The Hero’s
Legacy
By Luke
Muench
With a certain hesitance that only comes from his own heartbeats echoing
in his ears, the Hero crept through the dark caverns, his footsteps sounding
like gunshots as he moved among the quietly dripping stalactites, the cave
crying to itself, out of sheer loneliness. No one had come this way, not for
centuries now.
That’s why he was
here. To revive this mess of a rock pile back to its former glory as the
central trading route of an endless flow of desperate people, all searching to make
a profit, often through the misfortune of each other. The walls recalled in its
ragged edges and winding paths when peals of laughter echoed across its once
smooth skin, children bouncing up and down its many tunnels as merchants stoically
and solemnly before the judging gazes of thousands looking for a bargain. It
had once watched, unburdened by emotions, as people made millions and lost it
all in a single evening, throwing their livelihoods to the wind as they danced
a dangerous waltz of wastefulness, buying up the inessential and tossing it
aside to the lowly when their fun was done.
Now its weary eyes
glanced down as this single adventurer made his way through his domain; and for
what? There was no hope left for this barren land. How could this one man how
to fix anything?
The Hero was
thinking that very same thought as trudged through his murky doubts, his boots
occasionally becoming stuck in the thick muck. Yet, again and again he raised
his foot again to press on.
Suddenly, there
sounded behind him a crunch, the noises of bone being torn away from its owner,
attempting to escape the emptiness that the thin layer of skin housed. Turning
slowly, sword raised in one hand, lantern in the other, he discovered a feral
creature, a hideous jackal-like being, hidden within the dark confines of
shadow, a dear friend to all fiends. Realizing it had been discovered, it
lightly cursed to itself, its voice sounding as violent as that of a newborn
baby being ripped from its mother’s grip, yet as distraught as the mother’s
cries of anguish. He, on the other hand, was frozen with terror, such a simple
noise sending shivers up his back, clutching his spine as a dying man does his
wife’s hand, wanting to never let go.
A beat passed as the opponents’ eyes held each other’s,
the silent handshake of foes on the battlefield.
Without warning, the creature lunged with a vicious
fury, spittle spraying anger into the air. Fear grasped the Hero’s throat, a
strangle hold that nearly brought the grown man to his knees. He had never been
forced to fight someone before. He knew the moment would have to come
eventually, but knowing this and facing this are completely different matters.
His eyes flickered shut as he slashed at the air blindly, praying that the
sword might catch on something, anything, until, finally, his blade ceased to
swing. Opening his eyes slowly, he found that the creature’s neck had grabbed
hold of his sword, two long, blood red fingers sliding out of the wound, wrapped
around the shining silver blade. He tried ripping it away from the fiend, yet his
attempts were as futile as a rat’s yearning to gnaw a hole into a metal wall.
That’s when she spoke.
“You,” she gasped through the metal lifeline in her
neck, struggling slightly to hiss even that syllable.
The Hero looked closer, past the beastly exterior of
this being, beyond the dripping blood tick-tocking her time left amongst the
living, and shuddered. “Yessssss,” she hissed at him, cackling as he had always
imagined the witches of old wives tales had, back when they were more than just
wives tales. “Look into my blood, dear husband,” his wife cooed softly, looking
into his tear filled eyes. Then, swiftly, she bulked herself up, towering over
the sniveling man. “AND SEE WHAT YOU’VE BECOME!!!” she cried venomously, her
eyes bulging, muscles ripping away from her bones, veins pulling at the skin
that long ago had been soft, pure, nearly heavenly, or so he had viewed it. But
no longer; not since the horrors of the world had arrived at his doorstep,
threatening to take her away.
And, finally, the sword fell from the caved in windpipe.
Blood gushed out, red at first, then a midnight black that put the skies of
hell to shame, coating him in misery and woe, stifling his cries under wave
upon wave of the tar like substance. Soon he felt himself drowning under the
darkness, a frightening but somehow soothing sensations, offering to cease his
suffering forever. But he knew his job, why he had to struggle onwards.
Bursting from the boiling, black lake of a life lost long ago, he pushed on.
When he felt a hand on his shoulder.
Spinning about, he came face to face with what could
only be described as his mummified wife, liquids and organs all having checked
out at the reception desk , nothing left but a sorry skin, tearing at his own
flesh, trying to consume it, wear it, and allow herself to live once again.
