First Hero (2 page)

A
ngry skies and the clash of swords filled Tanner’s dreams. A harsh cry sounded out and he felt himself being torn from sleep, rushing up to the surface of consciousness. His eyelashes fluttered open. He realized that the cry that woke him had come from his own lips. Moonlight flooded through the window. He sat up and dragged a weary hand across his eyes. His dream lingered in his thoughts, threatening and deadly.

With a sigh, he threw off his blankets and scrambled out of bed, wincing as his feet touched the cold floor. He pushed his long hair out of his eyes and splashed cold water from a tin basin onto his face. Feeling more awake, he pulled his tunic over his head and tugged on his battered old boots.

He looked out of the window. Light gathered on the horizon, glowing on the rough track that led to Forton. To the north, in the direction of Harron, he saw a faint orange glow.
A bonfire, perhaps?
Tanner wondered. He gazed at his reflection in the dirty windowpane. Long brown hair framed his pale face. Above high cheekbones, his dark eyes betrayed last night’s troubled sleep.

I’m late for work
, he thought. No time for breakfast. He creeped past his grandmother’s room and smiled as he heard her soft snores. Quietly opening the front door, he stepped into the cold morning. The air misted as he took a few deep breaths. Tanner smelled mint drifting from the well-tended herb garden. The plants had been crushed by something large, and some of the leaves were charred at the edges. “That won’t make Grandmother very happy,” he muttered, smiling. He knew who the culprit was!

His route to the bakery in Forton where he worked led down the path behind a row of thatched cottages, not far from the edge of the woods where his father had been killed and his mother abducted. It was hard to believe that eight years had passed since that terrible day. The memory of it was as raw as ever: the anguish of his dying father’s face, his mother’s screams as she was dragged away.

Tanner shook his head and ran to the bakery.

Heat blasted over Tanner’s body as he sucked in the scorching air. Sweat poured off him, even though he was stripped to the waist. Although not yet fully grown, Tanner was lithe, nimble, and stronger than he looked.

Using the long-handled paddle, he took the last loaves from the oven and laid them to rest on the cooling racks. He put a couple of loaves under his arm, waved good-bye to the baker — who still had a day of selling bread ahead of him — and stepped into Forton’s village square. In the hours since he’d started work, it had filled with people. The sun had risen over the rooftops, and shutters were opening to the smell of fresh bread.

Tanner stood for a moment, raising his face to the sun. A washerwoman hurried past with bundles of clean linen under her arms. A fisherman and his son, Ben, balanced a pole strung with trout across their shoulders.

“Stop by our stall later,” Ben called to Tanner. “I’ll have some fried fish for you, in exchange for bread.”

Tanner grinned at Ben and lifted a hand in acknowledgment. After the loss of his parents, he had thought there was nothing to live for, but time had gone some way to heal the wound. He had many friends in the village. And his grandmother, although grumpy and short-tempered, looked after him.
Life could be worse
, he always told himself, when he felt sad.

Tanner looked at the stout wooden palisade topped with sharpened stakes, and at the shallow, dry moat surrounding Forton. Defenses had been added when Forton was rebuilt after Derthsin’s attack. Despite the protection, fear of violence remained — Avantia was a dangerous place, with no ruler. War bands roamed the lands, raiding villages, and bandits prowled the quieter stretches of road.

Forton was prepared for invasions. Everyone was expected to know how to fight. Over time, an uneasy calm had settled over the village — people remembered Derthsin, but his presence had not been felt for years. Everyone assumed he was dead.

Tanner made his way home, striding through the stockade gate, over the moat bridge, and onto the track. His day’s work was not over; he still had to look after his beloved grandmother.

In the kitchen, Tanner prodded the embers of the fire into life and hung a huge black kettle over it. When the kettle was singing, he made his grandmother’s morning herb tea and took it to her with a plate of the fresh bread and some butter.

Grandmother Esme was already sitting up in bed, a multicolored shawl around her shoulders. She eyed him impatiently as she tied up her unruly gray dreadlocks with a scrap of scarlet linen. Tanner set the tray down on the bed and kissed her on the cheek; her skin felt paper-thin, and the circles under her eyes were darker than ever.

