Helen and Troy's Epic Road Quest (9 page)

Troy waved to Helen again. She pushed away from their table and approached.

“Clifford said we can sit with him,” said Troy.

Helen forced a smile and sat. “Wonderful.”

“Always a pleasure to meet another Enchanted American,” said Clifford.

“So tomorrow we're supposed to fight?” asked Troy.

“Provided you buy the proper permits,” answered Clifford.

“It's a bit barbaric, isn't it?” said Helen.

“Agreed.” Clifford shrugged. “But that's the way it's done.”

“Isn't there an alternative?”

“Technically, our contest doesn't have to be a violent one. You only have to best me. A quester challenged me to a riddle contest once.” He took a bite of his enchiladas and chuckled. “That was when I discovered I'm lousy at riddles. Another challenged me to a game of checkers. Lost that one too. And there was this one guy who wanted to flip a coin. Can you believe that? Just leaving everything up to blind chance. What's the point of going on a quest if you're going to just let luck decide the outcome?”

“Did he win?” asked Troy.

Clifford grunted. “He had a magic coin that always came out in his favor, so yes. But if you ask me that's a bit underhanded. It's one thing to be a clever hero. It's another to rig the game.

“Eventually I realized that the only thing I'm good at is beating the snot out of people. It's my strength. Why fight it? No tricky contests, no cunning stratagems. Just a straight-up brawl. It's much simpler.

“You two look like you've got some fight in you. How much do you bench?” he asked Helen.

“I don't know. I've never benched.”

Their food was brought to the table. Helen only took a few bites of her vegetarian tacos.

“You should eat,” said Clifford. “You'll need your strength.”

“I don't get it,” she replied. “This all seems so—”

“Retro? Yes, I guess it is in a way. All I know is that I answered an ad in a newspaper, and here I am.”

“Can't you just let us pass through?” asked Helen.

Clifford choked on his rice.

“If I do that then I cease to be a guardian. I'll be out of a job, and Gateway risks losing its place along the road to legends. Just two exits down there's a town that's already built a deadly maze of booby traps. If they ever find anything worthwhile to hide in it, then we could lose a healthy chunk of our quest dollars.

“No, these people depend on me. I can't allow you to walk on by without besting me. And I can't hold back either, so please, don't ask.”

“We understand,” said Troy.

“Don't worry, though,” added Clifford. “I'll only beat the crap out of you. I won't kill you.”

“Thanks,” said Helen. “But we're under a divine curse. If we don't complete our quest, we'll die anyway.”

As if the curse was listening and excited to be mentioned, it poked her hand like needles gently pressed against her skin.

“That's unfortunate.” Clifford wiped his mouth, stood. “But it doesn't change anything. This is my job, and I'm not qualified for anything else since I dropped out of nursing school. But I'll go ahead and buy your dinner, since you seem like good kids.”

“Oh, you don't have to do that,” said Troy.

“Think nothing of it. Just so you know, I haven't lost a challenge in four years, and I had walking pneumonia then. I look forward to facing you on the field of battle tomorrow. Should be fun. Good luck.”

He shook Troy's hand.

“You too.”

Clifford walked away.

“Seems like a nice guy,” said Troy.

“Seems like,” Helen agreed.

“Hey, Hel, are you going to finish your tacos?” he asked.

She pushed the plate toward him.

“The field of battle” wasn't merely an expression. Gateway had an actual clearing reserved for the event. It was only a patch of dirt, but it did have stands for the locals to come and watch. A small crowd occupied the bleachers. There was also a shady awning under which challengers waited their turn.

A broad, scarred man was already there. He balanced a huge war hammer across his shoulders.

Clifford the cyclops wasn't there yet, so Troy passed the time chatting with his fellow challenger, who introduced himself as Smith.

“Nice sword,” said Smith.

“Nice hammer,” said Troy.

“Gets the job done.”

“Do this kind of thing often?” asked Troy.

“The gods have decreed that if I defeat seventy-seven monsters, I can join them in the heavens above as one of their own,” replied Smith. “This will be my forty-first.” He glanced at Helen. “Don't suppose your friend would be interested in being number forty-two.”

“She's not a monster.”

Smith sucked on his teeth. “I'll give you twenty bucks if she wins.”

Troy excused himself. “Wow, that guy is an ass.”

“What'd he say?” she asked.

“It's not important.”

They sat in the folding chairs available. Billi brought them some lemonade.

“How does this work?” asked Helen as she petted her dog. “What are the rules?”

“There's only one rule,” said Billi. “The first to yield loses. Or the first to lose consciousness. Although technically that's not counted as a victory and those challengers are allowed to try again once they get out of the hospital. Most don't. Those that do, don't ever try a third time.

“I haven't seen this many people come out to the field in a while. Folks seem to be more excited by this fight than normal. Must be because of your condition, miss. Not often we get questers of your persuasion. Promises to be a good fight.”

She went over to offer a glass to Smith.

“Have you ever been in a fight before?” asked Helen. “I mean, like a real fight?”

Troy shook his head. “I've done some wrestling and boxing, studied some Jeet Kune Do, but no, I haven't been in a fight fight. You?”

