Jesse awoke with a start. His lungs still burned from all the smoke he’d inhaled and his head swam when he pushed himself up to his feet.

  “Ow!” he cried out as his head banged against the low ceiling of the cellar and caused more ash and dust to fall down around him, temporarily choking out what little light there was.  

  Behind him a small baby began to cry and a great weight seemed to settle onto his shoulders. This wasn’t how it was suppose to go, he thought, and felt great burning tears stream down his cheeks. He was too young to have to deal with all of this. His master was suppose to have taken care of him, of the whole situation but…

  Jesse couldn’t think about his master right now. It was too painful, too terrible, to remember those last few moments before…before he no longer had a master.

  Jesse groped around in the dark until he found the bundle of rags that he’d wrapped the baby in to protect him from the smoke and intensity of the fire above them. The baby quieted once he was held and Jesse began searching the ceiling above for the trapdoor that would let them back out.

  It wasn’t a large cellar and before long Jesse had found the metal handle of the trapdoor. It was still too hot to handle and Jesse was forced to use a piece of torn cloth from his tunic to protect his hand while he worked the metal ring, turning it until the bar locking the trapdoor was out of the way and he could begin pushing upward.

  Debris of smoldering logs weighed down the trapdoor and it took several grunting heaves with his shoulder before the trapdoor finally burst open. His face was immediately accosted by the heat of the still-hot coals and he was forced back down into the cellar. Most of his clothes were thin and so torn that they would provide little protection against the blistering heat, but he knew if he didn’t get out soon that he and the baby would die. If not from the heat itself then from dehydration. It had already been over a day since Jesse’s last drink of water, having rationed it all for the baby and…and the baby’s parents. Jesse had hardly thought of them since waking and yet now he wondered and feared what he would find once he was back out on the surface.

  They had been brave, and kind. Even though Jesse was suppose to be the one protecting them, it was they who gave him their son and told him to hide in the cellar while they remained above. Jesse hoped that they got out, got away, but deep down he knew they would never abandon their child. Besides, how would they have escaped unseen by the bandits who had pursued them and eventually lit the cabin on fire? No, they certainly were dead.

  Jesse drew in a deep breath and steadied himself. He had nothing else he could use to protect himself and there was no point in putting off the inevitable any longer. There was a stream not too far from the cabin. He’d be as swift as he could and make his way there to sooth whatever burns he suffered as well as to quench his ever increasing thirst.

  With one last check on the baby to ensure he was as covered up as possible against the heat, Jesse slung the baby over his shoulder in a makeshift pack and then threw himself up and out of the cellar. He had to rest his forearms on the smoldering floor to lift himself fully out of the cellar and the pain of it nearly made him scream out loud. He kept himself quiet though, unsure whether those bandits were still near enough to hear, and rolled over onto his side before quickly getting his legs beneath himself and rising to his feet, earning several more burns along the way. With each move he was careful to keep the baby from getting burned.

  The air around him was scented with the subtle fragrance of roasted meat and he told himself it was from the animal pelts that had been stored in the cabin.

  His feet burned the worst as he picked his way across the charred ground. The fire had spread beyond the cabin and burned much of the forest around them. When he at last reached the stream it was black and thick with ash but cool to the tough and Jesse rested his burns in the water for a long while.

  He tore off more pieces from his tunic and wrapped them over the mouth of a hollowed out stone he found. Together they made for a crude filter and cup through which he was able to collect water that was at least somewhat clear and he and the baby took turns sipping.

  Will, Jesse thought, the baby’s name was Will. His parents had told him so just before they closed the trapdoor to the cellar.

  “Well, Will,” Jesse said as he set the baby down on the bank and removed some of his coverings. Will looked up at Jesse with bright eyes and cooed. “I promised them I’d keep you safe,” Jesse went on, “but what do we do now?”

  He let himself slide back into the stream to sooth his burned feet, forearms, and side once more. What was he going to do? He could forage well enough for himself if needed, but he doubted that sort of diet would suit Will for very long.

  “There’s a village not too far from here, a few miles maybe” Jesse said aloud though he knew Will wouldn’t understand. “I saw it marked on my masters map and we could maybe find a family to take care of you. I have some coin to pay them, if that’s what it takes.”

