“Hilly* (Hilly refers to Churchill Ravana, the former apprentice of Archmage St. Pierre who betrayed Bobby and Harbinger months earlier.) was spotted there?” Bobby asked as I walked through the store house examining reliquaries and artifacts.
“That’s what the Sleeper told me.”
“But you’re going alone?”
“That seems to be par for the course. Apparently the story likes it when I work alone. At least I’ll get to use those cheesy action movie lines. ‘No. I work alone. You’d only get in my way.'”
“Would we though?” Bobby asked as I paused and examined the finger bone of an ancient hero in a glass cylinder.
“Of course not. I’m still as green as dandelion shoots. You’d be an enormous help. What do you think? The reliquary of Elder Cain? It keeps servants of the empire at bay?”
“You said you’re meeting oil cloth rebels though. They’re still technically servants of the empire.”
“They are? They’re rebels.”
“They haven’t escaped their bonds yet. They’re rebellious servants, but they’re still servants.”
“I think I’ll attune it nonetheless,” I said, picking up the cylinder by its chain, “Nothing says I have to use it the whole time.”
“Fair enough. It does make you really visible to enemies though, a big neon sign saying: ‘don’t go there.'”
“Well obviously I don’t use it until they’ve seen me.”
“You’re still attuned to Bloody Grin,” Bobby pointed out, “You can use that if they’ve seen you. That will pretty effectively settle the problem.”
“The Bakumera took Bloody Grin. I have no idea if I can draw the sword back from wherever the great old monster took it. And even if I can draw Bloody Grin, I’m only doing that if there’s no bystanders anywhere nearby. Otherwise Bloody Grin will make quick work of them too. At least the reliquary will only send them running.”
“So that’s it? You’re going into the Ribcage Castle* (The Iron Castle of the Locust King exists in every one of the Major Realms. In the Foglands, the Castle is a skeletal husk of its former glory.) and that’s all you’re taking?”
“All I have to do is help them get their kids ready to take the next step in the Path of the Warrior. It’s mostly a teaching assignment really. Elder Cain’s wisdom tooth here is only a back up in case we get exposed.”
“You said that out loud,” Bobby pointed out.
“Yeah, I did. Okay, so I’ve drawn the story’s attention now. So obviously, when I get exposed I can use the tooth like a mobile electric fence.”
“Yeah, but you won’t be able to protect the kids or the rebels.”
“Do you have a better idea?”
“Something that doesn’t require you to abandon the people you’re supposed to protect.”
“While, so far my options are limited. I have the Reliquary of the Elder Cain, which scares the people I’m supposed to protect. And I maybe possibly have Bloody Grin, which kills them.”
“You’ve managed to control Bloody Grin twice. Why don’t you give yourself some credit? The stories of you literally describe Bloody Grin as your sword now. You know that right?”
“Okay, let’s assume that the genocidal sentient blade isn’t gone completely after I fed it to the artifact devouring monster. Assuming I am still able to draw Bloody Grin, maybe I can stop myself from murdering a bunch of kids with it. How promising does that sound? I’ll take my usual back ups.”
“The Ring of Li Jun Fan, the Crimson Cord and the vertebrate of First Hero? Which means that you can punch like Bruce Lee and take hits like Jackie Chan. I mean that’s a decent foundation I guess. But that means the only way you can protect the kids is by going all Gandalf on the bridge. You shall not pass, and that never ends well.”
“Story of my life.”
It’s been about a year since the last event in this autohagiography. A lot happened, but I haven’t processed most of it, so I won’t be recounting it here. I know. I suck. But what you need to know, dear reader, is that it’s been nearly a year. Dragon’s Day is upon us again. I’ve been chasing the trail left by Churchill Ravana, but still haven’t found him. Hilly appears to be working with the Hungry Empire, but also double crossing him. They seem to be alternately tolerating this, and attempting to kill him on a case by case basis. I was just attempting to kill him.
I met my contact at a disused town fountain in the ruins that were the Ribcage Castle. My contact was a young man with pale skin and yellow eyes that screamed of vitamin deficiency. I made a series of secret hand signs, and he nodded.
“You must be Harbinger.”
