The Hero of Hammersey Read online

  His mind took that moment to acutely focus on Euphemia’s attire. She wore a green skin-tight leotard and high netted stockings that reached halfway up her thighs. She seemed to have a strange obsession with yellow flowers, because they were everywhere – in her bobbed brown hair, across her leotard, and across the short cape she wore over her shoulders. In her hand was the fine wooden staff with a curl at its base and a crescent at its top. Hanging between two bright red rubies was a large sunflower, swinging on a simple cord.

  “Aren’t you cold?” Lucas asked carefully.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Honestly? With that sorta outfit, you look like you’re about to start dancing around that staff for coins.” He hadn’t intended it to come out so frank, yet as he thought back on it he couldn’t imagine any kinder way of wording it. So much for tact …

  She beamed excitedly, “I know! Isn’t it amazing? I get to wear whatever I want, and no one can tell me otherwise! In Cypath this outfit is even considered traditional!”

  “Is it traditional to not wear shoes?”

  She looked down and her face flashed red. “My shoes! Stay here, sidekick!” Euphemia hurried back below deck to complete her ensemble.

  Lucas relaxed at her temporary departure and watched as the ship was hastily dragged into port. The anchor was dropped and as soon as it was fastened into place, gangboards were already across so people could leave. The crew were already gathered to depart, many now clad in shiny armour, with every weapon under the sun at their disposal. Half had probably never even worn armour before, let alone swung a sword.

  The old captain reached the head of the group and led them off without delay. Instead of joining them, Lucas patiently waited for Euphemia, knowing better than to dismiss his only recruit thus far. However, the feeling that something was amiss permeated his thoughts. As he stood on the edge of the ship, motionless, he recognised the familiar sensation.

  He was being watched.

  Lucas instantly scanned the sea of faces below, panicked, but they were all too tired and reserved to stand out. The sensation disappeared. He narrowed his eyes and kept up the search but found no breakthrough. Paranoia? Probably not.

  By the time Euphemia reappeared, workers were already boarding to restock the ship for its next grand voyage. The mage hopped across the deck, still lacing up her second boot. “People are so rude,” Euphemia hissed, “they hid my shoes beneath a pile of ropes!”

  “Forget about it,” he said, his gaze still sweeping the crowds. “They’re long gone by now. Come on, ask for directions to the Guild.”

  “Directions?” Her face contorted in horror. “We’re heroes, Hero! We don’t ask for directions from anyone, except quest givers and guild workers! Oh, and little old ladies.”

  He stared at her, bemused. “Okay, Fangsong, let’s just wander around aimlessly until we find it.” Lucas knew he needed to guard his tongue more, that he wouldn’t be able to make such uncharismatic comments if he was to succeed, but the woman just dragged it from him.

  She didn’t catch onto his sarcasm. “Now you’re getting it!” She beamed. “Let’s go!”

  He reluctantly followed but kept some distance between them. Whatever time they wasted would just be reconnaissance.

  The port was swarming with bodies. They had to shove and squeeze through the throngs of citizens just to get anywhere, and he felt the disappointed touch of pickpockets multiple times. Fortunately, he had nothing left to steal. However, he nearly lost his lucky blue cloak in the squeeze. His stomach dropped as it was gradually pulled from his shoulders while he was squished between two large men. Lucas held fast to the mantle, his knuckles white with the effort, until the would-be-thief noticed the number of patches and stitches in the rag. They willingly gave up.

  Soon enough, the two were free of the crowd. Lucas shook from the effort and his eyes were still stuck on his shoes. No one had attempted to pickpocket Euphemia. It was surprisingly difficult to pickpocket someone when they didn’t have pockets to pick …

  Lucas turned his attention away from the crowds. The buildings were mostly made of battered wood, with the only stonework accommodating the first floors, the streets and the occasional guard stand. Lucas took quick notice and guessed the island had a higher supply of trees than quarries to take from. The houses were clustered together, side by side, each practically living on top of its neighbours.

