SO YOU WANT TO BE A HERO

Chapter 7

Alex told himself to remain calm. There must be some way to turn this situation to his advantage. The man pressing him to the wall certainly looked and acted like a thief. "Are you Sneak?" Alex asked.

"I am." Another man emerged from the shadows, slightly less greasy looking than his companion, but with the same dangerous air. "Who wants to know?"

"Bruno sent me. He told me to ask you about the Thieves' Guild."

"Bruno?"

"Don' lissen ta him!" the man who held Alex hissed, pressing the knife closer. "He just wants ta get off scot-free is all."

Sneak paused to consider this. Alex kept silent, calculating. If Sneak decided not to believe him....

"Put him down, Slink."

"But-!"

"I said, put him down!" Sneak growled. "You deaf or somthin'?"

Reluctantly, Slink backed away, sulkily picking his teeth with his dagger.

Alex resisted the urge to feel his neck. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet. I just told him that 'cause I wanna see proof."

"Proof?"

"If Bruno sent ya, ya must be a thief. And wanna get into the guild." Alex nodded. "Show me proof yer a thief, an' I'll tell ya the password."

Proof? What could he use as proof? Alex felt his pockets. All he had was a couple silvers and a knife. And his lock pick. "Here," he showed it to Sneak, hoping it was proof enough.

Sneak examined it, then Alex, then handed it back roughly. "Go see Crusher. Tell him 'schwertfich.'"

"Yer not tellin' him the password, are ya?" Slink whined. "He ain't even a member yet."

"Shaddap! Who's the brains of this outfit? Me or you?" Slink cowered under Sneak's glower and looked away, taking a moment to shoot a hateful glare at Alex. Sneak turned back to Alex. "Now get outta here, 'fore I change my mind."

"Thanks," Alex nodded briskly and headed out of the alley. As he walked away, he heard the sounds of a whining protest followed by a slap. So he wasn't the only one who found Slink annoying.

Luckily, the bar was still open this time of night and Crusher was still guarding the entrance to the Guild. Alex wore his most charming smile and sauntered over to the glowering goon. "Good evening."

Crusher's response was to throw him out of the tavern again.

Ruffled and vexed, Alex marched back in. "I wish to enter the Guild," he said, determined to keep the smile on his face.

"Den what's da password?" Crusher leered.

"'Schwertfisch.'"

Crusher pondered for a long moment, glaring. Alex wondered if he would get the same treatment despite his knowledge of the password. Finally, Crusher shuffled off the trap door and opened it wide enough for Alex to enter. "Hurry," Crusher growled.

Alex climbed down the ladder to find himself in a dimly lit cellar, occupied by two thugs. One was rigidly standing behind a makeshift desk, as if awaiting customers. The other lounged in an old chair casually tossing knives at a target painted on the wall. Most of them hit the bull's eye. Duly impressed, Alex smirked arrogantly and cleared his throat.

The man throwing the knives glanced at him. "Oh, great. An amateur."

"Everyone must start somewhere," Alex said, walking nearer to him. "My name is..."

"Look, if you want to be a member, pay Boris over there." The man indicated his fierce looking partner. "I don't care about your name until then."

"Twenty-five silvers." Boris grunted, holding out a meaty hand.

Alex dropped his money into the hand, suddenly wishing he had brought more with him. He should have guessed entering the guild would be expensive.

"Welcome to the Guild, Number 1313." The man flicked another knife at the target. "Call me Chief. You are...?"

"Alex."

Chief gave Alex a long look. "No family name?

Alex shrugged. "When you tell me your true name, I'll give you mine."

"Fair enough." Chief returned to his knife throwing. "You have my permission to work in this town. Steal what you can, fence it here. We take a 15% cut of whatever you steal, but the rest of the money's yours. We also sell a toolkit with various lockpicks."

"Something every thief can't afford to be without," Boris added, warming up to the sales pitch. He whipped out an example for Alex to look at. "Included are twelve different lock picks guaranteed to get you through any door you come across, except maybe cell doors. Only 35 silvers."

"Perhaps another time," Alex said, reluctantly.

"Suit yourself," the Chief smirked. "Boris, show him the thieves' sign."

"You have a sign?"

"It's so other thieves know you're a member. We have a code of honor among ourselves- no stealing from Guild members. It's policy. And, you're privy to whatever information we have, as well as being able to join any guild in any city. We also have great lawyers, for that time when your luck runs bad."

"So, what is the sign?"

