Bound to the Abyss (7 page)

“Alright, this should be a good spot,” Ean whispered. “We’re close enough to be able to see what’s happening, and far enough away to be able to escape through the bog if the creature manages to see us.”

“Can’t we get a little closer?” Bran said, an eager look in his eyes as he scanned the area in front of the mine. “If the thing is as big as you say, it’s not going to be able to sneak up on us.” His one hand had drifted to his sword again, and he looked like a man ready to attack, not flee. Ean turned to Jaslen with a silent plea for help. Their eyes met in mutual understanding.

 
“Please, I’m not as fast of a runner as you and Ean,” she said, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “And think of the Hero. If the creature sees us, there goes his chance to take it by surprise, making his job all the more difficult, not to mention dangerous.”
 

Clever girl, Ean thought. For someone so head-over-heels over Bran, Jaslen had a good idea of how to steer him in the right direction.

“You’re right, as always.” Bran flashed her a warm smile, and the two seemed to get lost in each other’s eyes. Ean felt the sudden urge to dunk both of their heads into the bog. As much as he adored Jaslen, Ean knew his chances with her were not existent as long as Bran was around. And the two were around each other all the time. Pushing his own frustration down deep inside, Ean turned his attention back to the mine.

By the time the hero came into view, the sun was half hidden by the mountains with long shadows starting to stretch across the valley. A strong wind had started to blow down out of the mountains as well, which sucked the warmth right out of the area. The three observers huddled by the end of the bog, watching the Hero as he approached the entrance to the mine with large confident strides. He had both swords drawn, twirling one in each hand as he approached the entrance. He stopped a few short paces from the mine and yelled into the entrance, but the howl of the wind drowned out his words.

But not even the wind could drown out the creature’s reply; a roar that echoed from deep in the mine shook the earth.

“By the gods,” exclaimed Bran, “what was that?” His hand moved down to the pommel of his sword. A quick glance at Jaslen found that her expression mirrored Bran’s words. Her mouth hung wide open, and she clung to Bran’s left arm with an iron grip. The older boy looked like a man ready to charge.

Ean placed a restraining hand on Bran’s sword arm, shaking his head. “Don’t even think about it.” He held tight until Bran’s arm relaxed and fell to his side. One crisis avoided, Ean turned his attention back to the mine.

The Hero had moved back a bit, realizing that killing this beast wasn’t going to be an easy feat. He stood there, face locked in the direction of the mine, the wind blowing the grass at his feet. Another roar came from inside the mine. The three of them flinched. It was much closer this time. Ean almost jumped out of his skin when Jaslen grabbed his hand as well. It was a shock at first then gave him courage as he squeezed her hand back. And then the beast emerged.

In the fading sunlight, the creature seemed larger and more terrifying than it had before. Ean’s first instinct was to run, but the pressure of Jaslen’s hand on his own rooted him to his spot.

Twice the Hero’s height, the beast seemed to hold itself up in a more human fashion than Ean remembered. It was also wearing some kind of armor that seemed patched together, with the rest of its exposed body covered in red scales that shimmered and reflected the sunlight.

It moved toward the Hero with slow and deliberate steps, its tail swaying hypnotically like a huge snake. Even though it was nowhere near the Hero yet, it reached out towards him as if it could snatch him up even from far away. The Hero was back peddling with slow, measured movements, but still appeared confident as he returned to swirling the swords in his hands. He moved with the grace of a dancer at the Harvest Festival, which Ean hadn’t expected from the robust man. The Hero might have a chance if he could out-maneuver the beast.
 

The beast lunged for the Hero. The distance between them closed in an instant, its giant right claw sweeping towards the Hero’s armored body. The claw passed over the Hero’s head as he ducked and rolled to his right. Ean had underestimated the overweight man’s ability. A spark of hope flared up deep inside of Ean’s chest, and he found himself rooting for the man.

Coming out of his roll and springing to his feet, the Hero slashed the creature with both of his swords in a cross pattern. The blades glanced along the scales of the creature’s left leg with a grating sound but didn’t seem to cause any damage. The beast didn’t even flinch. It swung its entire body to the right. Its tail aimed at the Hero’s chest. This time the Hero dodged just in time and leapt away.

