Dan McGirt - Hero Wanted

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Hero Wanted

Copyright 2009 by Dan McGirt

All rights reserved.

Illustration: Copyright 2009 by RichardHescox

All rights reserved

Cover design by Kris Tobiassen

Published 2009 by Trove Books LLC

TroveBooks.com

JasonCosmo.com

Smashwords Edition 1.6, November 2011

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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The arrival of the stranger was quite ashock. He strode into the Festering Wart tavern like an insult,stopping in the middle of the common room with his hands on hiships and arrogance on his face. All the village men were there thatspring evening, drinking warm rutabaga beer and gossiping about therecent rash of mottled pig pox going around. We ceased our talk tostare at the new arrival in sullen, suspicious silence. The onlysound was the sputtering of the smoky pig fat lanterns hanging fromthe dangerously bowed rafters.

My humble village of Lower Hicksnittle, onthe northernmost fringe of the backward Kingdom of Darnk, was asisolated and uneventful a place as could be found. Hicksnittlersplodded thickly through life, considering anything beyond the edgesof our rocky turnip fields to be alien, hostile, and ultimatelyunimportant. We knew little of events elsewhere in the ElevenKingdoms, for travelers from the south were rare. To the north layendless leagues of empty wasteland and the black wall of a distant,unexplored mountain range. Hence our amazement when the strangerappeared in our midst.

He was thin and pale and outlandishlydressed. His peach-hued pants were too tight, his white blouse tooruffled, his jeweled codpiece too much. The bobbing yellow plume onhis wide-brimmed felt hat was too long, the golden curls of hishair too dainty. We Hicksnittlers favored drab, ill-fittinggarments woven of mudflax and cottonweed. We cropped our hair shortand bathed irregularly, if at all.

His dress was one strike against him. Thesword at his belt was another. A man with a sword was trouble.

I am Lombardo of Calador, he said,wrinkling his nose against the stench. Strong men had died frominhaling too deeply of the Festering Warts foul, damp, spore-ladenair. Their bones still lay scattered in the filth on the floor, forin Darnk it was our custom to leave the dead wherever they happenedto fall.

Many call me Lombardo the Magnificent,Lombardo continued. He paused expectantly. We made no response. Heseemed amazed that we did not recognize his name. I have come toyour quaint village, good peasants, seeking a man with whom I havebusiness. His name is Jason Cosmo.

I jumped in my seat. The others turned toglare at me, holding me to blame for Lombardos intrusion into ourworld. Lombardo approached my table. As he came near, a cloyingperfume assailed my nostrils, even through the overpowering odorsof the Festering Wart. Farmer Ames and Burlo Stumproot, my drinkingpartners, held their noses. I held my breath and met Lombardosgaze.

You, sirrah! said Lombardo, jabbing akid-gloved finger at my face. Do you know where I may find the oneI seek?

Im Jason Cosmo, I said. What do you wantwith me?

Ah! What do I want, you ask? Your head,dog! Your head in a sack, tied to my saddle.

Youre joking.

Think you so? I looked up into his paleblue eyes, cruel as hooks. He wasnt joking.

There must be some mistake.

There is no mistake. He tapped the hilt ofhis sword. Stand you up!

Ill sit, thank you.

I said stand, dog! He whipped a slenderrapier from his scabbard and pressed the point against my throat. Ilooked to my fellow Hicksnittlers for support. They all took asudden absorbing interest in their grubby fingernails.

I stood. Lombardos blade flexed slightly asthe point rested atop my sternum.

Listen, Ive paid my taxes and

Silence! he hissed. Lombardo raised hisvoice. Good villagers! This man who dwells among you is not, intruth, a man! He paused for dramatic effect. He is a demon inhuman form!

The Hicksnittlers gasped in horror. Burloand Ames left my table, taking their beer mugs with them.

I always knew there was something strangeabout him, said Ames. Always a-readin them books.

Burlo nodded. Yup. A normal man dont haveuse for no books, just pigs and turnips. Even so, whod havethought Jason was a demon in human form?

He did seem like a nice fella. Just goes toshow.

The other men averred themselves to beequally shocked by this revelation.

Im not a demon! I protested.

He lies! said Lombardo. Think on it! Havenot your crops failed, your livestock sickened, your childrendisobeyed, your wives nagged you? The wide-eyed villagers noddedassent to these propositions. Lombardo jabbed at me with therapier. Evading it, I stumbled backward over the bench and tumbledto the floor. There is the cause! He poses as one of you even ashe casts vile enchantments over all you hold dear!

It is a terrible thing, said Ames wisely,when a man casts vile enchantments over all his neighbors holddear.

True, said Burlo. Of course Jason aint aman no more. Hes a demon in human form.

This was getting out of hand. I regained myfeet. Lombardo kept his sword extended in my direction, but thepoint no longer reached me and the table remained between us. Hemade no move to close the gap.

Youve known me all my life! I said. Iwas born here! Im a farmer like you, a Hicksnittler, a proud sonof dismal Darnk!

Precious little farmin I seen you do,said Farmer Godfrey, squinting at me from his seat across the room.Your turnip patch is half the size of any other mans.

Because Im also the village woodcutter!You know that! I cut the firewood that keeps you warm through thecold Darnkish winter. I supply the lumber for your proud shacks. Asdid my father before me, and his father before him.

What about the books? said Ames. Evilthings, books. Full of black magic.

They are not!

You say. How do we know you havent got abook spell for calling up the mottled pig pox, huh? The othersgrumbled darkly at this suggestion. Lombardo merely smirked.

If you would learn to read, you could seefor yourself that I dont.

No point in it, said Ames. He spat.Reading is bad business through and through.

There is nothing sinister about reading! Mydear, departed mother taught me, The Gods rest her soul.

Your mother was from Parts Unknown, saidGodfrey. That means she was a witch. That means youre at leasthalf witch, even if youre not a demon.

Take that back, Godfrey, or Ill brain you!No one speaks ill of my mother!

Janna Cosmo was no witch, but the runawaydaughter of a minor landholder in Brythalia, the kingdom south ofDarnk. Fleeing a danger she never fully revealed, at least not tome, she braved the wilderness alone and found her way to LowerHicksnittle, where she married my father, Jolan. Strong-willed,educated, and exquisitely beautiful, she was never fully acceptedby the Hicksnittlers, especially the spiteful village wives whoenvied her looks and grace and frowned on her foreign ways. Thoseways included educating me in what she considered a fitting manner.I knew more about history, geography, mathematics, and other suchmatters than the rest of the village combined. True, I had littleuse for such knowledge, but I was grateful nonetheless for mymothers gift of it.