With his right hand, Boris rubbed his stomach, put the thumb of his left hand on his nose, outstretched the fingers, and wriggled them in the air.

Alex blinked. *This* was a sign? He had expected something more... dignified.

He heard the Chief chortling from his corner. "That's everyone's reaction when they see it."

"Couldn't you have used more... subtlety?"

"Nope. No copper would think anything that stupid would be a sign for thieves."

He did have a point. Speaking of coppers, "What do you think of the Sheriff?"

Chief gave Alex a hard look. "Don't mess with Meistersson. He's as good as they come."

"Oh?" Alex quirked a brow. "How so?"

"Just take my word for it," Chief growled.

Alex made a noise of derision.

"You got anywhere else to be?" Chief asked him, pointedly. "Like plying your trade?"

"Here? There's really nothing to steal."

"That's what you think. You want an assignment? Bring back enough to fence for that lockpicking kit, if you can."

"I shall return with the money tomorrow night." Alex made a short bow, then left.

Chief watched him go, then angrily threw a dagger at the target on the wall. It stuck halfway in, vibrating with pressure. "I hate amateurs."

*****

It was a beautiful morning, Hans thought as he walked through the forest, whistling a heroic tune. This day was a special day, he was finally going to defeat the evil ogress Baba Yaga! The fact that he didn't know where she was didn't bother him; how many evil ogresses could there be in Spielburg? Surely she had to be somewhere in the forest, and it would be no trouble finding her.

Two hours later, he had defeated two goblins and a saurus (which had been a bit difficult) and still no sign of anything that could be called a Baba Yaga. Hans frowned. Where could she be? Maybe he should find someone and ask directions. He peered through the woods, spotting a young man standing near the side of the road. "Hey!" Hans called out to him. "Perhaps you can help me!"

The young man turned about, a spear in his hand and a dangerous gleam in his eye. "You messed up my chance, you bastard!" he spat, stomping towards Hans.

"I'm sorry," Hans apologized. " I just wanted to ask directions."

"I'll give yah directions. Ta Hell!" the man grabbed his spear and thrust at Hans. Hans quickly brought out his shield and deflected the blow, though it hurt a lot. He drew his sword and swung, landing a blow on the man's arm. The man glowered at him, and swung his spear around for another blow.

"Take it easy!" Hans parried again with his shield. "I said I was sorry!"

"Sorry ain't good enough!" the man swung again, then gasped as Hans hit him again.

"I don't want to hurt you." Hans really hoped the man wouldn't attack again. He didn't want to have to resort to seriously injuring him.

"That's too bad," the man sneered. "'Cause I'm gonna kill you. Never mess with a brigand, sonny!"

"You're a brigand?" Hans gaped.

"Kid's got a brain. Ever use it much?" The brigand brought his spear round again, aiming for Hans' head.

There was no time to think, only react. Hans ducked the swing and thrust his sword into the brigand's stomach. Blood spurted from the wound, covering Hans' hands. Hans looked at the bandit, eyes full of regret. "I really am sorry."

The brigand only grinned maddeningly with bloodstained teeth, dropped his spear, and groped for Hans' throat. "Sorry's fer sissies," he spat, hands tightening.

Hans flailed, hitting the brigand again with his shield and fist as he found it difficult to breathe. In desperation, he kicked upwards and the brigand's hands thankfully fell away to cover whatever Hans had managed to bruise. Hans brought the shield round on the side of the brigand's head and the brigand fell, twitched, and lay still.

Hans collapsed to the ground, trying hard to get his breath back. When he could breathe again, realization hit.

He had killed a man, a human being.

He was evil, and he was a brigand that was hurting the kind Spielburgians. He had attacked Hans first.

But he was still a man.

"Why didn't you run away?" Hans asked desperately. "I told you I didn't want to hurt you. You didn't listen. It's your fault you're dead..." his voice trailed away.

/I need my sword./ Hans yanked the sword free from the brigand's body. Blood stained the blade. He flung the sword away from him, revolted at the sight. /No, I'm a hero,/ he told himself. /I need my sword./ He retrieved it, fiercely rubbing it onto the grass to clean away the bloodstain. There was so much of it.

It took a while to resheathe the sword; his trembling hands made it difficult to position the sword properly. His eyes came upon the dead body again, lying still on the grass. "I'm sorry," he apologized, backing away. "I'm sorry!"

Quickly, he fled the scene, needing to wash his hands, his body, his clothes, everything.