“You must be Thaddeus Daggerhand.”
“Tad, please. We have a problem. The initiation ceremony has been discovered by the Knights of Unity. A new location has been chosen, but the time and date can’t be changed.”
“You’re still going forward with the ceremony, despite it being discovered? You’re risking those kids’ lives. They need an initiation, not a baptism of fire where they all die.”
“The Firebird arose from its baptism of fire. They can do the same.” Tad said, “The ceremony is necessary. We cannot afford to delay it a whole year until the next Dragon’s Day. Our applicants are part of the rebellion. We need them on the front lines.”
“The Firebird can resurrect itself from its own ashes. Can these kids? Do you at least know how the location was tumbled?”
“No. We suspect an informant in our midst. But we haven’t found them.”
“Which means the ceremony is still a risk.”
“Everything is a risk in the Ribcage Castle.”
Tad walked me through the streets of Ribcage Castle. I recognized streets and alleys from my time spent in the Mirrored City. That’s because the Ribcage Castle was a part of the Mirrored City once. Technically the Ribcage Castle is the Mirrored City, or rather all that is left of it in the Foglands. The Foglands is the age after the fall of the Hungry Empire. Technically a vestigial chunk of the Hungry Empire survives in the Foglands, crouched like Gollum in the barely living corpse that was Ribcage Castle. Nobles* (The Nobility of the Hungry Empire are strange creatures within the major realms. They are inhabitants, as are the free tribes and the ordinary citizens of the empire. But they are also archetypes, roles that one performs, mythic clothing one wears like a cloak. One can be born into the nobility and abandon the archetype, but remain technically a noble by right of birth. Likewise, one could be a common citizen or even a member of the free tribes and be elevated and allowed to wear the archetype of the Nobility. ) in rotting finery still walked about as if they have power. Imperial subjects who haven’t the courage to abandon the ruins of the empire scrounge what they can. And the remnants of the Men of Black and White continue to oppress and abuse anyone within arms reach.
“We really ought to reschedule this,” I said to Tad, trying again.
“That isn’t an option. Leave if you like, but the initiation moves forward.”
“I’m not going anywhere. I’m here to help, even if that means standing on the bridge and holding off the balrog.”
“What is a balrog?” Tad asked.
“It’s a reference to something a friend said to me earlier. I’m not leaving. And I’m not leaving you folks to fend for yourselves. I’ll probably end up getting my aura shattered for this. But you have my sword or axe or whatever when this inevitably turns into a fight.”
“Do you have a sword?”
“If it comes to that, maybe. I attuned to Bloody Grin over a year ago when I was betrayed by another apprentice Wizard. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. It’s Bloody Grin after all.”
“You attuned to Bloody Grin?”
“Yeah. Not my smartest move. But I didn’t have a lot of options. Churchill Ravana, the traitor I mentioned, he had attuned to Bloody Grin first. That’s how I got the idea. Without him doing it first, I doubt I would have thought to try. I’m still not sure it was a good idea. But I’m still alive. So who knows.”
“How many are attuned to Bloody Grin?”
“Not many. Most don’t survive very long. Bloody Grin isn’t a safe attunement. I’m attuned. I think Churchill Ravana, Hilly, still is. I don’t know any others.”
I looked at the children before me. They looked like veterans of a war already. Some wore hollow eyed stares. Many had scars, or misshapen noses previously broken. Several were missing fingers. These children had gone through more than most people in the shallows evert would encounter. And they weren’t considered adults yet.
“Do you know what the Dragon is?” I asked the children. The answer was an uncertain murmur.
“Anyone?” I asked.
A hand went up.
“Yes, go ahead.”
“It’s one of the Three Unknowable. It’s Great Serpent. One of the Elders.”
“Good,” I answered, ” That’s a start. Do you know what that means?”
Silence.
“Alright. Let’s start at the beginning. The world as we know it, the world of the story, was created by Mother of Discord in the darkness before space and time. From the act of creation arose the Three Unknowable: the Firebird of Mystery, the Weaver of Stories, and the Great Serpent of Ambition. And the Great Serpent is also known as the Dragon.”
The crowd of children murmured with confusion. They didn’t know much about the story of the First Tribe I realized. They really were still part of the Hungry Empire. They weren’t free yet.
