Aurelius and I (33 page)

“And it can,” the creature bravely (or, indeed, foolishly) maintained, “but I never said that doing so alone would cause them to release their power.”

“I SAID SILENCE!” Blackheart shouted once more, issuing another kick as he did so. “I will suffer your foolish academia no more. I shall let you witness how a true warrior deals with an obstacle in his path – by crushing it beneath him. And then you shall be next.”

With that, the enormous, evil warrior raised decoy scimitar high above his head.

“I DON’T THINK SO!”

I don’t know why I said it; what possessed me to open my mouth and needlessly concede our element of surprise? I mean, it’s not as though Blackheart was about to do any harm to the ancient tablet with what was, after all, a pretty useless imitation of the genuine scimitar which I held in my own hand. All I can say is that it felt like the right thing to say at the time – the sort of thing the hero would say in the films just before he came in and beat the bad guy and saved the day. Unfortunately, as I quickly discovered, the cinema was not always the best place to learn about being a hero.

“And what do we have here?” Blackheart laughed, looking around at others in a way that suggested they would be wise to do the same, though only the trolls followed suit – I’m not really sure how a rock giant would go about laughing, and Aurelius simply stared in our direction with a look of genuine surprise.

“We’ve come to stop you,” I said in the bravest, deepest, manliest voice I could muster. “So I suggest you put down the sword and go home before I have to hurt you.”

More laughter echoed around the low chamber, more raucously than before.

“Stop me?
You
?! Stop
me
?! Well, obviously a great general of the tundrala like myself would ordinarily be petrified of a puny human child and his toy cutlass, but I’m afraid, my young friend, that you have come too late.”

He paused and slowly, meaningfully, raised the scimitar above his head.

“Say goodbye to your precious tablet,” he said mirthfully before bringing the blade crashing down upon the sacred stone with the speed and strength of a hundred lumberjacks.

There followed an almighty ‘CRACK’ which echoed deafeningly around the cave; it was as though somebody had let off a grenade in the enclosed space. Everybody covered their ears and instinctively turned their faces away from the source of the destruction.

Several seconds passed.

Slowly, I removed my hands from ears and turned, warily, toward the mighty stone. To my great relief, it remained in tact. Indeed, from where I stood it appeared as though the almighty blow from scimitar we now all knew to be fake had failed to so much as scratch the surface of the tablet. The noise that still faintly echoed around us having been created by the snapping of the blade, the handle of which remained in the dumbfounded Gravlier’s oversized hand.

“What magic is this?” he mumbled, more to himself than anybody else. Then, looking up at Aurelius he said; “YOU! YOU TOLD ME THIS WOULD WORK! We made a deal! Your place at the Professor’s side in exchange for
this
,” he gestured to the broken blade in his hand, “this ‘all-powerful’ Scimitar. IT DOESN’T SEEM VERY POWERFUL TO ME!!!”

“That’s because
that
isn’t the Scimitar of Swaronia...
This
is,” I interrupted, holding the real scimitar proudly aloft.

I don’t know what came over me. I had suddenly developed some sort of bizarre syndrome which caused me to be unable to stop myself from paraphrasing lines from bad movies, no matter how much trouble they got me in. I mean, why did I need to say anything at all? Blackheart could do no harm to the tablet without the real scimitar. I had the real scimitar, the existence of which he no longer believed in. Surely the most sensible option would have been to have turned and run, thereby escaping with our lives and enabling us to conceal the true blade once more? But no, for the first time since I had embarked on my quest to save the forest I had the upper hand and I couldn’t help myself but brag about it.

“Oh, is it now?” asked Blackheart, an untrustworthy smile spreading slowly across his fat, black, toad-like lips.

“It is, yes, and, as you will be aware, it is the most powerful weapon ever forged, capable of cutting through any material on Earth with a single blow, and I’m afraid, as I’m the one holding it, you’re just going to have to stop with your evil plans and go back to whatever sewer you crawled out of before I have to hurt you.”

Again I had given my best, stone-cold action hero performance, burying my fear below another clichéd threat. Blackheart however, did not react in the quivering, desperate manner of the defeated and surrendering movie bad guy. Indeed, his smile only seemed to widen at my speech.

“Well, we’ll just have to see about that, won’t we?” he said with all the cockiness of an enemy who knows he is not yet beaten. An enemy who has to wear a jacket three times his size in order to fit all the many tricks he has resting up his sleeves at any one time. After a pause, he spoke again and, as I had suspected, his words were not those of unconditional surrender.

“
SEIZE HIM!”

The rockalusses were the first to move, being as they were, simply magically-animated lumps of stone without their own free will, capable only of following their master’s commands. The trolls, beholders of something that resembled intelligence and still coated in a thick layer of quicksand as a reminder that I was not to be underestimated, were less eager to enter into battle, ensuring that they were well behind the stone giants in their efforts to reach me.

And they were right to be scared, I told myself. I was, after all, the chosen one, and I did possess the most powerful weapon ever forged. With this as my mantra, I tried to convince myself that I was the one in the position of power (no an easy thing to do with two powerful monsters three times your size fast bearing down on you). I was the one who should be confident. I should be taking the initiative.

With this in mind I hopped across the stepping stones to meet my foes head on. It was a manoeuvre I had not properly considered. The stones were wet and slippery and, although I managed to keep myself from toppling into the dark and threatening water, my journey to its opposite bank took me a great deal longer than I had anticipated. As a result, when I once again arrived on firm ground, I found that the pair of rockalusses were immediately upon me. I had no clue as to how I would ever have the time or the space to fight both of them, and no time in which to figure it out. Overcome with fear and frustration I took the only option left to me; I closed my eyes tight a swung the Scimitar blindly in front of me.