“You said that only in death may we part, honey,” a wispy, nearly inaudible
voice ran up his shirt, swerving around his ears, searching for the quickest
entry to her rebirth, its icy touch caressing his very core. “So let us live
on, together,” she beckoned, wrapping her skin around him, pulling him bodily to
the ground.
His screams’ intensity shook his very foundation, yet no
noise came. Again and again he called her name, called out to the world,
cursing how unfair and evil it was, destroying him with every step he took
towards a goal he couldn’t even call his own.
The Hero awoke to two sharp snaps; one of his neck as it lurched up in
fright and shock, the other of the figure that hovered alongside the Hero’s
bed, the transparent being’s fingers swiftly brushing across each other, a fire
that dripped red flames sparking between them. The Hero watched as the flame
spread across the arm of his companion, a bloody puddle forming beneath him, a tall,
gangly boy, appearing not much older than seventeen, his eyes a bright electric
blue. So much strength to them, such a fierce source of raw energy, the Hero
contemplated. Yet he found no humor in the irony of it all, that such a passion
could be found in the dead while the living drifted about like silent shadows
of themselves; he was still much too shaken by his sudden return from the world
of sleep. He observed as the fiery tendrils reached over the boy’s arms, past
his chest, groping for his eyeballs, and, just as the red energy reached its
goal, the flames disappeared, sucked into the void of the bright orbs.
The room grew deathly cold, and the Hero could now
clearly feel the cold sweat that he swam in, his clothing a pool to contain all
the fear so distant now, caught in the doorway to his dreams.
“Why must you do that, Tyler, you filthy bastard?” the
Hero whispered quietly, afraid to speak, his bravery stolen in his slumber,
slipped out from under his sheets.
“Why, surely you mustn’t be bothered by such rudimentary
magic tricks, old man?” Tyler mocked, doing a back flip, sending silvery
shadows across the walls, little minions hovering at his sides, waiting for a
command.
“You know exactly what I mean,” the Hero barked,
beginning to find courage in the anger that spout from his lips, pushing him
out of his bed, facing the boy with a scowl spread below his nose, a coat hanger
suspended on his ruffled mustache, in dire need of a trim. Wrinkles formed
around his grimace, a team executing a well-practiced routine. His eyes,
however, told a very different story; though his voice called out in rage, his
eyes could not contain such emotion anymore, too tired, sandbags holding them
open, a book pried open by an eager reader, allowing all emotion flow out of
them until nothing but fatigue and empty pages remained.
The boy giggled at his elder’s attempt to reprimand him.
“Oh, excuse me, oh legendary Hero of yore, I did not mean to offend such a
profoundly gallant and honored champion of evil.” He swooped through the Hero,
sending shivers up the man’s spine, the fury swiftly leaving him, as a mistress
does once she is satisfied, out searching for better prey, and leaving nothing
behind but an empty shell.
When the boy moved to face his opponent once again, all
humor had left his face, replaced with a look of disappointment. “You sicken
me, old man, truly,” he spat cruelly, a look of burning hatred about his face.
“How could you let yourself become this, a hermit of no accomplishment, a man
so consumed with his own despair that he cannot even bring himself to escape it
in his dreams?”
“Because of you!” he cried out, fury and a deep,
loathing finding him once again, yet not for the boy, but himself. But he wouldn’t
let this fledgling see it in his eyes, turning away to walk to his chest of
clothes, calling behind him, “You know full well you’re the cause of these
infernal nightmares!”
Surely the Hero could have scared this young ghost off
long ago. He was the Hero after all; he had not earned this title for nothing.
So why didn’t he rid himself of this pestilence once and for all? Tyler’s words
echoed in his ears as the Hero felt the truth slam into his chest again and
again, trying to escape his body, a genie trapped in a lamp for a century too
long. But the Hero had held onto these feelings of remorse for too long now, he
couldn’t bring himself to let it go. It’s all he lived for anymore; he had
nothing left. The boy was his life-line. Ironic,
no? the Hero thought to himself, bitter, as he always was.
He slipped on a pair of pants, an old, rugged corduroy
rag. As he put them on, his fingers rubbed across a long rip that ran down the
side of his right leg. Tyler, seeing this, cackled, nodding to himself. “Face
the truth, fool! Face it in your memories, think back, for the truth of the
matter remains in that which has occurred, not what is now, for now is a moment
ago, and soon enough it’s far behind you, a infinitesimal ant in the universe
of your life. Remember that ant from long ago, the one that left you that
memento. Certainly you remember it!”