“Any questions?” I said.
A hand rose, “Isn’t ambition bad?”
“It can be,” I answered, “But it can amazing. And its necessary. What gets done without the drive and motivation provided by ambition. You are fighting to be free of a dying empire. Without ambition you would be meekly walking to oblivion like the other broken citizens you pass every day. The Dragon is the patron of First Hero. And that is because, without ambition nothing happens. Empires and autocrats demonize ambition because they want you to be cogs in their empire, not free people with their own lives.”
The lesson continued. The children had only a rough grasp of the story of the Freepath Tribes and the Song Seven. I told the story of the First Hero and his deal with the Great Serpent, the mighty dragon. I explained that all warriors carry a piece of Dragon Fire inside them. I explained that the First Hero does not always survive the tale, but that- because of First Hero- the tale survives.
“So you have to die?* (That’s one hell of a disclaimer isn’t it? Warning: being First Hero may result in you having to fight horrible monsters, receive little reward, have your youngest son turn to the dark side of the force, and even die horribly, possibly more than once. Applicants must bring their own weapon and arch-nemesis. Please apply in person.It’s a wonder everyone doesn’t want to be First Hero. Why isn’t the Dragon having to beat applicants off with a stick? )” One asked,
“No always,” I answered, “You will hear the voice of Great Serpent when your heart feels crushed by fear. When the world appears to be falling apart, you will hear the Dragon. The voice of Dragon is the voice that councils courage. And sometimes that means death or great sacrifice. Yes. But if you are acting on behalf of a good story, you will not care.”
“Is that why you’re here?”
“It is.”
I decided to go for a walk to clear my head. Tad joined me despite my protests.
“I am impressed by your commitment, you know. I expected you to run away, If I’m honest.” Tad said.
“I’ve done that before. It never helps. The story finds you. I’m still terrified though. I didn’t stop being a coward just because I realized running was pointless. Do you have any idea how safe and predictable my life in the Shallows*(He’s having his Thomas Anderson moment, isn’t he? Like Neo in the first Matrix film. I mean how bad was Neo’s life really? But it was still intolerable. The intolerable sense of being something that you aren’t.) was? And I was good at my job in the Shallows. My worst challenge was an unpleasant coworker.”
“Then why give that up? Anyone born in the Foglands would leap at the chance to have that kind of stability and safety. Why risk death for strangers that you barely know?”
I stopped walking and considered Tad’s question.
“Harbinger?” Tad asked.
“I’m not sure. It just feels right.”
“You’re risking your life on a gut feeling.”
“Maybe it’s just that everyone deserves freedom,” I answered, “Or maybe you all deserve a story that matters.”
“You need to be alive to have a story.”
“No you don’t.* (He’s right, dead people are great story fodder. One of the real dangers of serving the Sacred Story is that the story will use you as it needs. And those needs may involve your horrible death. Martyrs and tragic heroes are both essential parts of many great stories. First Hero frequently dies. The Last Princess frequently dies. Either member of the Dreamwalker can die. The Crown Prince frequently dies, and often wishes he had when the story doesn’t kill him. Serving the story can be very hazardous to one’s survival.) People die to be part of stories all the time. Soldiers and martyrs and activists and dissidents and more die to keep their story alive. People need good stories more than they need bread. But the story of the False King is corrosive to the soul.”
“That sounds good. But it still means risking death for people you didn’t know a week ago.”
“It does. And maybe that’s crazy. But whatever the reason, my soul won’t let me turn away.”
“You aren’t Gandalf you know,” Tad said as we walked, “You won’t return as Gandalf the White* (Well yeah, he isn’t Sir Ian McKellan.) if you’re killed.”
“I know that,” I answered, ” But as I told the kids, if I do my part right, then the story will continue.”
I paused, “You didn’t know what a Balrog was before, and now you know who Gandalf is?”
“We have libraries.”
I raised my eyebrows, but continued, “The point is that the story continue. The point is not that I continue. The point is the story.”
Tad shook his head, “I wish I had your commitment.”