“The creature is fast for its size,” Bran said in a whisper, his eyes locked on the fight. “But the Hero seems to be handling himself well.”
 

Ean turned and glared at him. “Quiet. Just watch and be ready to run.” He kept his gaze on him until Bran nodded again then turned his attention back to the battle.

Instead of waiting to dodge whatever the creature threw at him, the Hero had taken up the tactic of staying on the move. He rolled and dodged when the creature was facing him. Darted in whenever he could to slash or stab at the large beast. Then retreated and watched for another opening. Unfortunately, none of his attacks seemed to be doing any damage to the creature. By the time the sun was just a slash of light peaking over the mountains, the Hero had returned to the defensive. Even from a distance, Ean could see the large man breathing heavily, his breath creating a mist in the cool dusk air. Turning to his companions, Ean nodded his head back the way they had come. “I think it might be a good idea to get out of here. It doesn’t look like our Hero is going to last much longer.”

Bran ignored Ean and took a step towards the fight.

“What are you doing?!” Ean whispered, rising as well. “You see how the Hero has failed to even hurt the beast. You can’t possibly think that you can do better than him or that your blade would have any better luck.” He grabbed a hold of Bran’s arm and tried to pull him back. Instead, Ean found himself pulled along as Bran took a few steps away from the bog.

“You’re right. It’s clear I would have no chance against the beast.” Despite his words, Bran continued forward, dragging Ean behind him. “But maybe I can do something to distract it so that the Hero can get away.” Stopping suddenly, he turned his head to look Ean square in the eyes. “It’s the right thing to do, Ean. We can’t just stand here and watch the man die.”

“Oh, I have no plan of watching the man die.” Ean let go of the larger boy’s arm. “I plan on getting out of here before he becomes dinner and we become desert.” The look Bran shot him was all Ean needed to understand what the boy was feeling. Taking a step back towards the group, Bran poked an accusatory finger into Ean’s face.

“I cannot in good conscience walk away and let the man die.” Bran’s voice was rising now as his convictions overrode his common sense. “When even the smallest possibility exists that I could have done something to help him.”

Ean knew Bran to be an honorable guy, but he didn’t know that he held his ideals higher than his own life. Ean hoped Jaslen could talk some sense into her boyfriend, but the look of horror on her face made him follow her gaze back to the right. The Hero was pinned to the ground by a giant clawed foot planted on his chest.

The poor man was squirming beneath the beast, his arms and legs flailing about, both of his swords out of reach. The creature was looking at him like a dog slobbering over a bone, its tongue darting in and out between its teeth.
 

“We have to do something,” Bran said, then started back towards the beast.

Ean watched him take two steps, looked at the Hero still pinned to the ground, then let out a frustrated growl. “Fine, fine. Let’s all get killed saving a stranger. I hope it eats you first.” Ean hoped the anger in the voice masked his terror as he stomped off after Bran.

They hadn’t even cleared the bog when Jaslen’s terrified pleas froze them both.

“Please don’t leave me,” she said, her voice low and strained. “Don’t leave me alone.”

Bran looked back, his face conflicted. Ean felt conflicted as well, although he doubted it was for the same reasons. Part of him wanted to continue on and try to be the hero in front of Jaslen and Bran. The other part wanted to run screaming back into the safety of the bog.
 

A growl from the beast made them all turn their attention back to the area in front of the mine. The creature had reached down and plucked the Hero off the ground with one large clawed hand. The man looked like a doll in the hands of an adult. Still showing signs of life, the Hero beat at the creature’s hand with both fists, but his fate was already sealed. He let out one spine-shivering scream. Then the creature opened his mouth wide and bit down, its mouth covering half of the large man. When the creature pulled its head back, the hero’s top half was gone. Along with the chance for Bran and Ean to do something to help.

As the creature chewed on the upper portion of the Hero, Jaslen made a retching noise as she lost her last meal. Despite their horror, Ean and Bran stared as the monster continued its meal. It chewed on what was left, pieces of bone and flesh hanging from its maw.