  Hammersey had been a large country with a tendency to build outward, even in the sprawling heart of its capital, but Eastound was far smaller. Already they were building skyward for the future. However, despite the structural changes, the layout of the city was still reminiscent of the labyrinthine streets of home. It was hard to tell whether this made Lucas more or less overwhelmed.

  His sharp senses detected that annoying itch again. Were they being followed too?

  “So, where do you think the Guild is?” he asked while glancing around the cobblestone streets. It was useless. There were hundreds of places to hide, not to mention plenty of people going about their normal routines. It would be like finding a needle in a haystack.

  “Maybe the Guild’s in the centre of town,” she said, failing to notice Lucas’ suspicious shift. “Although, it would also make sense to put it on the edge of town.”

  “You clearly have a lot of experience with this adventure stuff.”

  “I know! I went all the way to Hammersey to take down Blood-ica, Hero, only to find out you’d already taken her down! If they’d just lowered that dumb magic barrier one month sooner, I’d be in your successful shoes right now! I decided to come to Eastound to try my luck, but here you are again!” She sighed and pursed her lips. “Still, I’m willing to accept your help as my diligent sidekick.”

  “As you’ve said, Fangsong.” The itch disappeared. “Let’s keep moving.”

  And keep moving they did as they made their way through the crowded city, trying to hunt down the guild with nothing but their dumb luck to help them.

  Chapter Three

  The Plan Goes Awry

  LUCAS WAS LIVID. APPARENTLY, they didn’t have a single ounce of luck between them. Both Lucas and Euphemia were sweaty and irritable after over an hour of scouring through the crowded streets. Inevitably, he ignored Euphemia’s advice.

  Lucas March asked a guard for directions and was told exactly where the Guild was, near the northern part of the town. It would have been a satisfying I-Told-You-So, had they not been searching in the exact wrong direction for the past hour. Euphemia simply claimed her sense of direction was still adjusting and that they would have searched there eventually. Lucas had to pinch himself to stop a slew of uncharismatic comments from spewing forth.

  They reached the different district after much irksome backtracking and recalibrating, adding another hour onto their already tedious search. Only then, after turning a corner into a main open street, did they see the horrific tower in the distance.

  The thing was a crude mass of abysmal stone. It reached towards the heavens like a mountainous pillar and was consumed by the darkest of clouds at its pinnacle. Unexplainable ooze leaked between the masonry, sending an acidic yet saccharine scent towards the sea when the breeze blew from behind it. They were in the middle of the busy street, with people bustling to-and-fro around them, but the simple sight of the tower made the world vanish. A shaky breath emerged from his lips.

  He wished he’d stayed on that stupid ship.

  Lucas stared, unable to tear his attention from the monstrosity. Was Ethan in there? Was he locked up inside its impenetrable dungeon, never again to see the light of day, or was he already …?

  “That’s the Void King’s tower,” said Euphemia in a sombre tone, unaware of how utterly unnecessary the clarification was. “It isn’t the only one though! There are three others apparently, all scattered across the country. The King and his Generals arrived out of nowhere and erected them with powerful dark magic. New adventurers set out to face the King every day, but all have been found dead.”

  His stomach twisted, “Is that true?”

  “Na,” she rolled her shoulders playfully. Despite her sudden jovial shift, Lucas was uncomforted. “There’s a huge barrier around the place. No one’s been able to even get in. The barrier just knocks people away and the more times you try, the further it throws you back.”

  So, Ethan was the only one missing … He must have found a way inside that no one else had thought of.

  “When did they arrive?” Lucas asked.

  “Maybe three months? No one knows if they were in Eastound before the castles were erected. We don’t even know where they came from.”

  Lucas stood there, unable to move. Even though the castle was miles away it felt like he was already at its base, watching the stone climb ever higher and higher above him.

  He was doomed. His brother was doomed. Eastound was doomed. The world was doomed.

  He was finally snapped from his stupor by the sound of swinging doors as Euphemia Fangsong waltzed inside the Guild without him. Lucas could hear the people within, the booming voices of the potential goons and grunts he would use to defeat the Void King. Right, he would come up with an amazing strategy and they would carry it out while he waited safely in comfort.