I laughed, and we continued walking in silence. I wasn’t sure if I did have the commitment I was recommending, but I couldn’t see another option. This was the correct answer. I knew this in my heart. More concerning was the general consensus that this whole thing was a bad idea heading for a worse end. Tad knew they been compromised. I knew they’d been compromised. And nobody was willing to stop, despite everyone knowing that we we almost certainly heading for disaster. Surely holding off would be the better strategy. But they wouldn’t hold off. And I wouldn’t abandon them. And so we marched along towards whatever dark end awaited us.
“Why did Churchill betray you, do you think?” Tad asked.
I looked Tad, and thought for a moment.
“I don’t know. Maybe greed. Maybe fear. Maybe he didn’t trust the story.”
“Shouldn’t the story help us, rather than the reverse?” Tad asked.
“Its a circle,” I answered, “We help the story. The Story helps us.”
“That sounds like a line to appease children.”
“Maybe. The Story protects the free peoples, but doesn’t necessarily protect any one person. Without the Story, the Hungry Empire imposes their story and devours the world. So, maybe its a pretty lie to hide a necessary truth. I don’t know. I know that without the story, everything dies. If I have to die to protect the story, I can’t say that isn’t right.”
“Could you not restart the story?”
“That’s what we are trying to do now. How easy does this feel to you?”
“Hard enough that I want to run away every day.”
“Precisely.”
The Dragon’s Day celebrations were the usual raucous affair: fire jugglers and fire eating, face painting, and theatrical renditions of the deeds and feats of First Hero as the emissary of the Dragon in the Story. I was handed a spring green salad with sweet vinegar dressing early on and picked at it as I walked about the ramshackle hidden village, children running everywhere as I did. I made my way slowly to the Initiation site, a submerged room that has one been part of a subway during the age of the Mirrored City. Men and women were raking the hot coals for the initiation. I couldn’t see Tad anywhere, which concerned me. But I focused on providing assistance to the people setting up the initiation. The children were just ushering into the room when Tad returned.
He did not return alone. Tad walked in with about thirty Men of Black and White.
I stared at him, and I lunged forward yelling “What have you done?”
One of the Knights stepped in the way, and I called on Ring of Li Jun Fan to slam a sledge hammer fist into the Knight’s chest and send him flying backwards. The Knights drew their pistols and three managed to shoot me before I came up a plan.
It wasn’t a good plan, but I was out of good options. I reached out my mind and grasped the hilt of Bloody Grin in the void, drawing the blade from nowhere.
Tad grinned at this, and I blinked in response.
“That’s mine you know,” Tad said.
He drew Bloody Grin from void, and I watched it evaporate from my hands and appear in his. As he did so, his face shifted. Tad had been using some sort of artifact to disguise his features. And he couldn’t maintain the focus with Blood Grin bearing down on his mind. As the mystic disguise fell away, I recognized the face of Churchill Ravana.
Several bullets struck as I tried to respond. I staggered, and then fell backwards into the void.
I floated in the void awash in pain.
“I’m in shock,” I said to myself, “I’m probably dying, my avatar is cracking. All sorts of not good.”
I did not move.
“You should get up Freeman.” I said to myself.
I did not move.
“Those kids are going to die.”
I tried to move, but found I couldn’t manage it.
“Those kids are going to die.”
My mind struggled against my unresponsive avatar, trying to make my broken body move.
I did not move.
“It can’t end here.” I snarled to my avatar.
“Are you afraid to die?” A voice boomed in the void.
I tried to look around, but couldn’t.
“Who is there?” I asked.
“This is my day. Who do you think this would be? I request an answer. Are you afraid to die?”
My blood ran cold. I was speaking to the Great Serpent, one of the Three Unkowable.
“I think anyone who says they aren’t afraid to die is a liar. I am afraid to die. I’m more afraid of letting those kids be killed.”
“I could return you to the fray.”
“Then do it!” I practically yelled.
“You will likely die anyway.”
“Dying to save the next generation is an acceptable end to my story. I’m afraid of it, but that won’t stop me.”
“Good. The rise, and rejoin the fight.”
