Helen and Troy's Epic Road Quest (25 page)

On their stroll down the midway, she thought of how to tell him that she'd changed her mind. She didn't believe they had a future together. There were too many obstacles in the way of that. But a date wasn't a lifetime, and a few weeks with Troy were worth all the heartache that was bound to come afterward. She was mentally rehearsing her speech, both simple and profound, when it dawned on her none of it was necessary.

She said it all when she took his hand in hers.

He looked into her eyes and smiled.

She smiled back, nodded.

His gaze moved to her left. He pulled her toward a midway game called Dunk the Ga-gorib. A weird, lumpy creature sat at the edge of a tank of water. The monster perked up at their approach.

“Hello, sir,” said the chubby attendant. “Care to take your shot?”

“Troy, these games are scams.”

He pointed to the wall of prizes. “Hel, check out the dagger.”

There was a knife sitting among the potential rewards. It was ordinary except for the symbol of the Lost God engraved on its handle.

“This can't be this easy,” she said.

“I never knew you were so pessimistic. How's this work?”

“You get three balls,” explained the attendant. “You hit the target, the ga-gorib goes in the tank, you get to pick your prize. Easy as that.”

“What's the catch?” asked Helen.

“If you fail, the ga-gorib gets to dunk you. And he tends to hold you under a long time.”

The ga-gorib, smiling wickedly, rubbed his hands together.

“Three balls, please,” said Troy.

“The game has to be rigged,” said Helen.

“Hel, we're here to get that dagger. This is the way to do it.”

“Or we could just give this guy a couple of bucks to look the other way and give it to us.”

“We can't ask him to compromise his ethics like that. And I'm pretty sure there are some rules against it. Right?”

The attendant said, “I get paid minimum wage to watch people get drowned. Ethics aren't my thing.”

They slipped the attendant one hundred dollars, and he gave them the dagger. The ga-gorib was terribly disappointed by the deal.

“Feels like cheating,” said Troy.

“It worked, didn't it? Legends are full of heroes breaking the rules and getting away with it. Who says all tests have to be about physical prowess? Maybe that was a test of our problem-solving skills.”

He took the dagger from her. Their hands touched, and a jolt passed between them. It wasn't only the curse they shared, though the way their marks burned made it clear that was a big part of it.

The fur on her neck stood on edge. She smoothed it down with her hand.

“Hel…”

She waited for him to finish the thought, but he couldn't tell her what he knew. One of them had to die. He didn't feel right keeping it from her, but he couldn't think of a reason to let her know. It would only burden her. She had enough burdens already.

She saw the concern in his face. “Troy, is something wrong?”

“Nothing. It's not important. You want to get some ice cream?”

“I don't eat ice cream.”

He grinned. “I knew that.”

The ground rumbled. Dark clouds appeared overhead. Shadows slithered around them. Neither of them paid much attention. It was all very standard at this point, and they were distracted by their own concerns. The thundering temper tantrum of the gods above paled in comparison to their more personal dilemmas, insignificant as they might have been on a cosmic scale. The shadows, seeing this, slunk away, grumbling to themselves. The clouds dissolved, and the last crack of thunder wasn't so much ominous as apologetic.

Achilles growled.

The Wild Hunt stood before Helen and Troy.

“I told you they'd be here,” said Peggy.

Nigel slurped down the last of his soda and tossed it in a nearby trash can. “Hate to interrupt such a private moment, but we're here to kill you. You seem like good people, so I'll give you a choice. You can make this quick and easy. Or you can put up a fight. Either way.”

“I hope they put up a fight,” said Franklin.

“You handle the dog,” said Nigel.

“But I don't want to hurt a dog.”

“Then just grab the damn thing.”

Helen said, “Who the hell are you?”

“Believe it or not, we're the good guys,” said Nigel.

The orcs all laughed.

“Weird, I know.” He unslung his dragonblood ax. “It still sounds weird to say that.”

“You can't be serious,” said Troy. “You aren't going to start a fight here, now, with all these people around.”

“What people?” asked Franklin.

The harsh clack of steel shutters being drawn drew Troy's attention. The Midway of Heroes was empty of both employees and visitors, all very quietly and efficiently evacuated. Calliope music played in the distance accompanied the roars of the nearby roller-coaster passengers. Just over a tall hedge, the Ferris wheel kept turning.

A hot wind blew across the midway, and a discarded hot dog wrapper tumbled not unlike a lonely tumbleweed.

Helen grabbed her wand.

“You were right,” said Troy. “I am glad I brought these.” He drew his sword and readied his shield.

Peggy bit into her blueberry snow cone. “The spirits say enough talk. It's time to throw down.”

“Shazam!” shouted Helen.

