Demi Heroes

by Andrew Lynch

  A grunt sounded from inside the helmet, and the executioner gave ground, the distraction letting Gar push him back.

  Khleb skidded to a halt next to the suit of armour and stabbed his dagger at its throat. It had to dodge Khleb’s lethal blow, and Gar was given his opening, running the executioner down.

  A loud clash as the armour rocked the floor, its giant double axe thrown from it.

  And then it was Lucian’s turn. His hatchet held high, he jumped on the executioner, straddling its breastplate to pin it, and brought his hatchet down in a blind strike.

  It hit the same chip his arrow had made only a few seconds ago, widening it. But there was no cry of pain.

  Lucian continued his attack, raising his hatchet again. His group had all run to him and were ready to join in the now unfair assault on their fallen foe. He swung at the exposed cloth between helmet and breastplate, hoping to cut deep into the flesh beneath.

  He struck metal. All the executioner had had to do was lower its helmet, and Lucian’s hatchet bounced off without even a scratch.

  A large metal fist hit his side and the follow-through flung him across the corridor, hitting the wall.

  His group set upon the fallen executioner, hoping to keep this fight quick and clean.

  Darrius stabbed as best he could towards any exposed black cloth at the joints, but the foe clearly knew this weakness, and the points were so small all it had to do was keep moving. Darrius couldn’t land a hit.

  Khleb tried to pin down a limb, his daggers useless otherwise as the executioner kept its throat protected now.

  Gar took out his sword, hoping to crumple the armour with the sheer weight and power of the blow.

  ‘There is no spirit in there,’ Jess said, slightly panicked but keeping it together.

  ‘Then hit it with something!’ Lucian shouted back as he hauled himself up off the floor.

  The executioner saw the sword descending and began its counterattack.

  Waiting till the last second, it struck out, putting its formidable armour to good use, hitting the sword aside with its forearm, forcing the weapon to slide down the outside of its arm.

  This threw Gar off balance and he fell on top of the executioner, who wasted no time, and showed no strain, in throwing Gar off. Lucian wasn’t sure he’d seen anything of a comparable size that had enough power to move Gar, let alone lift him with only upper body strength.

  The executioner spun and was on its feet in a practiced, fluid motion, facing down Darrius and Khleb.

  The group members backed off and prepared to defend themselves from whatever was coming next.

  The executioner stepped into Darrius, grabbing his arm and throwing him across the room. It followed straight through into a punch at Khleb who managed to jump backwards just in time.

  Darrius skittered across the floor, but leapt up quickly and retrieved his sword, turning back to the attack.

  The guard had managed to grab Khleb by the throat, but threw him aside as Darrius tackled the suit of armour.

  It took a steadying step forwards, caught off guard. Lucian was pleased to have his previous assessment of no peripheral vision confirmed. It swung a powerful backhand that Darrius easily dodged, allowing him to follow up with a slash that unfortunately only hit armour. However, he had its full attention.

  Lucian ran to Gar, and helped him stand. Seeing his best friend in trouble, Gar charged straight back into the fray. Lucian moved on to Khleb who, despite a red ring around his throat, was already getting to his feet.

  As Gar reached the back of the executioner, he swung his giant sword, smashing into its side. It staggered, and once again, the three set upon the suit of armour, hoping for a lucky hit. Gar swung his sword to stun it, and Darrius and Khleb stabbed in the general direction they knew the joins in the armour to be. With the amount of clanging metal Lucian heard, they must have been blunting their weapons more than anything else.

  Lucian was about to join in when the suit of armour dived to the side, throwing itself through Khleb, and into a roll.

  Khleb stayed down, the weight of the armour rolling over him stunning the small rogue. When the executioner came out of its roll and stood, it had its axe back in its hands.

  Darrius, Gar, and Lucian all advanced. Not because they wanted to, but because Khleb was still on the ground, stunned. They couldn’t leave him unprotected. Lucian suspected Khleb wouldn’t let them hear the end of it if he woke up dead.