“…….. Certainly,” the Hero hoarsely whispered as he
crashed to the floor, staring blankly at the ceiling as he lied there, years in
the past.
Rising to his feet, he looked into the feral of eyes of that wolverine of
a person, eyes bloodshot and claws long and ragged, perfect for tearing the
flesh off another. Long, shaggy hair fell from his head, chest, forearms, and
shins, as dark as his soul had become, and as long as each twisted nail,
roughly eight inches or so. Its sad excuse of a home reflected the owner, a
boulder crudely torn from a coal black mountain, as tall as a horse, and as
wide as a two handed great sword lain on its side. The beast stood out in the
expanse of graying soil, cracked and forlorn from lack of water. The ground
spread for what seemed like an eternity in all directions, as if the boulder
had once been the plug to an ancient lake, lost in the passing of time.
The Hero had at first been confused and confounded by
the monster’s choice of a residence, as a person could see the creature sitting
cross-legged, meditating patiently, on the rock formation from miles off. But,
as he moved closer, he saw that this very simple fact was why the creature
chose the black island in the sea of brown. This was more effective than any
sign of deterrence could ever hope to be; a sign only held words of danger,
while his presence was a promise of terrors to be. Yet, upon closer inspection of his foe, the Hero
saw an even stronger truth, for within its eyes, a strong sense of arrogance
resided, radiating throughout his body like a disgusting plague of egotism. He had always been a cocky boy, hadn’t he?
His isolation had only worsened this, strengthening the illness beyond the
healing capabilities of even a seraph.
The Hero’s flesh crawled as he looking fearfully up at
his foe, still perched upon his rock despite the Hero’s close proximity, only a
few feet from plunging his worn, tired excuse of a sword into its knurled flesh.
Sensing the worn traveler’s presence through its thin, translucent eyelids, the
deformed monster’s cackling surrounding the Hero, like a boa constrictor wrapping
its harsh body around his neck. The lids slid open, as smooth as a drawer and
with the sliminess of an octopuses legs dragging across the seaweed-covered sea
floor, like freshly formed butterfly wings stretching out for the first time.
What rested underneath looked as if they were chipped from the very rock he sat
on, groping at the Hero’s body. He realized to his chagrin and rage that, to
this wretch, the figure standing before it was just another book to study; he
was staring intently into its familiar’s eyes, tearing the pages that held the
Hero’s thoughts out of his head before they were even written down. The memory
of a young lad devouring book after book in his old armchair flashed across the
Hero’s mind. He saw, sadly, that now all he ate was his own self-satisfaction
and the flesh won in battle.
A growl escaped the creature’s slobbering jaws as it calmly
sat on its haunches, a sickeningly smug smirk slashed across his face, another
scar on its crude, beaten body. “Surely, you don’t mean to do this…” He wasn’t
sure whether the familiar face was asking or stating, wishing he could see his
ally-turned-enemy’s true intensions.
“Shut up, little fool!” the Hero cried out, fire burning
in his eyes. He almost charged, losing himself amidst the anger and anguish,
the recipes to a sickeningly bitter defeat. But he caught himself. Attempting
to goad his foe forward, he motioned towards himself, a silent challenge crying
out louder than all their incessant yelling. With a cackle and a grin cracked
across his face, the beastly figure launched itself, pushing off the rough rock
onto its opponent’s soft chest, growling ferociously. Struggling, he tried to
pull away, only to feel a stab of pain as a single claw dug into his leg,
slipping through his skin as easily as a finger does through an envelope’s seal.
“You’re not getting away again, Master. Never again can I allow that.”
The apprentice ripped away from his perch, tearing his
true body from the back of the beast, much to the Hero’s shock and disgust. First
emerged the head, pulling out as a swimmer would out of the water, eyes
fluttering at the sudden exposure to the light of day. Muscular arms shoved the
rest of him out, grimy, bloodstained feet kicking off the creature’s rump. Where
he had been, a blotchy, pus-ridden silhouette remained, awaiting for its
resident’s return. The body perched atop the Hero shuddered stiff, suddenly
becoming cold jailer’s chains, keeping him pinned to the ground. Pain coursed
through his leg as blood pulsed from his wound, but he ignored it, all
attention focused on his apprentice, or what was left. What crept towards him
was not the young man he had left behind to hold his life together while he was
gone, but a pale sliver of bone. With a torso as wide as a lantern, the tall,
bald being strode towards him with the air of an emperor. The Hero hardly
noticed a broken bone was clutched in his opponent’s left hand, as it
practically blended in with his pasty skin. Some
things never change, I guess. That he had simply been left handed had been
one of the strongest attributes of the boy’s fighting style. Many a foe had fallen
to his blunted blade, most swordsmen unfamiliar in the defense of a sword
coming at them from what they considered to be the wrong side of their body.