******

The Flying Falls are named appropriately, Yvonne thought to herself as she watched the water cascade down the cliff in great leaps, as if the water was truly flying. The lake that surrounded it was full of activity near the area where it connected with the falls, then smoothed out until it was nearly like a mirror; hence its name "Mirror Lake." Surrounding the lake was a small plain of soft grass spotted with wildflowers that in turn was surrounded by the forest Yvonne had just walked through. Craggy cliffs towered over the lake, resembling a row of jagged teeth that disappeared underneath a blanket of bushes and trees that covered the mountain. It was in these cliffs that Henry the Hermit was rumored to live.

Yvonne had felt somewhat nervous trekking through the woods with the rumors of brigands and monsters prowling in the area, but she needed to learn 'trigger' in order to play Mage's Maze. The Adventurer's Guildmaster had been kind enough to direct her to Flying Falls and gave her a large dagger to protect herself. She immediately cast 'zap' upon the dagger and kept it by her side while she walked. Luckily, nothing bothered her on her journey.

She studied the cliffs on the left side of the lake, looking for an opening in which Henry might reside. There were no caves, but sitting atop a ledge was a large stone door which did a poor job of blending into its surroundings. That must be where Henry lives, Yvonne told herself. The ledge was quite high, and further investigation of the cliff provided no obvious handholds to help her reach it. Yvonne had never climbed mountains or cliffs before; perhaps the narrow crags and bumps would be sufficient enough to hold onto. If she fell, the grass was soft enough to cushion her against bad bruises.

She felt along the side of a cliff for something large enough to put her hand on when she came across a straight line that could only have been made by human hands. "I wonder," she murmured, moving her other hand slowly upwards from her previous one. A foot higher her hand came across another straight surface. Like a rung in a ladder. Yvonne grabbed the two rungs she could feel and tested beneath her with her foot. Slowly she climbed the invisible ladder until she reached the narrow ledge. Pleased with herself, she brushed herself off and knocked loudly on the door.

"Just a minute!" an old voice said. "Move away from the door."

/Move where?/ Yvonne thought, backing up until she had reached the end of the ledge. The massive door swung open, barely brushing past her nose, and out hobbled an old man wearing nothing but a loincloth. Though he was thin and his face wrinkled like an old prune, he looked well fed. He also looked surprised to see a young woman on his step. "Can I 'elp ya?" he asked warily.

"Are you Henry the Hermit?" Yvonne asked.

"S'me. Who're you?"

"A... friend of Erasmus."

The wary look turned into a welcoming grin. "Any friend of Erasmus is a friend o'mine. Come on in." He stepped away from the door to let her inside.

Henry made his home inside a large cave hollowed out inside the mountain. A stream ran in-between two large ledges and merged with the falls outside, providing fresh water for the hermit. Despite this, everything was nice and dry; woven baskets were wedged in a corner and a fire crackled merrily in the center of the main ledge. Three carved stone benches surrounded it, and on the other ledge was a stone bed covered in furs and blankets. Pots, pans and bowls lined shelves carved out of the rock face, and various oddities were scattered about the floor. The smell of Henry pervaded everything. Yvonne schooled her face to the polite mask she wore when visiting and waited patiently as Henry cleared a spot for her on one of the stone benches then plopped down beside her.

"Never 'ad a woman guest b'fore," he said as way of apology for the messy surroundings. "'Ope you don't mind the mess."

"No," Yvonne said, politely. "Your place looks... very comfortable."

Henry grinned at the compliment, gracing her with a full set of discolored teeth. "Lived 'ere a long time, I 'ave. I'm 'Enry. 'Enry the Eigth I is. Me farther was an 'Enry, and 'is farther was an 'Enry, and 'is farther was an 'Enry, and 'is farther was an 'Enry..." Henry went on, fully describing his family genealogy for eight generations and how each one of them was a hermit. "It's a right shame the family's gonna end wi' me." He sighed depressedly. "'Ain't no one in Spielburg me own age now. Not wi' the brigands keepin' everyone out an' all."

"Do they bother you?" Yvonne asked, thinking of the door in the cliff

"Naw. Only that warlock comes 'round every now an' again for cribbage and a cup o' tea." Henry snapped upright. "I's bein' a bad 'ost, not offerin' tea t' a Lady. 'Aven't 'ad comp'ny in so long." He snapped his fingers and a pot hovered over the fire. Another snap and cups winked in front of them, complete with saucers and spoons.

"You know magic," Yvonne added a little awe into her voice.

"This stuff ain't magic," Henry dismissed. "It's just 'trigger' is all."

"'Trigger'?"

