The Truth of it All
This story was written after the poem that begins it. Quite an old piece, it was submitted to a library writing contest for young writers.
There once was a hero, or so he claimed to be,
Traveling the world with his sidekick you see.
No name had this hero, simply Hero he was dubbed,
Killed a dragon, he claimed, over the head it was clubbed.
The Hero wasn't truthful, ah a lie he did tell,
T'wasn't his hand but to that of his sidekick it fell.
The Hero called all a Villain but he,
He was the one who all wanted to be.
Full of himself he was to the top,
Not a pin sharp enough to make his ego go pop.
No man was better than he, he claimed to be true,
Alas, from his mouth, the lies they quickly flew.
But let us not speak of a hero who lied,
Let us speak of a man who with all his will tried.
Let us hear of a Villain who truly was not,
Of the true hero Jakkarath who the dragon had caught.
It was a dark and gloomy day when it all began. Rain fell in buckets, drenching him in mere moments. A depressed sigh escaped him as he glanced at the run-down shacks, their repair put off by the construction of the large brick building at the end of the dirt road. It was the newest and best looking building in the small village. One he had been forced to help construct.
This day is fit for neither man nor beast, he thought to himself as he trudged onward down the empty mud-coated street. He halted outside the mansion, staring up at it. It was a magnificent structure. A shame that within it dwelled one unfitting of it. He pulled the heavy wooden door open, and, wiping his feet on the mat inside, travelled deeper into the lair.
"Jakkarath! Where have you been?" the Hero demanded, towering over the shorter man, "We should have left by now!"
Jakkarath looked away from the man's handsome face, suppressing a surge of envy, and replied in the meekest voice that he could muster, "My apologies. I was gathering our supplies."
"Nevermind," the dark-haired Hero said with a gesture to dismiss the excuse. "All I need is my sword, bring nothing more." The Hero paused at Jakkarath's expression. "Very well. If you insist on bringing something of your own, I'll pick something. You'll not need anything, and it would not be wise for you to try and out show me.."
"Where is it we're going?"
"The people begin to doubt my heroicness," the Hero said with an air of disappointment, "So I've found a dragon to slay."
Jakkarath restrained himself from stating that heroicness wasn't a true word. "Perhaps sir, if you treated them better, they would have no cause to doubt." The Villain, as the Hero considered all but himself, could not hide his disgust. He was disappointed in the Hero, who had chosen to let his arrogance rule him. He would no longer do anything for himself, but demanded that everything be done for him. The village fell to ruins around the villagers, blinded to their own declining happiness. They continued to love him, for he was a hero.
The Hero glared at Jakkarath, "I treat them better than they deserve. One would think that they would treat a hero better. Now, let's head off to that cave so I can slay the dragon. Saddle my horse, and fetch yourself a mule if you're too lazy to walk."
Muttering under his breath, Jakkarath went to do as he was asked.
The Hero and his sidekick stood outside of the cave, listening to the crunch and snap of breaking bones as the dragon ate the Hero's steed.
"Jolly good! He's got spirit!" the Hero cried excitedly.
Jakkarath groaned inwardly. This was not a good idea. "Are you sure you don't want some armour or something sir?"
"Perish the thought my weakling friend! If thou art a coward, you needn't attend!" the Hero called as he ran forward and into the cave.
Sighing, Jakkarath followed.
The dragon was a large beast, filling the small cave. Unfortunately, Jakkarath noticed, there was only the one exit. If the beast came between them and the exit . . . Jakkarath shuddered at the possibility. Thankfully, it hasn't noticed us yet, he though Now if only he doesn't do something stupid to draw attention to us, we can take it out quickly.
"What ho dragon?!" the Hero cried loudly.
Jakkarath cursed as it swung around to stare at them. Its mouth opening in a toothy grin.
The Hero tensed, and quickly analysed the situation, the truth of it clicking in at the sight of the razor sharp talons and teeth. He dragged the Villain in front of him, planning to use the innocent fellow, who had tried continuously to warn him of this, as a shield. Little care did he hold for the life of his 'friend' when compared to his own. He was the important one. He was the hero. He was the one who was meant to survive. "In a life or death situation," he began by way of explanation, "all ties are broken." He shoved the Villain towards the creature, turned, and ran.
The Villain who wasn't stumbled, rolled, and came back up on his knees, palms scraped on the rocky surface. He scrambled backwards, finding himself against a wall, with the exit blocked. Trembling inside he drew his daggers, the only weapons the Hero had seen fit to let him bring. He cursed hopelessly, held his weapons firmly, and prepared to defend himself.