As the nude figure finally reached him, the Apprentice
looked down on the Hero’s face with bulging, blue eyes, as arrogant as his
puppet’s. Once, kindness and a hint of shyness had mingled with the audacity. Now,
all that swam in the pools of ostentation was pomposity and pretentiousness,
simply more of the same. It was clear to the Hero that his Apprentice had discarded
all the humanity of his former self, now simply a murderer, heartless,
friendless, and hopeless.
Calmly, the Apprentice looked away from his previous
master and into the sky as if the blueprints to his clever plan could be found
there. Yellowed teeth curled into a wicked smile. “I knew. I knew all along.
Knew from that moment. The moment you KILLED YER OWN WIFE!” he screeched abruptly,
lashing out with his foot, a cobra striking its prey, slamming into the side of
the Hero’s face, pent up furor fueling the crazed kick. Blood pooled in the
Hero’s one cheek, forcing him to drink from the sour cup, the communion at his
own funeral.
The ragged man searched for the words, an explanation, a
means to justify his actions. Every word was a battle for him, as his emotions
clashed in worn armor, fighting one another, time and time again, neither side
having won any of their numerous encounters. “She… had turned. Turned away… away
from-”
“You?” He cackled at that, his laugh the sound of
ripping cloth, as if his fragile insides tore with every laugh. “Who could
blame her? You had been gone a year already, off on your absurd expedition for
world peace, you fool. I knew this was a farce all along. From the very start,
I did.”
“Do you think repeating yourself will make what you say
any more believable?” the Hero queried contemptuously, fed up with the nonsense
spouting from the boy’s lips.
“Do you think that insulting me will make your situation
any better?” the Apprentice retorted smugly. His eyes grazed upon his opponent’s
body, drinking in the beautiful sight of smooth, pink flesh. Sure, it had a few
cuts or gashes here or there, but he wasn’t about to become picky about his
food. He let out a sigh of content and excitement. “I have not eaten any meat
in ages. You should have come sooner;
it has been tough feasting on maggots for so long, waiting for you.”
The Hero had to turn his head quickly, as vomit spewed
from his chapped lips, most of it running across the ground and back onto his
own face, adding insult to injury. Rather than dejected, the Apprentice was
merely annoyed by the outburst. “Great, now I’m gonna have to clean up all
this. Can’t have Byrun steppin’ in it; it’ll make our rock all gross and rank.”
The creature that straddled the Hero snorted at the sound of its name.
“What, you’ve bestowed your own name upon this foul
thing?” This confused the Hero; why someone as prideful as Byrun would name
such a catastrophe of a living thing with his own alias was beyond the man’s
comprehension.
“You think I would honor that with my own name?!?” the Apprentice spat, the very suggestion
a poison to his lips. “No, no, that was never my true name. I knew that all
along, although I humored everyone with their little pet-name for me. You see,
I have no name. I know that may be hard for someone as foolish and inane as you
to understand, so I guess I need to explain.”
Now I know how it
must have felt for all the other children who grew up with him, the Hero
thought. Once Byrun would begin one of these conceited ramblings of his, you
knew you’d be listening to the drivel for a time to come.
“Now, surely you must comprehend that some of us in this
world are born with greater talents than others, no? Well, upon the discovery
of such a being, society has a sort of panic attack, as they realize that sheer
magnificence has been born amongst all the common folk, magnificence that could
one day rise to rule over the inept peasants. And, though it is clearly
gracious of Our Lord to present us with these immaculate beings to lead the
sheep to his bountiful harvests in the afterlife, these twits, clouded by their
sins and hate, see these gifts as the real demons, come to steal away their
lives of prosperity and luxury. So, they think, we should just kill the
beastlings before they grow up and take over, right? But, even they aren’t
dimwitted enough to realize that such an act would be a sin most unforgiveable,
a sin that they could not feign as being an accident that they were ever so
sorry for, for, in the eyes of God, all truths are revealed. So, they instead
tried to disguise these awesome powers, both from the public and the owner,
behind crudely made aliases, names to mask greatness so immaculately wondrous
that it need not- nay, could not have a name, for no name would do such a being
justice.