  Lucas March rushed inside and inhaled deeply to compose himself. The room, as predicted, was filled with goons and grunts of all shapes and sizes. The place was packed as adventurers gathered to eat, many already going over their own (inferior) plans. The group in here looked far more fearsome than those on the boat and didn’t look at all strange in their worn padded armour. They were muscle upon muscle, all brawn with clearly no brains, just the way he liked his minions. His plan to get them onside was simple: lie. He’d tell them he was the Hero of Hammersey and hope Ethan
hadn’t been through here on his way to the tower. At the very least, he could just make up something else if he needed to.

  He’d planned his stirring speech long ago, but when Lucas opened his mouth to speak, he was stymied by the garish Euphemia in front of him.

  “Hey!” she shouted at the top of her lungs, drawing the attention of everyone in the bar. Lucas was paralysed with fear. “You all might as well go home and kiss your mamas, chumps, cause I, Euphemia Fangsong, am here to take down the dumb Void King almost by myself! At my side I have Ethan March! That’s right, the Hero of Hammersey, here in the flesh!” At the mention of the title, the Guild broke into a hectic murmur.

  Lucas wished he’d thrown himself overboard after all.

  Travelling to Eastound was the stupidest thing Lucas March had ever done. Pairing up with Euphemia Fangsong was apparently the second.

  There she stood like a real hero, brimming with confidence and bravado. Lucas, who had once been infamous for garnering the support of men like these, could do nothing.

  “Is that right?” said a new voice. “You’re the Hero of Hammersey?” A man the size of a tree rose from the bar, his colossal forehead almost reaching the ceiling. This wasn’t a warrior: this was a killer, a mercenary, the sort of scum he was used to dealing with. Even so, Lucas couldn’t manage one charismatic word.

  “It is!” cheered Euphemia in his place. “He’s got the tattoo on his lip to prove it! Teslaca born, but with a Hammersey accent! We’re gonna have a drink and then we’re gonna go defeat the Void King tonight!”

  “W-We can’t!” Lucas cried out in horror, the image of the castle flashing before his eyes. Every pupil in the room landed on him. He froze. His speech was gone. His plan was gone. He was against a wall and his mind refused to work.

  “You … can’t?” The killer stepped closer, his angled face suddenly dark. “Ya managed to kill off that damn Blood-hag-whatever, and her treasonous crony, yet ya can’t even bother to lift a finger ta help Eastound?” He cracked his knuckles. Several onlookers stood up to join him. “How about we take this outside, Hero?”

  Lucas couldn’t tell whether his heart was pounding too fast or whether it had stopped altogether. He forced the words from his mouth with no chance to think them over. “I meant we can’t face the Void King tonight,” he hurriedly clarified. He needed to find a way to stall for time so he could come up with a concrete plan! Without one, Ethan was doomed.

  The men were momentarily stopped. “Why not?”

  “Well …” Finally, an idea formed in his mind, as clear as crystal. All he had to do was stall for time and figure out another way to save Ethan. He inhaled the hot air of the building and puffed his chest out. His lungs ached. Lucas March mustered as much confidence as he could. “We need to defeat the three evil Generals first.”

  The Guild was still and silent, but only infinitesimally. The room erupted into raucous laughter. “The Generals!” squealed the burly man through his crooked teeth. “Why bother with the smallies when the biggie is right there?”

  Lucas’ face was hot. His confidence crumbled. “Well,” he shakily said, “I bet with each General that falls, his power will weaken.” He tried to stand firm, but he trembled all over. “So, Euphemia Fangsong and I plan to-”

  “Euphemia Fangsong, Ethan March and I will take down the Void King’s Generals!”

  Chapter Four

  Pierce

  EUPHEMIA AND LUCAS SPUN around to face their apparent volunteer. The doors swung shut, outlining the stranger who had just entered behind them. The attention of the entire bar was now trained on him.

