The Hero of Hammersey Read online

  The Hero of Hammersey

  A book by K. R. Wilson

  The Hero of Hammersey

  By K. R. Wilson

  Copyright 2019 – K. R. Wilson

  Cover and character portraits by K. R. Wilson

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Reproduction in whole or part of this publication without express written consent is strictly prohibited.

  Note: The following work contains characters who identify as LGBT+.

  Special thanks to my family for their support, I know it’s not easy to listen to my ramblings, but it’s difficult when you’re your only fangirl.

  Extra special thanks as well to my characters. I put them through hell and they rarely complain.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Prologue

  THE LAIR TOWERED HIGH above him, the craft of something ancient, eldritch and far beyond his comprehension. The tall stone walls oozed a black viscous liquid. It crawled across the masonry like a horde of leeches. The spire reached for the heavens and was consumed by clouds. No human could have made this abomination and the air tasted bitter with questionable magic.

  Standing beneath it, everything else was insignificant. His past exploits were insignificant, his quest for Maria was insignificant, that man was insignificant, and his guilt was too. Whatever resided in the dripping tower was unlike anything he’d faced before.

  A dreadful chill rattled across his shoulders. It felt wrong to be so close to it and the fog threatened to consume him, just as it had consumed the port city from his view long ago. The doors stared down at him, waiting for his decision.

  Ethan March pulled his hood away, revealing his long silver hair. The cloak was too large for him and he’d felt awkward wearing it. It was too different to his trademark blue cloak, although he’d constantly told himself it didn’t really matter. Now it really didn’t matter.

  By some miracle, throwing the hood back and revealing his identity to the tower gave him enough courage to continue. He was Ethan March! He was the Hero of Hammersey!

  He braced himself as he threw his hands at the door. His palms pressed against the pulsing wood. It was hot, he realised, like the skin of some strange dormant monstrosity.

  The doors thundered as they recoiled from his touch, yawning open to reveal a bleak candle-lit hall lying just beyond.

  This was unlike the last time he’d reached the lair of a monster. Unlike last time, Ethan March was alone. He had no allies, he had no sword, and he had no lucky cape. All he had now was his title, his magic and his courage.

  He inhaled the morning air until his lungs ached for release. “No more hesitation,” he whispered to himself. Ethan’s first footstep inside the tower echoed like a tolling bell. As the hero entered the dripping keep, the heavy doors slammed shut behind him.

  The sound reverberated through his entire body. The candles went out.

  Chapter One

  The Stupidest Thing Lucas March Had Ever Done

  LUCAS MARCH HAD PICTURED the start of his own heroic journey with hopeful optimism and realistic scepticism. He’d imagined the adventurous sea breeze, how it would play with his silver hair and how it would catch on his borrowed cloak. The blue fabric would billow behind him like a flag, signalling his heroic call to battle. His face would be framed by sunlight as he stared stalwart into the distance, never flinching, even as the harrowing land of his future exploits emerged over the horizon.

  However, as per usual, Lucas’ imagination could not have been further from the reality.

  He’d been aboard the ship for no more than two days, yet he’d already considered throwing himself overboard enough to justify self-pity. The scent of the ‘adventurous’ salty breeze made his stomach turn, and the rocking of the waves only worsened his nausea. Far from his planned heroic pose, Lucas March was instead delicately propped against the ship’s railing, half dangling over it. He wrapped the blue cloak around him to ensure no wind reached the material. He decided he’d rather avoid drawing attention to himself.

  In the distance he could just make out the new landmass, complete with clustered buildings and the sun hanging high above it. The place could only be Port Harmilder, the main harbour for the island of Eastound. Despite his planned stoic response, he met the sight with a sour groan.

  Eastound was the site of his first grand adventure as Lucas March and he could not have been less excited to see it. Frankly, he’d rather spend the rest of his life at sea than set foot there.

  What had once been a peaceful island was gripped in a frenzy of panic and turmoil, as it had been ever since-

  “We’ll be landing soon,” said a stocky man who unhurriedly approached him with a clipboard. He didn’t even look at Lucas as he put pencil to paper, ready to record what he needed. “We keep a tally of all visitors to Eastound, as well as their reason for visiting. So, sir or ma’am, are you travelling for friends, family, employment, permanent residency, business, the Void King and his three evil Generals, vacation, training or other?”

  “Ah,” Lucas was thrown-off by the man’s inability to even look at him, “for family and the Void King.”

  “Pick one.”

  “Void King.”

  “Right,” the man added his tally and flipped the page. “Name, age and occupation.”

  Lucas paused again and inhaled deeply with rehearsed bravado. His head swam with salty sea air. “My name is Ethan March,” he lied. “They call me the Hero of Hammersey. I’m twenty-four and I’m the greatest hero of all time!”

