A Hero’s Wish

HEY! Welcome back to the blog! It’s been a while, hasn’t it? Well, sorry about that, I’ve been…. Distracted. But that’s how it goes with me right? Anyway, I’ve yet again participated in NaNo and have come up with my fourth novel. (Oh, wow, that seems odd and incredible to me. Four novels! Four!) Though, this novel is considered a novella because it’s about 40K words. I had wanted to write 70K, but I kept getting distracted and the Dawmeria was just not grabbing my attention. It was sad. I like that world and characters, but it just wasn’t working. So I decided to switch gears mid month and try my hand at a stand-alone novel. Perhaps it’s not much in the way of word count, characters, or action, but I really enjoyed this switch. I wasn’t concerned about creating more conflict or even trying to make everything fit. It’s just a short sweet story.

Enough of my rambling. Allow me to present A Hero’s Wish.

The Prophesied Hero fulfilled his Destiny…

And then vanished.

Twenty years later, his son, Benjamin the Bastard Prince of Caanom, is set out on a quest to find his famous father, Trenton the Hero. As Ben searches for his father, he encounters many people he rather wouldn't. Murderous thieves, violent miners, rude trappers, and a hermit who would rather get rid of him. But as Ben deals with these people, he comes to realize each one is trying to forget their painful pasts and to leave the wars behind.

Among these lost heroes, Ben realizes that even a hero wants to hide.
**********
The Prophesied Hero, a brief explanation of the struggle between Sarries the Tyrant and Trenton the Hero.

It all started so simple; but then again, it always does. Sarries wanted power, he wanted control and perfection. However, his dreams were never satisfied. As he rose through the ranks of nobles and armies alike, he desired more power. He saw his fellow human beings as frail, weak things meant to be ruled over. All he wanted was to see them bow under his superior strength and to follow his greater wisdom. At first, the people hailed him as a hero, a champion of their wellbeing and protection. However, they saw him for the monster he was when he killed an entire town to ferret out a single spy.

Sarries wanted to think that he was invincible, but he knew history and legends. The people would rise eventually to end his reign and bring him down. This was something he could not allow.

At the time, rumors of an old witch in the mountains came to him. This witch could tell a person’s fate. Wishing to know who would rise against him, he sought out the witch. He thought that he could end all resistance to him if he brought down all who opposed him. He was prepared for anything to keep his rule over the people.

When he found the witch, the old woman was nearing her own death. History does not tell if the witch told Sarries the truth willingly or not, but her prophecy gave many hope that Sarries rule would come to an end. With her dying breath she told the Tyrant the one thing he did not want to hear.

“So it will be, you will create your own enemy. He will be a farm boy of no great heritage, however, his fate against you will be brought upon him by your doing. He will be assisted by the ghosts of four Great Kings, great men who had lived and died, loved by the people they had protected, their power greater than any specters than has been known. These Great Kings will vow themselves to the farm boy and lend him their power. This boy will grow into a man by your pressure on him, forcing him to grow up before he should. He will rise in power, similar to yours, and bring you to your knees. He will use his wits and skills to end your rule. A single shot will end your life!”

It is not known if Sarries killed the woman with her final words, but her prophecy spread among the people, giving them hope that Sarries would be brought to his ultimate death.

The Tyrant, however, vowed to never allow it to happen. He began to search the lands for the Great Kings, capturing the ghosts in fowl magic and binding them into silence and endless torture. Sarries kept the Great Kings locked away in a chest, constantly moving them to keep anyone from knowing where they were or releasing them.

With the Great Kings captured, Sarries continued his cruel rule, subjecting his people to back breaking labor and endless torment that only death could release them from.

This was when he learned he could take the souls of the dead and prolong his life.

The slaughter of the people increased and Sarries thought he had gained victory over the prophecy. He soon turned his sights outside his own lands in the north to the nations of the south, seeing them ripe for his taking.

Wars raged for a hundred years as the southern kingdoms fought to keep their own lands and their lives. However, Sarries continued to grow in power, taking the souls of the dead with each battle to increase his life.

But still, the prophecy lingered, giving people hope that it would come to an end.

Thus the kings of the south joined forces and came up with a plan to find the Hero. Sending their best spy, they sought to free the Great Kings.