I reached out, back towards where my avatar lay crumbled on the ground.* (There is something intensely meta about having an out of body experience while one is essentially astral projecting. It’s like Inception’s dream within a dream I guess. Don’t think too hard about it. Your head will hurt.) I touched the crimson cord with my consciousness and activated it. the cord sparked and smoldered for a moment, and then burst into flame.
My eyes snapped open and the power of the crimson cord pulled me into the air on what looked like wings of fire. The knights stopped and several took a step back. Hilly stared in disbelief. I smiled.
“Hey Hilly. Guess what?”
I paused.
“You! Shall not! Pass!”
The halo of fire erupted and around and dissipated, gently setting me on my feet as it did.
The Knight closest to me drew his sword and moved to face me. I lunged forward. The Ring of Li Jun Fan glowed. I struck the knight center mass and he hurtled backward, knocking over several other knights as he went.
“I’ve still got the ring.” I said.
Hilly nodded, “You do. But I’ve still got this!”
He drew Bloody Grin from the ether* (Technically Churchill Ravana was drawing the sword from the Akashic Archive, the so called infinite library. Churchill had also attuned the cursed sword Bloody Grin, which means he could also draw the sword at will. This is how artifacts and reliquaries work. But only one person can use an artifact or reliquary at any one time. If somebody else is using it, you cannot draw it from the Archive, but must draw it away from the person currently using it. Which is much more difficult.) and lunged at me. Rather than try to dodge, I focused on drawing the sword as well. The blade flickered in the air, and then so did we as we grappled for control of the cursed sword. Trying to hold onto the sword felt like trying to hold onto dry sand.
“It’s mine!” Hilly screamed, and we struggled.
As Hilly and I grappled for Bloody Grin, I noticed movement at the edge of my vision. I risked a glance and realized that the remaining rebels, including the children, were moving to my defense.
Hilly saw me looking and grinned, “They’re going to die trying to save you.”
“You don’t care either way. You aren’t one of the faithful of the empire, you’re just an opportunistic parasite.”
“You’re right I’m not of the empire. I just think it’s funny!”
I went quiet, suddenly thoughtful. Then I smiled.
“Let’s test and see if you’re of the empire shall we?” I raised my voice so that the rebels could hear me, “I’ve got this! You must flee! The children deserve freedom and better story!”
I stopped trying to attune Bloody Grin, and watched it rematerialize in Hilly’s hands fully.
“Suicide is it?” Hilly said with teeth bared.
I drew out the reliquary of the Elder Cain and focused on my attunement to it. I felt a wave of force emanate out from my sternum. The wave pushed Hilly backwards until he reached the knights. I looked behind me and saw the rebels also being pushed back as well. I was the eye of a tornado as both groups struggled to overcome the power of the reliquary.
“Looks like the Elder Cain disagrees with you Hilly. You’ve chosen your side in the conflict.”
Hilly snarled and Bloody Grin pounded on the edge of the wave.
“Can you even hear me in there Hilly?” I asked, “I have some control when I’m using that sword. But it just swallows you whole, doesn’t it?”
The knights began to work their way around the edges of the field projected by the reliquary of Elder Cain. And I watched, with worry. They might catch the rebels. The rebels weren’t in the clear yet. In fact, as I watched, I realized that the knights were moving too fast. They were going to catch up anyway. The kids weren’t going to make it, not unless I did something. My mind raced as I tried to think of my options. The knights knew I wasn’t the main target. They were here for the rebels and I was just a painful distraction. I couldn’t easily deactivate the reliquary. I needed something strong enough to make them try and push through the reliquary’s aura.
What did I have?
I nodded.
“You think,you can escape me!” I yelled, “I am Professor Harbinger! And you are just a few more mooks before me. And when I finish dealing with you, my wanted poster will promise immunity from three tribute cycles instead of just two!”
The knights stopped. And they turned back to look at me. I could see the calculations, even through their sun glasses. I watched as the rebels stared at me, realizing what I was doing. The knights advanced on me.
I smiled. The knights began to push against the aura from the reliquary. My ears popped as the reliquary pushed back.
The reliquary shuddered and cracked under the strain. I looked down at the reliquary as it struggled, and then back to the escaping rebels.
“Fly you fools.” I whispered* (I understood that reference.)
Professor Harbinger's School for Villains 