Pocket Stories: Heart of a Hero (Part 1)

This pocket story was inspired by the song Heart of a Hero by Club Danger.

Grieg crept carefully through the darkness of the forest, taking care not to crunch even the smallest of leaves under his shoes. The moon hid itself in the sky, refusing to cast a mere glimmer of light through the foliage. 

Sounds from ahead stopped Grieg in his tracks. He paused, frozen like a deer before flight. He listened. Someone from the large group ahead had crashed into something. The clank of metal on metal echoed through the still forest.

They must be continuing on. So close! They are so close! he thought excitedly. 

Not daring to move quickly and risk giving away his position, he followed the group, just another dark shadow passing in the dark. His adrenaline heightened his senses. His racing heart thudded loudly in his ears, pressing frantically against his chest like a caged beast intent on escaping. Taking a short moment he closed his eyes and concentrated on slowing his breathing. At last his heart beat at a regular pace, though the adrenaline continued to give him an almost sixth-sense of his surroundings.

He'd made this trek many times in the last few years, following the would-be heroes as they journeyed to the cave where the monster lived. None had ever survived. All who went in, stayed there.

But this group was different. Their leader was a man of stature. He hadn't even flinched when Grieg had told him of the monster that'd been terrorizing the country-side. He'd simply rubbed his hand over his beard and nodded. His companions were the ones who'd asked for directions to the cave.

Meh, meh, meh. I just want to prove how brave I am, he mocked the group in his head. 

Bravery had nothing to do with this monster. It didn't care how brave you were. It only cared how determined you were. Brave men become cowards when their strength begins to fail them. Determined men will continue to fight even after their body has given up entirely. Those were the men the monster cared about.

A slight flicker of light shown up ahead. The edge of the tree line was coming closer, the mouth of the cave looming like the gaping maw of the fabled Teradaunt, the beast that could eat the world. 

There was a massive bonfire blocking the entrance. The flames crackled and danced, reaching twenty feet into the sky. Embers drifted around, filling the air as though they were fireflies. 

Grieg stayed hidden behind the closest tree. The light from the bonfire illuminated the group with a haunting glow. He watched as the group milled about, trying to figure out what they should do now. He could hear them bicker about their options.

"I say let's find a stream and dowse the flames," one said. 

"Find a stream? In this curst forest? I should say not. Let's use Barvy's pike and pull the logs out of the way!" Another offered.

The man named Barvy tightened his grip on his pike. "Lay off my pike, Irvged. I don't see you offering up your own weapons to clear the way."

One of the smaller ones piped up, "Even if you wanted to, you couldn't get close enough to use it. Have you felt the heat from that fire? It started singeing my arm hair at a dozen paces!"

The large man had remained silent throughout the bickering. He held up a meaty hand and the crew quieted.

"We have to go through the flames." His voice was low and firm. 

Immediately the crew devolved into chaos and arguing. 

"Those flames will cook us alive."

"We'd die before we made it to the middle."

"No way."

"Are you daft? How do you reckon that to be the only possible option?"

The leader looked at the last speaker and put a hand gently on their shoulder.

"The prophecies surrounding this monster are clear. 'Only those strong of heart will reach the lair of the monster. Only those with a determined will can cross the threshold.' You remember the words of the cleric as well as I do. We are meant to come to this entrance, we are meant to face this monster. This fire is merely a test. We must go through it."

The man under his hand nodded slowly. "Aye, I remember those blasted words. But how do you reckon we actually do it, Syvor? Those logs are massive and the heat is unbearable. Even with a determined will, your skin will fry off before you reach the other side."

Syvor smiled. "That's why I had Mudel bring all those cloaks."

A figure stumbled over to them, heavy laden with mounds of cloaks and covers. Dumping them on the ground, a man stood there, rubbing his lower back and grimacing.

"I'm not one to complain, Syvor, but those cloaks were heavy! If you'd let me bring them dry it would have been much easier. These sopping wet things were brutal!"

"You had him bring soaked cloaks?"

"The villagers talked about this fire, how it never seemed to go out even though the logs never burnt down to ash. While the rest of you were off refilling your supplies, I had Mudel drench all those cloaks. I'm surprised you didn't hear him sloshing about as we walked."

The group, as one, turned and looked at Irvged.

He threw his hands up in defense. "Okay, so maybe I was making a racket the whole way and crashed into a tree. It was an honest mistake! It could've happened to any of you!"

Syvor just shook his head. "Everyone grab a cloak. Wrap yourself well, including over your mouth. When we charge these flames you don't want the fire going down your throat. If you've done it well enough, then I will see you on the other side."

Barvy was the first one to grab a cloak. He fumbled with the wet fabric, trying to turn himself into a cocoon with legs. His pike kept getting caught.

"Give me that pike, Barvy. You won't be able to run with it anyways." Syvor said, taking the weapon and hefting it, calculating.

"I've got to have it for the beast, Syvor. I can't go in there weaponless, I might as well just sit in the flames and have done with it!"

"You won't be without a weapon. You just won't be running with it."

With that, Syvor lifted the pike like a javelin, skip-hopped towards the bonfire, and let the pike fly. It pierced the flames with a whistle. They all could hear the clatter as it felt to the floor of the cave mouth beyond the fire.

"See? Now wrap up properly. Don't trap your legs, you need to be able to move."

Within a few minutes the group was all bundled up. 

Grieg chuckled quietly to himself. He thought they looked like children stumbling around with buckets on their heads, knocking into each other and tripping over everyone's feet.

In a muffled voice Syvor said, "All right, I'll go first. Watch what I do and follow quickly after me. The faster we all get through there, the safer we all will be."

He didn't hesitate even a moment, just ran full-tilt at the bonfire like a suicidal chicken. Right before he would have ran into the bottom log, he jumped. Sprinting across the remaining logs, his cloak steaming and sizzling around him, he disappeared into the flames.

The remaining crew stood quiet, nervously shifting their feet as they waited to see if Syvor truly did make it across. 

Syvor's voice could be heard over the crackling flames. "I'm safe lads. Come join me!"

One by one the rest of them followed. Poor Irvged tripped right before the jump and smacked face-first into the burning bottom log.

Howling in pain he backed away. His hands ripped off the cloak before he was free from the heat of the fire.

Grieg watched as the air was cooked out of Irvged's lungs, his face wide in shock as his mouth opened and closed like a drowning fish. The dead man dropped to the ground, his clothes beginning to catch fire as they dried out.

There is always one that can't make it over, Grieg thought. Only the hero will make it all the way, it is always only the hero.

[End of Part 1]