  Just as he knew he would have to get burned to get out of the cellar, so too Jesse knew he would have to walk on his burned feet to reach the village and though the cool stream was a comfort he needed to get moving. Now that they were out of the intense heat, Jesse took some of the rags he’d wrapped Will in and used them to wrap his feet and arms. They retained water well and he could dip them in the stream from time to time to re-wet them as needed. It didn’t provide a lot of relief but it was enough that he was able to begin the walk.

  As he walked he unpinned the small metal badge on his chest.

  “I guess I won’t be needing this anymore,” he muttered and moved as though he was going to throw it into the stream.

  A moment passed and he stood, arm raised, before slowly bringing it back down and examining the badge once more. It was in the form of a small shield and his name, as well as the inscription “Hero’s Apprentice” were inscribed around the outer edge.

  “I guess I wasn’t a very good Hero,” he said at last and pocketed the badge.  

                                                                     Chapter 1

  A Hero must negotiate fair payment prior to performing any such Heroic labor.

  -Hero’s Guild Book of Rules

  Rule #26  

  Feral and Riven sat in their camouflaged hiding place high up in the trees, watching with interest while several bandits crowded in around the woman below. By the looks of it she was a member of the Hero’s Guild and the bandits were wary of her blade. Feral and Riven, for their part, were well muscled and dressed in simple, albeit sturdy, clothes. Feral wore mostly tan cloth and he had a few pieces of leather armor along his right arm and leg whereas Riven wore a full shirt of chain mail and had numerous tassels tied to her clothing around her joints and the pommel of her sword to disguise her movements during a fight. Each was armed with a long sword and a collection of smaller knives and daggers and there was a bow and quiver of arrows in the corner of their makeshift hiding place. Both were in their mid to upper twenties though neither really knew for certain how old the other was.

  “The Hero seems to be doing well,” Riven said. “What do you think, Feral?”

  Feral shrugged as Riven pulled an apple from her hip pouch and began eating. “Her stance is good,” Feral said, “but she doesn’t watch her flanks.” He pointed to two of the bandits who were making their way around and behind the Hero without her noticing.

  The Hero, for her part, was nearly winded after having been chased for some time through the woods by the bandits who were also out of breath and it was for this reason that they were all taking their time before engaging one another in serious combat. Many of the bandits bore signs of very recent injuries, most likely from fighting the Hero, but their superior numbers gave them a definite advantage and the Hero kept looking for a new escape route.

  “Two gold says she takes out at least four of them before going down,” Feral said, “but no more than six.”

  Riven scoffed and punched Feral in the shoulder.

  “Oh come on, Riven.”

  “Fine, how about this,” she said, “five gold says you won’t be able to keep out of it and wind up getting involved and rescuing the Hero.”

  The bandits below began striking at the Hero and she was forced to begin defending herself in earnest.

  Feral glanced back down at the fighting below and pursed his lips. “I mean, we were going to deal with those bandits anyway—

  “No excuses, Feral,” Riven said, “take the bet or leave it.”

  The sound of a club hitting someones head is very distinct and both Riven and Feral flinched when they heard it come from beneath their hiding place. A brief cheer from the bandits followed and when Riven and Feral looked back down they saw them gathering around the Hero who was lying on the ground and cradling her head, groaning. The two bandits Feral had spotted earlier sneaking around the Hero were being patted on the back. Five bandits were on the ground as well, though they were not groaning or moving.

  Both Feral and Riven let out sighs of relief at seeing the Hero still alive.

  “What’d I say?” Feral said as he pointed out the fallen bandits to Riven. “She took down five of them before they got her.”

  “Better hurry up if you’re going to save her,” Riven prompted.

  “She is not why we’re here,” Feral muttered through gritted teeth as he began opening the trapdoor of their hiding place. “We’re not some Heroic duo here to rescue fair maidens.”

  “True,” Riven conceded, “but we’re here, we were going to be dealing with those bandits anyway, and she’ll die if we do nothing.”

  Feral rolled his eyes. “I’m not too worried, their leader looks like a talker,” Feral said before climbing down and out of sight.

  As though taking his cue from Feral, the leader of the bandits started speaking.

  “You’ve given us quite a run little lady,” he said. “And do you know why we’ve been hunting you? Surely you must be wondering. I mean, how often do you hear of Heroes being hunted? Never!” There was almost a laugh in his voice as he circled the Hero, his heavy club held ready to strike should she make any sign that she was going to try to fight again. “But me, no, not me. You see—

  “Kill her already!” Feral shouted from one of the lower branches of the tree. He sat casually, his back against the trunk but his hand rested on his sword hilt.