"A spell. Erasmus lent it to me a while back. Set everything up in my cave with it, so's I can live royal-like. And it's a big 'elp when I've taken sick."

"Can you teach the spell to me?"

"Sure! Got the paper 'round 'ere somewheres..." Henry stood and began to root through his belongings. "Never did ask your name, Miss..."

"Yvonne," she answered.

"Y'know, me mum was named Yvonne. Came from Versailles she did. Went back too, long wi' me dad, leavin' the family business to me. Ah, 'ere it is." Henry pulled out a stained paper and handed it triumphantly to Yvonne. "You can keep that, I don't need it anymore." As if to prove it, he snapped his fingers and hot tea poured into Yvonne's cup.

Yvonne read the parchment and instantly learned "trigger." Satisfied, she sipped her tea and did her best not to flinch. It was extremely bitter, but she could palate it. She doubted Henry would have sugar and it would be rude to ask if it weren't offered. Setting down her teacup, she recalled, "You mentioned you knew the brigand warlock?"

"Yeah. Nice feller. Got a good sense o' 'umor 'e does. Giggles at everythin', even his own jokes." Henry laughed, remembering. "Why, I remember the time 'e came by and popped firecrackers outside."

Yvonne patiently listened through a detailed account of the incident before asking another question. "How often do you see him?"

"'E 'asn't been around lately. Not since he borrowed that magic mirror wot I borrowed from Erasmus."

"What magic mirror?"

Henry scratched his beard. "Dunno. Supposed to reflect spells from you or somethin' like that. I forgot exactly wot it does."

"Why would he want to borrow it?"

"Dunno. Didn't think to ask, really, 'im bein' a friend an' all."

"Why would you become a friend to the brigand warlock? He is a brigand himself."

"Aw, but 'e's not bad. No' like the rest o' 'em."

"Can you explain?"

Henry frowned. "Dunno if I should. A 'ermit can keep secrets y'know. Keeps 'em real good like."

Yvonne sipped her tea, thinking. The young hero, Hans was it?, would certainly benefit from whatever information she could give him, especially if he was going to take care of the brigand problem. And the sooner the brigand problem was taken care of, the sooner the roads would be cleared, and the sooner she would become a wizard. "Henry, I'm trying to break the curse on this land. Any information you could give me would help greatly."

Henry considered this for a moment, then nodded. "All right. I'll tell ye what I can. The warlock's name is Yorick, used ta be a court jester ta the baron. Th' Baron 'ad two children, one boy and one girl. 'e left when the baron's daughter disappeared, sayin' 'ed find 'er again."

"Did he?"

"Dunno. What I do know is that 'e's very loyal to the brigand leader. Won't leave, no matter what. And that's all I can tell yeh."

So the brigand warlock was really a court jester in disguise. Yvonne remembered the conversation with Abdulla and wondered how much real magic this Yorick knew. He didn't seem to know any of the spells she did; but that didn't tell her much. She herself only knew five basic ones. But still, why 'warlock'? Aside from the fact that it sounded better than 'magic-user'.

"By the way," Henry interrupted her thoughts. "I've got somethin' ta ask yeh."

"Yes?"

He snapped, and a board was laid in front of her, various pieces scattered atop it. "Know 'ow to play Mage's Maze?"

Yvonne stared incredulously at the board. "You know how to play?"

"'Course! Erasmus taught me when 'e got fed up with Fenrus winnin' all a time. It's very easy, and Erasmus 'asn't been around since I beat 'im. Wanna play?"

Yvonne smiled. "Let's."

*****

Brandon glanced apprehensively at the waning sunlight. The forest was not a good place to be during the night, and he was still a good hour's away from the gates of Spielburg. Thinking to do some hunting, he had wandered further north than he had planned on. He had hoped for new furs, and possibly something for dinner aside from Wolfgang's cooking, but he had no luck at all this day. It was like all the animals in the forest were either still hibernating or avoiding him. "At least the monsters and brigands are avoiding me as well," he told himself.

A thundering crash in the bushes behind him told him he had spoken much too soon. Brandon whipped around to see a cheetaur standing in a circle of waning light, eyes gleaming with anticipation. A cheetaur was a rare beast, half cheetah, half man that hunted in the forest at night. It gave Brandon a feral smile, and Brandon knew he was no longer doing the hunting.

****

Author's note: From here on out the story will be somewhat different from the original game. The plot will remain the same, but the details will change. This is partly because I've got four heroes instead of one, but also because I believe it will be told better this way. I hope you continue to enjoy my version of the story. ^__^