by Andrew Lynch
The upstart goblin lunged for Ankskar, his flint axe swinging wildly, and obviously missing. He would have collided with Ankskar, but the chief goblin stepped to the side and tripped him. He then hefted his sword in a huge overhead swing and brought it down on the tripped goblin - who had moved entire seconds ago, because that was clearly the most unwieldy weapon Lucian had ever seen. Except perhaps Gar’s sword.
The challenger ended up within arms reach of Lucian, who had no intention of stepping in. Taking sides and killing a goblin probably wasn’t a good idea in their current situation, he told himself.
The challenger swiped at Ankskar causing him to fall over backwards in avoiding the sharp flint of the axe. This fight would have almost been amusing if life wasn’t on the line.
The flint axe rose high, and Ankskar had managed to trap himself under his sword. This was going to be a short fight. This wasn’t like one of Darrius' epic duels.
His axe buried itself in the goblin’s face. A light spray of blood like a refreshing sea spray misted over him. The goblin went limp, but the axe had dug so deep, it was trapped, standing like a puppet.
The horde of goblins readied for a fight, standing up, putting down half dead rats, and preparing crude weapons.
Lucian didn’t realise what he’d just done until he noticed that Ankskar, the one that should be dead with an axe buried in his face, was looking shocked, and extremely active for a dead Goblin.
‘You could not simply leave it alone, could you, Lucian?’ Jess’ voice was scornful, but also resigned. She knew this would happen.
Lucian shook the challenger off his hatchet. ‘I didn’t mean to! I just felt sorry for him!’
The goblins sprung into action. Supporters of both Ankskar and the challenger were united against the common enemy.
So weak and ungainly individually, but when Lucian instantly found two of them jumping on his back and scratching at him, all he could do was start swinging wildly with his axe.
Every swing killed one of the horde, but they were legion. A quick glance told him that the rest of his group were in a similar situation. They were all doing their best, but without a large amount of goblin-killing fire, they wouldn’t last long.
The one on his back was too dim to stop chewing at his armour. If the stupid goblin realised that a bite just to the left would kill Lucian by severing his jugular, then, rather obviously, Lucian wouldn’t be around much longer. But he couldn’t pause from his industrious work of goblin killing to shake it off, because if he did then he’d be overwhelmed. It was getting close to that anyway as more and more goblins threw themselves at him.
The screeches of the goblins barely even registered with Lucian as he saw Jess fall, instantly swarmed over.
But he couldn’t get to her. He couldn’t do anything.
One of the goblins broke through his haphazard defence and long teeth sunk into his thigh. He screamed out in pain, his leg giving way.
A running goblin went into him and knocked him to the floor. He felt the suffocating press of weight as goblins piled on top of him, the only saving grace of that tactic being that it stopped the goblins directly on top of him from actually doing anything.
He heard a loud creak, metal scraping against rusted metal. Then a booming voice rang out, ‘What is this racket about?!’
The room went completely silent, not a single goblin daring to breathe. Some of the ones right on top of Lucian actually couldn’t breathe, with the press of the horde on them.
Ankskar started talking, but the same voice boomed out again, cutting off the goblin.
‘Darrius!? What are you doing here?’
Although it had taken a scant few seconds for Lucian to fall to the tide of goblins, it took several minutes for them to let him back up.
That mystery voice! Now that Lucian had time to think about it - instead of fearing his imminent demise - it did sound awfully familiar, but he’d need to hear it again to place it. Right now he could hear the voice only as a low rumble, changed from the outraged fury of being disturbed by his minions.
The goblins were back to a low chatter, but submerged in his goblin mound, Lucian was very disconnected from everything and had no idea what was going on. Eventually the goblin right in front of Lucian’s face was yanked out of the way. Darrius' boot stamped into view, followed by his face as he stooped to check on Lucian.
‘Oh thank Gods, you’re alive!’ He stood up and said to someone else, ‘He’s alive, at least.’
‘That’s a relief,’ the voice replied. That voice was so familiar, but Lucian couldn’t quite place it.
