Prelude to a Hero (Chronicles of a Hero 1)

by Jaime Buckley

The shock ripped through his body, up his spine to his skull, seizing every fiber of muscle in a flash, like peeing on an electric fence. A stabbing chill raced through his veins, overwhelming him and he went limp. Then, like being pulled off the roof of an eighty-story building he was falling, quickly, his heart and every other organ pounding in his throat.

  SMACK! Ouch! What the…….!?!

  A residue of electricity trickled through his body, popping the pressure in his ears. Lifting his head, silver sparks twinkled behind his eyelids and Wendell swooned.

  Pushing him back to the ground with a thud, a brick wall landed on his chest, forcing all the air from his lungs. Thrashing and gasping, he struggled to get the heavy, smelly, green creature off him so he could breath.

  “Welcome to Sanctuary, kid. Don’t worry, the pain’ll pass,” the creature said matter-of-factly. “Happens to everyone the first time ‘round.” Swinging its leg over Wendell’s face and sliding off his chest, it leaned forward and pat him on the cheek. “You wait right here.”

  Coughing and hacking, Wendell couldn’t answer. He just rolled to his side. “Fwoooh!” he gasped.

  Relax, Wendell. Inhale… Exhale… Inhale… It’s gone. He slowed his breathing until the pain subsided.

  Wendell was surprised to notice that he was lying in the dark, an unsettling contrast from the warm, summer sun moments ago. One moment he was in Evan’s back yard…and the next moment…not. Was it moments ago?

  He blinked repeatedly until his eyes adjusted.

  It wasn’t completely dark, everywhere. Small circles of light glowing from iron sconces, obliged Wendell with a faint view of where he was. He was in a large room, not like anyplace he’d been before. There were no windows, no furniture, nothing but stone walls, stone floors and stone pillars. He strained to listen, beyond his own ragged breathing and thumping heart, for sounds that would tell him where he was. Nothing in the darkness but silence. Like a clean dungeon. And he had fallen dead center.

  Where am I? A cold draft raised the hair on Wendell’s neck and he shivered, pulling his legs in close. Wait here, it said. He felt like a cornered mouse.

  Did that creep hit me? Drag me somewhere? The puzzle was missing too many pieces. How did I get here?

  Wendell gulped. Oh, no! he whimpered, I’m on the Mothership! He tried to remember entering a shuttle or a teleportation device. I fell…

  The electric shock! And it dawned on him. It tazered me and dragged me aboard!! Where was he hiding it? Disgusted, he shuddered. Ugnh!

  Hiding. Hiding? Speaking of hiding… Wendell jerked up and flipped his head around, frantically looking for…that…that…that Thing! Wendell tried to sniff the air but couldn’t. He was holding his breath. Breathe. Don’t forget to breathe!

  I’m not gonna sit here waiting. Pushing himself to his hands and knees, Wendell cursed his long limbs. Simple movements often got him into embarrassing tangles. He was as awkward as a newborn giraffe. Cringing as his sneakers squeaked against the hard surface, he scurried across the floor until he sat beneath a torch. Having his back to the cold wall made him feel a little less vulnerable. But sitting under a light just made the darkness darker. Not my best plan. Again, he pulled his legs into his chest.

  “Hello?” he called out, barely above a whisper. No answer. That could be good. Another cold draft wafted across the floor carrying the smell of…Wendell froze. It was the unforgettable stink of cigar smoke and rotten fish. He turned his head gradually to the side looking harder this time for the little green attacker.

  Lifting his hand to shade his eyes he squinted into the darkness. There, he found slits of red eyes watching him from the shadows, a menacing glow flickering across its grotesque face from the burning embers of a cigar. The creature was leaning on a pillar, arms folded.

  He knew in his gut, it’s waiting for me.

  Rolling his tongue around dry lips, Wendell slowly moved to his hands and knees again and crawled along the wall, into the dark, keeping the glowing embers in his peripheral vision

  Why me? Who am I really? None of this makes sense. His breathing matched his quickening pulse. I’m nobody! Just an eighteen year old kid who lives in a camping trailer at his mom’s house! What would aliens want with me? His left eye twitched. Green guys with sharp teeth are NEVER good!