  This was the big moment. Now he would find out whether Ethan March – goodie-goodie-two-shoes Ethan March - had used his real name and title when he’d travelled to Eastound. Either way, Lucas was about to be in a world of trouble. How did he always end up in lose-lose situations?

  The tally-man dropped his pencil. Tiny eyes finally looked up to study every inch and detail of the lonesome traveller’s description. He eyed Lucas’ unkempt silver hair, paying close attention to the small shortly-shaven area beside his forehead. He studied his eyes of matching silver, and the tattooed line that trailed precipitously down his lower lip. Lastly was the cloak: an old sky-blue cloak, complete with patches, flimsy stitching and a large golden button.


  Lucas lacked Ethan’s long flowing ponytail, but everything else matched the Hero’s description to a T. Only someone who’d known Ethan personally would’ve noticed the missing inches in height and the lack of muscle on his pale arms. At the very least, they would’ve noticed Lucas’ boyish freckles, juxtaposed against the cold, calculating look of his eyes.

  The man rescued his pencil and scrawled down the details in a flustered panic. “O-Of course, Sir!” he said. “My apologies for not noticing sooner, Sir! I didn’t recognise your description with your shortened hair, Sir, which I must say suits you amazingly, Sir!”

  So, the honourable Ethan March had entered Eastound with a fake name and a disguise. Why had he kept his identity a secret from the officials? Well, whatever the reason, Lucas planned to make the most of it.

  “I just need some space,” Lucas said, more honestly than he’d intended. “I haven’t been on a ship in a long, long time …”

  “Right! My apologies, Sir!” The man bowed his head fanatically and scurried away, almost dropping his pencil for a second time.

  Lucas breathed a sigh of relief and returned to carefully glaring at the approaching island. His inner monologue resumed. Yes, everything had been peaceful in Eastound until the Void King arrived with his three evil Generals in tow. Since then, many heroes had journeyed to Eastound to conquer the reclusive villains, yet none had succeeded.

  One such hero who’d ventured forth was Ethan March: The Hero of Hammersey and Lucas’ identical twin.

  Three weeks had passed since then and Lucas had heard nothing. The Void King was still alive, his Generals were still at large, and Ethan was missing.

  When he’d failed to hear of his brother’s victory, Lucas, lacking any better plan at the time, had gone drinking alone. By then he’d been forced to suffer three weeks of worry and terror, and he’d finally condemned himself to drinking away all his problems. However, when he’d awoken, his money had been spent spent, and he was aboard that very ship bound for Eastound. Despite the amount of whisky he’d drunk that night, he’d boarded the boat in a sharp moment of sobriety.

  He had to find his brother. Ethan still needed to give his answer to that question he’d been dying to learn since they’d been ten, and Lucas needed to do something to keep what little remained of his sanity intact.

  The captain had sold him a cheap ticket, having mistaken him for his twin, but it had still cost him what little money he’d had.

  Now he was stuck, but the captain’s misstep had given him the idea to ‘borrow’ his brother’s title. The adventure would be easier if he didn’t have to explain his real identity.

  Lucas pulled out his pocketknife and flicked the blade in and out a few times to test it. The handle was slightly dented, but the blade was sharp and flicked out smoothly every time. Carved into its base was a single letter: a small T. He tried not to focus on that aspect, however, lest he find himself compelled to throw his only weapon into the ocean. He needed it now more than ever. Without warning, his worst fear was realised.

  “So, you’re the Hero of Hammersey?” asked an unknown speaker.

  Lucas shoved the pocketknife away and glanced behind in time to see a woman approach. She had bobbed brown hair and baggy clothes for the voyage. Her face was probably pretty, although her unnerving red eyes drew his attention. Against her shoulder leaned a fine wooden staff. Oh damn, was she a magician? No, what were they called? A mage: someone who could use magic.

  A cold chill ran through his spine as she approached, but he tried to play it cool. “I am. Just call me Hero,” he stated simply, “or March works too I suppose.”

  She stood beside him and gazed at the approaching port. Unlike Lucas, she was able to pull off his planned heroic pose without even trying. “Being the hero of one place not good enough for you, Ethan March?”

  He tried to place her accent. He’d been interested in languages and other continents for the longest time, but Hammersey had always enforced very strict policies on foreigners until only recently, especially on mages. She wasn’t from Hammersey, the place Lucas had lived most of his life. She wasn’t from Subclar, the largest continent in their realm, for she lacked their trademark antlers. The woman wasn’t Teslaca born either, for she lacked the tattoo on her lower lip. Her accent didn’t match any he knew.

  She turned to look at him. He was taking too long to answer. Dammit, what had she even said? His stomach squeezed. Lucas subtly inched away from her. “What do you mean?”

