by Andrew Lynch
Demi Heroes
by
A. Lynch
Copyright © 2016 by A. Lynch
All rights reserved.
Book design by A. Lynch
Cover design by Gael Giudicelli / Hayes Ng
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
This book is provided DRM free due to “scruples” from the author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Visit my website at www.lynchwriting.com
ISBN - 978-0-9935892-0-1
Dedication
To me.
Because I did this all by myself!
Real Dedication
To my parents, without whom life would be a much bleaker place.
Contents
Dedication
Real Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Note from the Author
About the Author
Chapter 1
Lucian suspected what the dead man had just said was important, but he hadn’t really been paying attention.
He had been daydreaming. The dead man had been talking about a hidden… something, somewhere, someone... In Lucian’s defence, the man had been coughing a lot and didn’t seem to have a tongue. And it was probably all standard, boring stuff.
He shouldn’t have been chatting with this - now dead - sentry anyway. Partly because he was getting his clothes covered in blood, and who knew what trouble that might cause - but mainly because the Company wouldn’t like Lucian being seen somewhere their Hero had just left.
Lucian laid the man’s head down on the ground, and put this all from his mind. If he pretended it never happened, and no one had seen it happen…
He had just arrived at the scene. Arriving so late in an assignment was peculiar, but it would be a good chance to meet everyone before their break.
He didn’t know what had happened to his predecessor, and he had to admit he was curious. Who wouldn’t be in this line of work? He hoped to find out without having any questions asked about his own previous group. He had only just stopped drinking himself to sleep. Apparently that was just the right time to be sent back into the field - the Company certainly had an odd definition of psychologically sound.
It was for the best. Lucian hadn’t much enjoyed drowning his sorrows - he really didn’t like the taste - but any other options that allowed him to not dream of his mistakes were either far more expensive, or far more dangerous. Usually both.
The sentry had collapsed by the drawbridge on the far side of the moat which surrounded the necromancer’s castle. A standard affair, skeletons hanging, heads on pikes, and spiky bits everywhere for good measure. Lucian had seen the architect’s work before of course - all villains used the same company - classic stuff, and he could really appreciate the broad strokes of it.
There was a figure waiting at the entrance archway along with a supply wagon. As he closed in he could tell it was an Elf - male or female was always hard to distinguish - wearing a flowing red robe embroidered with silver threads, and holding a golden staff. Probably not real gold, of course, that would just be a terrible idea - however the Elves were nothing if not flamboyant, with a casual disregard for subtlety.
‘Well met!’ Lucian shouted with a big smile as soon as he was within shouting range. He’d been travelling on his own for the past two weeks, so any interaction was a welcome change.
He was met with silence, and an unchanged posture until he was within speaking distance. He wouldn’t say the Elf had a rod shoved up somewhere, but it certainly seemed like it.
‘I’m Lucian Huxley,’ he tried again. ‘Your new commander.’
‘Hmm. And here I thought someone else had, on the spur of the moment, decided to journey to the middle of nowhere and approach an evil castle,’ the Elf replied. Unnecessarily haughtily, he felt.
Lucian cleared his throat. ‘Yes, well, you never know.’ Perhaps their role in the group was to make people feel awkward. A rather specialist skill, admittedly. ‘And you are?’
‘Jezithel Tharadian. Magus.’
‘Oh. Very nice.’ Lucian was pleased he had a magus with him, their spells would prove invaluable. ‘The Company didn’t tell me who I would be commanding or their specialities. I’m sure it will be a pleasure to see you in action.’
Jezithel stared at him with narrowed eyes, perhaps considering if that was a double entendre that deserved retribution. She finally decided on, ‘Let us find the others.’
They walked across the drawbridge, which had no doubt been lowered a few hours ago by the Hero. You could tell a lot about a villain by his choice of moat. Necromancers tended to prefer a lake of tortured souls, but this one had gone with a bottomless chasm surrounding his entire castle. Unexpected, but it got the point across.
They continued under the portcullis and through the winding corridors of the necromancer’s castle. ‘Who else have I got under my command?’
‘You should see them for yourself. “Rabble” is how I would describe them.’
Lucian chuckled. ‘And I suppose they sent you for your winning personality?’
‘I was the only one that could remember the way.’ She kept her eyes straight forward.
‘This old place?’ He was surprised the others didn’t know the layout. It showed that they probably didn’t study strategy and tactics quite like him. That was the difference between him and everyone else. He was there with a purpose - at least, a purpose other than getting paid. He knew, that with enough hard work, he could become the one that had followers cleaning up after him. He could be the Hero.
‘It’s just a standard pre-sum castle number six with a skeleton aesthetic.’ As he said this he walked into a large cobweb and had a moment of extreme arm flailing to remove it. ‘Maybe too heavy on the aesthetic.’