  Then, with a wave of nausea, the answer hit him. Oh crap—-didn’t it say it was hungry? Turning his mouth into his shoulder he tried to stifle the coughing as he gagged in protest.

  The creature shifted its position to stand in the light, steadily watching Wendell. Heavy shadows across the angles of its face blackened out the eyes completely and gave the creature a look of the undead. It drew a short drag from the cigar and the red embers glowed to reveal a penetrating stare then the eyes fell once more into shadow.

  He can see me! Even through the darkness, he can see me.

  With a villainous grin, it let the cigar fall from its mouth to the floor and pushing off the pillar it vanished into the darkness.

  Wendell looked around with terror widened eyes, holding his breath. I don’t wanna die!

  Then he saw it. A door! Less than fifty feet away, beyond the pillars and torches stood a large arched doorway. The pillars were wide enough to hide behind and probably only ten feet apart. Just run for the door, Wendell. One pillar at a time. You can do this, man. Leaning back onto his knees and then to his feet. Remember all the bullies you out ran when you streaked across the football field in your underwear? You can run like the wind!

  Darting glances from side to side, Wendell listened for breathing, sniffing the air before he ran.

  Five. Four. Three more to go. I’m getting out of here!! Wendell took a quick breath, keeping his head low, and pivoted on the ball of his foot…

  “Boo!”

  “YEEEARGH!!” Wendell screamed. As a completely thoughtless and frightened reflex, his arm snapped out and slapped the creature across the face.

  They stood there in shock, each starring wide-eyed at the other. All the worst horror movies Wendell had ever seen flashed through his mind in one continuous panorama of mindless terror, dismemberment and gore. It spawned terrifying images of the green creature hunched in a corner, burping loudly as it tossed a cleaned leg bone over its shoulder. Sweat beading on his brow, Wendell forced out a weak smile of apology.

  The creature opened and closed its mouth, while slowly shifting its jaw. “Why you little…” Growling, it kicked Wendell’s legs out from under him. An over-sized hand caught Wendell’s head by his hair, yanking him violently away from the pillar and pulling him towards the door Wendell had targeted for escape.

  “Ow! Ow! OW!” Wendell yelled, his voice vibrating through the hall.

  Kicking and flailing, he screamed. “I…HOPE YOU GET HEARTBURN!” Ungh! Why can’t I think of good insults when it really counts?! Arching his back, Wendell twisted and turned, struggling with every bit of strength he had. He couldn’t break free. Nooooo! I’m not ready to die! Reaching out in desperation, he tried latching onto the shallow gaps between the stones of the floor while hooking both feet around a nearby pillar, but he had no leverage. As usual, Wendell was out-matched. The creature didn’t even look back as Wendell was so effortlessly pulled free.

  His fingernails were bleeding from scraping frantically for something, anything, to stop the momentum towards death. But there was NOTHING. Nothing he could do as he was dragged across the cold, hard stone.

  I should have tried harder to be popular. Popular kids don’t get snatched up like the geeky kids. We’re the experiments of the universe…and you know why?

  “Why?” he asked himself out loud.

  Because even aliens are prejudice! If you’re not popular, good looking or rich, you’re screwed.

  Is it true? Doesn’t anyone care about the geeks of the world? The ones who win blue ribbons at belching contests or love the role playing conventions? I must be worth something!? His mind flooded with fishing trips, nights working on dad’s old indian motorcycle
, and learning the piano together to impress mom. Dad thought I was someone special.

  Why couldn’t you be here, Dad? And Mom… Tortured by the thought of his mom pacing the house, alone and not knowing what happened to him, “I’m sorry, mom,” he whispered. She’ll be devastated! If only dad were still alive!

  We stopped! “Please! Don’t eat me!” Wendell’s head throbbed as he twisted to see. The creature, unmoved, pulled a new cigar out of his boxer shorts with its free hand, sniffed and grunted while examining the tobacco and then magically produced a match, which it lit off the stubble of its rough, pitted cheek. Once satisfied, it reached back, grabbed the seat of Wendell’s pants and launched him through the partially open door.

  Boney knees, chest, and chin all bounced off another stone floor, his ears absorbing the impact of his teeth snapping together. His body limp with weariness, slid to a stop at a wall, face down. Ow. The loneliness crept up on him as he realized no one was here to save him. Not his dad. Not even Evan. Wish you were here. You always knew what to do.

