Probably its prophecy, p.1
Probably It's Prophecy, page 1
part #3 of Antiheroes Series
Contents
Copyright
Dedication
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CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
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About the Author
Note from the Author
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Probably it’s Prophecy: The Antiheroes Book 3
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CHAPTER ONE
Dannen collapsed on his back, his body covered in sweat, his chest heaving with great, whooping breaths as he stared at the ceiling overhead. A moment later, Clarissa dropped beside him on the bed, far more gracefully than he had. She smiled mischievously at him as he struggled to get his breath back. He had grown to love that smile over the last week, loved, too, what sometimes followed it.
He stared at her, lying naked beside him, her skin seeming to almost glow with a sheen of sweat, a pleasant flush to her cheeks, and thought it unfair that while his own exertions made him look—and sound—like a laboring cow, they made her look even better than she had, as if she were some princess slumming with a homeless man. Which, considering that he’d left his home behind when Perandius called him and, admittedly, had been a bit behind on his taxes already, was likely pretty close to the truth.
Good, then, that Clarissa had allowed him to spend this last week at her house or…mansion? Maybe castle would have been more accurate. Better still that he had spent the vast majority of that time in her chambers, her bed in particular. “Staring at my necklace?” she asked, her voice full of amusement.
Dannen raised his gaze from her naked chest. “Something like that.”
“Like what you see, I take it?”
He grinned. “Can’t complain.”
“Well, I suppose not,” she said, her fingers playing with her necklace. “After all, you’re the one that gave it to me.”
“Give you a lot more than that, you give me a couple of minutes to recover. Anyway, how’d the practice round suit you?”
“Oh, it was wonderful,” she said, grinning, that grin that told him he was about to feel foolish. “Why, I can only thank the gods themselves for allowing me the opportunity, no, the privilege of bedding—repeatedly—” she paused, winking—“the world’s greatest hero, the Bloody Butcher himself.”
Dannen winced at that. “Maybe make it a bit more believable, eh? And please, gods, stow that Bloody Butcher shit.”
“Consider it stowed,” she laughed. “And if you want more believable…very well, it was short. And sweet.”
Dannen cleared his throat. “Damn. Words a man rarely wants to hear in bed, no matter their combination.”
She ran a hand along his chest, along his stomach, which while not as flat as it once had been, was certainly the closest to it that it had been in a long time. It had shrunken in the last months—fighting for his life was a damned fine diet for a man. Assuming, of course, that he survived it. Shrunken enough, in fact, that a glance down showed him not only the very tips of his toes but some of the tops of his feet as well…not that it was a particularly welcome sight. He had no idea how he could spend the whole day walking around a mansion and yet still get dirt on them, but he did nonetheless. Not a kill most folks would wish for, but it was his either way.
“Oh relax, Danny,” she said, “sweet is always good, and as for short…well, considering that I have to go to work, short, in this instance, is also good. Though I hope you appreciate that I will expect better when I return.”
“Work?” he asked, knowing he sounded whiny, like one of the women from the stories that pined over the heroes—another subject upon which the bards took too many liberties as far as he was concerned—but he couldn’t help it. The last week had been nice, perhaps the best week of his life. Most of that was Clarissa, though without doubt part of it was that no one had tried to kill him. Except Clarissa herself, of course, who, sometimes during their nightly…adventures, seemed intent on doing exactly that. After all, he wasn’t as young as he used to be. “Do you really have to go?”
“Yes, Danny,” she said, smiling. “I really have to go. I have already missed two days this week thanks to you, and I dare not miss a third. People who do not attend their labors often wind up without labors to tend, and as such are inevitably forced into retirement.”
Dannen grunted. “Retirement. That wouldn’t be so bad, would it?”
She raised a perfect eyebrow. “We are in the City of Assassins, Dannen. Here, retirement is far more…final than it might be in other places.”
“Oh,” he said. “Right.”
She rose then, and while he hated that she was leaving, he had to admit that he enjoyed watching her move, completely naked, to her wardrobe. “Anyway,” she went on, glancing back at him with a smile that said she knew all too well the effect she had on him, “we can’t all lead the hero’s life, can we? Spend a few days a year risking life and limb and the rest lying around doing our level best, it seems to me, to avoid using those limbs.”
