by Sean Heslin
“Not now Goe,” warned Milspeth.
“But it did that little dance...!”
“Goe!”
Goe slumped, defeated once more.
“All we can do for now is to find somewhere nice to hide out in case somebody comes back, and wait for the arse to wake up by himself, or for the storm to clear. Whichever comes first.” Rancha paused and looked outside. “Neither of which is going to be any time soon.”
“Huh, “ said Perci. “Here is as good as anywhere then.” He settled back on his chosen bunk and sulked.
“Anybody got any stories?” asked Pib with hope. They all groaned.
“Go on then, I'll do one,” said Jocene, having been resigned to the situation some time ago. “This is the time I was supposed to have been killing the fabled Beast of Hometown a few decades ago. You know, the same place where that famous modern philosopher comes from, what is his name?”
“...mm...The Great Prophet Fengal,” said Goe.
“Was that it? That's right, he was the one who said 'All great men strive for domination, but only the calm will save their souls'.”
“He didn't you know, but do...mm...carry on.”
“Right. Well, there was this beast, at least ten foot tall. Had a couple of spare heads and some kind of roar that hurts the ears.”
“Knocks down buildings too, if I recall,” chipped in Terand.
“The beast?”
“No, the roar.”
“Really? Well, it didn't. Turns out it was just some kiti that had been stuck inside a teapot up a kid's treehouse.”
“As they do.”
“Quite. Anyway, I rescued the kiti, don't know why, only I had this poet guy who had taken to following me about at the time,”
“The great Veroabse,” said Perci with his eyes closed. “Wrote the world's most inspiring poetry, giving rise to several cults and a whole slew of popular teachings among latter-day schools. He lived about a hundred years ago, and was married in his late forties. Shortly after he was suffocated by his long-suffering brother who had become fed up of correcting spelling mistakes and the man himself quoting all the time. Parents were Ansise and Rob. Also had a sister named Charloioa, who died at the age of fourteen during childbirth. She inspired the poet to write his most famous poem Life Amongst The Roses, which is still regarded as the most beautiful dedication to the lost ever composed, to this day. Most of his other notable works were composed in his twenties, where he travelled the world in search of some kind of meaning to life. Legend has it that he indeed found the true and distinct Meaning and encoded it into his poetry - a fact that still baffles the most learned scholars in their attempt to rediscover it. On his travels, he also wrote The Heroes, which charted the people and places he encountered along his travels, in verse form of course. This seminal work is one of the major sources of history outside established oral tradition and has provided many clues as to how society has been altered over the years, and how much further it has to go. It is also said that the book itself, along with all his other collected works have been one of the major influences on the way the world is today and can continue to change the hearts and minds of the masses, according to the plan of the immortal poet himself.”
The group sat stunned.
Perci opened an eye. “What? I had to learn about him when I was younger. I live in a castle you know.”
“Yes, but Perci,” said Rancha. “That’s a very...specific education you have had. Impressive what was missed out.”
Jocene was thoughtful and waved Rancha to be quiet. “So that's what that thing he kept scribbling was. The Heroes? I'll have to find a copy when I get a minute. Then go and have a word with those scholars.” Her grin was terrible to behold.
“Fair a maiden there never was,
Yet beneath beat a warriors heart.
Her foes did tremble beneath her wrath,
Or those who came charmed by her visage,
Never were seen again.”
Jocene pointed at Perci. “He just quoted about me, didn't he?” Various nods went around the group. “Well, well. I never knew. Thank you Perci.”
Perci, seeing Jocene genuinely smile right at him on purpose, started to tremble uncontrollably.
“Get on with the story,” drawled Terand, lying on another bunk.
“Okay, yes. Cat stuck in teapot. Right. Anyway, that night I caught a couple of rabbits for food, and somehow your poet man managed to combine that story with the one about the Beast, so when he told it to the villagers and showed them the blood on my hands, they decided to treat us as returning heroes. Which was nice for a while, till an actual beast turned up a few days later and flattened all the houses. I killed it, naturally, but the other story had started to spread, and when somebody from the next village found the new corpse...well, a legend was born shall we say. Pity Hometown got destroyed really.”
“I did wonder about that story actually,” said Rancha. “It always seemed odd in the original that the many-headed monster became one head halfway through.”