The pavement around the orcs rose up in four great slabs, imprisoning them. She twirled her wand. “There. Problem solved.”

Magic frost spread across the slabs. The ice crystallized in thick sheets, and with a mighty blow from Nigel's ax the walls shattered.

“That really shouldn't have worked,” said James Eyestabber.

“It's magic,” said Nigel. “It doesn't have to make sense.”

“Shazam!” proclaimed Helen.

A new cage thrust itself around the orcs. She didn't expect it to hold them for long, but it bought her and Troy some time.

“Are we really going to have to fight these guys?” she asked. “I don't want to do that.”

“I don't think we have a choice, Hel.”

Achilles's lip curled to show his teeth.

Nigel's ax destroyed the prison. “Do we need to—”

“Shazam!”

The slabs popped up.

“How many charges does your wand have in it?” asked Troy.

She tapped the jewel at its tip. Its glow dimmed. “I have no idea.”

The prison shattered, and the orcs wisely dispersed. Helen threw another prison around the bulk of them, but a half dozen escaped. Bellowing savagely, they charged forth with such speed that they were on Helen and Troy in a moment. Or they would've been if she hadn't pointed the wand at her feet.

“Shazam!”

The stone walls sprang up around Troy, Helen, and Achilles. Their attackers pounded at the barricade.

“This hardly seems like a better solution,” said Troy.

She grunted. “If it's a fight they want”—she cracked her knuckles—“I guess we can give it to them.”

“Maybe you should take the shield, Hel.”

Icicles formed across the stone and when she spoke, her breath came out as frost. “You keep it. I can handle these guys.”

Achilles's ears flattened, and his fur bristled.

The wall shattered, and the orcish gang was on her in one massive heap of flailing limbs and gnashing teeth. Before Troy could defend her, he was attacked by four others. A short sword and a mace were swung in his direction. Troy blocked them with his shield, and its magic teleported him safely out of harm's way just before contact was made.

It took the orcs a few moments to find him. It took Troy almost as long to get his bearings. The shield's magic had a disorienting effect. An attacker hurled a hatchet. The shield moved Troy out of its path to avoid a split skull, but suddenly finding him three feet to the left didn't do his strained perceptions any good.

His blurred senses focused on Helen and her personal horde. He ran to her side, but a pouncing attacker activated the shield again. Troy blinked to farther away than where he'd started.

Helen screamed. Whether with rage or pain, he couldn't tell. He saw her face for only a moment before it was obscured by a clawing green hand.

The orcs closed in on him. Peggy sat on the sidelines, watching with a profound disinterest while Franklin hopped around with Achilles latched onto his ankle.

Troy tossed the enchanted shield aside. It was more of a hindrance than an asset. He only needed his sword of invincibility to handle this problem. An orc struck with a sword. Troy parried, slicing through his opponent's steel with supernatural sharpness.

“That's cheating!” said the orc.

Troy slammed his fist into his opponent's throat, followed it by kicking the orc's ankle, causing him to drop to one knee.

“I thought you said he didn't know kung fu,” said James.

“It's not karate,” replied Troy. “It's Jeet Kune Do.”

“The spirits do delight in being technical,” said Peggy by way of apology.

James Eyestabber and Jenny Gutspitter made their moves. Troy was invulnerable as long as he stood his ground, but he met their strikes. He punched James in the breadbasket and smashed Jenny's nose with his forearm. He didn't pause to admire his perfect form; he ran toward Helen.

The ground quaked as roots sprouted, wrapping around his legs. Peggy paused in her mumbling to say, “The spirits tell me you can't be hurt while holding that sword and touching the ground. Let's see what we can do about that.”

Troy hacked at the roots, but the tendrils overwhelmed him, coiling around his limbs, hoisting him in the air. He struggled, twisting and turning, trying to angle his sword to slice himself free.

Gaunt, pale Peggy drew her dagger. “If you stop squirming, I'll do my best to make this quick.”

Achilles came out of nowhere to snap his jaws around her arm. She dropped the dagger.

“Damn it, Franklin! You had one job! One job!”

The roots loosened, and Troy started cutting them away while Franklin tugged at Achilles, who was latched onto Peggy.

“Forget the dog, you idiot!” said Peggy. “Kill the kid before he—”

Troy stood on solid ground. Jenny came up from behind and bashed his invulnerable head with a heavy stone. He turned on her with a frown. She threw a punch that he didn't bother blocking, then he smacked her with the hilt of his sword.

“You have to get him off his feet,” said Peggy. She struggled to incant to the nature spirits, but Achilles proved distracting.

Franklin threw himself at Troy and got a punch to the face. The other orcs attempted to wrestle Troy to the ground or get his sword away from him, but he was faster. He slashed James across the chest and nearly sliced off Denise Spinecracker's arm.