Though I could feel very little in terms of what had made contact with the blade, the sound of rock slamming to the floor and the feel of gravel hitting my face told me that I had made contact with something. Quickly, I opened my eyes to assess the position of my second opponent, fearing that I would do so only in time to make myself aware of the enormous stone foot that was milliseconds from crushing the life out of me. But, to my surprise, I discovered no more rock giants at all. I had destroyed them both with a single blow.

Buoyed of my efforts thus far, I surveyed the chamber to enquire as to the progress of my next opponents. None were forthcoming. The trolls, on witnessing the fate of their compatriots, and being typical bullies who liked only to torment smaller, weaker creatures who would not fight back, had backed away into the corner. Aurelius also looked concerned, and had made no effort to move from his position. Blackheart, however, remained unfazed.

“Very impressive,” he said, the devilish smile never leaving his lips. “That’s quite a weapon you have their.”

“It sure is, so I wouldn’t come any closer if I were you, it can cut through anything, even a giant ball of flab like you.”

“I don’t doubt it,” he replied. “But it still has one weakness; you. You see,” he said reaching inside his long, animal-hide coat, “that blade can only cut through what you are quick enough to hit.”

And with that he pulled the final trick from his sleeve (well, his inside pocket actually)... a gun.

I froze. It was the most unexpected of horrors. Strange I know, seeing as I was dealing with creatures whose sole aim was to wipe out all humanity, but I had never considered that they might be capable of using firearms. The little pistol, which was clearly man-made, just seemed so out of place in a world of fairies, and scimitars, and magic. Part of how I had survived the last few days was the fact that they had seemed as though they had belonged in another world, or at the very least another time. A time before factories and cars, before television and air travel. A time before guns. Somehow, the sudden introduction of this modern, efficient way of killing, served to shatter the dreamlike unreality of my situation that had been allowing me to function thus far, causing the fatal perils I was faced with to suddenly ring true. For the first time in my young life, I felt true terror.

“I’m afraid I cannot offer you the same courtesy you did me in allowing you to leave with your life,” the captain continued with all the sincerity of a used car salesman. “My boss just wouldn’t allow it.”

He raised the gun so that it was level with his face and took aim.

“Any last words, boy?”

“Don’t shoot me?” I ventured.

“You’re funny, you know that?” he laughed, before letting all humour drop from his face as he prepared to fire.

Now I realise, dear reader, that, given the fact that I am the one telling the story, your fear for my death is likely to be somewhat limited, but let me assure you, at the time, I was in possession of no such reassurances myself. I truly believed my time had come. My life cut tragically short, my destiny unfulfilled. I, the so-called chosen one, was to conclude my existence in a cold, wet cave, where my body may never be found. My last thoughts as I shut my eyes were of my parents, and how desperately sorry I felt for them that they had not only lost their only son but that they would never know why. I knew in my heart that they would spend the rest of their lives searching in vain for their lost little boy, whom they would have no way of knowing whether he was alive or dead. All I could think was that, in spite of the loss of the forest and possibly of humanity as a whole, for me, my parents’ sadness would be the greatest tragedy.

What happened next remains a blur, but I shall recount to you what I remember of it and what I was informed of by others after the event.

Through my tightly closed eyes I heard the guns shot and awaited death. Awaited it for what seemed a surprisingly long time. And then I heard the scream.

I opened my eyes to discover Aurelius lying on the floor between Captain Blackheart and myself, motionless in a newly-forming lake of his own blood. The screams came from the mouth of Ophelia, who knelt by his side, willing him to reawaken, to move, to show some sign of life.

He did not.

Had you told me two minutes earlier that I could have felt worse than I did then, standing alone in the face of imminent death, I’d have thought you a madman. But as I sat and watched the death of a man who had always been my friend and who, in the end, had given his life for mine, when I, until that moment, had been ready to take his myself, I was overcome with shame. I wished he hadn’t done it, that I could take it back for him. I wished that it was me that had been shot.

Fortunately, Blackheart was more than eager to make my wish come true. Only momentarily fazed by the fact that he had just slain a man who he had believed to be his comrade, he briefly contemplated Aurelius’s unmoving corpse, shrugged, and raised his gun toward me for a second time.

“Skloopenay Naa!”

King Rolinthor flew in front of me without warning and uttered his strange words before hurling a strange ball of turquoise light from his own personal bag of tricks into the barrel of the Blackheart’s gun.

The Captain pulled the trigger. It jammed. I had cheated death once more.

“Will there never be an end to this infernal child?” he sighed, rolling his eyes. “
SEIZE HIM!
”

For a brief second I looked around, puzzled as to who Blackheart was talking to. I could only think that he referred to the trolls, who still stood meekly behind, their leader, wary of my mighty blade. Clearly they were not the target of Blackheart’s instruction. I looked around me to discover who was.

Then, as if in answer to my question, I felt a hand around my ankle. Before I could do anything about it, I was being dragged under the water.

The feeling of relief at still being alive that overcame me upon my return to consciousness was rapidly replaced by a strong desire to return to the dark serenity of my dreams. I had never in my young life felt so unwell (despite a particularly nasty case of chicken pox shortly after my sixth birthday) – indeed I found it difficult to comprehend that a human being could feel such pain in so many different places on their body and yet remain alive.

The first thing that hit me was the cold. Every part of me burned with that strange feeling of ice-cold heat which one gets after making snowballs without gloves on. It was the kind of cold that came hand in hand with being soaked through.