“Bring me my box of oracle bones, boy,” she said.

Tanner groaned. “Fortune-telling again?”

His grandmother’s face clouded. “Change is coming to Avantia. I must read the bones so we can prepare ourselves. Now, do as you’re told!”

Tanner felt a chill crawl over his skin. As he went to fetch the box, he thought back to his troubled dreams.

Something was brewing. Could Grandmother Esme’s pieces of bone spell out the future? Her fortune-telling was renowned in the village, and she made a small living reading people’s palms.
There’s no denying it
, he thought grimly.
One way or another, they always seem to help her see what’s coming.

As Tanner returned to his grandmother’s room and set the box down on the bed, he heard the sound of hooves coming from the north road. Esme looked up with watery eyes.

“Wait here,” said Tanner. He snatched up his sword from the rack at the front door and walked into the road, shielding his eyes from the sun. He saw a cloud of dust coming along the track. A single horseman. Tanner let out the breath he had been holding: It was Drew, a farmer who worked the land farther outside the village boundary.

But as the horse drew closer, Tanner’s anxiety returned. Drew wobbled in the saddle, and his head was bowed forward. His horse’s flanks were slick with sweat. Twenty paces away, Drew slumped against his horse’s mane. Tanner gasped when he saw the black-fletched arrow protruding from his back. The horse came to a halt and Drew slid from the saddle.

Tanner rushed to help him up. He cringed at the sticky red blood staining Drew’s tunic, stark against his deathly pale skin. Tanner heaved him up onto his shoulder and dragged him to the cottage.

Esme appeared in the doorway. “I’ll get water,” she said, “and bandages.” She disappeared back into the gloom of the cottage.

“What happened?” asked Tanner, helping the farmer sit down on the front step and lean his shoulder against the doorframe.

Drew sucked in a shallow breath. “An army,” he gasped. “Hundreds of men marching this way.”

“What army?” said Tanner. No armies had marched in Avantia since Derthsin had disappeared. Bandits prowled the land, but not armies.

Drew shook his head. “I don’t know. Not just soldiers. Some sort of creature …” He choked and flecks of blood gathered around his lips. “They destroyed Harron last night. They murdered everyone. The whole town is gone. It was just like the last time ….”

Dread ran down Tanner’s spine.

“I tried to escape, but one of their scouts shot me …. Some brute riding a varkule —” Drew broke off, coughing up more blood.

“Don’t speak any more,” Tanner said. “Try to save your strength.”

Tanner’s grandmother hobbled over with a bowl of hot water and clean strips of linen.

“Drew says soldiers are coming,” said Tanner, his voice tight with tension.

His grandmother’s glance shifted to the doorway leading back into the house. Tanner swallowed. Surely no one could know what was hidden beneath the floorboards? The fragment of the Mask of Death was their secret.

One piece was buried beneath their home, while the other pieces were scattered across the kingdom. Esme had never told Tanner where they were, or why she hadn’t destroyed them. “It’s not for you to know,” she would say, shaking her head. “Not yet.” After a few years, Tanner had stopped asking about the pieces of the mask. Until today, he’d almost forgotten about them.

“Grandmother,” Tanner said, putting his hand on her arm. “I have to go and look.”

She turned her shrewd gaze on him and nodded grimly. She pressed a damp cloth against Drew’s bloody wound. He gasped with pain. “Be careful. And remember all you have learned these past years.”

Tanner rushed around to the back of the cottage, his heart thumping, and scrambled up the small plateau between the trees. He looked east, toward the distant volcano that still spewed lava several times a year.

Cupping his mouth, he called the name of his most trusted friend.

“Firepos!” Tanner’s voice echoed up toward the distant peak.

A shape burst from the volcano’s glowing mouth, spreading mighty red-brown wings. Tanner’s fear receded as the great Beast soared toward him, driving through the Avantian morning with powerful strokes. The flame bird was silhouetted against the sun, her sharp beak shining as she sliced through the air. Firepos drew close, thrusting out her talons to land gently in front of him. Gold shimmered among her ruffled feathers, and he felt the heat rising from her flanks.