She seemed rather unimpressed by this, and continued to walk along the path he knew would take him to the throne room - or in the skeleton aesthetic, the bone room. Her robe was clean despite the dust hanging around the place and the weeks she would have spent travelling. She had the classic Elf look of long blonde hair, blue eyes, pale skin, and was thin as a waif. Not to mention she had about a foot on Lucian in height despite him being average.
No, not a foot, Lucian chided himself, thirty centimetres. The effects of the Imperial war were still slow in taking hold after Lord Metriousc changed everything.
The castle had dark purple torches mounted along the walls, partly to illuminate the flagstone corridors, partly to let everyone know it was evil. Anyone that used magical fires clearly had more money and power than sense. Hence, evil.
His brain wen
t into work mode, surveying the current state of the castle.
They'd leave all of these torches burning for as long as possible. They'd leave the cobwebs - those were an excellent touch. Some of the bone dust would have to be swept up, and any random bones from defeated skeletons would need to be stacked in a corner - he couldn’t have a trip hazard lying around when the tours began.
He always liked the smell of bone dust. To some it was musty, cloying. To him it was the glorious smell of vanquished villains and heroism. He wished he could bottle the fragrance, and the effect. It might hurt his chances with the ladies, but it might also propel him to a heroic stature. The sacrifices he had to make... Apart from that, this would be a pretty simple clean up. Much easier to deal with than a dragon’s hoard or a volcano lair. And he could see most of it had already been done, presumably by his new team who had been hard at work.
They rounded the last corner, and the bone room was in front of them. The always peculiar feeling of magic emanated heavily from this room. The final fight had definitely occurred here recently. The room itself was filled with more of the flagstones from the corridors, large purple torches, and several pillars. Nothing out of the ordinary for this pre-summoned castle. Two men worked industriously, one stacking bones artistically around the sides of the room, and the other sweeping bone dust and chips into a pile. A third man helped with the sweeping.
Sorry, “helped” with the sweeping.
As this third man wasn’t doing anything constructive, he was the one who saw the couple enter.
‘Ahh, you found ’im?’, he shouted, slightly louder than necessary.
‘No. It is someone else that came to explore an evil castle,’ Jezithel said.
‘Bah, piss off, Elf.’ He dropped his broom and walked up to Lucian.
Lucian stuck his hand out to greet the man, who ignored it and stopped walking only once all notion of personal space was gone. He wouldn’t be surprised if the man’s name was halitosis.
He stood and examined Lucian from several angles. ‘You the new strat guy?’
‘I prefer Commander, but Leader will do.’
‘Yeah, yeah, sure. Why are you covered in blood?’ He made a wet sniffing sound and wiped his nose on his sleeve.
‘Oh, umm, there was a henchman still alive.’ Lucian had put that so successfully out of his mind that he’d forgotten the man’s blood was still all over him.
‘That’s fair. I’m Khleb, boss.’
‘Hello, Khleb. Lucian Huxley, your new commander. What do you do around here?’ he asked the man. In fact, Khleb reminded Lucian more of a Goblin than a man if you ignored his height. Pasty skin, nearly bald, and was probably nicknamed “The Crook” in school - not for his morals, but his nose. Still, looks could be deceiving.
‘Little as possible, boss.’ Khleb finally took a step back and Lucian could start breathing again. Khleb also stopped staring suspiciously at Lucian and slapped him on the back.
‘You’ll do!’ He laughed and went back to almost sweeping.
‘He is our thief, Khleb,’ said Jezithel. ‘I am sure he has a second name, but I do not care what it is.’
‘I prefer, “rogue”,’ Khleb said, as he spat on the floor. ‘Entices the ladies more.’
Lucian didn’t exactly have high hopes for the rogue of the group, but maybe this Khleb had more to him than met the eye. Maybe he had hidden depths.
‘Oh, and if you ever need a little something, just let me know.’ Khleb pulled back his Company issued cloak to reveal several pouches of what were definitely illegal substances.
Nope. No hidden depths.
‘Jess, how about an introduction for the group’s leading man?’ the one who had been stacking bones said.
Jess sighed, presumably hoping that this human desire to shorten her name wouldn’t spread. Too late. Lucian had already mentally changed her name. ‘This is Darrius.’
Darrius waited a beat before miming she should continue. ‘Darrius Anderson. Incubus,’ she said, clearly hating that she had somehow become the official introducer.
Darrius chuckled. ‘Not a literal Incubus, of course, sir. That’s just Jess here feigning disinterest. She’s resisted my charms for a while, but I can tell she’s softening.’ As he said this he magicked a rose from some hidden pocket and offered it to her.
She slapped it out of his hand and went to stand in a corner.