  He was taller than Lucas, but similarly aged. His face was rakish, handsome with a solid jawline, and his skin was tanned by the sun. The stranger’s hair was blonde and slicked back, while his clothes were an ensemble of blacks and purples, unreasonably layered, despite the fair-weather. His blue eyes danced with complete and utter delight at the sight of Lucas March, like a child who’d just been handed an undeserved extravagance. Lucas perceived an undertone of something duplicitous, almost familiar, but he didn’t dwell on his paranoia.

  Euphemia looked the man up and down and was the first to comment. “A trio? I doubt two amazing heroes like us need a third member!”

  The man’s attention slid to her as he smiled more pleasantly and bowed. “Let me at least introduce myself, Ma’am,” he said. The man had the recognisable accent of Subclar but spoke the common tongue fluently. “My name is Pierce. It is a pleasure to meet you both.” His eyes snaked back to Lucas. “Especially you, Hero of Hammersey. I am a huge fan of your work and would love the chance to take down the three Generals and the fearsome Void King with you.” With barely a pause, he offered Lucas his hand. “You’re both strangers here, so you’ll need someone who knows a bit about Eastound as a guide.”

  Lucas was in no position to deny help. “How fortunate for us,” mumbled the fake hero. Lucas shook his hand tentatively. As he did so, however, the strangest thing happened. The world went quiet around them, as if everyone in the guild had stopped talking. A sense of calm washed over him and for the first time since he’d arrived, Lucas genuinely believed he could save Ethan after all.

  Lucas gracelessly wrenched his hand away, then proceeded to internally curse himself for his sudden unsightly withdrawal. Nevertheless, Pierce’s pride seemed intact and the look in his eyes spoke only of amusement. The calm had vanished, and all sound returned.

  Pierce looked up at the mercenary and his men, amazingly unperturbed despite the vast difference in height and numbers. “Euphemia Fangsong, Ethan March and I will take down the Void King’s Generals,” he repeated. “Afterwards, we’ll be more than willing to take down the King.”

  The mercenary tried to loom over the trio, but he’d been thrown off by the coolheaded Pierce. “You’d rather prolong this?” asked the tree-sized killer. “The Void King could launch an attack any day now!”

  “Obviously,” said Pierce with a nonchalant shrug. “All the more reason to aim for his limbs.” With that said he casually sidestepped the mercenary and his goons and sat himself down at a table, gesturing for the waitress to bring him a drink. His gaze went back to Lucas as he waited for his reaction. Lucas was still.

  “Exactly!” Euphemia beamed and followed in Pierce’s footsteps, joining the man at the round table.

  Lucas finally forced himself to move. He hurried behind them, trying to keep his head down. He avoided eye contact with everyone.

  “W-Whatever,” spat the muscled man, “it’s your funeral either way!” Flustered, he turned back to the bar and returned to minding his own business, as did the other patrons who’d joined in the fuss.

  Well, one thing was for certain: no one here would be willing to help Lucas save his brother now.

  “You look like you could use a drink too,” said Pierce with a knowing smile. When the waitress brought him his ale, he requested two more.

  “So, who are you?”

  “Pierce,” he said again with his never-ending smile.

  “Okay, but who are you?”

  “Just someone who wouldn’t mind a little bit of adventure in his boring life, but if you don’t want my help …” The blonde glanced around the bar at the unsavoury brutes, his nose crinkled in distaste. “Well, I’m sure someone else here knows the layout of Eastound from memory and would be willing to help you if you asked nicely.”

  Why did he always end up in lose-lose situations? “You can join us,” Lucas said at last, “but first answer me this: how’d you come in at just the right moment? And how’d you know our names?”

  “I saw you outside the Guild and decided to follow you in after I heard the commotion. As for your names, I doubt there’s anyone within a five-mile radius who didn’t hear Ms. Euphemia Fangsong’s thorough introduction. I am a big fan of your work, Hero of Hammersey. I meant what I said: I want to help you take down the Void King, but to do that we must find his Generals first.”

  Lucas was taken aback. “What do you know?”

  “Not as much as I’d like to know, to be honest.” Pierce shook his head. “Let’s have our drink and figure out what we should do first. First drink is free for adventurers, after all, and you look thirsty.” Their drinks arrived in no time. Pierce held his aloft, “Cheers?”