“And, you would never have known it, but I am one of
these beings, in the flesh! I mean, that is not all that surprising; I
always knew there was something different about me that made me stand out of
the mindless fodder I was forced to suffer through all those years. All their
petty complaints about their hair and their clothes and their convoluted
struggles over the love of one another. All they did was confirm my own superiority,
for whom would need the companionship of another to love them is someone who
has never felt God’s love, not truly, pushing it aside for more physical
pleasures.
“You were one of them all along. I knew it from
the moment I met you.”
“Just because I lived happily with a wife who cared for
me doesn’t make me any the lesser to you,” the Hero cut off the rant, tired of
the mindless ravings of this shell of the boy he once knew; kind, considerate,
always looking out for those down on their luck. Sure, he had always been a
little pompous… well, more than a little, but all the same, he had never spoken
like this. He had never-
A swift blow to his face brought his thoughts back to
reality. “You don’t associate her with the ilk you call brethren!” A look of
contorted rage was spread across his face as he looked down on the Hero, his
eyes blue caterpillars poking out of his face. After a moment or two, the
muscles in his face slowly relaxed, his air of cool control having returned to
him. “You are actually right for once. It is not because of your marriage that
you are a complete waste of life. Well, not a complete waste, I guess- I assume
you assisted me in realizing the power I had in me all along. And for that, I
will be a gracious Messiah, and make your death swift and painless. But first
you must understand why you are required to die.
“You see…” he laughed at this. “Well you do not see, not
yet. But let me explain. It’s rather simple, so hopefully you have the brain
capacity to-“
“ENOUGH!!! Just stop, I caaaaaaaaaaaaaan’t-” A sudden
burst of adrenaline shooting through him, the Hero thrust his adversary off
him, high into the air. The monster showed no reaction, simple readied its body
to land upon his captive once again. Yet, as it landed, it found a sword also
awaited him, the blade kissing its heart deftly, angry blood spouting in all
directions. Again, its body was thrown into the empty sky, only this time the
corpse was flung headlong into its master, sending the boy sprawling. As gore pulsed from its open wound, the
Apprentice’s face flashed through numerous emotions, unsure of which to call on
now, as this had never been in his script. He fumbled for his lines, yet none
sprang to mind, so silently he lied there, waiting for a reminder, some sort of
cue to push the production forward.
The Hero pushed the body from the Apprentice, freeing
his now disheveled enemy. He couldn’t allow their relationship to end like
that; a connection like theirs should never be tossed aside, even if it was an
unsalvageable mess. No, it should be respected to the very end, and that’s what
the Hero intended to do.
The Hero’s shadow flung itself across the Apprentice, a
net holding the boy in place, as the sword positioned itself for the killing
blow. A look of sadness crossed the boy’s eyes. “So this is what it comes to,
hmmm? You killed her, and now you are going to kill me, is that it?” A few
tears dragged themselves across his craggy, rough face. “How could you kill
her? HOW COULD YOU???!?!?!?”
“I did what was best for her, you idiot!” The Hero
couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You have no idea what she was like, what
had become of her!!! I did this for her… I did everything for her! I protected
her from those circling vultures who called themselves nobles and wanted to
defile her, day after day in that village of morons! I volunteered for this
ridiculous journey because I could bring a brighter tomorrow for her. And as I’m
sent off on this obscure and hopeless journey through hell and back, she goes
to them with open arms and open legs, accepting their seeds and coin like a common
prostitute, just another whore in this damned world. And if I recall,” his sword
shuddered from his exertion of self-control, “I left YOU behind to watch after
her, to ensure something like that wouldn’t happen!”
“You think I didn’t try to save her? You think I didn’t
fight her tooth and nail, trying to show her that it wasn’t worth it to go to
them, that there was someone right… right THERE to take care of her, lo… LOVE
her???”
And with that, the truth smashed into the Hero, a
spiraling bullet ripping through his head, a knife of horrific truth cutting
through the gelatinous batch of lies. “How could you??? You drove her from her
own home, from safety!!!!!” His sword sliced at the Apprentice’s bare torso,
only to be parried by the bone he clutched 0fiercely. Leaping to his feet, the
Apprentice initiated their dance of death. Both were well practiced in the
choreography, but with such distractions whirling about their heads, neither
could be sure of a victor.