‘Darrius, question,’ Lucian croaked out, the pressure of the goblins slowly being released from his chest. ‘First, how’s the group? I saw Jess go down, is she okay?’
‘Umm, about to find out. Got you out first. Khleb and Gar need to be dug out too. I was the last one up when he came in.’
Lucian felt a surge of panic. ‘Oh Gods! Go help them!’ Had he lost any of his friends through his own reckless action?
Darrius rushed to do as instructed. The goblins were about done getting themselves free. Lucian couldn’t wait any longer, and pushed himself, and the remaining few goblins, up. The bite in his leg shot with a fiery pain, and he stumbled. He hobbled around in a small circle to face several mounds in the green tide of goblins. Darrius was pulling away at the third and largest mound. Gar was in that position, so it made sense Darrius checked him first. Lucian felt a little rush of excitement when he realised that Darrius had checked on him before Gar. He pushed that aside and returned to the appropriate feelings of concern and pain.
A figure moved in the shadows. It limped, steadying itself on a cane, moving towards him. ‘Hello, Lucian.’
As he spoke, light flooded his face. Lucian knew the speaker well. But now he was a Hero, he felt a righteous sense of regret. He wasn’t entirely sure how regret could be righteous, but it definitely was. He had let him...
In the middle of these sluggish thoughts, Lucian was suddenly tackled in the back by something, throwing him back to the floor. It had hit too high to be a goblin. A person? He struggled to wrench his body around to see his attacker.
‘No! Leave him! Down!’ the man shouted.
Lucian felt hot, wet breath on the back of his neck. He heard panting. Then something wet touched him. Surely this was something that would make even the mightiest Hero shudder, and so Lucian felt no shame when he did it. Fear ran through him as the mighty thing pinned him to the ground and covered him in toxic slime.
‘She’s just saying hello,’ Darrius said in an unconcerned voice.
‘Come here, Arguine. Off!’
The weight lifted from Lucian, freeing him. He saw a shaggy coat of fur in the corner of his eye, and everything made sense.
So, Malum had named the wolf.
The group had filed into Malum’s locked room. Ankskar had tried to follow, but Malum dismissed him. ‘They're a bit of a step down, I know.’
The group shook their heads and made conciliatory noises.
‘We all have to start somewhere,’ Darrius said. ‘Or, start again somewhere.’
Darrius had been the only one left standing, his skill with a sword keeping him up. Gar, the one Lucian felt should have been the hardest to take down, had presented too big a target - even the goblins could hit him with their wild thrashes and pull him down with their cumulative weight. Jess had been the first to go down because she had no real weapons or armour. Even her Elven grace fell to large numbers of small attackers. Khleb had put up a valiant effort, his naturally shifty stance and stabby demeanour allowing him to dodge and kill, but he lacked Darrius' skill and went down eventually. Eventually being twenty seconds after the fighting started. Luckily Malum interrupted the fight at about twenty two seconds into it, otherwise the group wouldn’t be in such good health. Goblins were dangerous little creatures.
Gar was tending to his own wounds first. Several bite and claw marks covered his dark skin where his armour hadn
’t protected him. He was a pragmatic healer, and made sure he’d survive before moving on to the others.
Jess was in the worst condition, but it didn’t affect her demeanour which remained aggressive. She lay in Malum’s cot, and explained in very condescending tones that infection wouldn’t affect her, so cleaning the wounds of others first was the sensible thing, and that Lucian shouldn’t be so clingy, and he should stop hovering while Gar was trying to work.
Malum’s cot was made of wood. His chairs were made of wood. As was his desk. Even his cane was wood. The walls were stone, but a standard temple-style flagstone, not his previously lavish, everything carved out of a single block of marble, style.
‘Malum.’ Lucian acknowledged the evil lord, but no more.
Malum smiled and gave a small nod of his head. ‘Lucian. Quite a surprise to see you all here. Sorry about the minions.’
Malum looked much the same as he did the last time they saw him, minus a few bandages and splints. He still wore a black laced jerkin, a billowing white shirt, and plain dark trousers. His left leg looked withered. Now that Lucian looked, his left arm was also damaged. The price of being hit by a God, Lucian guessed.