  This room was lighter, but it stung Wendell’s eyes and head to make the adjustment. I’ll look in a minute. His ears were ringing, the throbbing in his head had morphed into a splitting headache that surged through his skull into his left eye. A puddle of blood was growing under his face and he raised his hand to find its source. Reaching out to the curtains, he wiped his bloody nose.

  “Oh, my goodness—are you alright!?”

  He tried once more to lift himself up. Dad? Is it my time? Have you come to get me? Clenching his eyes, he buried his face in the cloth of the drapes.

  “My boy, are you alright?”

  What a stupid question. I’ve just been kidnapped, hunted, thrown and now, I’m about to be eaten. What do you think?

  Wendell timidly opened one eye, to look over his shoulder for the yellow teeth but they were nowhere to be seen. He breathed a sigh of relief. Sniffing, needles shot to the front of his brain. He flinched as the pressure behind his head and eyes released a fresh flow of blood. Reaching out to gather the once white drapes again, he closed his eyes and applied pressure to his nose. Sorry about the drapes, mom. I know you taught me better, but after the way that creature has treated me—maybe you could overlook this one. Slowly, he turned over, keeping a firm grip on his face and resting his head on the cold floor. It felt good and eased the throbbing discomfort somewhat.

  This is crazy. It just has to be a freaky dream, doesn’t it, dad? I mean, it’s too wild and frightening to be real. There’s no such thing as monsters! He sighed. This line of reasoning actually made him feel a little bit better.

  “Ahem.”

  Confused. Wait a minute. Dad?

  “Ahem!” repeated the voice.

  Wendell’s eyes popped open. Old blue eyes stared back.

  “EEEAAAAAHHHH!!!!”

  Wendell grabbed the folds of the drapes and hid his face. Wake up, Wendell, wake UP! This is just a crazy dream…JUST A DREAM!

  “Excuse me,” said the old man. “I would appreciate it if you would take your head out from under my robe.”

  Wendell paused, holding very still. What?

  Then, peeking through one eye—yup…hairy, blue legs.

  The old man, glancing down at the mess Wendell had made of his robes, just shook his head. He made a mental note to chastise Dax for handling the Hero so roughly. With a raised eyebrow, hands clasped behind his back to minimize the excited fidgeting, the old man watched Wendell flounder, embarrassed, to get to his feet.

  “My Lord,” said the old man, bowing deeply.

  Wendell raised his head to look around the room. The two of them were alone. At a loss, he stood upright, put an index finger to his chest and asked “Are you talking to me?”

  The old man’s smile grew wider. “Yes, my Lord. I am talking to you.”

  Still uncertain, Wendell looked around a second time. “Okaaay.”

  Shifting his weight backward a step, he stared at the old man warily. “Where’s the green thing with the pointy teeth?”

  “Dax? Oh, he has retired to his quarters.”

  So, the monster has a name. Keeping his distance, Wendell watched the open archway skeptically, before glancing back at the old man. “Is he coming back to eat me?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  Wendell held up his fingers, doing a show-and-tell of his worst scrapes, bumps and bruises, making sure to emphasize the blood caked to his upper lip, trailing across his left cheek.

  “Oh, my goodness,” exclaimed the old man. “You think Dax was…oh no, no. He would never do such a thing, I assure you! He may lack manners, but he’s no monster.”

  Says you. Still skeptical, Wendell circled the room slowly, deliberately putting as much space between them as possible. This room was much more formal in its ornately adorned desk and bookshelves. Though this room had windows granting natural light it also had oil lamps lit, hanging from chains attached to black metal hooks bolted to the walls. This must be an office or library. Wendell took a mental inventory of anything he could use to defend himself: a goblet, metal candlesticks, a small bag of rocks, a tall walking stick, the spoon in the bowl, and daggers mounted to the wall. There was also an enormous spiral staircase behind the desk. I wonder where that goes. Wendell made his way to the far side of the large golden desk set in the center of the room, grateful to have an obstacle between them, he was also closer to the stairs.

  Resigned to have to play this out a little longer, “I don’t know him and I certainly don’t know you. Heck, for all I know I’ve been taken out of the frying pan and thrown into the fire!” The blue man’s furrowed forehead and blank eyes showed a momentary confusion at the analogy.

