Prophecy of the Heroes, page 29
part #2 of Tournament of Heroes Series
Before Rubberman could respond, the cactus warriors fired all of their metallic needles at once. Dozens of metallic needles shot through the air toward them like darts from a blowgun.
“Everyone down!” Rubberman shouted. “Now!”
Beams immediately fell flat on the ground, as did the others. The metallic needles flew straight over their heads … and into the face and body of the giant scorpion right behind them.
The giant scorpion screeched in agony as dozens of metallic needles embedded themselves in its body. Combined with the painful hissing from its snake tail, it created an ungodly noise that Beams knew he would be hearing in his nightmares for years to come. An odd greenish-red mucus burst out of every hole created by the metallic needles, which smelled like fried pus.
The cactus warriors had come to a stop. Although they lacked human faces and therefore human facial expressions, they seemed surprised that their needles had missed their intended targets and struck one of their own allies instead. The giant scorpion, on the other hand, just charged across the sand toward them, still screeching and hissing loudly. It slammed into the assembled cactus warriors, knocking down most of them. It grabbed a couple of the cactus warriors in its pincers and snapped them cleanly in half without any apparent effort.
This cause the remaining cactus warriors to turn their attention from Beams and his Teammates to the giant scorpion. Soon, an all-out, gory battle between the angry snake scorpion and the cactus warriors ensued, with both sides ripping each other to shreds mercilessly.
“Wow,” said Rubberman, rising to his feet as he stared at the gory battle in awe. “I figured that the cactus warriors’ needles would kill the scorpion, but this is even better.”
“Yes, Dennis, you are incredibly brilliant and handsome,” said the Necromantress sarcastically. “Whatsoever shall we do without you?”
“You haven’t called me brilliant and handsome since the divorce,” said Rubberman. He smirked at her. “I’ll take it.”
“Guys, we really need to go,” said Beams. “I don’t want to wait around until a winner emerges. Not looking forward to fighting either of them, to be honest.”
With that, Beams and his Teammates ran toward the island, doing their best to ignore the cacophony of metallic needles breaking skin, the painful and angry hissing from the snake, and the occasional sound of a cactus warrior getting cut in half.
Aeno might just be a kid, but his creations sure can get violent, Beams thought as he ran. Maybe too violent.
BOLT
Blizzard?” Bolt yelled, rotating on the spot as he looked for his Teammates. “Tsunami? Mimic? Where are you guys? Hello? Anyone there?”
There was no response. The thick fog hung in the air around Bolt like a curtain. He couldn’t see more than ten feet in front of himself, if even that much, and with the tall grass that went up to his waist, even that much visibility was reduced. It didn’t help that a chill had fallen over the prairie, causing him to shiver slightly.
What was that? Bolt thought. Where did everyone go? Is this just part of the match?
Bolt wasn’t sure what to do. To win this match, he would need to find Mimic, at a minimum. Without Mimic’s Treasure Band, Bolt wouldn’t be able to steal the other Teams’ treasures and present them to Sigil.
But he genuinely had no idea what had happened to Mimic and the others. He was also uncertain about which way would take him to the island and which way would just make him go deeper into the mist. He heard a loud rumble somewhere in the distance, but it didn’t sound close enough to make him worry about it.
Take a deep breath, Bolt, and think carefully, Bolt thought. Something knocked Blizzard’s hand out of yours. The kidnapper, therefore, must still be somewhere nearby and probably has my Teammates.
Having come to that conclusion, though, Bolt wasn’t sure what to do with it. With the fog and tall grass all around him, his secret assailant could literally be anywhere. Not to mention there were probably other traps like the pitfall Mimic had gotten himself caught in earlier. It all created a tense atmosphere, with plenty of opportunity for Bolt to doubt his decisions.
I really need to clear this fog, Bolt thought, his hands balled tightly into fists. I wish I had wind powers like Cyclone. Then I could just blow it all away.
Bolt’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of movement in the grass behind him. He whirled around, his hands crackling with electricity, but stopped when he saw something weird.