“I did no such thing, you filthy swine!” The Apprentice
lashed out with his bones as deftly as he did with his words, landing a hit on
the Hero’s arm, rewarded with a grunt of pain. “I could never send away such a
beautiful creature, for no one could have ever claimed to be her superior.”
“Oh, you didn’t send her away willingly, that much is
clear,” A look of pity and disgust crossed the Hero’s face as he slashed back
in answer, only hitting empty air. “No, you wooed her, tried to make her love
you as she had loved me, you sad child. How far did you go, huh?” Anger
gathered in his breast as he advanced. “Did you simply attempt a poor excuse
for a kiss, or did you try and force your way into her bed????”
The Apprentice cried out in pain, as his pride and left
hand were lost in one quick stroke, sent sailing through the blue sky, and lost
in the expansive brown sea. And, like that, the sniveling boy of yesteryear
returned, the pathetic child who would come sobbing to his Hero after his
father had beaten him, leaving him a bloody mess. But now the wounds ran too
deep to heal, and there was not to do but put the boy out of his misery.
“Yu-yu-yu-you don’t understaaaaaaaaaaaaaand!” the
Apprentice wailed through his pain. “I loved her, with all my he-he-heart, all
my being, but she just couldn’t exce-e-e-ept me. Me!!! At first I tried to show
her the errors of her disinterest, pushing my way closer and closer to her, my
kisses creeping their way to her lips. But that only pushed her further and
further away from me!!! I had to find a way to show her my passion towards her.
But… after that night… that NIGHT,” fresh sobs sprang from his lips, words
tumbling out amidst them. “She wouldn’t look at me. I tried to talk to her; I
told her that it was right, it had to be, that we were made for one another, two
prefect beings among all the common filth in this desolate land. But… she
wouldn’t listen. So she ran. Ran off looking for you. She hoped that by going
to the empire, she might be able to help you from the inside, find you, save
you from this madness. And look at how you repaid her??? But all you can say is
how I failed, how I didn’t stop her from tromping off AFTER YOU. I tried
running after her, entering into the services of fools to save her from YOUR
falsehoods, the madness you cast upon her. Certainly you didn’t expect me to try
and stop her, to coop up such a lovely nightingale in that dinky thing you called
a home against her will?”
“But fucking her against her will, that was all fine and
dandy, hmmm???” His weeping, his pleas, they meant nothing to this broken man
anymore. With one swift motion, the Hero scooped up the bone from where the
Apprentice had dropped it and smashed it upwards into the boy’s chin. As his
body smashed to the ground, the bone beat him further and further into the
dirt, spreading a blood red canvas around the horrifying portrait.
As he did the dirty deed, the Hero was reminded of a
time in his youth, when a few neighborhood boys had owned a dog for many years,
teaching it tricks and playing games with it. That is, until they forgot to
feed it. Out of the poor beast’s hunger, it attacked someone. And just like
that, it was an feral animal that needed to be put down. The boys balked at the
task, but it was their job, their responsibility to do away with it. Tears
mingled with blood as the Hero cried with frustration and sadness, wondering if
he was the one who truly drove this kindly boy to be just another savage beast
that needed to be done away with. His mind left his body, trying to forget
where he was and what he was doing as again and again the bone came smashing
down, until nothing but a red lake and an empty, torn skin remained. The bone
dropped with a splash, a tombstone for the closest thing he ever had for a son.
For hours he walked, yet still the red blemish could be seen, bright on the
brown face the Hero tread upon. A stumble sent the weak and weary man crashing
to the ground, where he lied for three days and two nights, mourning what could
have been and what was. He mourned the loved ones he lost. He mourned how his
trek was now devoid of all meaning, that he was traveling to resolve that which
no longer mattered. He would have merely given up right there, ending both his
journey and life with one swift stroke. Yet, on the third night a sudden
thought brought him back to his feet. If he stopped here and now, the deaths of
his Wife, of his Apprentice… they would have been for nothing. So he forced
himself to rise.
The Hero rose from the icy cold floor, tears frozen to his face. His eyes
wandered to the window; outside, the sun was rising again. How long had he been
lying here? A day? Two? There was no way to know for sure-
“Five days,” the boy
said softly, twiddling his thumbs sadly as he hovered just above the floor. He
shook his head sadly, unsure of what more there was to say. Yet, as he looked
back, the old man was gone. He heard the slamming of a door at the far end of
the room as the Hero made his way outside. He hadn’t been outside in years.