“Explains the house destroying roar anyway,” said Terand. “Can't think of any creature that can do that.”
They paused to think about legends and creatures.
“Huh,” said Milspeth.
Goe broke the pondering. “So shall we...mm... go and search some more?”
“Yeah, why not?” said Rancha making for a door.
It opened in front of him, and he recoiled in surprise.
Eric was stood there, nonchalantly leaning against the doorframe.
“So, this is where you got to. Do you know how many alarms you have been setting off? I suppose I have to go to the effort of restraining you now. It seems that you are just industrious enough to severely upset my plans.”
There was no reply. The Fear had taken hold.
Eric stepped backwards into the corridor and made a motion. “Okay fellas, here they are. Do what you do while I go do something more interesting.” Then he simply turned and walked away.
“What the...” began Jocene, when the air before them started to shimmer and previously discorporeal invisible troops burgeoned into full existence.
They advanced menacingly, wicked blades flashing.
“Out!” shouted Rancha, and the crew backed away to the door on the far side of the room, while Jocene and Terand attempted to hold off the vicious Undying soldiers.
Pib bodily grabbed Yrinmet and slung him through, then prepared to keep the door shut as the two fighters also backed their way across the threshold.
The door slammed, and most of the crew leaned on it as angry cries and banging came from the other side.
“Bar!” yelled Rancha, and the heavy wooden bar that served as a lock dropped into place.
“Run!” puffed Goe, pointing up the corridor.
There was another thump at the door and splinters started to appear. They scuttled along the corridor until they came to yet another door. This was opened then shut again quickly as more guards were seen running towards them from that direction.
“Can we fight them?” asked Rancha.
“Sure,” said Jocene. “But I suspect there will be much more along shortly, and chances are that I will be the only one left alive. And probably then, not for long after that.” She was gloomy.
Noises suggested the new soldiers were closing upon them, while those attacking the door they had run from were nearly fully through. Shouts of rage echoed along the corridor.
Perci dithered. “Rancha can't you turn into something?”
“No, the corridor is too cramped. Although...”
He considered his gargoyle fists for a moment, then punched a nearby wall very hard. Masonry shifted, and chips flew. But the wall remained intact.
“Damn! I could get us through this way, but not before everyone catches up with us.”
“We are prepared to fight.” Terand nodded with some cheer.
“Yep, me too,” said Pib mashing her tiny hands together.
�
�But not before some of us die. Goe! Any chance of another miracle?”
“Alas, not at the moment. But maybe in five minutes...?”
“Too long! Come on, there has to be a way out of this that doesn't involve slaughter?”
Jocene had her ear pressed against the door, “They're getting closer...”
The cries from up the corridor suggested a panel of the far door had been broken and somebody was trying to lift the bar.
“Anything?”
Perci was squirming inside his armour; something was pressing into the small of his back, which he couldn't quite reach. Another twist and something soft and velvety hit the floor. His eyes widened in recognition, and he leapt to his feet.
“Out of the way!” he cried.
The crew moved back, puzzled. Then they saw he was trying to open the door.
“Are you mad?” shouted Rancha, attempting to prise him away.
“No, no we have to open it! Trust me on this.”
He said it with such surprising conviction, that Rancha let him go immediately.
Perci turned to the door, pressed one hand against it and turned the handle with the other. Back along the corridor, the soldiers had managed to get through and were now running towards them with pounding feet.
“Go through!” shouted Perci, shoving Rancha.
The crew once again piled through a door, dragging Yrinmet behind them.
The door slammed shut.
And all was quiet.
“What the fnug just happened?”
“Er...”
“Perci?”
“I just used that amber globe thing the old bloke gave us, like he told us to.”
“Perci...”
“What? It got us out of there didn't it?”
“Perci, you are a genius.” Rancha was sincere and nearly hugged Perci.
Perci beamed, although nobody saw him, for once more they were in a pitch-black room.
“Oh, no,” moaned Terand.
“What?”
“You don't suppose we're...”
“Back underground?” finished Pib.
Rancha groaned and sat down heavily. “All that effort to escape we end up back where we had come from. Typical.”