“No.”

They sipped their lemonade.

“Are you nervous?” she asked.

“A little bit.”

“I'm surprised to hear you admit that.”

“Why?” he said. “Because I'm always so confident? Confidence doesn't mean I'm an idiot, Hel. I know what's at stake here.”

“I know you know. Just surprised that you would admit to any doubts.”

Troy said, “Do you think I never have doubts? I have them. Maybe not as much as your average person, but I have my moments. The problem with being perfect, though, is that I'm not supposed to say it out loud.”

He caught Helen smiling at him.

“I know it's stupid to complain about being awesome.”

“No, it's not,” she said. “If you didn't have complaints, you wouldn't be human.”

“Maybe, but it's obnoxious. Especially complaining to you about it.”

Helen's smile dropped.

Troy bit his lip. “That was a stupid thing to say. I'm sorry, Hel.”

“Don't do that,” she said. “You don't have to tiptoe around the minotaur thing. I know what I am. Not like I'm going to forget. But it's not like we don't have a lot in common that way. We're both stuck with the expectations people put on us. Whether we like it or not. Funny thing is, we may be the two people who can most relate to what the other is going through.”

Troy laughed. “Hadn't thought about it that way.”

They tapped their divinely cursed fists together.

Someone in the stands blew a horn.

“He's coming,” said Billi.

Clifford approached the battlefield, a scrawny figure in bike shorts and sandals. An accompanying drummer punctuated Clifford's every step, thumping as if the earth were shaking beneath his feet.

Smith spat in the dirt, smacked the ground twice with his giant hammer. Each blow sounded a clap of thunder. “I'll go first, if you don't mind.”

“Be our guest,” said Troy.

Smith marched out into the field to meet Clifford. The cyclops drank some Gatorade and slipped out of his sandals while Smith loosened up with some practice swings. The combatants exchanged a few words, but they were too far away to be heard.

The cyclops grew into a tremendous twelve-foot giant. He nodded to the horn blower, who sounded the start of battle.

Smith charged. His hammer crackled with magic lightning. He didn't get a chance to use it. Clifford knocked Smith off his feet with one swift punch. Smith bounced across the field. The woozy warrior struggled to his feet. He stumbled in a clumsy zigzag to recover his weapon.

Clifford calmly walked over and tripped Smith. The cyclops then stomped him into the dirt. Clifford appeared bored by the act. He stopped occasionally to check if Smith yielded, which he didn't until the third pause.

Clifford shrank to his scrawny proportions and used a towel to wipe the sweat from his bald head, which was more likely to have been caused by the heat of the morning than by any strain on his part. Smith was carried out on a stretcher.

“You're up,” said Billi. “Good luck.”

She stopped Helen.

“Oh, and I came up with a name for your dog. Achilles.”

“That's not bad. Why don't you keep an eye on him while we try not to get our butts kicked?”

Achilles whined. Helen scratched him under the chin. “Don't worry, little buddy. We've got this.”

Billi said, “Miss, I don't normally give questers hints, but just so you know, Cliff's father was an air spirit and his mother was an earth goddess. I can't tell you more than that, but it might prove helpful.”

“Thanks.”

Helen caught up with Troy.

“Did you hear that? She gave us a hint because we have a dog.”

“I heard, but we don't need it,” he replied. “I think I know how to beat this guy.”

Clifford stretched. “That guy was a good warm-up. Now, before we start, I like to give everyone one last chance to back out. There's no shame in it.”

“Is it all right if I use this sword?” asked Troy. “It's magic, just to be up-front.”

“It's all right.” Clifford nodded to the horn player, who sounded the start of the fight.

Troy tapped his sword on the ground three times. A rumbling monster of hard-packed dirt rose before them. “What is your command, master?”

Troy pointed to Clifford. “Beat him up for us.”

The dirt elemental lumbered toward the cyclops, stopped in front of him, and spoke with its deep, dry voice.

“Hi, Cliff. How's it going?”

“Can't complain.”

The elemental said, “Sorry, kids, but I can't fight Cliff.”

“But I command you,” said Troy.

“Yes, but the magic of your sword is inferior to his birthright. I can't attack him. Even if I could, against an earth godling I wouldn't stand a chance.” The monster shrugged. Clouds of dust fell off its shoulders and blew into their faces. “But I'll be happy to help you with anything else if you survive this.” It walked over to the stands to watch the fight.

“Was that your master plan?” asked Helen.

Troy said, “I'm working on a backup.”

Clifford inhaled and expanded into his monstrous form. Helen didn't even see his punch as she was knocked across the field to lie in a heap. Clifford followed it with a fist smash meant to flatten Troy, but Troy's athletic reflexes kicked in. He dodged to one side, though the concussion of the blow nearly knocked him off his feet.

Troy sidestepped another strike and another. Clifford was powerful and fast, but he telegraphed his attacks. Troy had always been good at reading body language and years of sports had honed that talent to a fine point. He was able to stay one step ahead of the giant.