Standing a few feet away from him, with its arms splayed out, was an old, dilapidated scarecrow. The scarecrow was supported by a wooden cross, with its arms thrust out in both directions, while its cloth-like head hung on its chest. It was dressed in old farmer’s coveralls and a button-up shirt, which were full of holes, allowing straw to poke through. The scarecrow wore an old felt cowboy’s hat that looked like it had seen better days. Somewhere in the fog, a crow cawed, adding to the eeriness of the situation.
Okay, I am one hundred percent certain that that scarecrow wasn’t there even five minutes ago, Bolt thought. It must be the enemy.
“Perceptive,” said a faint female voice coming from the scarecrow, “you are.”
Without warning, the scarecrow raised its head. Its ‘head’ was basically an old burlap sack with eyes, nose, and mouth painted on rather crudely, yet its crude face showed the same range of expression as an actual face. A bit of straw struck out from the corner of her mouth, although it looked more like some of her interior straw poking out than anything.
“What the heck are you?” said Bolt.
“A scarecrow and a witch, says I,” said the scarecrow. “Call me Joan, you will.”
Bolt raised an eyebrow. “A female scarecrow named Joan who talks like Yoda. Yeah. Makes perfect sense.”
“Insult me not,” said Joan, “unless you wish to lose your Teammates, you do.”
Bolt glared at Joan. “So you’re the one who kidnapped my Teammates, eh?”
“The mistress of the fog, I am,” said Joan with a nod, causing a bit of straw to fall out from underneath her hat. “The fog answers to me, that it does.”
“Okay, Joan,” said Bolt. “My name is Bolt, although I suspect you already know this. Why don’t you let my Teammates go? We’re in the middle of an important match and we really don’t have time to waste playing with you.”
“Playing with me is part of the match, yes it is,” said Joan. “But letting go of your Teammates, I will not, no, I won’t.”
“Am I supposed to beat you up?” said Bolt. He punched his fist into his other hand. “If so, I’m willing to do it, although there isn’t much challenge in beating up a straw man. Or woman, as the case may be.”
Joan chuckled. “Beat me up you can, but save your friends it will not.”
Bolt’s fingers crackled with electricity. “I wonder if you are going to keep talking like Yoda if I hit you with one of my lightning bolts.”
“Wise, that would not be,” said Joan. She gestured with her head at the tall grass all around them. “Use your lightning bolts you might, cause fire you will.”
Bolt got her point. The tall grass around them looked dried, brown, and dead. He had seen plenty of news reports about fields in Texas getting caught on fire thanks to those kinds of conditions. The fog probably didn’t offer enough moisture to keep the grass from catching fire. Although Bolt’s suit was fireproof, he really didn’t want to have to deal with a grass fire on top of trying to win the match and save his friends.
“Fine,” said Bolt, shaking the sparks off his hands. “I won’t blast you into pieces with my lightning bolts. How am I supposed to save my friends, then?”
“That is simple, yes it is,” said Joan. “To save your friends, give me something I want, yes you will.”
“Okay,” said Bolt, putting his hands on his hips. “What do you want? Money? Fame? Power?”
Joan’s expression darkened. “None of that. I want your soul, yes I do.”
Bolt looked at Joan incredulously. “My … soul? Like, inside my body? That soul?”
“I say what I mean and mean what I say,” Joan replied, “yes, I do.”
Bolt bit his lower lip. He wasn’t sure what this meant. Sigil needed all four heroes to fight in the Tournament to generate enough dark energy to fulfill the Prophecy. Why would Sigil allow a creature like Joan to be placed in the Tournament if it meant possibly losing his soul and therefore potentially not fighting in the Tournament?
There’s no way she could be asking for my actual soul, Bolt thought. Even if she says she’s being literal, she could be lying.
On the other hand, what else was Bolt supposed to do? He had no idea where Joan was keeping his friends and it wasn’t like he could force her to tell him the truth. He would just have to hope that Joan was messing with him and that, whatever Joan might do to him, it would be reversed by the end of the match.
