by Ben Walsh
Chapter Twenty Two
3 months later
“Hear ye, hear ye!!” The town crier yelled, clanging his bell. “Please, all make your way to the town square!”
The air was filled with anticipation, the excitement at the big reveal. Hordes of town-folk headed as one down the main path, towards the Mayor’s house, outside which the new town square had been assembled. Farmers and fisherman strolled by, still in their work clothes, tools downed early for the day. Children scampered through, singing and playing games. Women chatted and giggled; the young and old, together, united. Greeting them, the Mayor was atop the new platform, laughing with those who had already arrived.
The atmosphere was one of celebration. The guests had been arriving all day, and now that the sun was going down, the square was full to the brim, with those who had travelled from far and wide crowding in to witness the momentous occasion. In the background, the lake glistened, as the final rays of sunshine fell upon it.
“Ahem, your attention please,” the Mayor requested, his face contorted in a strange manner, as he strove to avoid the beam he so obviously wanted to show.
His soft voice was lost in the hubbub and excitement of the crowd, and, several failed attempts to gain quiet later, a small, greasy looking man took his place on the stage, whistling loudly.
As one, the crowd hushed, and the man winked at the mayor, before hobbling over to the side of the stage.
“Thank you, Ponch,” The Mayor commented, as the man strolled away.
“We are here today,” the Mayor began, in a proud, squeaky voice, with his chest puffed out, “to celebrate the rebirthing of our town. We are here today, to celebrate the defeat of our nemesis, the nemesis of generations before us, Gordon the Gruesome!”
This was met with mass cheering and pandemonium.
“Please join me in welcoming onto the stage, our saviours! Please welcome Worgan and Loose, the butcher’s brothers!” The two brothers sprang up onto the stage, pints of ale in hand and with one for Ponch, who looked as startled as anyone when it was shoved into his hand.
“You promised, up on that mountain,” Worgan said, with a cheeky wink, and a loud, hoarse laugh, which Ponch joined in with, chinking his glass, before all three men gulped messily at their drinks, sparking loud cheers from the crowd.
“Yes, thank you lads,” The mayor laughed, “but moving swiftly on,” he continued, holding his hand aloft to regain control of the crowd. “If you will, please put your hands together, for the wonderful wizard, our greatest town-member, Maximus!”
The worn, ragged looking wizard put on a brave face and a smile as he limped onto the stage, graciously accepting the welcome with a wave of his hand in all directions. Just as the crowd began to die down, their initial roar of appreciation fading away in disappointment at the wizard’s lack of enthusiasm, he exuberantly waved his arms, causing a large, green flare to fly away from his hand, spiralling away into the sky. Seconds later, a blue flare emerged, following the exact trail of the green flare, as it spun off into the sunset.
The crowd shrieked and whooped in delight, before breaking into even more whole hearted applause. Try as he might, the Mayor was unable to dampen down the crowd, and in the confusion and celebrations that followed, the more observant would have noticed Maximus sidle away, off of the stage and into the distance. When at last the Mayor managed to make himself heard, he spoke swiftly, with an excited urgency.
“If I try to introduce these final three individually, we will be here all day, so I think we shall go for all at once! Ladies, gentleman, boys and girls,” he cried, clasping his hands together like an excited child during the present giving season, “please allow me to introduce my beautiful daughter, Roxanne, the brave, kind hearted Marvin, and the ingenious, quick thinking, saviour of our town, STAN!!!”
The three walked onto stage, hand in hand, with Stan in the middle, all three unable to suppress their happiness. Roxie broke away from the line, and skipped over to her father, planting a large kiss on his cheek as she threw her arms around him.
“Must you really call me that?” She asked with a laugh.
“Why yes, my Roxanne,” the Mayor replied, also laughing, before pulling his daughter into a tight embrace.