  “I am the High Elder and you are in Sanctuary,” he said in a friendly tone.

  Wendell pointed boldly at the stranger. “You’re blue.”

  The old man chuckled, “Yes.”

  “Yeah, but you’re blue. Like, not flesh colored. Blue.”

  The High Elder scratched his head at the odd perception, looking thoughtful. “You’re pink.”

  Wendell shook his head, “But that’s normal.”

  “Compared to what?” asked the High Elder. “I am blue, as are my people. Dax is green, you are pink and from what I remember, people from Earth are also black, brown, red, and yellow, yes?”

  Wendell scratched his cheek, considering. “Ok, you have me there. Blue though, weird.”

  “The Universes are filled with variety.”

  This has to be a dream. Everything looked, felt and sounded so real, but it was so far out of whack Wendell didn’t know where to start. It’s too weird NOT to be a dream! Yet, even in his weirdest dreams he could find some connection to real life or had at least woken up when the situation became dangerous. Like this one time, when he was running naked through a forest, chased by commando monkeys brandishing paintball guns, he still woke up before he got shot. This was new. This one hurt! He looked down at the smeared, dried blood on his arms and hands. If it is a dream, why don’t I wake up?

  “Um, I’m no Lord,” said Wendell looking at the old man squarely. “He kidnapped the wrong guy.”

  The old man did a double take. “Kidnapped?”

  “Hello! The green guy grabbed me and took me from my home against my will!! That’s kidnapping in my world.” Wendell snorted, rubbing his sore cheek and wiping the remaining blood from his upper lip on his wrist. He raised an eyebrow at the High Elder, who shrugged slightly.

  “Um, right,” said the Elder thoughtfully. “There is no mistake. If you will come with me, my Lord, I will explain, but we really must be moving along.” Making an open handed sweeping motion toward the stairs, he took a couple of steps forward then paused for Wendell to follow.

  Stepping away from the High Elder and further from the stairs, Wendell asked, “Seriously, what’s with all the ‘Lord’ talk?”

  “Pardon?” queried the High Elder taking a few steps around to Wendell’s side of the desk.

&nb
sp; “Wendell. That’s my name. This ‘Lord’ thing is making me…uncomfortable,” he said as he sidestepped to keep the desk between them. I’m not going anywhere with you, blueberry, until I know what you’re up to! “Just call me Wendell.”

  His every move countered on the opposite side of the desk, the High Elder sighed and stopped. “Then let’s try this again, shall we…Wendell?” The strain with the deliberate use of his name was amusing to Wendell and he cracked a small grin. The High Elder smiled politely and nodded.

  “You have been brought here from Earth at my request. You have a special birthright and it is my privilege and sacred duty to make sure you are given what rightfully belongs to you, a treasure beyond imagination. The duty of my Order has been to watch over your treasure, with our lives if necessary, until it is returned. That is why you are here. So, if you would follow me.”

  Wendell shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

  The High Elder said nothing, with a sigh he placed his hands into the folds of his sleeves. Wendell watched with satisfaction the muscles in the High Elder’s jaw pulse as he slowly, silently, grit his teeth. It’s about time somebody besides me got upset about what’s going on here.

  “I told you already. I’m not your Lord. You’ve got the wrong guy.” Exasperated, Please, let me wake up. I’m gonna miss the pool party and the girls! “This is crazy! Birthright? Privilege? Sacred duty? Treasure?” Am I just losing my mind? “Whatever!! WHY am I standing here talking to a blue dude!?! Seriously, just let me walk out of here and go home.”

  Wendell watched closely as the High Elder cleared his throat and looked away.

  Withdrawing from the desk, the High Elder walked to a bookcase. He ran his slender blue fingers tenderly across the curious workmanship of many leather spines. “It’s a bit complicated.”

  Wendell scoffed. He doubted things could be any more complicated. “Confuse me then.”

  The High Elder composed himself. “Very well,” he said softly, giving a polite nod. “You are not originally from Earth. You were hidden there as an infant. Your mother, father, your very life there was all a carefully laid deception to protect you from the enemies of your family. Actually, the enemy of this world.”

  Wendell burst into hysterical laughter. It was the wildest thing he had ever heard.

  The High Elder raised one eyebrow and waited while Wendell snorted, gasped, and pounded his fist repeatedly on the desk.