Years passed before the spy was able to find the Great Kings. Using all his skills, he managed to get the chest with the Kings and escape, but not without taking great injury to himself. But the enemy was soon on his trail. Desperate, the spy tried to find a way to hide the chest, even if it cost him his life.

The chase continued for over a month before Sarries’s soldiers caught up with the spy. Knowing that he didn’t have any time left, the spy hid the chest in a barn and fled. He was soon captured and killed, never once revealing the location of the chest with the Kings. Little did he know that he had placed the Great Kings in the hands of the one prophesied to defeat the Tyrant.

Trenton was a simply farm boy doing his chores when he found the chest in his father’s barn. Curious, he opened it and released the Great Kings. Little is known about what happened when the Great Kings were released, but Trenton always said that his life changed forever. Even a farm boy like him knew the prophecy and he knew that he was the one destined to defeat Sarries.

However, he was still just a boy of fifteen. Rather than risk his family to be hurt by the Tyrant, Trenton begged the Great Kings to keep hidden while he considered his next move.

But Sarries was faster. His agents were quick to retrace the spy’s journey and quickly determined where he had hidden the chest. Fearing for the worst, they attacked very possible place the chest could have been, killing hundreds of people in their search for the Great Kings. Trenton’s family was among the last to fall. Trenton gives very little account of the night his parents and siblings died, but it is known that he himself was about to be murdered when the Great Kings saved him and killed nearly all of the men responsible.

This one act thrust Trenton into the world of armies and kings. He was quickly pulled into the army and forced to its head. Ten years pass as he fought as general, making his way through battles and courts. He learned quickly the ways of warfare and weapons. He developed his own weapon, the rifle. No one could match him in battle with his rifle, killing a dozen of the enemy before an archer could kill two.

It was among this bloody conflict that Trenton met Princess Marie, daughter of King Cameron of Caanom. At first, they didn’t like each other, but as they got to know each other, they slowly fell in love. But Trenton and Marie kept their feelings in secret until one night that confessions were made and they shared one night.

Not wishing her to come to any harm, Trenton made Marie promise that she wouldn’t come close to him. She reluctantly promised. Trenton left without knowing she was then carrying his child.

Nine bloody months of war passed before Marie gave birth to a healthy baby boy. Overjoyed at having borne a son for her beloved Hero, she sought him out to tell him the good news. He was doing battle with Sarries himself at the Tyrant’s Stronghold of Caanom. The battle had lasted nearly a month in a near tie. Marie was quick to find out where Trenton was, eager to tell him the news of his son.

She was killed trying to reach him and died in his arms.

Unbearable grief racked the Hero, tormented over the lose of his one and only love. Driven by sorrow, Trenton went alone into the Stronghold to find Sarries. With the Great Kings guiding him, he found the Tyrant lurking in a tower, worrying over his own demise.

Trenton took him out with a single shot with his rifle.

Sarries the Tyrant was killed and his army immediately surrendered.

The celebration after the defeat of the Tyrant lasted for months, cheered through every town, city and community. But one thing remained missing.

It was only a week after Sarries had been killed that it was noticed that Trenton was no where to be found.

Despite the many searches, no one knew where the Hero had hidden himself. Weeks passed into months, months turned into years, and slowly the search for Trenton the Hero dwindled into nothing. He had done his part in fulfilling his destiny and he was no longer needed. The need for the Hero was no longer there and people stopped looking for him.

Rumors, however, have a powerful hold. Some say that Trenton the Hero had been killed the very moment Sarries was, his purpose in this world complete and his death only to be expected. Other rumors say that the Great Kings enveloped Trenton in their own powers, making him the Fifth Great King and he now guards our lands as a spirit. Others claim that the Hero had killed himself, unable to bare the grief of the loved ones he had lost.

And other rumors, told in secret and whispered in darkness, say that he ran away.

But Trenton’s legacy remains. He defeated the Tyrant Sarries and brought peace to our lands. Though we don’t if he is even alive, or where his body may lay, we own him our greatest respect and honor. He had accomplished what no one could do in hundreds of years, bringing peace and ending the rule of a tyrant.

Let us not besmirch his name and legacy. Trenton the Hero is the greatest man to live in our time, a man of legends, a man of strength, a man of greatness. On this, the nearing nineteenth anniversary of our liberation, we should remember the man who saved us.

