Hero´s Manual: Chapter 16
Dec. 20th, 2005 11:10 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Chapter 16: Goodnight Moon
Hero and Gwen didn’t get very far on the flying carpet. It was still dark and Vicky lived far away from the city in the middle of a woodland reserve. He’d gotten around legalities by pointing out to various lawyers and one or two drivers (the type called Mitch who liked driving the bulldozer at high speeds) that his mansion had been built on that land before the government had even considered making it a park. For that matter, it had been built before the government members were born. Besides, he’d added, his vicious guard dogs needed the exercise and could they kindly start running away now? (Vicky had been the proud owner of a pair of toy-poodles, now deceased, but was very adept at fanciful descriptions.)
So it was that the two escapees landed the carpet in the middle of a wood. Gwen jumped off the carpet when it was still off the ground and raced into the woods. Hero did the same, in the opposite direction, a few moments afterwards.
When the two came back from behind their respective trees, looking greatly relieved, they sat back down on the carpet. Hero poked at some ectoplasm that had fallen on the carpet whilst Gwen fiddled with her hair.
“Uh,” said Hero, “you don’t have another house, do you?”
“No,” said Gwen.
“Right.” Hero gave the ectoplasm another poke then looked over his shoulder. The trees glowed a faint purple.
“We’ll have to keep moving,” he said. “That genie left quite a trail. The Villain already knows where we live—”
“How’d he find it anyway?” Gwen gave Hero a hard stare. “He came in just a few minutes after you did.”
“Did he?” squeaked Hero. “My, what a coincidence.” He carefully refrained from mentioning the “Gone for Damsel” sign he’d left on his door at the Young Characters Association.
The Young Characters Association was an organization that provided lodgings for a fair price. Most lodgers were students of the various academies, including the HA and VA. It was not unheard of for students of these rivaling academies to spy on each other. Vicky must have more means that Hero had first thought.
“I think,” said Hero, carefully ignoring Gwen’s incredulous look, “that we should go to one of the nearby towns. Hide out there for a bit.”
“Hide out where, exactly?”
“Oh, there’s plenty of huts lying around now that everyone’s gone to the city,” said Hero. “Bound to be someplace we can stay.”
“And we’ll, what? Live off the land?”
“Good Cod, no. The towns are bound to have some sort of market.”
Gwen rubbed her forefinger and thumb together slowly, one eyebrow raised.
“Ah…” said Hero. “There is that. Or a lack of that.” He shrugged. “I hope we have enough with this.” He shook out his pockets.
“The coins from Vicky’s dungeon?” said Gwen. “You…” Gwen shook her head, at a loss for words. Instead, she smiled and gave Hero a hug. “They might not be in circulation anymore but, by Cod, they must still be worth a fortune.”
Hero stared at Gwen for a moment then put the coins back into his pocket. He looked closely at the last coin, turning it over, before pocketing it as well.
She leaned back and eyed him carefully. “I’m surprised the HA condones this sort of thing.”
“Yeah, well,” mumbled Hero, “it’s not something they teach you at the HA.” He looked down and poked at the carpet, which floated for a moment, confused. “I overheard it at the—from some fellow students. They’d been doing some, uh, extracurricular studies.”
The truth was somewhat like that, although the extracurricular studies were more often along the lines of “how much beer does it take to get drunk enough to win a fight” and “what do you do when a very angry werewolf is running towards you”. The place of study had, obviously, been the Dark Closet, which VA students often frequented and then told stories of at the YCA’s Medical Ward.
“Hero, I do believe you’re not as simple a book as you’re cover might indicate.” Gwen considered the recent events: he’d certainly shown more ability during the confrontation and in the dungeon than the first time they’d met.
Hero was still sheepishly staring at the carpet and missed Gwen’s comment. One he’d managed to get most of the slime off the carpet, he wiped the lamp (which was full of slime where Huzzah had tried to grab onto) with his sleeve and passed it to Gwen. “Hang on,” he said as he gave the carpet’s middle a poke.
The two (unless you want to count sentient and / or magical beings, in which case four) traveled through the woods for a few more hours, this time leaving no glow-trail behind them. Once, in the distance, Hero said he’d seen a light. Though Gwen hadn’t seen it, and Hero couldn’t find it afterwards, they decided to fly in its general direction. Surely there must be a town nearby.
Eventually, though, they had to stop. Not only were they tired, despite their dungeon-nap, but also the moon had set and it was too dark to avoid the occasional swipe of a tree-branch. Also, the carpet was sagging in the middle.
They decided to spend the early dusk hours settled in a large oak. They draped the carpet over a pair of branches and leaned their backs against the trunk. Huzzah and his lamp were safely hung on a branch with the aid of Gwen’s hair-tie.
“Hero?” said Gwen from her branch, “can I ask you something?”
“Sure,” said Hero, although all he wanted right now was to get down. He didn’t much care for heights and didn’t feel at all comfortable with the idea of sleeping on a tree branch. Also, it was very, very dark in a forest. He’d been holding up well on that front, but his nerves were fraying. He thought maybe talking would distract him from encroaching panic and terror. Maybe.
“How come your name is Hero?”
“Oh,” sighed Hero with the air of one who’s been asked this question many times before. “My dad was a carpenter for the Wet Cat Theatre. He took a liking to all the stories and would tell them to my mom when he got home. He’d tell them to us too, once we were old enough. He wanted to name his children after characters in the famous stories penned by his masters.” Hero shifted on his branch, keeping a death-grip in the case he lost his balance. He faced in the direction he imagined Gwen to be. “You know, real epic names. Names with some history, or at least theatre, to them.” He stopped for a moment, thinking.
“But…” prompted Gwen.
“But the playwright and director had the habit of talking about the characters by their roles or characteristics. Like, ‘enter Fool’ or ‘now the First With goes center-stage and…” Plus, when my father worked, those two weren’t about, so if he heard about the story it would be from other workers, or from some moneyed-man. ‘Hero’ was a very common name and Da’ took a liking to it.”
“It is nice,” said Gwen. “Did you say you had siblings?”
“Two sisters, Firstwitch and Spinster, and one brother called Soldier.” At Gwen’s silence, Hero added: “My sisters didn’t take too kindly to Da’ when they found out what their names meant. And Soldier went into priesthood, so he’s had his troubles on account of the name.”
“But you went to the Academy.”
“And I still got trouble for my name. There’s no winning sometimes.”