‘We expected minions. No problem.’
‘Good to hear.’ Malum lowered himself into the only spare seat left at his desk.
‘So, shall I assume you are the heralds of Moxar?’ he said, rubbing his forehead as if a migraine had suddenly hit, his voice pained. Or just weary. ‘I hadn’t expected him to return, if I’m honest. I'll have to leave quickly, I certainly can’t face him now.’
‘Actually, there’s a new Hero now,’ Lucian said. He noticed the group started paying a lot more attention to Gar’s bandaging technique.
‘Oh?’ Malum sat up, interested. ‘A reassignment or an actual new Hero?’
‘Me.’
Back in the subtercastle, and during the week of caring for Malum as they took him back to the city and found him aid, the evil lord had never given up the secrets he claimed to know. But, as anyone in the presence of others for so long would, he began talking. Chatting. The group knew Malum, and Malum knew the group. Aside from a hasty retreat inspired by a nest of sand tomb scorpions, the journey had been peaceful. And so Malum knew how much Lucian wanted to be not just a hero, but a Hero. And Lucian knew how much Malum disliked Heroes, or more specifically, the Company.
Lucian had time to remember all of this as their stares locked, both wondering how the other would react. Lucian knew that Malum, despite being a very nice person as it happened, should be someone he was actively trying to thwart.
‘I see,’ was all Malum said. He leaned heavily on his cane and stood up.
‘So. Are you going to...?’ Malum waved his withered hand and left the question hanging.
‘You did enslave a God. And you are, or were, powerful enough to stop Moxar.’ Lucian’s fingers played on the haft of his hatchet. ‘But it seems that your wounds would let me finish you off. My Quest did send me here after all, speaking of a faded Evil that needed to be vanquished.’
‘I had hoped it wouldn’t happen, to be honest with you. A small ceremony and you’re ready to follow those words blindly? Where do the Quests come from?’
Lucian held up his hand for silence. ‘You’re a nice person to be around, Malum, but that doesn’t change what you’ve done in the past. These Quests are given out to make the world better. You claim to have noble intentions, yet you consorted with demons and mad men.’
‘Consorted with… oh, the succubus?’ Malum was playing the part of a puzzled, weakened man very well. ‘The one that I had imprisoned? You do understand that it was in prison so I could give it a fair trial after it had been terrorising a local village? It wasn’t some specially engineered trap for wandering Heroes. And what’s this about mad men?’
‘Markun.’
‘Who? Oh, from Mounthold? You’re right, he was thoroughly deluded. A danger to everyone he met. I sent him there to get him out of the way where he couldn’t do any harm. But villains don’t always get to choose their henchmen.’
Malum sat back down, exhausted. ‘Very well. Let’s get this over with. You’re right, I’m in no condition to fight Moxar, or you. Gods, even Ankskar would have a fair chance. Let’s get it over with.’
Lucian looked to his group, who all saw they'd been caught watching and went back to examining Gar’s handiwork.
Lucian thought of his Quest. Certainly Malum fit the bill of a “faded Evil”, but this small dungeon beneath a temple wasn’t his final destination. Malum ought to be more of a final fight, his previous exploits allowing him that status despite his current inability to function.
The man was smart enough to capture a God, strong enough to best Moxar, charismatic enough to control an entire compass point of a crime syndicate. He was also corrupt enough to do all of those things.
But Lucian didn’t reach for his hatchet. He knew there was no point. Yes, he was a Hero now and he had a Quest that had sent him straight to Malum. But if he was being honest with himself, Lucian knew he wasn’t a very good Hero.
The wary anger fled him, and he slumped down into a chair. He sighed.
Malum stood and hobbled over to him. ‘So, what’s your Quest?’
Lucian told him, but remained deflated, even the words of his first Quest not inspiring him after he had failed to be able to even draw his weapon on a villain. On a friend.
‘So they sent you after me. An easy kill for you, but then what?’