  They halted once they'd passed Khleb. Lucian raised his hatchet, ready to take any opening he got. Gar had dropped his sword, relying on his shield. Darrius swiped his blade in front of him.

  Bringing his hatchet into his line of sight, he saw something on it. It must have been from his very first attack, the only one that had been a good hit. A thin line of blood ran down the sharp edge.

  ‘I guess it does bleed,’ he said, and a wicked grin spread across his face as he realised that they could do this. They could win.

  The rest of the group shared his new found confidence, and the grin spread. Khleb rose shakily, recovering quickly. If there was one way to boost morale, it was to prove that their current life threatening predicament didn’t have to be their last.

  And the executioner met their grins by slamming the flat of its axe against the corridor, chipping the wall, and having the desired effect of reminding the group that they still had their work cut out for them.

  It charged the group, and Gar lunged forward to meet it, shield raised.

  Its giant axe swung, sweeping aside not only the shield, but Gar too, sending him headfirst into the wall with a sickening crack. The backswing caught Darrius in the chin, throwing him into a heap of his own unconscious limbs.

  Khleb jumped onto the suit of armour, hand grabbing the back of its helmet. He hadn’t wanted it to fall, he’d just wanted it to stay still long enough for him to sink his dagger into its eye slit. He stuck the landing, but the executioner twisted, causing him to slip. He landed safely but was now off balance, right in front of the foe.

  The little man managed to move his head out of the way, but a powerful downward slam from the executioner’s fist still floored him. He cried out in pain, and from the angle it rested at, his shoulder must have broken.

  The executioner had devastated three of his group in as many seconds. Khleb rolled in pain, and he seemed to be the one that had gotten off most lightly. Lucian could hear ragged gasps from the others - at least they were still alive.

  Lucian gave ground, his view on just how well he would fare against this foe having changed dramatically from five seconds ago.

  ‘I'll call you “Chip”!’ Lucian taunted.

  The executioner stopped and turned its head. Lucian imagined this was done in a quizzical way, but in truth that may have just been him anthropomorphising a suit of armour.

  ‘Because at the very least, I’ve given you that chip in your armour. That was me! A Hero.’

  The executioner shrugged and darted forwards with a speed that shouldn’t have been possible with its size and weight. Its shoulder slammed into Lucian, driving the breath from his lungs and forcing him off his feet. Miraculously he managed to hold on to his hatchet, but without air, he couldn’t do much with it.

  He got to his feet and stumbled back. He knew the executioner could finish this any time it wanted, but maybe it really had taken that chip to its armour personally.

  It placed its axe carefully on the floor and put its fists up in front of its face.

  ‘Really?’ Lucian gasped out, feeling as though he was about to throw up. ‘All right. Take your helmet off, and sure, let’s fight.’

  The Executioner tapped the chip in its eye slit, took a single step towards Lucian, and threw a haymaker that connected with Lucian’s side. Lucian fell like a ragdoll, which he felt was appropriate since he was being toyed with.

  Broken ribs sent fire all through his chest. Air was a luxury his lungs would have to do without, he decided.

  He forced him
self to stand. ‘Who hasn’t carried on a fight with a few broken ribs?’ He raised his hatchet. At least he could say he went out pretending he could still put up a fight. Who knew, maybe he’d even manage to cut the executioner’s fingers. A final send off for the fledgling Hero.

  The back of its hand was all that was needed to smack the hatchet from Lucian’s grasp.

  A casual sweep of its legs took Lucian to the ground.

  He could barely breathe. Standing was a questionable proposition, he decided, since he was pretty sure that love tap had just broken his knee. He would have liked to have screamed to relieve some pain, but he had no air to scream with. Fighting was completely out of the question.

  The executioner looked down on him. Lucian suspected figuratively as well as literally.

  It tapped the chip in its helmet again, and carefully stepped onto Lucian’s chest. He had no doubt that his chest would be crushed by its weight, as the first touch made his broken ribs move in torturous ways.

  He gritted his teeth and looked as hatefully as he could at the metal monster, as if his stare could stop his death.