Trenton the Hero, wherever you are, whatever you are doing, we thank you for saving our lives. May your memory live on in glory forever.

-Written by Professor Ferrell, expert on Trenton the Hero. He currently lives near the Caanom Stronghold of Sarries, spending his days researching the Hero and flying his kites on windy days.
**********
Benjamin, the Bastard Prince of Caanom, stared moodily outside his window at the pouring rain. He didn’t really like rain. He was forced to stay inside on days like this and inside was a place he did not particularly like, especially now.

“Lady Kelsey was by again today,” said his oldest cousin Matthew. He was only a few years older than Ben’s nineteen, but Matt acted as if he were far older than them. This, Ben supposed, was because Matt was the oldest and felt that he should set an example to his younger cousins.

“She’s always coming by,” sneered the second oldest, Patrick. Of his three cousins, Ben liked Patrick the least. He was everything the people envisioned as a rotten prince. Pat enjoyed the high life; drinking, gambling, girls. Pat and Matt very rarely got along well together.

“You know why she’s always coming by,” said the cousin just a few months older than him, Albert. Ben liked Al. He wasn’t as serious as Matt, but he was a solemn fellow with very little to say. When he did say something, however, people listened. Al was very smart and would only speak the truth. “She wants a husband and the four of us are the highest ranked men in the kingdom. One of us is going to ascend to the throne and she wants to be on his side.”

“The three of us,” Pat mocked, in his voice the obvious distain he had for his youngest cousin. “Ben’s a bastard and doesn’t count.”

And this is why I want to be outside, Ben thought sourly. He knew he had little chance of getting the throne, which was fine by him. Leave it to Matt or even Al. They were better princes, and legitimate too.

“He has just as much rank as us,” Matt said, quickly coming to his defense. “Just because our aunt wasn’t married when she had him…”

I wish this rain will let up, Ben thought, not really paying attention to his cousins.

“Princes of Caanom,” announced the valet who banged his staff on the floor three times. “Rise, for your King comes.”

Ben scrambled to his feet, flinging himself away from the window he had been sitting in and joined his cousins in a line as their elderly grandfather shuffled into the room.

King Cameron was defiantly getting older. Nearly eighty, people had expected him to die years ago, but the king refused to die. Now bent with age, his thin wispy hair white, and his eyesight nearly gone, this man used to tower over men with authority. The only reason he still had the throne was because of his quick mind.

It also helped that he had four grandsons who were trying to gain his favor so he would name one of them as his heir. Ben had lost count of all the plots against the king that he and his cousins put an end to.

Accompanying King Cameron was Ben’s three aunts, Carnetta, Matt’s mother, Nareen, Pat’s mother, and Whitney, Al’s mother. His own mother, Princess Marie, had died before the war was over. Before his father defeated Sarries.

As always, Ben felt as if his stomach drop as he thought of his parents. As far as anyone knew, Trenton the Hero knew nothing of him. Rumors had it that while the Hero tired to keep Marie safe by keeping his distance, but she was so glad to have bourn him a son, she did not heed his warning to keep away and died trying to tell him the news of his son’s birth.

And that’s why they call me a bastard. It wasn’t a bitter thought, or even a happy one. It just was.

“Grandsons,” Cameron said smiling as they bowed to him. Everyone in the kingdom knew that while the king did not sire any sons, he viewed the grandsons his four daughters had produced to be even as sons. “I trust your day has been fine?” He glanced briefly at Ben, the smug smile knowing just how his day was going. “Except for yours, of course, Benjamin. I’ve been assured that the weather will clear up later this afternoon and then you can escape this palace.”

Ben bowed, if a bit mockingly, at his grandfather. “You know me so well.”

“Pert,” the king chuckled. He leaned heavily on his walking stick. “Well?” he demanded, his voice still commanding. “Which one of you is going to help me into a chair?”

Matt and Pat were quick to jump forward and helped their aging grandfather to the table that they had been sharing morning tea. Sighing, the king sank onto the chair, grimacing a bit as he wiggled to find a comfortable position. Al quickly poured a cup for the king, although there were servants in the room who could have provided that service.