A puff of smoke escaped the creature's nostrils. Jakkarath could hear the rumble of the flames within the dragon as it prepared to unleash the searing heat upon him. Panic filled him as he sought for a place to hide from the upcoming blast of fire. He could find nothing, he and the dragon were the only contents of the cavern. The increasing roar urged him into motion, and he was forced to improvise. Flight or Fight . . . he quoted, if you can't run, stand and fight. He dove towards the giant lizard-like creature, rolling under it and coming up beside the tail. The creature spun its head, twisting its neck in an attempt to keep the flame trained on him. It couldn't stop the fire once it had begun.
Flames connected with the dragon's tail and it yelped with pain, a strangely high-pitched sound. Stupid creature, Jakkarath noted, but only when it comes to certain things. It hadn't noticed it's own tail, but it still kept the exit blocked.
Jakkarath took the monster's pain-filled distraction to his advantage, and ran beneath it once more. Dodging to avoid being crushed by the huge taloned feet, he found the place where he assumed the creature's heart was to be.
He slid one of his daggers back into its sheath, and gripped the other one tightly in both hands. He wedged it beneath the tip of one of the hard scales, and tried to pry it up. The creature howled, but whether in rage or pain he hadn't a clue. He rolled out of the way of one of its feet, then rushed back to where he had begun his work.
It seemed like hours to him before he had finally bent the scale enough to finish the job. He slid the dagger under the protective layer, and forced it into the tender flesh.
A shriek filled the air as the creature attempted to rear upwards, its head compacting with the roof. Blood poured down, soaking Jakkarath as he ran. He stood against the wall, hoping not to be trampled by the creature's convolutions. He waited, patiently, till the creature became still. As silence descended on the cavern, he climbed over the dragon, and shakily walked out the only exit.
"You'd better not have killed it!"
Jakkarath jumped involuntarily at the sound of the Hero's vehement voice. "What?"
The Hero stormed towards him, just narrowly avoiding the puddle of blood that fell from the smaller man with pure luck. "I'm supposed to kill it. I'm the Hero!"
Jakkarath growled, "You left me in there, you coward!"
The Hero gasped in shock, a sharp intake of breath. Never before had anyone called him a coward. Despite the multitudes that had believed him so, none had ever said it. "You're the coward Jakkarath," he said coolly, "Leaving me to kill that beast alone. I'm sure the villagers will see things as they are."
"They will indeed."
The Hero spun at the sound of the unfamiliar voice. Jakkarath too turned to look, for neither had been paying attention
to anything but the other. The source was an elderly man, and Elder of the village. He was one of the main Elders of the village, and held a lot of power in the village. The man had been watching for quite a while. For the first time, the Hero's eyes filled with fear. Fear that he would loose the power he had held over the people.
"Spread your lies if you will, Hero," the Elder said mockingly, "but I will be sure that they know the truth of things. This man, Jakkarath, is the true hero. It is he who is bathed in the blood of the beast he was forced to slay." The man shook his head in disgust, "You seek to claim credit for what you didn't do. You shame yourself, and others."
The Hero snarled, "He is not better than me. If I am not the Hero, nor shall he be." Drawing his sword, he lunged towards Jakkarath.
The Elder cried out in warning as Jakkarath dodged the coming blow. The Hero slid on the pool of blood, and sped headfirst into the wall. Jakkarath drew forth his daggers, and prepared to defend himself against a monster for the second time that day.
"Don't do this, I don't want to fight you," Jakkarath pleaded.
The Hero came towards him again, "Then die."
Jakkarath ducked as the Hero swung wide in his berserker rage. Fury blinded the man, allowing Jakkarth to easily anticipate the other's moves. He watched intently for a chance to disable his foe.
The Hero lunged forward again, and tripping on the uneven ground, impaled himself on his enemy's blade. Shock filled the man's face.
Jakkarath paled, pulling his weapon from the Hero's lifeless breast. The quickly chilling corpse slid to the ground, leaving him trembling with his blood coated dagger. He flung the blade from him, sobbing as he held his face in his hands.
The Elder approached him slowly, his face an ashen grey, and rested his hand upon the younger man's shoulder. "He left you no choice lad. They'll know that. I'll make sure they know the truth of everything." He gripped the man tightly in a loving embrace, and let him cry.