‘Or not. Hard to tell with Elves. Anyway, I’m the man to go to when you can’t fight or steal your way out of a sticky situation. I’m a professional seducer. A ladies man, if you will. Maybe, even, a bard.’ At this he gave a small bow, and would have tipped his cap had he been crude enough to wear one indoors. He was half a head taller than Lucian, well tanned, and clearly he kept himself in shape. His brown hair was typical for someone raised in the Empire’s capital, and Lucian had to admit that the way it dangled artfully in front of his face was rather striking - impractical for action as it would require constant brushing to one side, but striking.
‘A pleasure to meet you.’ Lucian said, and shook hands with Darrius. They both smiled at the chance of new, polite, social interaction.
‘I confess, I’ve never worked with a bard before. Have you seen any notable actions?’
‘Oh yes, of course, sir! Why, just on this assignment, we found ourselves needing to relocate a particularly surly farmer’s daughter who just wouldn’t leave the cows unattended.’
‘I could have tended to her needs, if you know what I mean.’ Khleb winked.
Jess threw one of the many bones at him and said, ‘No one would touch you with a barge pole. Go back to being bone idle.’
‘That a pun? Lowest form of wit, you know, Elf.’ Khleb said with venom.
‘That is sarcasm, idiot,’ Jess said.
‘No, I was being serious.’
Lucian and Darrius ignored their little spat. ‘Needless to say, I relocated her allowing the rest of the group to do their work. Quick, and no one harmed, sir.’
‘As I recall, you were harmed,’ Jess said, clearly determined to make sure nothing but the truth came out.
‘A bit more skilled with a rolling pin than expected, sir,’ Darrius said defensively.
Lucian was slightly taken aback. ‘You needed a rolling pin to... relocate her?’
‘He was chased out of the farmer’s kitchen,’ Jess said, ‘and she caught him outside. She gave him a stern talking to and a few whacks.’
‘Yes, well... these things are really a numbers game. You can’t expect every woman to fall for you. I have a very admirable record of fifty / fifty with the ladies, thank you, Jess.’
‘Quantity, not quality. That’s what I say too.’ Khleb felt he was aiding Darrius' argument.
‘Not quite sure why, but I do often find myself tangled up with barmaids, farm daughters, and rolling pins.’ For a second Darrius seemed in deep contemplation over this, but that quickly vanished. ‘Life of a bard, I suppose!’
With a roll of her eyes, Jess pushed on, eager to be able to go back to looking imperious while doing no work. ‘Finally, we have Garadan Thalkom Thalmek, the brute.’
The last man stopped sweeping, and Lucian had a chance to examine the mountain of a man. Large and well muscled, with skin the colour of obsidian. Lucian wasn’t sure why he had taken such an interest in geology at school - its only practical purpose was identifying cave walls and making great similes. Garadan was swathed in a large fur coat that looked too warm. Leather straps and metal plates in the style of a gladiator covered his right side, and a small buckler was slung on his back along with a gigantic, battered sword.
‘I don’t think calling him a brute is quite fair,’ Lucian said.
‘She right,’ Garadan said.
‘Oh. Okay then. I take it you are the noble fighter of the group?’
‘Not noble.’ He had trouble getting his accent around the word noble. ‘So, brute.’
‘Well, a good thing you’re on our side!’ Lucian said awkwardly, unable to read
the man. ‘What do you prefer to be called? I don’t know if I can say Garadan Thalk...’
Garadan drew his sword and held it by his side. A gnarled old thing that looked like it had doubled as a club more than once, and could be used one-handed only because of the man’s strength.
‘In Karakgar, say name wrong? Insult.’ Once happy that Lucian would be quiet and wasn’t going to insult his honour, the brute sheathed his sword. ‘Gar. Fine.’
Lucian had never encountered one of the men from Karakgar before. Known for their hardiness and strength, they were highly sought after as warriors in the Empire. They were also known for their complete inability to master the Empire’s language.
‘Well, Gar. I’m glad to have you by my side, and you don’t seem at all like a brute.’ Lucian tried his hardest to say this while not staring at the sword.
Gar grunted and then went back to sweeping.
‘All right. Well, now that I’ve met the whole team, let’s finish the cleanup and get out of here.’ Lucian clapped his hands and then realised there was no broom to join in the sweeping. He glanced quickly around, not wanting to seem indecisive, then saw the necromancer’s throne standing proud at the end of the room, and started towards it to arrange the scene.
‘I should let you all know that I’m a master tactician. Very little gets past me, so don’t worry, you’re in good hands. I won’t let you down.’ Lucian moved with purpose as he tried not to let his uncertainty show.
Half way across the room he spotted a corpse, robed in black and purple with an elaborate skeleton helmet, pinned to the wall by a black, iron-shod staff through its heart. ‘I assume this is it?’
Khleb stopped doing nothing to answer. ‘Yup. The necromancer.’
‘Nice position. Really tells a tale. The Company will like this.’
‘Not as good as Moxar’s last quest, of course,’ Khleb said.