Survival instincts buried Troy's reaction to the blood coating his blade. This was no game, no fun challenge, no goofing off with dragons. This situation was serious in a way that even the Mystery Cottage had not been. Because these weren't monsters to be overcome. They were people trying very hard to kill them.

The pavement rumbled in that familiar way. Franklin had pried Achilles off Peggy, and she stared at Troy with her milky-white eyes, summoning forth more entangling roots.

Troy tapped his sword against the ground. The massive earth elemental erupted with a howl.

“What is it you—”

Troy pointed to Peggy. “Get her.”

The asphalt monster moved toward her with steady steps. Thorny roots entangled it, but the elemental snapped them without breaking its pace.

“Damn it!” Peggy turned and ran with the elemental in slow pursuit.

Helen roared. She'd beaten half the orcs, but blood soaked patches in her fur. He couldn't tell if it was hers or the attackers'. He noticed a sword sticking out of her back, though it didn't seem to be slowing her down.

“Helen!”

She paused, turned her head in his direction. He saw nothing but rage in her eyes. A sneer twisted her face. He was afraid, not of the orcs or dark gods, but of something deep down inside her that had found its way to the surface.

She saw his fear, and it broke her bloodlust.

“Troy, I—”

She was buried under a renewed assault.

He took a step toward her, but Nigel stood in his way. Nigel clutched his ax, frost dripping from its blade.

“We're all the playthings of the gods,” he said. “Let's try to give them a good show.”

Their weapons clashed with a shower of sparks and snow. Over and over again the weapons struck. They danced back and forth. Troy was faster, and he managed to work around the edges of Nigel's defense, nicking his flesh here and there. Also putting holes in Nigel's leather jacket, and that pissed him off even more.

Nigel got in his own hits, but most bounced off invulnerable Troy. Once he caught Troy off balance, with one foot off the ground, and managed to gash a wound across his thigh.

Their weapons locked together. Ice ran down Troy's blade and covered his hands. The cold numbed his fingers.

“You don't have to do this,” said Troy.

Nigel said, “I can't defy my god. Even if I could, I can't let you loose havoc on this world. You don't know what you're doing, kid.”

“I know it doesn't have to be this way. I don't know what the gods told you, but we don't have to do this their way.”

Nigel eased the pressure. He snarled, not at Troy but at the Fates for putting him in this situation. “I'm not any happier with this than you. Now shut up and fight.”

Ice formed on Troy's sword hilt. The weapons slipped as Nigel applied more pressure.

“I'm not going to kill you,” said Troy.

“Then you'll die.”

Nigel spoke the words like a true orc, but they sounded hollow. A thousand years ago he'd have cheerfully slaughtered this boy on the field of battle. It didn't seem right today. It wasn't only the corruption of civilization that made it so. It was Troy himself, who showed neither fear nor weakness.

Troy kicked Nigel's knee. The joint popped, but Nigel didn't fall. He gritted his teeth. It was only pain.

“We can work this out,” said Troy. “We can find a solution.”

Nigel squared his shoulders, pushing harder. “This is the solution.”

With a final shove he dislodged Troy's magic sword. The weapon clattered to rest a few feet away. Troy punched Nigel in the jaw. Nigel spat, wiped his mouth.

“You're a fighter, but this ends here.”

Troy held up his hands. “OK, OK. You got me. But I don't think you have it in you to kill an unarmed man in cold blood. I don't see that in your eyes.”

“It doesn't matter what you think you see,” said Nigel. “In the end, it's always blood. Blood spilled in the name of the gods because they don't want to get off their asses. Violence isn't optional. It's the way this world works. It sucks, but it's the way it is. The way it always will be.”

He raised his ax.

Troy made no move to defend himself. He pointed to Helen, wrestling with the four or five orcs still standing. “Call off your horde. We don't have to fight just because the gods get off on it.”

Nigel groaned. “Damn it, you aren't going to make this easy, are you?”

“It is easy. Just stop. And we'll talk this out.”

Nigel lowered his weapon. A chill ran through his bones. No doubt it was the disapproval of his gods, but his gods could go to hell.

A blade pierced Troy from behind. The short sword thrust through his belly. Both Troy and Nigel stared at the bloodied blade in abject surprise.

“We can still work this out,” said Troy before dropping to the ground.

Franklin stared at his handiwork. His blank expression conveyed no emotion other than shock. “I did it.”

Achilles stopped chewing on Franklin's ankle and whined, sniffing Troy's crumpled form.

“Yeah.” Nigel grumbled a curse to the gods for their cruelty and to himself for believing there had been any other choice. “You did it.”

“Troy!” screamed Helen.

She threw off her attackers and, more beast than woman, glowered at Nigel.

Nigel pointed to Franklin.

“He did it.”