Ben didn’t do anything to help make the king comfortable. Not that he didn’t love his grandfather, but that he knew it was a bit useless to fight his cousins for the king’s attention at the time. While they tried to prove themselves to the king through actions and flowery words when the king was present, Ben’s relationship with his grandfather was completely different.

He knew very early on that his parents weren’t around, not like his aunts to his cousins. Feeling very alone, he often sought the king to find comfort. His grandfather, in turn, found comfort in his visits, since Marie was his favorite daughter. Together their relationship was more similar to grandfather and grandson than king to prince. When he got older, they exchanged stories and became unlikely friends. Ben wouldn’t change that relationship, even if it did cost him a throne.

It was an over glorified chair anyway.

“Thank you,” Cameron said, waving his three grandsons away. “I need room to breath.” He took a long sip from his tea. His daughters silently glided into the room and stood at the shoulders of their sons. The resemblance between them and their sons were obvious. Matt shared his mother’s long face, Pat had his mother’s slim form, and Al could have been his mother’s twin if twenty years didn’t separate them.

Ben knew he didn’t resemble them. How many times over the years did people say that he resembled more of his father than his mother, though traces of his mother could be found in his chin, cheeks, and slimmer form. His father, from what he heard and saw in paintings, was a large man, nearly always standing a foot taller than most, broad shoulders, brown hair, brown eyes, and a very distinct nose that often reminded Ben of an eagle. He lightly fingered his own nose. No one doubted who his father was with this nose.

“You’re going to flatten your nose if you keep doing that,” the king teased. Ben quickly held his hands behind his back, feeling a bit foolish for having been caught touching his nose again.

“What do we owe the honor of your visit, Grandfather?” Matt asked respectfully.

“It’s an honor the four of you have been waiting for,” the king said, putting his cup back down on the saucer. He eyed each of them, squinting as he tried to make out their features. “The time is coming for me to name one of you as the heir.”

His cousins quickly stood taller, each trying to look more regal than the others. Ben felt his shoulders slump, fighting the urge to groan. He didn’t want the throne; he knew what it meant. He did spend most of his childhood at his grandfather’s knee and heard the horror stories of being a king. He saw Cameron’s tears, knew the aches and pains of kinghood that crippled him more than his old age, the only ear to hear of how troubling it was to run a kingdom. Ben wanted nothing of it.

“I’ve decided,” Cameron said, absently spooning sugar into his tea, “that each of you must go on a quest.” Ben shared confused looks with his cousins. He knew what they were thinking. They thought they had done enough to prove their commitment to the throne.

“I will speak to each of you in turn,” the king went on, stirring his tea. “You will not know the nature of each other’s quest. When you return, I will listen to how you faired during your quest. At that time I will make my decision.”

“But…” Matt started to say. The king held up his hand to silence the young man.

“I love each of you,” Cameron pointed out. “I know each of your strengths and weaknesses. None of you, I believe, would be a bad king. I would be honored to name any of you as my heir. However, there are four of you and I must pick one. This quest will be your proving point. Now, Patrick, Albert, Benjamin, will you leave while I talk to Matthew about his quest. I will summon each of you in turn about your own quest.”

He glanced at his daughters standing at their sons’ shoulders, shocked. “Carnetta, Nareen, Whitney. You are also dismissed. You will not aid your sons in their quests.” If anything, his aunts looked more disappointed than their sons.

“Servants,” the king said, almost as an afterthought. “You are also dismissed. The princes’ quests are theirs alone.”

Everyone but the king and Matt left the room, closing the doors after them. Ben, his cousins and aunts stayed outside the room, waiting for their summons.

“I can’t believe this!” Pat was saying outraged to his mother. “After all we’ve done for him, he wants us to go on a quest?”

“He wants to judge our character,” Al figured out. “And a character is defined by how you deal with others. He knows he only sees his beloved grandsons when he looks at us. He needs to see us outside of that role.”

“Still stinks,” Pat grumbled, his mother gently patting his shoulder. “Why couldn’t any of our fathers survived the war and taken up the throne to put this silly question of succession to a rest?”

“They were fighting the war,” Whitney wisely pointed out. “All of them died bravely. We wouldn’t have had it any other way.”

Ben stood apart from them, sulking. This quest was a waste of time for him. His grandfather knew he didn’t want the throne. Surely he wasn’t supposed to go on this quest?