He grunted, puffing out his chest. “It’s a tiring thing, being a hero, but what can I say? Someone has to do it.”
“Sure,” she said with a laugh, “just as someone has to be the one to accept the grateful king’s gold.”
“It would have been rude not to,” he said distractedly as he watched her bend to pull on one of her stockings.
“Anyway,” she went on, “some of us actually have to work for a living and can’t rely on earning a king’s ransom in gold that will last us for the rest of our lives.”
“Felt like work at the time,” he muttered, wincing as he recalled the events of the battle against a host of undead. Not that it took long—after all, he had plenty of reminders, just about every night when he closed his eyes. “Besides, that ‘king’s ransom’ as you called it, isn’t just mine but the others’ too, and if I had a guess, I’d say that, knowing Fedder, the bastard has made a pretty good dent in it this last week.”
“Surely you’re joking. That was a lot of coin. It would take some awfully big spending to make a dent in it.”
“Have you met Fedder?” he asked. “There’s not a less subtle person in the world. Why everything about that bastard is big. I don’t see why his spending would be any different.”
She glanced over at him, smiling. “Everything big? Well. Maybe I should be inviting him over instead.”
Dannen grunted. There had no doubt been a time in his life when such a comment would have made him jealous, but he’d nearly had that same life taken away from him too many times. Now, he was just thankful for what little good the world decided to throw at him. “You’d probably have to get a bigger bed.”
She laughed, slipping into her dress then moving toward a table where she sat to pull on her boots. “Anyway, I’ll be back before you can miss me.”
“I miss you now.”
“Oh, Dannen Ateran,” she said, shaking her head, “you’re such a romant ic.”
“Well. I miss parts of you anyway.”
She scowled at that, and he laughed. “Serves you right for that Fedder comment.”
She finished pulling on her second boot then walked to him, bending and kissing him. It was a long, pleasant kiss, one that made some of what he’d went through over the last month worth it. Finally, she pulled away. “Relax, Danny. You know you’re the only suicidal, scarred hero for me.”
“And what would you think of a non-suicidal, retired hero? Though, the scars’ll still be there. Can’t do much about that.”
She met his eyes. “You’re thinking of quitting?”
He shrugged. “We did what Perandius needed doing. Now that’s finished, I can think of far better things to do than spend my time fighting trolls and the undead and necromancers with mommy issues.”
“Speaking as one of those ‘things,’ I can’t help but wonder if you’re serious about that.”
“I’ve never been more serious,” he said, meaning it. At least, thinking he did. Later, he would come to wonder about that, to wonder about a lot of things. Mostly why the world seemed to have it out for everyone and for him in particular.
She sighed, shaking her head. “It is a pleasant fantasy, Dannen, but I fear it is no more than that.”
“You’re wrong.” She wasn’t.
“Oh?” she asked. “Very well. Let me ask you a question, Danny. Just a hypothetical. If we were to go on a trip, let’s say, and we came upon a camp being attacked by bandits, what would you do?”
He frowned. “This a trick question?”
“No tricks, Danny. Just a question. What would you do?”
He squirmed, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. “Well, I’d…try to help, I guess.”
She smiled, holding her hands out. “You see?”
“Wait a minute,” he said, “that’s not fair. Anybody would do the same thing.”
“No, Danny,” she said. “No, they wouldn’t. Most would run—frightened that the fate befalling the unknown stranger would befall them next. And only a very small fraction of those who ran would try to find guards or someone to tell of what had happened. Likely, most would forget about it before they even reached another town.”
He frowned at that, opening his mouth several times to answer but finding that the words wouldn’t come. Mostly because he didn’t know what the words were. “I would have studied, if I’d known there was going to be a test,” he groused.
“Oh, Danny,” she said, shaking her head, “you’ve been studying for it all your life.”
Well, he had no idea of how to respond to that, was still trying to come up with something when she walked to the door and gave him a wink. “I’ll see you tonight. Assuming you don’t go off on some quest or another.”
“Gods forbid,” he muttered as she closed the door behind her. And unfortunately for him, in this instance as in so many others, the gods chose not to listen.
CHAPTER TWO
Dannen was lying in Clarissa’s bed—with no intention of getting up for anything short of avoiding pissing himself—when it happened. And when it happened, it happened in a flash. He blinked. No more than that. A split second of darkness, a vanishing moment where he was not aware of the world around him but when his eyes opened again he saw that that world had changed.