‘I don’t know,’ Lucian said, despondent.
‘Hey, come on now, Lucian.’ Malum placed a comforting hand on Lucian’s shoulder. ‘There are more ways to be a Hero than killing everything you see. Sort of the opposite of heroic, really. Just - make people’s lives better.’
Lucian waved a dismissive hand. ‘Yeah, yeah. Well, I guess I'd kill you, and then with your dying breaths you’d reveal something to me. Anything you want to tell me?’
‘Nothing instantly jumps to mind. There are a few nuggets I could throw your way, but who knows which is relevant? I’m not as in touch with the Apex Spires as I used to be. I'll have to make the journey and find out what’s going on. They usually give us orders about this sort of thing.’
‘Apex Spires?’
‘Huge towers in the capital. Home to the villainous council.’
‘I’ve never seen them, can’t be that big. Well, I guess that’s that then. Nothing to be done,’ Lucian said, not really listening to the words, just hearing them as the sound of his failure to be a Hero. ‘Is everyone ready to head home?’
Darrius turned and made several noises indicating he had no idea what was going on and that he definitely had not been eavesdropping on the entire conversation from a little more than two metres away
‘Yes, we’ve failed the Quest. Might as well just go back to the city.’
‘Well, is it really failing the Quest?’ Darrius asked. ‘Or is it keeping a friend?’
Lucian stared daggers at Darrius. ‘Once you’re all ready, we'll head off.’
‘The least I can do is offer you a hot meal,’ Malum offered. ‘Unfortunately, uhh, it’s not quite what I would have offered you two months ago, but Ankskar’s mob is quite good at hunting rats.’
Lucian shrugged. What did anything matter now? ‘Meh. We've eaten worse.’
Chapter 27
It took all of the group’s strength and quick thinking to push and haul Gar up out of the dungeon and into the pyramid temple. Jess’ magic was still keeping the golden globes lit in the temple, but they'd only been gone for a few hours and Jess seemed to imply this was no great feat for an Elf of her abilities.
As Khleb was picking the last remains of a rat’s tail out of his teeth, he stopped and said, ‘That guy wasn’t there earlier, was he?’
The group turned to look at the main doors of the temple where, as Khleb said, a priest was lying in the archway, his cream robes covered in blood.
Gar was the first to react, partly because h
e saw the chance for putting his first aid skills to work, but also because everyone else was winded from forcing him up through the too narrow dungeon entrance.
Lucian was close behind, but by the time he’d run up the inverted pyramid, he needed to take a breather.
‘How is he?’
' “He” is just fine, thank you very much,’ the priest replied. ‘I have a name, you know?’
‘Oh, umm, sorry...?’ Lucian asked.
‘Priest.’
‘Your name is Priest. And you are a priest?’
‘So the Gods willed it, yes.’
‘Right. Well, Priest, you seem to be bleeding heavily from your leg?’
‘Yes.’ Gar knew the question was for him.
Lucian leaned in closer to Priest, as he imagined a Hero would. He would place a comforting hand on the man’s shoulder as he slipped away.
‘Where are the people who did this, priest?’ Lucian asked.
‘Hey, I heard that. My name has a hard P. Priest, not priest.’
‘I... didn’t know our language had a hard and a soft P, but okay.’
‘Sure, you didn’t.’
‘You seem awfully sarcastic for someone that’s about to bleed out,’ Lucian said.
‘That’s just me. Priest, the sarcastic in the face of life threatening injuries, priest. All comes from my Dad you see,’ Priest explained.
‘Umm, okay. Anyway, these attackers, or pillagers, or whatever they were?’
‘Oh, yes. They headed back to the capital to...’
‘Wait, wait,’ said Lucian. ‘By our timeline that means they came here, then you came here, then they came back, wounded you without doing anything else, then left, telling you where they went?’
‘That hadn’t been the plan... I mean, I assume not. Maybe they left something here. They thought they'd killed me, so talked about their upcoming plans and where their hideout is. Simple.’
‘That sounds possible, I guess,’ Lucian conceded.