  “Seriously? That’s funny.”

  The High Elder stood motionless.

  “Really.”

  The High Elder remained silent without expression.

  “Okay. So, now I’m the alien…that’s not the alien? Hah! So, how come I’m not blue?” His laughter subsided and the two stood with locked gazes. Wendell’s eyes narrowed to slits as the implication sank in.

  “You lie,” he said coldly. “My parents would have told me. They never lied to me. Ever.” He thought of his loving parents, the dearest people in his life. Mom? Dad? Impossible!!

  The High Elder’s expression softened as he shook his head. “On the part of your Earthly guardians you are correct. There was never deception involved. They loved and adored you and believed you to be their own flesh and blood. They excelled beyond our expectations. You were indeed, a cherished child.” He paused to let Wendell take it all in. “Your real parents however, are of a royal line from this Universe. You were switched at birth.” He paused as Wendell started shaking his head. “I am sorry for your pain, but it is true.”

  “Real parents?” Tears welled up in Wendell’s eyes. “‘Real’ parents are those who love you, care for you, teach you and protect you…not cast you off and leave you in the hands of strangers! I know who my parents are.”

  “Quite right,” whispered the High Elder. “However, you should know that it was the only way to keep you safe. You were not cast off. Both your natural parents perished protecting you, Wendell. Your bloodline, your genealogy, is royal. They have been honored and revered for a thousand generations. You are the last of that precious line. In our world, that makes you the most valuable man alive. In fact, you are the key to saving life.”

  “Life? …Who’s life?” he couldn’t resist asking, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

  Now I know this has to be a dream! It’s complete crap. I’m just a kid!! He stared up at the High Elder.

  “All life, my Lord,” said the High Elder, his tone reverent. “Please—there is so little time.”

  “Wendell. For crying out loud, call me Wendell!” He felt light headed. None of this made any sense. No one ever paid attention to him before. Why now? “So, you send some creepy little monster to kidnap me? Take me from my home? For some treasure? To save life? What does that even mean? If this was about the Alien Publishers Clearinghouse Sweepstakes, why didn’t he just bring the treasure to me?”

  “It’s not that simple, my Lo…Wendell,” he corrected. “The treasure is so valuable that there are others who would have it for their own at any cost! It is the other key to saving life. That is why we stand watch over it diligently, with complete dedication, to hide it from sight and knowledge, here on this moon. That is our main purpose—to guard the treasure until the one of noble blood returns to reclaim what is rightfully his. Now please, Wendell, I beg of you,” he added urgently, taking a tentative step forward. “We must move quickly!”

  Heaving a deep helpless sigh, Wendell had to admit, despite the frustration, he was feeling a little curious. I guess it doesn’t hurt to see where this leads, since it’s a dream. Stepping around the table, he decided to go with the blueberry.

  Relieved, the High Elder smiled and once more put out his arm to lead Wendell to the winding staircase.

  Wendell, anxious to see where he was being taken, looked over the railing and down the center of the stairwell. Displeased to find darkness, he couldn’t see the bottom. The whole stairwell was as black as pitch and the High Elder walked confidently into it.

  Uncertain, Wendell held back observing, rethinking. It’s just a dream, he reminded himself. Oh, yeah. Well, okay. He was only a couple steps into the darkness when he was taken aback by the sudden flood of light surrounding him and the High Elder. Whew! That was almost scary. The lights encircling them were torches and thousands of crystals embedded into the stones to reflect the dancing flames. Each crystal sparkled and shimmered, calling to one another and cheerfully casting rainbow prisms along the stairs. Wow. I’m walking on a rainbow. He couldn’t help admiring. What is this place? The light followed them down the stairs, fading above them the deeper they went and never divulging the depth of the well.

  “We are descending into the belly of the Key,” said the High Elder, his voice and brisk footsteps echoing through the tower. “That is where your treasure is guarded.” Wendell followed close behind.

  Fascinated by the lights, he stared at the various stones. Unusual symbols began to appear, carved into random stones. He reached out to run a finger over the black etchings. It jumped away! The symbol had moved to the right, onto a connected stone. Wendell leaned closer and poked a finger at the symbol again. This time it jumped to the stone above, avoiding his touch! Now, this is wild!