  “What?” The bandit leader shouted as he looked around, bewildered, until he spotted Feral sitting in the tree. “Who are you?”

  “See?” Feral asked to no one in particular. “This is what I’m always talking about. They always have to stop and ask questions, or else explain their whole reason for doing whatever it is they’re doing! Why? I mean, unless you’ve got some other plan in mind, like if you’re trying to buy time for someone else to sneak around and surprise the enemy, if you’re going to kill them, just kill them!”

  The bandits all turned to their leader, confusion playing on their faces and their leader himself was clearly just as confused as the rest of them.

  “And if you’re not going to kill them, but instead want them to live to tell others of how scary you are, then make sure you say your name over and over so they can be sure they remember it,” Feral went on, “But seriously, other than that why bother with all the jabber?”

  The bandit leader clearly wasn’t use to having his methods challenged and he dug at the ground with his foot, thinking, before answering.

  “Well,” his voice had lost much of the bravado it had had when speaking to the Hero, “It always just seems like the thing to do, what with all the planning and…

  His voice trailed off as he began to recover from the surprise of Feral’s initial interruption.

  “Where’d you come from anyway?” He demanded. “It’s not like we’re all just sitting here on the side of the road.”

  “Yeah, where’d you come from?” Riven shouted from beside the bandit leader. She winked at Feral and carefully removed the leaders coin pouch before stepping back into the main group of bandits. None of them seemed to notice that Riven wasn’t actually one of them.

  “Now look,” the bandit leader pointed his club threateningly at Feral, “If you don’t clear off we’re going to do to you the same as what we plan to do with this Hero!”

  At his words the Hero began to regain more of her senses and tried to raise herself up onto her hands and knees. The bandit leader gave her a swift kick to her stomach for moving. She grunted and curled back up.  

  “Bind her up,” he said and a couple of the bandits moved forward and began tying up the Hero’s hands and feet.

  “As unpleasant as being tied up and forced to listen to you ramble may be,” Feral said and he began letting himself down from the tree, “I’m not sure that’s really the sort of threat that motivates a person.”

  “Listen you!”

  The bandit leader was clearly running out of what little patience he had and the other bandits were ready and waiting for the word to charge down Feral just as they had the Hero.

  Feral by this time was on the ground and he was shaking his head and smiling.

  “Okay, I can see I’ve upset you ,” he said, “I apologize.”

  The bandits hesitated. This was not what they were expecting to hear. Even their leader cocked his head to one side as he tried to understand just what in the world this frustrating man was doing.

  “You what?” the bandit leader asked.

  “We’ll make this fair,” Feral said. “There’s what, a dozen of you?”

  Many of the bandits scratched their heads as they mouthed the word “dozen” with uncertain expressions. Feral’s grin widened.

  “Dozen means twelve,” he explained.

  “I know what it means,” the bandit leader snarled though from his expression it wasn’t clear that he did.

  “Yeah,” Riven added and she tossed a bulging coin pouch to Feral who caught it. “They know how many of them there are.”

  The bandits hesitated as Riven strode over to join Feral and, one by one, the bandits began to search themselves over and realize that their coin purses were all gone. Their leader flushed as his fury rose even higher and they began to close in on Feral and Riven.

  “Now, now,” Feral drew his sword with such speed that it caused the bandits to halt their approach momentarily. “Its hardly a fair fight, the two of us against you.”

  “Oh, and that wouldn’t be very nice of us would it?” The bandit leader mocked. “No fair, us attacking you, eh?”

  Feral lowered his guard and assumed an air of someone explaining a very simple thing to a child who was struggling to understand.

  “No, no, by all means attack,” he said. “What I meant was that it wouldn’t be fair for all of you to have to fight both of us at the same time. It would be much fairer if you only had to fight one of us at a time.”

  With that Feral sheathed his sword, then plunged his sheath into the soft earth so it stood where he’d placed it, and then nodded to Riven who wandered over to a stump and sat down. The bandits had never experienced anything like this before and had no idea what to make of these two infuriating people.

  “My friend is going to stay out of the way while you deal with me,” Feral continued to explain, “and I’m going to take ten steps away from my sword to give you an additional advantage. Sound good?”

  The bandit leader threw his hands up in the air and puffed out his cheeks in exasperation but was unable to form any words.

  “Good,” Feral spoke again. “Now all I need for you to do is count the steps for me. Make sure it’s done fairly.”

  He turned and began to walk away from his sword taking slow and deliberate steps so the bandits could keep count.