  “I’m Euphemia Fangsong of Cypath!” She boldly offered her hand and a wide grin, “I’m the future Hero of Eastound.” The wind whipped through her hair. The sun dazzled off her crimson eyes. Lucas felt sick.

  Yes, Cypath made sense. He’d heard very little about the smaller continent. It was a place for mages and magic and little else, so Hammersey had ignored it.

  He not-so-subtly stepped away, openly ignoring her offered handshake. “Right, Ms. Fangsong, well you already know who I am. If you want to take the Void King down, then I don’t plan on stopping you.”

  “As if you’d just let me do it! I mean, I’d ask you to imagine the sort of fame and fortune that would befall the hero, but you already know all about that, Hero of Hammersey.” She moved closer. “Unless … You’re not really a hero, are you?”

  Lucas went rigid. How had she known? Was he that obvious? Lucas thought over everything he’d said and everything he’d done since she’d approached only minutes ago. Had he done something wrong? There was no way Ethan March had ever met this woman, unless … Oh damn, did she recognise who he really was?

  “Not really a hero?” he echoed, his mind already racing with options. He could push her overboard, but what if she was a water mage? What if others saw him do it? What if she survived the plunge and called for help? To push her over he’d have to touch her, but Lucas could barely stand being this close to her. He rubbed his hands over his two leather bracers as darker thoughts flooded his mind, only silenced when she finally laughed.

  “Yeah, you’re more of a sidekick type! Trust me, Hero of Hammersey, I can tell. Ah well, I guess you had to make do with what you had. I’m really proud of you for stepping up and becoming a hero like that!” She paused in thought and Lucas had a chance to calm himself before she continued. “Although, taking down the Void King and his Generals might be difficult to do alone, even for someone as amazing as me. Fine then, Hero, you can be my sidekick!”

  He stared at her in disbelief, just as his stomach performed another backflip. Lucas retched. He turned back to the sea and braced his face over the edge of the railing. His mind went blank.

  “I’ll take your silence as confirmation,” Euphemia declared and stopped leaning against the ship. “I’m gonna get ready for landing. Wait for me, ‘kay?”

  Before he could answer, Euphemia Fangsong had already wandered off. Lucas rubbed his face as the queasiness subsided and his inner monologue resumed.

  This was the stupidest thing he had ever done!

  Lucas had already devised his rescue plan. It was far simpler than his usual strategies but would definitely be effective. If he pretended to be Ethan he could gather a group of fans, followers and grunts, people more than willing to become cannon fodder if the need arose. Accumulate enough meat shields and he was bound to be victorious!

  Lucas glanced behind to where Euphemia had disappeared to as his stomach finally settled. Euphemia Fangsong would be his first volunteer.

  Chapter Two

  Ship into Port

  THE SHIP WAS BUSTLING with excitement. With every breath, Port Harmilder drew closer and closer and the crew scrambled into position. It was a mad rush, completely foreign to the amateur ship-goer, and he wanted no part in it. All Lucas could do was watch from the sidelines as he sensibly avoided anywhere the crew intended to be.

  There was something dangerously thrilling about the sight of Port Harmilder from the safety of the ship. There were so many people crowded along the docks and the haven was congested with g
iant boats, all meticulously squeezed along the port. Lucas could spy the mass of faces on one such ship as it hurriedly fled the heaving port. The deck was swarming with people, like starving ants on a forgotten sugar cube. In comparison, Lucas’ ship was void of life.

  That was when he noticed it: they were the only ship coming into port. Every other vessel he spied was either docked or hurrying them by, venturing the way their ship had come. Venturing for safety. He clutched the barrier and swayed where he stood.

  “It’s pretty busy, huh?” said a barely-welcomed guest.

  Lucas jumped at the voice and spun on his heel. Euphemia Fangsong was barely a metre behind him, although he hadn’t heard her approach. The sea sounded heavy in his ears and his head was reeling. He prayed he kept up an outward appearance of calm. “How long have you been there?” he asked. Lucas couldn’t keep the edge of panic from his voice.

  Euphemia didn’t notice. “Long enough to know … absolutely nothing, actually! You should really talk to yourself more.” She lazily leaned against the balustrade, too close. “So, are we heading straight for the Guild?”

  He edged away. “Oh, yeah, wherever it is.”

  “The Captain knows,” she said. “Most of the crew are heading there anyway, then straight to the Void King’s tower to take him on.”

  Some crew ran by, cutting through his thoughts with their simple act of existence. He tried to focus on the information. “What about the three Generals?”

  “Why bother?” she snorted. “They’re just small fry compared to the King, and if you take him down they’ll be defeated anyway. Whatever the case, the Guild should still be our first stop.”

  “That would be a good place to recruit volunteers,” he said thoughtfully, mostly to himself.