Without hesitation,
the body flashed to his only companion’s side, searching his thoughts for what
was going on.
And what he saw
horrified him.
The dreams had begun
to become the man’s reality, taking over the world around him. How could the
boy have been so stupid??? Driving this empty shell so far to the brink of
destruction, what did he expect would happen?
The Hero walked out onto the balcony, on which the Villain stood. A body
as slim as his false smile, long and narrow fingers moved to slick back jet
black hair, emerald eyes staring straight ahead at his foe. “I see you’ve
finally made it all the way here.” His smirk could be heard in every word, a
sly snake coiling around his syllables.
The Hero didn’t
respond, simply shuddering with adrenaline and rage. His hands bleed from
gripping his sword so fiercely. Seeing this, the Villain tutted. “Now now,
there’s no need for that. In fact, you won’t be needing that flimsy thing at
all.” Without hesitation, he slipped a dagger out from his right sleeve and
stabbed himself in the chest, just inches from his own heart. A gasp escaped
his lips, but something more like pleasure than pain, an ecstatic cry of
inertia.
A cry of rage and
horror escaped the Hero’s lips as he charged his foe, sword outstretched for
the kill. The Villain, cackled at this, knocking the sorry piece of scrap metal
aside with his bare fist, the weapon tumbling over the edge of the cliff. His
other hand snatched the Hero’s throat, a deft strike snapping outwards, going
for the kill. Only the Hero’s legs moved as he was lifted into the air, his
feet swaying side to side in defeat, branches swaying in the breeze.
The boy tried to grasp onto the man’s throat out of desperation, wanting
to shake him awake. “Cummon, snap out of it! You can’t do this damn it! I don’t
want to die just yet!!!!” Yet, the man just kept standing on his tip-toes,
barely breathing, eyes bulging, his false sword, a stick he had scooped up off
the ground, still tumbling down the supposedly endless woodland ridge.
“You sorry excuse for a man,” the Villain whispered in the Hero’s ear, “You
really think I was simply going to let you kill me? No, no, only I will kill
myself.” A cough escaped his lips, accompanied by a spray of red that dribbled
down his chin. “I knew that one day there would come someone to try and tear
this world away from me, to make everything right again. And that I simply
wouldn’t allow. So, now I will die by my own hand; there will be no hero in
this tale, only a scapegoat to take the pointless pride for nothing. People may
speak of your deeds, yet they will all be false, for in the end you are nothing
but a simpleton come from the village of fools to strike down a god, one that
cannot be killed by any mortal man. And once the world hears of that, well,
then it will consume itself in its confusion. ‘How is this possible?’ they’ll
ask. ‘Is there no good in this world?’ they’ll plead. And, ever so slowly, the
land will cave in on itself, killing all caught beneath its sorry roof.
“And, with that
thought, I leave you.” A quick twist of the knife later, the Hero and Villain
crashed to the ground, two dead men, but only one of them could still move. The
Hero rose to his feet, shaking from head to toe.
A scream burst from
his lips, a horrendous explosion that tore at his very soul. The Villain had
ripped all meaning from his life, tearing his purpose asunder. There was
nothing left for him here.
Closing his eyes,
the Hero, slipped over the edge of the balcony, falling to the rocky valley
below.
For the second time, the boy felt himself fall for what felt like
forever, except this time there would be no getting back up, no rising from the
dead. This time he knew deep down would be the last. Tears streamed down his
face in defeat. He heard the Villain’s voice crack at his mind, a vicious pain
that had not left him for all those years.
Slowly, the Hero rose to a sitting position, looking around at the rocky
expanse that lay before him.
“What are you doing,
you sorry sack of bones?” An excited laugh rent the air. Looking up, the Hero
saw a ghostly presence swirl about his head. There was something familiar about
that face…
The boy hovered over the dead shell of the man he had become, the man he
had tormented for years on end. And now he had to bid it all goodbye. The Hero
looked up at himself. “I couldn’t do it,” he gasped sadly, tears streaming down
his cheeks. “I swore to myself I would kill him this time.”
The boy hushed him.
“No need to linger on that any longer.” The man slowly nodded at that, laying
his head on the ground. His eyes closed, violent shutters crashing down for the
last time. The boy sobbed on his own body for a while before disappearing in a
blink of despair.
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