  “One…two…three,” they counted out in unison.

  As Feral walked, he opened the coin pouch Riven had tossed him earlier. Mixed in with the coins were two large stones. He hefted them in his hands for a few steps before deciding which one he preferred and returned the other to the pouch.

  “Eight…nine,” the bandits continued to count with growing anticipation, “Ten!”

  Feral spun on the spot and threw the stone, hitting the bandit leader square between the eyes. There was a loud cracking sound and he fell without a groan and lay motionless.

  “RRAAAGH!” Feral’s shout sounded as though a wild beast had been unleashed and he charged forward, startling the bandits even further.

  Already they were faltering after seeing their leader fall so quickly and they began to fall back as Feral charged them. He reached his sword and pulled it free from the scabbard. As he did so he kicked dirt up into the faces of those bandits who were closest to him. They tried to shield their eyes and were left exposed to Feral’s strikes and they fell beside their leader. The next bandit stood alone and away from the main group and took a dagger to his chest, thrown by Feral who then charged after the last cluster of bandits. They put up a decent fight, managing to land a couple strikes from their clubs on Feral’s sword arm but he twisted his body in such a way each time that he was able to use their own attack to strengthen his own counter strike. It wasn’t long before the forest lay quiet.

  Feral took a moment to check and make sure he hadn’t missed anyone before cleaning and sheathing his sword. He stretched and flexed his sword arm and examined his armor to see if anything had been damaged. He had a couple of large bruises already blossoming but nothing serious.

  “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of that one,” Riven chuckled and she patted Feral on the back.

  “Excuse me,” The Hero said, “I appreciate your help but it was all unnecessary. There is honor in dying a Hero’s death.”

  Feral and Riven paused in their conversation before continuing on as though she hadn’t spoken.

  “You owe me, you know,” Feral said.

  “I don’t owe you anything!” The Hero scoffed, thinking that Feral was speaking to her. “I am Skemm, Hero from the Hero’s Guild!”

  “How do you figure that?” Riven asked, ignoring Skemm, as she knelt down beside the Hero and pulled out a dagger. Rather than cutting her free, Riven instead cut Skemm’s coin purse and pocketed it.

  “Hey!” Skemm shouted.

  “You gave me twice as many stones and half as many coins in that pouch,” Feral told Riven.

  Riven continued to pick through Skemm’s belongings and came up with a small book. She began to flip absent mindedly through its pages.

  “That is of no use to you,” Skemm exclaimed, “That is my Guild Book of Rules.”

  Riven shrugged and put the book back where she’d found it.

  “I only gave you two stones, Feral,” Riven said and she began rifling through the bandit leader’s pockets and pouches.

  “And I only needed one,” was Feral’s reply as he gathered up the remains of the bandits rope and slung the loop of cord over his shoulder before moving over to Skemm’s feet where he began working on the knots in the rope binding her.

  “No,” Skemm said with disdain, “a Hero may only be aided by other Heroes and so I will thank you for taking your hands off me.”

  Feral finally looked her in the eyes, a mixture of pity and disgust on his face, and he instead began tying one end of the rope he’d collected to her feet.

  Feral and Riven began walking, Feral holding the other end of the rope he’d tied to Skemm’s feet.  

  “And what if you’d missed with the first stone?” Riven asked.

  Behind them Skemm continued her protests as she began to be dragged along.

  “This is unacceptable! I demand you release me at once!”

  Feral and Riven stopped walking and Feral gave Riven a flat stare.

  “Left or right?” Feral asked.

  “What?” Skemm said.

  “Left,” said Riven.

  Feral tossed the stone back over his shoulder and a moment later there was a low thud of stone hitting earth.

  “Hey!” Skemm shouted, “You almost hit me.”

  Riven looked back over her shoulder and nodded before handing over a smaller bag of coins to Feral. The stone had landed just to the left of Skemm’s head.  

  After a bit of walking they reached the forest road which was much softer and more level than the animal trails they had started out on and Skemm stopped shouting at them as much.

  “Hero!” Feral shouted suddenly causing Skemm to jerk. “We need a Hero!”

  “What are you doing?” Skemm demanded.

  “I would have thought that was obvious,” Feral told her before calling out again. “We need a Hero!”

  “Stop,” Skemm said, “Someone could hear you.”

  Both Feral and Riven laughed.

  “I thought that was the idea of calling for help,” Riven replied.