A half hour later, Matt came out of the room, looking a bit pale. “You’re turn Pat,” was all he said, then walked away, his mother quickly following after him. Even as they disappeared from view, they could still hear Carnetta’s pleads for her son to reveal the nature of his quest but Matt refused. Ben felt nervous now. It seemed Cameron was giving ultimatums out. No one ever disobeyed the king when he gave ultimatums. Not unless they were sick of living.

It took an hour for Pat to come out. He too had become pale and his eyes were a bit wild. Nareen took her son by the arm and led him away, quietly trying to consol him.

Al took nearly an hour before he finally immerged from his meeting with the king, also pale. Whitney took one look at her son before squaring her shoulders. “Well,” she said, throwing her head back, “standing here won’t get your quest done. Let’s go prepare.” She grabbed his arm and led him away. Ben watched them leave, wishing a bit that someone would have been outside waiting for him.

“Benjamin.”

Ben flinched. His turn. He quietly entered the room, closing the door behind him. His grandfather still sat at the table. By now the tea was cold and he was eating a piece of cake.

“Well?” Cameron asked. “Come over here. I don’t bite.”

“Are you sure?” Ben asked, walking over and sitting opposite of his grandfather. “I’ve seen your dentures.”

Cameron chuckled, wiping his mouth of crumbs. “Of all my grandsons, I’m going to miss you most. Your humor has never failed me.”

“Except that one time I got caught up in a tree trying to get our kite,” Ben chuckled. The king laughed.

“I nearly had forgotten that!” It took him a moment to regain his composure. Despite his old age, those eyes focused on his face, judging him as only a king with wisdom could.

“I know you don’t want to go on this quest,” Cameron said. “None of you do. But I am afraid that it is the only way I’m going to decide.”

“I don’t want the throne,” Ben said, again absently rubbing his nose. “Let’s face it. I’m not king material. By the Great Kings, half the court thinks I shouldn’t even have a title.”

“That’s because they don’t like your birth,” Cameron pointed out. “They don’t see the great young man I see.” Ben flushed then looked down. It always embarrassed him when his grandfather praised him.

“Your quest,” the king said, “is to find what happened to your father.”

Ben jerked his head back up, staring at the old man in shock. The king met his shocked gaze with a solid one that meant he was saying the truth.

“But…” Ben stuttered, “It’s been nearly twenty years! Everyone gave up searching for him ten years ago! I’ve accepted his death!”

“Then you must find his grave,” Cameron said shortly. Ben flinched at the king’s tone. No one argued with the king when he used that tone. Seeing the discomfort he caused his grandson, the king sighed, slumping a bit in his chair.

“There’s another reason why I want you to find out what happened to your father,” Cameron confessed. “The mystery of what happened to him, I know, has always disturbed you. I don’t just want to see you complete this task, but for you to find peace. It is more for your benefit than for my choice.”

Ben grimaced. There was one problem with the king also being one of your best friends. He knew exactly what bothered him.

“Go, my Benjamin,” Cameron said softly. “Put your spirit to rest.”
************
“This isn’t rest!” Ben bellowed up at the uncaring sky. It was currently pouring down on his poor head and beast and he couldn’t see any shelter on this road. He knew there was supposed to be a town a half days ride, but that was still a half day away and he was forced to keep going in the down pour.

It had been a month since he left the palace, along with his cousins. The king had a few final instructions for them as they waited for his word mounted on their horses. Ben really didn’t like their departure. It had seemed that most of court had arrived to see them off and he couldn’t help but hear the snickering among the younger nobles. He wanted to groan. He did not want to do this.

“This quest,” the king said loudly for the audience’s benefit, “must be done alone. You, my grandsons, are no longer allowed to use your titles until your return here. If you receive help, it is from those who will not know who you are. In one year’s time, you will return. All of the court will listen to your quests. It will be then that I decide which of you, my grandsons, will be my heir. My blessing upon you and may you travel with the wind to your back.”

He and his cousins didn’t even leave by the same gate. Matt took south, Pat went west, Al east, and that left him north. This, he supposed, was the best course of action. The last time anyone saw his father was in the north.

It had taken him a month of using river boats and riding to arrive at this place. Not that he saw much of it. This rain was coming down in sheets and obscured his view. His horse whined underneath him. He patted the poor beast’s neck.