  Wendell turned while pointing to the symbol wanting to ask a question and found himself left behind. He really is in a hurry.

  “Ward runes,” the Elder called back to him, “and yes, they move. They are powerful magic that instantly informs the steward of any tampering or ill intent within its vicinity. They work with the crystals, which change color when a threat is detected. The symbols within this chamber are similar to a revolving lock, they prevent even the most skilled Mägo from breaching its defenses. It was a gift from one of your ancestors when it was first built.”

  Sighing, hmmm, that again. After a few moments of silence, Wendell shook his head. Okay, I’ll bite. “Why me?”

  “You are the birthright child.”

  “Yeah, you said that already. But—how do you know it’s me? You say I’m from anot
her planet? Prove it. I’ve never been important to anyone but my own mom and dad…and maybe my best friend Evan. I’m nobody. I know that, my neighbors know that…HECK, most of the state knows that.” Wendell decided to be blunt about his own life. No point in trying to lie to his own subconscious.

  The High Elder stopped abruptly and turned with his back to the inside railing. He did it so casually that Wendell almost reached out to grab him for fear of the old man falling down the center of the tower.

  “Wendell, please listen carefully, because we are nearly out of time…You are the most important person in this set of creations. I do understand this is a lot for you to believe on just my word, but you must trust me. My whole life has been in preparation for this very meeting.”

  “Ouch,” mumbled Wendell, “…and my mom says I waste time.”

  The High Elder turned, ignoring the sarcasm and continued down the stairs. “You are the last in a royal line of a very special, privileged family, unique in many ways. They are the heroes of our legends—so loved and revered, that cultures were built in honor of them. That blood, my friend, is what runs through your veins. You being here to accept this treasure means the difference between freedom and slavery for all life everywhere.”

  This could have had more impact on Wendell, had he actually been paying attention. As it was, he thought he saw the shadow of something moving in the symbols across the wall and quickly looked over to see what it was, losing track of the conversation.

  “Uh-hmmm,” responded Wendell absentmindedly as he paused to stare at the symbols. Nothing. But it happened again as he looked away. They slithered like snakes in his peripheral vision. These symbols were following them. It was eerie.

  The High Elder stopped again, waiting for Wendell’s reaction, looked back at him expectantly. “This will be the greatest adventure you will ever have, with rewards beyond your comprehension!” he said emphatically.

  “What? Oh, yeah. Me…hero…riiiight.” This was, after all, of no lasting consequence because it was just a dream. “I hope this isn’t one of those dreams I forget when I wake up. It’s awesome! And Evan’s going to have a riot when I tell him I was talking to a blue dude in a dress.”

  “You think this to be a dream!?” Finally, offended at Wendell’s casual attitude, the High Elder leaned in close enough to Wendell’s face for him to feel the warmth of his breath. “This is no dream!” he stammered insistently, failing to evoke Wendell’s compassion or sense of adventure.

  Wendell just smiled, holding up a hand. “Okay, okay. Look, it doesn’t really matter. Really. No love lost here. I was a nobody at home. No real hopes or potential, or so people told me day in and day out…and now a guy in a dress tells me I’m the end all, be all with a treasure just for showing up? Hey, sounds good to me, where do I sign?” Wendell mused, “Hey, maybe I’ll right a book about all this!”

  With his jaw set in determination the aged eyes squinted at Wendell trying to decide what to do. Then, with a flurry of cloth, throwing his arms out to the sides, he spun around and quickly continued his descent.

  “Robe,” he hollered over his shoulder.

  “What?”

  “It’s not a dress,” the High Elder said firmly, “it’s a robe.”

  Fair play. Wendell smiled.

  Again, he noticed the odd symbols shifting, almost slithering on the walls out of the corner of his eye. Confused at his quickening heart rate and shallow breathing, his spine tingled and the hair on the back of his neck rose, warning him to be alert as they reached the bottom of the tower. What am I doing?

  You know the feeling. The one you get when at first, nothing seems out of place and everyone is smiling…but you just know something bad is about to happen.

  CHAPTER 4

  OUCH

  Nothing is truly free. Every gift has a price, paid for by someone in coin, favors, expectations or goods.

  Things get a little sticky when Life shows up wanting to collect on something you thought was free.

  Always ask the price.