On the front row, Stan noticed a small group of children, boys and girls, all playing together, play fighting and duelling. The girls all wore toy crossbows, and were pretending to fire imaginary arrows at one another. He saw two boys further afield, pretending to be handling what seemed to be a heavy, large piece of machinery, almost like an enormous, dragon slaying weapon.
“It’s creeping me out, Marvin,” he muttered to his friend, continuing to wave and smile.
“What is?” Marvin replied, turning his neck to look at Stan.
“Well, I am sure there is double the number of redheads that there usually are? That can’t be coincidence!!”
The boys laughed, finally able to relax, for the first time in what felt like years.
Stan remembered what he had thought to himself in the mountain, as they had fled for the exit. A simple life, he had promised himself, and it was a promise he was going to be sure he kept. He could think of nothing more perfect than boarding his father’s fishing boat. The thought made him smile differently; a quieter, more private smile.
In the distance, he heard the Mayor’s voice, and something about how the gold from the mountain had been used for this and that, and there was more applause. The stage members all turned, and Stan felt himself doing the same, despite having no awareness of telling his body to do so. He saw the huge blanket being torn down, to reveal an enormous, gold statue of Stan and Marvin, slaying Gordon the Gruesome. Stan took none of it in though. All he could think of was his fishing trip.
Epilogue
His head hurt – a lot. Grimey pulled himself up, and took in his surroundings. Goblin bodies lay throughout the cavern. He spat blood out to his left, and began to head back up the steps.
Once he reached the top, he saw a sea of bodies everywhere. Gold tarnished with blood covered the floor, and atop it were goblins, goblins everywhere. Burnt, singed, some headless – his people had been destroyed. He trudged through the bodies, with no caution whatsoever, ready to kill whatever came before him. To his surprise, after a while, he came across the body of Gordon. He was truly enormous, Grimey contemplated, as he stepped over him, stripping him of some skin first, for a new sheath – his had somehow been lost in the confusion.
As he stepped out into the light, he had to shield his eyes against the sun. It had been a long time since he had seen the sun; he estimated that he had been unconscious for several days. As his eyes readjusted to the light, he noticed a non-goblin body beneath a tree on the horizon. He trudged over, curious. As he did so, he reflected on what had happened. He cursed his idiocy – he had toyed with the foreigner and he had paid. It was not a mistake he intended on making again.
As he reached the tree, he paused for water, from a small stream, before bending down to roll over the body and reveal the face. When he saw the identity, he recoiled in horror. His stomach lurched, and he struggled to prevent himself from throwing up anything his stomach had left within it.
For the body belonged to the man who had found him stealing in a forest all those years ago. The man who had taught and trained him, to make him who he now was. For the first time in his life, Grimey felt sadness. He took one last look at the body, before forcing himself away and heading towards the mountain edge. He gazed out across the horizon. It was a clear day, and he could easily see the fishing town of Oadford. The lake seemed to glisten, and he thought he could make out a large group of people celebrating.
The boy would be there, he knew, and he wanted nothing more than to trudge down and kill every single person who stopped him from reaching him. But he resisted. Now was not the right time. He was in a position of weakness, the very worse time to make a decision of importance. No, he would retreat back, regroup. He would let the boy have t
his one day, and the next, and many more after that. He could go back to his normal life, forget all about the events on the mountain. But Grimey would never forget. It could take a day, a week, even a year.
The boy would pay.
A massive thank you for reading my book, I really hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I have loved writing it. If you could spare a few minutes of your precious time, I would greatly appreciate any reviews left at your favourite retailer.
Stan, Marvin and Roxie will be returning with two new adventures in 2016.
Thank you,
Ben Walsh.
August 2015
About Ben Walsh
Ben Walsh is a student from Leicester, England, currently studying physiotherapy in Sheffield.
He enjoys reading legal and crime thrillers and fantasy. His debut novel, 'The Adventure of Stan and the Emerald of Foundation' is out now.
Connect with Ben Walsh
Follow him on twitterhttps://twitter.com/BenWalsh95
Visit his websitehttps://adventureofstanword.wordpress.com/