“Are you ready?” he said.

Firepos replied with a shrill call, and lowered her body. Tanner climbed onto her back and clutched the thick feathers behind her head.

“North!” he shouted.

F
irepos soared over the cottage. The green plains and rocky mountains of Avantia swept into view. It looked peaceful, but so vulnerable. Sleepy villages and open fields were no defense against attacking armies.

Even with these doubts prickling inside him, Tanner felt a thrill of exhilaration as they took to the sky. The first time he and Firepos had flown together had been the day after his father’s murder and mother’s abduction. He’d been terrified, clinging to her plumage and burying his face in her neck, unable to look down. He couldn’t understand why this Beast had chosen him to be her rider.

But as the seasons passed, and then the years, their bond had grown and strengthened like the roots of a tree. After a while, he stopped questioning why. He trusted his Beast above all others, and he knew they were meant to be together.
When the time is right, Firepos will let me know why she chose me.

Firepos had been a patient trainer. Tanner wasn’t sure what he was being trained for, and when he tried to ask, his Beast would close her eyes and wait for the questions to cease. For a long while he hadn’t been sure if Firepos understood him, until he realized that she could read his thoughts.

He learned how to hold on to the Beast’s back during her steepest dives, how to live on a mountainside without dying of exposure, and where to hunt in the most barren places. He was no longer the skinny seven-year-old who’d watched his father die. He was stronger now, in body and spirit. Firepos had taught him how to survive.

Now Firepos flew high across a hill, her wings spread wide. Astride her back, Tanner surveyed the expanse of green pasture to the west, and the gleaming waters of the lake to the east, where Ben and his father fished. To the north, over the plains, the peaks were cold blue smears on a hazy horizon. Tanner had flown between those peaks many times, numbed by hail and freezing winds.

The whistle of the wind sang in his ears and his eyes watered, but as they pushed through a low-hanging cloud, tearing through drifting white, he experienced the excitement he always felt when flying on Firepos’s back. He sensed the steady beat of Firepos’s wings and the strong thump of her heart. She responded to his unspoken commands, cutting through the rough air, buffeted in the wild aerial winds.

The Beast’s flight settled and she dropped out of the clouds. The road leading to Forton stretched beneath them, winding its way through the hills. In the distance, Tanner saw a cloud of dust rising from the road. He bade Firepos fly lower as they approached.
We must stay out of sight
, he urged her.

They closed on the dust cloud. What Tanner saw next chilled his blood.

Down the road tramped three columns of soldiers, one behind the next, the disciplined trudge of their march carrying up to him. At the four points of each column, outriders rode on the backs of varkules — giant, hyena-like creatures the size of horses, with mottled hides and sharp tusks. Streaks of thick fur lined their spines; their ears were pointed and alert, nostrils sniffing the air for prey. One of them cried out, and Tanner shuddered at the faint noise of the animal’s howl.

Leading the advance, mounted on a magnificent black stallion, was a tall man dressed in black armor that glinted and flashed. Tanner couldn’t see his features. His helmet, shaped like the snout of a dragon, was firmly shut. Everything about the Dragon Warrior was dark; he seemed to suck the light from around him. A cold sensation trickled through Tanner’s chest. There was something dreadful in the purpose of the men’s march.

“Lower, Firepos,” Tanner murmured.

They made a pass over the army. “There must be three hundred at least,” he said. He saw that the soldiers wore full-body leather armor. The leading elements carried spears, and swords hung at their sides. Behind them came men with long-handled battle-axes resting on their shoulders, and bringing up the rear marched a contingent of crossbowmen. Their helmets hid most of their faces, but their mouths were cruel and hard.

Tanner flew overhead, casting a dark shadow over the army. The Dragon Warrior reined in his stallion and shouted a command. The rest of the soldiers stopped dead as the crossbowmen rushed out of the column, rapidly forming a line, two men deep. The front rank went down on their knees, aiming their weapons at Firepos.

Fear choked Tanner’s throat.