  A little more pressure was applied to his chest, and breathing became impossible. His vision darkened at the edges, but he continued to stare. He wished he could set the thing alight. He wished he could do something. Anything.

  But even his arms, weakly scrabbling at the metal foot, dropped to his side.

  Lucian sent one final glare at the executioner before his vision faded to black.

  Chapter 30

  The first thing he heard was a woman’s scream of anger. Jess?

  Air rushed into his lungs, and light into his eyes. But his eyes weren’t open.

  Was this his second wind? A last chance to save his group - his friends - granted by some Heroic instinct deep down inside him?

  He opened his eyes and saw Jess, arm outstretched. He rolled his head to see the executioner, stumbling backwards down the hallway, smoking. A fireball. Jess had finally managed it! Lucian even managed a smile himself. His magus had finally found her power. Found herself. He used all his strength to slowly sit up.

  His hand gripped the nearby hatchet.

  A gout of flame flew from Jess’ hands and struck the executioner. It retreated, and Lucian saw why.

  The heat from the magical flame Jess cast was melting its armour.

  Its armour was sloughing from its body, the brushed metal exchanged for molten globules dripping off as it stumbled away. It left metallic footprints as it moved.

  Jess was pushing it back towards the grand purple door.

  Lucian managed to stand, hatchet hanging at his side. His knee may or may not have been broken, he’d let a doctor make that call, but he definitely couldn’t walk on it.

  So he hopped.

  It was awkward, and it was painful, and breathing was a life or death concern, but he hopped.

  The armour must have been solidifying in a way that sealed the joints, because the executioner was moving very slowly. Even slower than a man with broken ribs and a questionable knee could hop.

  Finally the molten armour set, and the figure came to a complete halt. It was retreating, its back to Lucian.

  He looked round at Jess who had fallen to her knees. He hoped it was just because the magic had drained her, not that he’d missed something when he blacked out.

  She looked up and flashed him the same wicked grin that he’d had only a minute ago, and despite the pain, he returned it.

  He reached the executioner, about to pull its helmet off - finally see what freakish monsters lay beneath the armour - when the unmistakable sound of stone grinding against stone hit his ears.

  The door, filled with the glowing purple ooze, opened.

  Lucian was a scant few metres from the opening door. Running wasn’t an option. Neither was fighting. But of course, he’d fight. That’s what a Hero would do.

  He wouldn’t use his second wind to run away, he told himself.

  The doors finished opening, and the purple goo was left to fall in the now open portal. It fell so thick that he couldn’t see into the new room.

  Behind him he could see Jess was checking on the group, working her way towards him.

  Then the goo stopped. And Lucian saw Lord Yelx.

  Sitting on a throne in what was, evidently, a throne room. It could have been mistaken for an arena though, a step creating a large shallow ring in between the entrance and the throne. Lucian was surprised he didn’t see skeletons from past Heroes scattered around the room.

  Like the rest of the Spires, the purple glow, underlighting the room, made everything seem larger than life. The throne, and the man sitting upon it, seemed twice the height of Lucian.

  Jess placed a hand on Lucian’s shoulder. ‘Gar and Darrius need help. I am no doctor, but I suspect a lot of broken bones and internal bleeding.’

  ‘Blood’s meant to be on the inside,’ Khleb said at his other shoulder. ‘They can wait.’

  Jess rolled her eyes. ‘Only this beast could still move.’

  Just the three of them, then. A dishonest thief with a penchant for stabbing and a broken shoulder. A Magus who had only just learned to call magic in the heat of battle. And himself - a master strategist, an orator always ready to inspire his people with quotes from battles long past, and not too shabby with a bow on occasion. A Hero.

  Moxar always seemed to get through these situations. Lucian decided he could too.

  ‘Enter!’ Yelx called out, his voice booming through his throne room.

  The trio didn’t move. They wouldn’t be commanded by their enemy. They stayed firmly behind the suit of armour.

  ‘Do come out from behind my guard, would you?’ Lord Yelx leaned forward on his gnarled staff. He wore a simple black hooded cloak with the hood down. He seemed young, the grey only just beginning to pepper his temples.