“...mm...hold on...” Goes quaver came. “These walls seem to be made of...mm...brick. And they're hollow on the other side.”
“What? Are you sure?”
“Fairly, I'll just go and have another...yep, hollow all right.”
Rancha leapt up. “Milspeth, any candles left?”
“I would think so. If you will just give me one moment. Ah, there we are.” She lit up and enabled a view of their surroundings. It was as Goe had diagnosed, a brickwork chamber, with lots of green lichen and dampness. The door they had entered through seemed to be fixed solid, utterly immovable.
Rancha tried thumping a few walls, but was only rewarded by a chipped claw.
“Go on then you geniuses,” said Jocene. “Now what?”
“I am at a loss,” said Milspeth.
“I also,” said Terand.
“Me too. You seem to be having some difficulty.”
Perci humphed. “Too right Mr Stater of the Obvious.”
“You are a bit aren't you,” riposted Rancha.
“Well at least I don't...hold on, who said what then?”
“That would be me.”
The crew went into a frenzy of looking all about them. They seemed to be alone, but there was the nagging sensation of being watched.
“Damn, can't you see me? I'll move a little closer maybe.”
A figure suddenly stepped through a wall as if it wasn't there.
“Argh!” they chorused.
“Whoa! What?” said the newcomer spinning around to look behind him for the danger. Then he realised something.
“Ah, I see, you are out of phase aren't you? Where's the wall? About here?” He took a step backwards and was half-in, half-out of the wall in a way that made the eyes hurt.
“Scuse me, “ said Terand, taking the initiative. “But who are you and where are we?”
The man looked puzzled. Curiously he looked about him, as if to check his surroundings had changed when he wasn't looking. Then his face cleared again.
“Oh, you can't see it can you? You are in the Chamber Of Significant Exits, sort of. I am the manager for this sector. Call me Ralf if it helps.”
“Sort of?” asked Pib.
“Yes, you see. Well. Did you come here using one of those dumb amber things Master Ihjundas is always handing out?”
A couple of nods.
“Okay, well every once in a while there is a flaw in one, which means when you link back here you end up where the door actually is in the palace/castle, rather than the amalgamation in the Chamber itself. Do you see?”
A few heads shook.
“Erm, right.” Ralf looked down at the floor for a moment, then pointed. “See those metal bars, set into the floor over there?”
They looked at the floor.
“Well, from my point of view, those are part of the rails that run down the middle of the Chamber. You know, the monorail cart.”
“I think I am beginning to see,” said Rancha dubiously.
Perci started to speak. “I thought that monorails only had one...”
“Never mind that now. What I need to know now is where you physically are in the grounds, so I can send a squad to break you out. If you care to look at the wall with the door in it,”
They looked.
“Okay, I can’t see this from here, but somewhere on that wall should be a set of numbers engraved into one of the bricks, if you could just read them out for me?”
He pulled out a pad and pencil and waited expectantly as Milspeth and Terand industriously cleared away lichen in search of the required figure. It was found and noted down.
“Right,” said Ralf happily. “This may take a while, so do you want any food or something while you are waiting?”
“A doctor for him would be nice,” said Milspeth pointing at the still comatose Yrinmet.
“Fine, fine. I'll see what I can do.” With that, he disappeared entirely from sight and they heard the distant sounds of orders being given.
“Weird,” commented Jocene.
“True,” concurred Goe.
Everyone tried to make him or herself comfortable on the damp plank floor, while the candle flickered away. There was little in the way of conversation as they had already spent far too much time in close proximity, and frankly were getting sick of the sight of each other.
They were also deathly afraid of another round of twenty questions.
A doctor eventually arrived, making them jump as he emerged from the brickwork. He started prodding at Yrinmet, approving at the sight of the existing bandages and needlework. He waved a bottle of something horrible under the enchanter's nose, but it did not seem to have the required effect. The doctor straightened up, muttering.
Meanwhile, Terand was taking bets on what the palace/castles current form was, based on the doctor's attire. He was wearing the standard white coat, but no gloves, and his medical kit was in a bag rather than a case. Pib and Rancha agreed on a little pre-modern, with a spot of industrial panelling. Perci reckoned on ultra-futuristic based on classical sweeping lines from the early romantic period. Milspeth and Goe argued a little, and after one or two stern looks from the former, put ten Stands down on a mix of mediæval stone architecture and neon lighting, with sentient moss instead of cement, and also the doors being made of plastic. Terand with a knowing grin said the walls were now glass and clear polyvinyl, and people were tending to wear special goggles.