I have to warn everyone!
Firepos tipped back her head and soared higher.

“Loose!” bellowed the Dragon Warrior. There was a clatter as the crossbowmen shot their bolts. Missiles whistled past Firepos, several passing through the feathers in her tail. She beat her wings harder and flew out of range.

Tanner twisted around, gazing down toward his village. The palisade would be no defense against these men, with their varkules and iron discipline. Firepos let out a cry as they darted between the clouds and Tanner brought his chest close to her body.
Quick, Firepos!
Reassurance radiated up to him from her warm feathers.

Firepos swooped down into Forton’s central square, drawing gasps from the villagers trading at the stalls as her talons skittered onto the cobbles. It was market day, so nearly all of Forton was there.

It was the first time for many years that Firepos had shown herself to anyone other than Tanner and Esme. Tanner could feel her trepidation at doing so — she had kept herself a secret for a long time. How would the villagers react to seeing young Tanner, the baker’s apprentice, riding a Beast mentioned only in the old legends of history books?

For a few seconds people stared, openmouthed, unwilling to believe their eyes. A scream broke the silence. Some people scrambled to get away, knocking over piles of fruit and bundles of wool from the stalls, and disappearing down alleys. Parents grabbed their children and hugged them to their chests. Other, braver souls simply stared in wonder.

At least not everyone is running away
, Tanner thought.
It’s probably because they know me. I have to try to explain what is going on.

Tanner leaped off Firepos’s back and ran to the bell in the center of the square. He seized the rope and yanked on it with all his strength, sending loud peals out over the village. The bell was to be used only as a warning of grave danger. People emerged from their houses, slowly, torn between their curiosity and fear of the Beast. All gazed up at Firepos with wide eyes.

“Do not fear Firepos,” Tanner called. “She is a Beast of legend, and I am her Chosen Rider.”

Murmurs echoed around the square. A few people approached Firepos. She eyed them beadily, unsure of how they would act.

Simon, the village leader — a sensible man who had helped Tanner bury his father — stepped forward from the crowd. “Hush, everyone,” he said. “Tanner, what in Avantia is going on?”

Tanner climbed onto Firepos’s back and stood up so everyone could hear him. “Soldiers are coming! Hundreds of them. Break out the weapons. Man the walls!”

“Bandits?” Simon said. “They wouldn’t attack our town. It’s too well protected.”

“These are not common bandits, Simon. Our walls will be useless in the face of these men. They have varkules. These men are …” He didn’t know how to say it. He looked into his friend’s face. “They’ll kill us all. They’ve already razed Harron to the ground. They nearly killed Drew.”

A murmur of fresh panic rippled through the villagers. Simon’s face darkened. “All those in the militia, to the armory. Anyone who can hold a weapon, get ready to fight,” he shouted, looking around. “Everyone else, into the cellars.” He turned back to Tanner. “Can you and your Beast help us?”

Tanner’s heart pounded as he watched the villagers hurry to the armory. They emerged with grim faces, carrying crossbows, swords, clubs, and axes.

The sound of a war horn blasted from outside the village. Fear closed over Tanner like a black cloud. He felt cold. His hands were wet with sweat.

“Will you help us?” Simon insisted.

“I’ll hold them off as long as I can,” Tanner said, swallowing his fear. “Organize a defense with the time I buy you.”

Simon nodded and ran off, barking orders.

“Go, Firepos,” Tanner cried. “Head for the fields.”

As the Beast soared away from the village, Tanner’s heart thumped even harder. The cruel worm of doubt returned and his stomach tightened. He’d promised to hold off the army, but he’d seen the varkules, the weapons, the deadly intent in every stride the soldiers took toward Forton. He looked down at his thin tunic. One slash of a blade and his heart could be torn from his chest.

But he had a Beast, and they did not! That was something, at least.

“It’s our time, Firepos,” he told her. “Time to defend our home.” He could hear his own voice trembling. He’d seen death before, smelled its scent — death had taken Tanner’s father. Now it had returned.

Even with Firepos’s training, would Tanner be able to cheat death a second time?