Bran began mouthing something, probably a prayer, although he kept his eyes locked on the carnage.

Ean only pulled his gaze away when a tug on his pant leg got his attention. Glancing down, he saw the telltale shimmer of his invisible imp. Ean turned to Bran, grabbing his arm.
 

“We really need to get out of here.”
 

As Jaslen finished getting sick, Bran reached down and picked her up in his arms. She buried her cheek in his shoulder and quietly sobbed.
 

Ean watched them walk off for a moment before turning his attention back to the beast. The sun had taken refuge behind the mountain, as if it couldn’t bear to watch what was happening to the deceased Hero. All that was left of the day was a sick yellow glow over the horizon. Zin gave his pant leg another tug, but Ean remained transfixed by the sight of the creature feasting on the Hero’s torso. The sounds of bones breaking made him cringe, but he refused to look away. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt that it was important that he stayed until the end. Important that he watched what horrors this world could hold.

* * *

A second Hero arrived at their village a few days later. Another self-proclaimed master swordsman, this one was much more impressive. He wore leather armor engraved with the outlines of a variety of different creatures, all of which he claimed to have killed. Unlike the previous Hero, he carried a single long sword, its hilt inlaid with jewels and the hand-guard carved with intricate designs on its surface. He had wide shoulders and a trim waistline. At the inn, Hero number-two leapt from tabletop to tabletop without losing his balance, showing off his athleticism for the delighted crowd. What an arrogant buffoon, thought Ean, but he had to admit that the physically fit second Hero showed more promise than the first one had.
 

And at the bog he lasted twice as long before the creature made a snack of him. Ean watched the whole battle from the same spot, this time without Bran and Jaslen. He hadn’t seen the two since the night they had watched the first Hero die. He had to admit it hurt, and he felt abandoned, but he was used to them only making brief appearances in his life.

The third Hero arrived about twelve days after the beast made a home in the mines. He came into town on the wagons of an unknown trader, which in itself was something special. For the added visitor, the villagers set up their stalls in the town square like it was the Harvest Festival, hoping to sell the little crafts they made in their spare time. The few families that had produced a good harvest brought out a variety of different meals to serve to the trader. All of the meals were made of different types of beans, since it was one of the few edible plants that grew in the valley, but the villagers had learned enough over the years to spice them up in different ways to make them interesting.
 

The Hero appeared to have magical abilities of his own, thus also considered a Magus. After the wagons had settled in around the village square, he leapt out of the back, throwing sparks of different colored energy into the air. Then, in a shower of red lights, he was gone, appearing again on the other side of the square as more sparks flew from his fingertips. The crowd that had gathered around by that point cheered and followed along after the Hero as he bowed once and sauntered his way back towards the inn.

While the villagers laughed and cheered as they followed along after the man, Ean found the whole situation ironic. The fact that the gruesome deaths of villagers and Heroes at the hands of a horrible creature would bring the town to life was funny in a sad sort of way. He looked forward to the day he could leave this cruel town more than ever. The only thing keeping him here now was his complete lack of money, since Krane had stolen most of it from him. He had no idea how long it would take to save up enough money to leave. But he was here now and curious to see what this new Hero was capable of doing.

Ean frowned as he passed the two men the mayor had posted at the entrance to the inn. Their mere presence kept the town folks on their best behavior.
 
Ean managed to weave his way through the crowd gathered on the porch and reach the front doors. The thugs guarding the door were only being paid to toss people out, not keep paying patrons from coming in, so they let Ean pass through the swinging doors.and he weaved his way through the crowd gathered right at the entrance.

The place was packed. He had to muscle his way through the crowd to find a place close to the new visitor. With the inn so packed, it took him a while to figure out where the Magus was sitting. The failures of the previous two Heroes had made the town cynical. People had come here to socialize and get drunk, not to dote on some pompous windbag who would probably be dead this time tomorrow. Nonetheless, the third Hero had found a small audience. Ean spotted him at a table in the far corner of the room, leaning back in his chair with a mug of ale in one hand. By the time Ean wormed his way over to him, the man seemed to be in the middle of a story.