  ‘You’ve tormented them enough. Come on now. We have much to discuss.’ His words were said with a cold accuracy. Lucian wasn’t sure if he was a big fan of economising on speech, or if he just planned to kill all of them.

  Lucian whispered for Jess and Khleb’s ears only. ‘We go in hard. He won’t know what hit him.’

  They grunted their assent.

  Lucian hobbled out from behind the guard and stood as upright as he could. It wasn’t very imposing, as he leaned heavily on his good leg, but Khleb went to his side and supported him.

  They were a sorry sight, Lucian knew. But he was so close to completing his Quest. He’d already become a Hero. He’d done it. This wasn’t falling at the final hurdle. This was achieving what he wanted. He’d just be a bit more dead than he’d originally planned.

  The life of a Hero was often short and bloody.

  ‘How’s your stabbing arm?’ he whispered to Khleb.

  ‘If I wasn’t holding you, it would be perfect. The other arm is the only problem. No counter balance, you know?’

  ‘Don’t worry. One good stab is all you’ll need.’ He looked over his other shoulder to where Jess had followed them forwards. ‘Well done back there. Got any more left in you?’

  ‘We will soon see.’

  Lucian wasn’t filled with confidence, but he’d just have to trust her.

  ‘Lord Yelx. What would I have to discuss with someone like you?’

  Yelx remained seated. ‘I’m no Lord. I’m no warmonger or overlord, or whatever else you’ve been told either. I am a villain though. But I’m just a man. A man who wants to talk to you. Approach.’

  This time they did as he asked. But only because they needed to be closer so that their variety of sharp objects would be more accurate. Lucian regretted discarding his bow.

  The pain continued to shoot up Lucian’s leg and wrap around his chest, but he knew what he had to do. He could stand the pain. It wouldn’t last much longer.

  As he limped through the villain’s arena, Lucian saw a small desk off to the side of the room. A simple wooden affair. No goo to light it, but a brazier next to it, unlit. He won
dered about its purpose in a throne room - but there was no time for distractions now.

  ‘Very well. Speak,’ Lucian said. His brevity was due to the pain in his chest, but having heard Heroes speak in their final fights before, he felt it suited the situation.

  ‘I know a lot about you, Lucian. Malum told me of your time together.’ Yelx remained impassive on his throne.

  ‘And how do you know him? A vast villainous network, I assume?’

  ‘You could say that, yes. He also told me about you meeting him in the temple’s dungeons, just a few days ago. He said you—'

  Lucian pushed Khleb forwards, and it was all the encouragement he needed, springing into action.

  Lucian threw his hatchet, a decidedly terrible idea normally, but as they only had one shot, he wouldn’t need it again.

  Yelx had to choose - deal with the man, or dodge the axe flying at his face.

  To Lucian’s delight, Jess was only a split second behind them, a gout of enchanted flame billowing out from her hand.

  Lucian was sure one of the three attacks would land. A final attack, against a sitting man. His Quest would be a success, the only challenge left being to make it back down the stairs on his bad leg.

  But Yelx simply dealt with the threats in order.

  A snap of his fingers caused the thrown hatchet to snap in half and fly off to the side. The half with the axe head hit a wall and clattered to the floor, while the blunt half hit Khleb with enough force to bury itself in his side.

  The shock of a large wooden club burying itself in his ribs made Khleb stumble and fall. He cried out in pain. He was no longer a threat, his dagger clattering to the floor.

  A wave of Yelx’s arm, and the magical flame was brushed harmlessly aside.

  This whole time, Lucian continued his limp forwards, with his eyes locked on Yelx’s face. Yelx hadn’t even needed to break eye contact with Lucian.

  ‘Are you done?’ Yelx asked.

  ‘I am stronger than him,’ Jess said. ‘Knock m—'

  Before Lucian even had a chance to look quizzically at her, he saw a stick fly in front of his face. His hatchet’s handle. Khleb may have been in pain - almost dead, possibly - but Lucian knew that the thief would come back from the grave to honour that request.