Though Clifford was easy to read, he was also too skilled to give Troy an opening. Even if he had, Troy wasn't sure he'd have been willing to take it. The sword was a lousy weapon because it was designed to kill. Intellectually, Troy understood he was fighting for his life. And for Helen's. But it was a big jump from never being in a fight to slaying a monster. Especially a monster that seemed as if he was just doing his job.

After a minute of cat and mouse, Clifford paused, blew out his breath, and shrank. “You're a fast one.”

Troy held up his sword as if he might actually use it. “Do you surrender, then?”

“Nice try. But you'll have to do better than that.”

Clifford expanded and rushed at Troy. Troy was too slow, and the cyclops plowed into him. And bounced away harmlessly.

Both Troy and Clifford were surprised by that.

Clifford threw a punch. Troy stood his ground, and the huge fist hit him without effect. He didn't feel it, though to judge by the way Clifford held his reddened knuckles, he had.

Troy whirled his weapon. “Magic sword of invincibility.”

Clifford exhaled and became scrawny. “Why the hell were you dodging so much?”

“Instinct. Also, I kind of forgot.”

“This is a surprise,” said Clifford. “I thought your minotaur friend would be the challenging one.”

Behind him Helen stirred. Troy kept Clifford's attention focused away from her.

“I don't want to stab you, but I will if I have to. And since you can't hurt me, you might as well surrender.”

“That's very kind of you, but I can't just give up. Usually enchanted weapons have a catch to them.”

“There's no catch. I'm invulnerable. You're not.”

“Would you like some advice? If you're going to go on a quest, you have to commit to it. Now, I'm not suggesting that I want you to stick me with that magic sword of yours, but that's part of my job. I can't walk away every time some ambitious person waves a blade in my direction.”

“So it's a standoff?” asked Troy.

“Only until I figure out the flaw in your weapon.”

“What if it doesn't have one?”

“There's always a flaw. That's how magic works.”

“That must mean there's a flaw in your magic too,” said Troy.

“I didn't say that.”

“Yes you did.”

They smiled.

“All right then. That's the challenge, is it? First to find the other's kryptonite.”

Helen was on her knees. She was dizzy, but Troy couldn't tell if she was hurt.

“I've already found yours,” said Troy. “You're the child of an earth goddess and an air spirit. You grow when you inhale, but only for as long as you're holding your breath. And since you are barefoot, I bet it only works for as long as you're touching the ground.”

Clifford's brow furrowed. “Ah, damn it, Billi, what did I tell you about giving hints?”

“Sorry, Cliff,” called Billi from the tent. “But you know I'm a dog person.”

“You got me,” said Clifford. “But I've got you too. You haven't moved from that spot. I'm betting that your invulnerability only lasts so long as you stay put.”

Helen stood. Troy nodded subtly to her not to interfere.

“It's a stalemate?” asked Troy. “We just stand here until one of us gets exhausted?”

“Not quite.”

Clifford inflated. He grabbed Troy in his two giant hands and lifted him off the ground. Clifford, holding his breath, couldn't speak, but his smug grin said it all. Troy's sword arm was pinned to his side. He couldn't do anything about it.

“I can't yield,” said Troy.

Clifford nodded as if he understood. He cocked his arm back, preparing to hurl Troy like a football. A fleshy, crunchy football that would end up a shattered sack of bones.

Helen charged from behind and knocked Clifford's legs out from under him. He tumbled into the air, deflating. Troy hit the ground hard but not nearly as hard as Clifford had intended. Relief overwhelmed any pain.

Clifford stood. “OK, that was a bit of a cheap shot, but I have to give you credit. Not many people can—”

Troy heard the steady thump-thump-thump of hooves and Helen crashing into Clifford again. It was followed by his yelp and the light thud of a shrunken cyclops hitting the ground.

Troy sat up. His eyes followed the trail of dust left in Helen's wake. She was fast. Really fast. She swung around for another charge, her head held low.

“I knew she'd be trouble. But nobody knocks me off my feet three times in a row.” Clifford adopted a linebacker stance and grew.

The two Enchanted Americans crashed together. Clifford reeled from the collision and for a moment it looked as if he might fall over. But he held steady. He twisted and threw Helen off balance, and she landed on her face, choking on the dust in the air.

The crowd cheered. Clifford bowed.

“Can I say how much fun this has been? I haven't had a genuine challenge in such a long time, I forgot what it felt like. You did good, but you're only mortals in the end.”

He expanded, lifted Helen off the ground, and prepared to lay her out with his strongest punch.

“Hey, you forgot about me.” Troy stood with his enchanted sword at the ready.

Clifford grinned and shook his head. He couldn't say it aloud, but he didn't need to. Troy was next.

Helen undid the clasp on her bracelet. It fell to earth, and a bristling mix of her family curse and adrenaline surged through her.

She kicked Clifford in the gut with both hooves. He exhaled painfully and dropped her. He gasped, struggling to draw in a suitably deep breath. She laid a punch across his jaw. Her form was sloppy, but it was her first. It still knocked him to the ground.

“Stay down,” she said.

“It doesn't work like that, Hel,” said Troy. “He recovers from anything as long as he can touch the earth. If you want to beat him, just throw him over your shoulder before he catches his breath.”