Being the bookmaker, Terand had the honour of tapping the doctor on his shoulder and asking the correct answer.
“It’s glass today, that's how my nose got like this. I woke up and walked straight into a wall. Lost my echo goggles earlier on today as well which didn't help much. Could you just press here while I tie this? Thanks.”
&nbs
p; Smirking, Terand applied the requisite pressure while the doctor tied off a fresh bandage. The rest of the crew looked on in awe as they paid up. After a while, the doctor announced he had done all he could until they had left the room for better facilities, and promptly left.
Goe started to whistle, which was quite catchy so they all started doing it until Milspeth told them to shush.
Perci picked his nose.
Pib started to tap-dance aimlessly.
Rancha counted bricks.
Jocene sharpened her sword.
Terand counted his winnings.
Goe went to sleep.
Milspeth woke him.
Yrinmet rolled over and yelped in his sleep.
“I'm bored!” announced Pib. “Anybody want to...”
“NO!” came the cry.
Chapter 53
“The earth was drench'ed / Souls departed far too soon. / Death's wing has fluttered”
- Scribbling in the back of a school jotter by a then teenaged Ernie the Murderous, 4132 C.M.
Eric The Merciful stood before the massed ranks of his army. Every commandable creature, plant and fungus was represented, and the sheer volume of armour employed would have outfitted an impoverished country.
He gazed over the serried ranks, nodding in satisfaction. He mused on the vicious visages presented, and the heartless minds that went with them. Truly this was a force to end all resistance, in a literal and quite permanent sense.
And they were all utterly terrified of him.
Eric's current masterstroke was finding a way to temporarily enhance his curse exponentially, so not even one of his troops would even think about disobeying him, for they were all scared witless. Given that a good quarter of a million armed people stood before him, this truly was a remarkable feat if he said so himself.
He climbed up a hastily erected podium, and picked up the speaking tube that would transmit his voice directly to the ears of all present. The crowd held its breath in anticipation.
“As unaccustomed as I am to speaking in public...” This old cliché earned gales of laughter, instantly silence with a stroke of the hand.
“But seriously. You are all gathered here to fulfil a purpose. That purpose is one that has driven life, all life towards its goals. You can see it in each of us, from the tallest tree to the smallest insect. From the worker in the field, to the warrior in theirs. Each and every one of us, including myself, adheres to this purpose and the principle that governs it. We strive upon every day, upon every hour, upon every minute, upon every second, to achieve the unattainable, to fight for the unknowable. And eventually we know, our time will come. WE SHALL GAIN WHAT IS OURS!” A roar from the crowd threatened to split the ears. “WE WILL FIGHT FOR THE PURPOSE!” The roar grew in intensity. “WE WILL SEE INTO OUR HEARTS, AND DRAG WHAT LIES THERE KICKING AND SCREAMING INTO OUR LIVES!” The crowd stamped its feet in appreciation, yelling for more. Eric casually waved a hand to calm them and the cheering faded to a dull mutter. Quietly now he said: “There are those who would try to deny us our right, those who would take away our hard-won prize. And for what? What purpose do they have? Do they not know that we are the worthy ones?” The muttering gained angry undertones. Eric smiled faintly, but it faded quickly. “They know we want our Purpose, they know that we will fight for it, yet still they taunt us with their lies and deceit! They mock us, and slander us and tell their children that we are the unbelievers! How dare they? Is not the purpose for which they strive, the same as ours? Why do they take that which they already have? Greed? Envy? Anger? Hatred? No! It is because they know that they are not truly honoured with the full purpose, theirs is a lesser one to beguile the weak and foolish. But we are strong!” Another roar. “We shall take our word and our purpose to them, and show them true honour!” Eric was having fun now, whipping the crowds up into a frenzy. “WE SHALL GO FORTH! WE SHALL PREVAIL! WE-SHALL-WIN! I say this now to you: THE AGE OF MERCY WILL COME!”