  “I don’t need help,” Skemm said with a yank from her feet as she tried to pull the rope from Feral’s hand. “Not from you anyway.”

  “Right,” Feral nodded, “Only a Hero may help another Hero, or something like that.”

  “Close enough,” Skemm said, “Rule 43 of the Hero’s Guild Book of Rules.”

  “Well that’s why we’re heading to town in search of a Hero.”

  As Feral spoke, Riven pulled a small sheet of paper from her pouch that displayed the announcement for a tournament and waved it for Skemm to see.

  “I’m sure we’ll be able to find a Hero there who can help you,” Feral explained.

  Skemm’s eyes widened and she began to jerk her feet with greater urgency while at the same time trying to work her hands free of their bindings. “Yes, well, I would just rather—

  “You said it yourself,” Feral reminded her, “Only a Hero can help you. It’s the rule.”

  “But don’t you see?” Skemm said with sudden inspiration, “By taking me there you are still helping me.”

  Riven stopped walking and grabbed Feral by the sleeve to make him stop as well. They both had serious expressions and looked as though they were really considering Skemm’s words.

  “She’s right, you know,” Riven said at last. “We shouldn’t force her to break the rules.”

  Feral nodded. “You’re right,” he agreed.

  Skemm breathed out a silent “thank you”.

  “We’ll have to take her back to here we found her,” Feral said with a slight grin.

  “What?!” Skemm asked.

  With that, Feral and Riven turned around and began walking back the way they’d come. As they walked, Skemm watched the rope Feral was dragging her by get drawn up and over her body until it pulled tight and she was forced into a backwards somersault.

  “Turn me over!” Skemm demanded as she was now being dragged along on her face.  Riven began to stoop down to do just that when Feral caught her by the shoulder.

  “Would that be considered helping?” He asked her.

  Riven pulled back her hands. “Better not risk it,” Riven nodded and they resumed their slow and steady walking.

  “Please!” Skemm cried out.  

  The road was not so bad, being mostly smooth earth, but the forest had been bad enough when she was being dragged on her back and she clearly wasn’t looking forward to experiencing it on her face.

  “Please!” Skemm shouted at them again, “I’ll let you untie me, just stop and let me go.”

  Feral and Riven stopped and they both turned back to Skemm and shrugged. They turned her back over and Riven worked on the knots on Skemm’s wrists while Feral handled the knots on her feet. For her part, Skemm was flushed with anger and embarrassment and it was clear she had not had a very good day.

  “Now then,” Feral said when they had finished untying her, “was that so hard?”

  Skemm glared daggers at them both as she got unsteadily to her feet. Riven held out her hand to steady Skemm but was shooed away.

  “My gold,” Skemm said at once to Riven.

  “Now how’s that for gratitude?” Riven asked.

  “It wasn’t a request,” Skemm growled.

  Riven looked like she was about to protest further when Feral pulled Skemm’s pouch from off of Riven’s belt and handed it to Skemm.

  “Take this too,” Riven said, her tone softening as she pulled a somewhat larger pouch out of her pack. “It’s got a couple day’s rations as well as some paste you can put on your injuries to help with the pain. I noticed you didn’t have any supplies on you earlier,” she added.

  “You noticed that did you? While you were going through all my stuff.” Skemm, like the bandits, didn’t know quite what to make of the pair of them and settled on accepting the offered supplies but maintained her sour disposition.

  “If you continue along this road you should reach a town in a day or two, depending on how fast you travel,” Feral told her, handing her a small bedroll. “There shouldn’t be any other bandits along your way but there have been animal attacks so make sure you set a fire in your camp.”

  Skemm gaped at them, her mouth opening and closing silently as she tried furiously to make sense of them. “Good bye!” She finally said and marched away down the road.

  Feral and Riven watched until she was out of sight before carrying on in the same direction as Skemm.

  “Do you think we’ll have enough gold to enter the tournament?” Feral asked and he began counting his coins.

  “We’ll be alright,” Riven assured him.

  They walked on in silence for a bit longer before Feral asked, “Do you think she likes—

  “No,” Riven stated definitively even before Feral could finish asking his question.

  “You didn’t think that she—

  “Not even a little.”

  “Oh…You really think she meant it all?”

  “Every word.”

  “Yeah, I was afraid of that,” Feral rubbed his sword arm absently and Riven handed him a small pot of paste that he took and began applying to his bruises. “We really ought to work on our people skill.” Feral said at last.

  They looked at one another and laughed.