Clarissa’s wardrobe was gone, so, too, the table at which she had sat only moments ago to pull on her boots. The entire room was gone, in fact, and that included the bed upon which Dannen had been lying. He had time enough to realize this, to realize that he was lying on nothing more than air, and then he wasn’t lying but falling.
He managed to get out half a scream before he plummeted to the ground—a thankfully short plummet of less than five feet, though long enough to put him into a pretty shit mood.
There was a panicked moment of confusion as he gazed around and saw that the bedroom in which he’d spent many enjoyable evenings…and mornings…and afternoons, for the last week, had given way to fields of green grass. It looked soft, that grass, swaying in a gentle breeze, but as was so often the case, looks could be deceiving.
Cursing, he climbed his way to his feet, or at least meant to. A figure appeared above him before he was halfway up, and he did what any man might do when thrust, naked and confused, into a different place as if by magic. He screamed. A scream of fear that quickly turned into a shout of anger as he realized that the figure looming over him was none other than Perandius, the Messenger God, with an unmistakable grin on his face.
Dannen leapt to his feet far quicker than he would have been able to a month ago, grabbing the god by the front of his tunic with a growl. Then, slowly, reason reasserted itself, and he began to ponder the possible ramifications of punching a god in his smug, smiling face. Discretion won out—barely—and he pushed the god away with a huff. “Perandius. Damnit, but I thought I was done with you.”
The god made a show of straightening his tunic, looking up at Dannen with an arched eyebrow. “It is good to see you again too, Dannen Ateran. And, of course, pleasant as always to appreciate your considerable…charms.”
Dannen scowled. “You want charming, maybe invite a guy for a drink instead of ripping him out of a perfectly good bed and tossing him into a field.”
The god cocked his head. “There was no ‘ripping,’ Dannen Ateran, I assure you. I simply…summoned you.”
Dannen hocked and spat. “How about next time you send a letter? I mean, you are the damn Messenger God, aren’t you? Doesn’t seem much point in the title if your way of communicating is teleporting people into the air so they can fall on their asses without so much as a warning.”
Perandius winced at that. “I see. Well, I do apologize, Dannen Ateran. Perhaps, next time, you should try to land on your feet. I would think it less painful.”
Dannen took a moment to revisit the idea of punching the god in the face but decided to let it go for now, mostly because he was too busy not wanting to die. “You’re a real bastard, you know that?”
“We gods,” the Messenger God said, puffing out his chest, “are quite used to weathering the curses of mortal men.”
“I imagine so,” Dannen said dryly, “practice anything long enough, you’ll get good at it.”
“As I said,” the god responded, “as always, I stand in awe of your charms.”
Dannen hissed. “I’m naked if you hadn’t noticed, Perandius. My charms, such as they are, are hanging out for the whole world to see, and I’ve got grass in…well, in places a man is most certainly not meant to have grass. You’ll have to forgive me if I’m a bit testy.”
“Forgiven,” the god said, just as if he was the one who had been mistreated. “As for your nakedness, you need not worry, for there is no one here to see.”
Dannen frowned down at himself. True, he was far thinner than he once was, the gut that he had acquired over years of effort having been reduced in the last months to no more than a slight pudge, but then he still wasn’t in any danger of any sculptors asking for him to model for them anytime soon. “I can see, damn you,” he said.
“Yes,” the god said slowly, “but then, I would have thought that you would have been used to the sight, considering that, of late, you have spent far more time without clothes on than with.”
“Well, I’m not used to—” Dannen cut off. “Wait a damned minute, do you mean to tell me that you’ve been…what, looking at me? While I was naked?”
The god looked offended at that. “There is nothing unusual about it, I assure you. True, I have checked in on you and the others from time to time, but that is no more than the carrying out of my duty since you are, after all, my responsibility.”
Dannen sighed, shaking his head. “You know what you need, Perandius? A hobby. That’s what. Maybe a cat.”
“A cat?”
“Sure,” Dannen said, “you strike me as a cat guy. Anyway, it turns out that the afterlife is a bit chilly. You got anything I can wear?”
The god winced. “I’m afraid not, Dannen. To use my powers in such a way…for so frivolous a thing…it would be well…irresponsible.”
