticed that windows showed different views of the surrounding buildings. There did not seem to be any sign of the set of corridors they had traversed to get to the teleport room apart from all the ones that looked identical but those did not seem to lead anywhere vital. They also could not find a way down from the ground level to the rooms they knew for a fact were there. The door that led to the sloping corridor they had originally entered the building by was utterly unlocatable.

  Annoyingly.

  After close to three hours, an enraged Perci sat down on a bunk in yet another barracks. “Enough is enough! No building can be this complicated without leading somewhere!”

  “You are not wrong,” said Jocene, bored.

  There was a general agreement amongst the others, made all the more poignant due to the lack of any sign of life about the Fortress. The grim silence was starting to get to people.

  “Well,” opened Terand, “We are in a tower in the middle of nowhere, with few means t' escape and to stop some random guy doing whatever it is he is doing to the world. I'd say we are stuck. On the plus side, there's enough rations and equipment hanging around so we could live here for years ‘til somebody comes t' get us.”

  “We haven't the time to spare!” said Milspeth, anger colouring her speech. “Eric's gone, and that can only mean he has started with the plan, so the world shows a big chance of being destroyed soon. We have to go now!”

  “There is one way,” said Rancha gazing at the comatose Yrinmet. “I have a funny feeling he knows.”

  “But we can’t bloody wake the bastard!” said Perci, contorted in rage. “We all tried! Even Goe, fat lot of good that did.”

  “I'll have you know that the...mm...Song of Awakening has never failed. Until now anyway. Oh, apart from when there was that time with the marmoose...”