“I know,” he assured the horse. “I feel the same way.” Shivering, he sat back up, trying to adjust his hood so the rain wouldn’t pound on his face. He glanced around again, hoping to see something familiar.

This wasn’t his first visit to the Caanom Stronghold of Sarries. It was a very popular visit for anyone who traveled. It was the place where Sarries was killed.

Also the place his mother was killed and his father disappeared.

Ben had made the decision to not visit his mother’s grave while he was there. Not that he didn’t respect her, but he felt no need to visit that mass grave she shared with the others who died in battle. It just depressed him and he really needed to keep focused if he was going to find any clue about his father’s whereabouts or grave.

That left the town. The Stronghold was a museum now, filled with relics of the time of war and the two men at the very center of the conflict. But the experts about the war were found in the town that supported the visitors. He doubted very much that they might be able to shed some light on his father’s whereabouts, but it was a starting place.

Near evening, the rain finally let up and the town became a beacon to him. He was quick to find an inn for him and his tired horse. Because his grandfather only gave him so much money, Ben was forced to choose one of the lower end inns. After stabling his horse, he went inside. The moment he stepped in, he was glad that he did not look wealthy.

The common room was already full of large working men, drinking the night away. There was a seedy looking musician in the corner playing some lewd song, the men around him singing off key to the verse. As far from the musician were other men who looked like they were trying to drink themselves into oblivion. The middle crowd was just rowdy.

“Well, young man,” said a serving woman, just noticing him. “What can I do for you?”

Ben felt himself blush as he realized who addressed him. She was an older woman, probably the owner of the inn, but she dressed as if she could still attract men’s gazes with her full figure. Ben had no doubts that she did.

“Um,” he coughed, quickly adverting his eyes, only to find another serving girl closer to his own age, laughing as one of the patrons pulled her onto his lap and kissed her soundly on the cheek. She too dressed to attract. He had to force his gaze back to the older woman.

“A room!” he suddenly blurted out. “I need a room for a night or two. And a stable for my horse.”

She raised an eyebrow, smirking. Ben felt the blush deepen as he realized that she was laughing at his discomfort. “Is the room and stable all you want?” she asked archly, looking down his length. Ben paled as she considered him. Although he was nowhere near as large as his father, he was considered one of the more robust and handsome men at court. But he couldn’t bring himself to share the bedding his cousins had among court. With good reason, he thought.

“Just that,” he assured her. “Room, stable.”

“No food? Ale?” She was almost outright laughing at his discomfort!

“Food tomorrow morning,” he muttered, wishing the lady would stop teasing him and give him a room for the night.

“Nothing else?” she asked again, tilting her head and casually rubbing the side of her neck.

“Yes!” He was sure he sounded like a child.

Finally she laughed. “You’re cute when you blush. Three bonze for a night for you and your horse, with breakfast promised in the morning.” She fluttered her eyelashes at him. “You can pay me when you leave. Come, I’ll show you to your room.”

Ben followed her upstairs, carefully having to side step the men who were already asleep with drink. She lead him to the last door in the hall.

“Not much,” she admitted when she opened the door for him. “But I haven’t had anyone complain yet.”

He looked inside. The room was large enough for the bed, chair, small table with a lamp and the two feet between the bed and wall. The only inviting thing about it was the window opposite of the door, even if it started raining again.

“I’ll take it,” he muttered. Not that he had much of a choice. If he didn’t ration his money, he wouldn’t survive the year.

“If you need anything,” the woman said, stepping to the side so he could get into his room, “I’ll be downstairs.” She eyed him again, her eyes lingering. “I might even give you a discount for other services.” She laughed at his sudden blush and left.

Ben quickly shut the door, locking it. It was a good thing that she didn’t know he was a prince. He had very little doubt that she would give him a discount on other services, perhaps insisting on giving him those services.

Sighing, he stepped up to the bed and dropped on it.

“This isn’t a rest!”
*********
Ah, poor Ben. Not that I feel any sympathy towards him. He is, after all, my character. I have to make their lives miserable somehow.

I hope you enjoy this novella. It’s the first big project I’ve written without Martin involved in any way. I hope it turns out just as well. Enjoy the journey!