Bolt folded his arms in front of his chest. “All right, Joan. If you want my ‘soul,’ you can have it. Just as long as you give me back my Teammates, I’m fine.”
Joan’s painted-on mouth twisted into a creepy grin. “An exchange has been made, yes it has. One soul for another, the ancient creed decrees.”
Before Bolt could ask her what she meant, Joan opened her mouth, which ripped open in a painful sound. Rather than reveal more straw, however, it showed a dark, gaping maw, from which a brilliant bluish-white light shot out toward Bolt. The light flew into Bolt’s open mouth and his body suddenly became as immobile as Joan’s body. He tried to move but found that his body would not respond to any of his mental commands.
A horrific burning pain tore through his body. He felt like every organ in his body was being ripped from its place and rearranged in the most painful way possible. He couldn’t scream except in his mind and in his mind he heard female laughter that had to be Joan’s voice, but he was in so much pain that he didn’t focus on that. All he wanted to do was die because he was convinced that that was the only way to make the pain go away. It didn’t help that his vision began to go wonky, with the world seeming to flip around on its head as the pain worsened.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the pain ended. Bolt’s whole world went dark, but he wasn’t unconscious. It was more like he had closed his eyes to keep himself from getting sick on a particularly twisty roller coaster.
Dang it, Bolt thought, panting hard. What was that?
“Open your eyes,” said a voice that sounded eerily like Bolt’s, “says I.”
Bolt opened his eyes, but for some reason, his vision seemed blurrier than normal. He didn’t feel like he was looking through his normal eyes. Rather, he felt like he was trying to look through a pair of glasses with fingerprints on it. It made his vision hard to focus at first, but with some willpower, he managed to clear his vision and was surprised by what he saw.
For a moment, Bolt thought he was looking at himself in a mirror. He stood at full height in the tall grass of the prairie, examining his own hands like he had never seen them before.
Weird, Bolt thought. How can I be looking at myself in the mirror and at my own hands at the same time? That doesn’t make sense. And I don’t remember there being a mirror in the field, either. What is going on here?
“Ah,” said his ‘reflection’ suddenly. His voice was the same, but his speech pattern was decidedly not. “A long time it has been since I had a physical body, yes it has.”
Bolt gaped. “Wait a minute … Joan?”
Bolt gasped. His voice in his ears sounded too much like Joan’s voice. He looked down at his body and was stunned to see, not his own red and black costume on his strong, muscular body, but the worn-out farmer’s clothing on Joan’s straw-stuffed, shapeless body.
“What the—?” said Bolt. He looked at his ‘reflection’ in horror. “What did you do?”
“An exchange was made,” said Joan in Bolt’s own voice. “A soul for a soul, says I.”
“But …” Bolt’s mind raced as he tried to process what just happened. “But how? And why?”
Joan patted her chest. “Your body I enjoy, yes, I do. Prefer a woman’s body, so I would, but a man’s body will do for now, yes, it will.”
“I still don’t get it,” said Bolt. “How does that even work?”
Joan smirked. “Once, long ago, a beautiful woman, yes, I was. Terrorized tiny rural village, that I did. Soul sealed inside that scarecrow by young upstart sorcerer, that I was. Finally free to leave this cursed place, that I am.”
Bolt gulped. Or tried to. He found that he couldn’t actually gulp because his new ‘body’ lacked saliva. “So this was a trick all along. You never intended to give me my Teammates back.”
“Lie not, that I do,” said Joan. “Your Teammates will return, yes they will.”
Joan snapped her fingers. A second later, Blizzard, Tsunami, and Mimic stepped out of the fog. All three of them wore dazed and confused looks on their faces, though Bolt was glad that they appeared unharmed, at least.
“Huh?” said Blizzard, blinking her eyes rapidly like she just woke up from a nap. “Where am I? What happened? Last thing I remember was getting caught up in a strange fog and then … nothing.”
“It was a sweet feeling,” said Tsunami, stroking his pointed chin, “much like settling in to watch a TV show, only to lose track of time and hours have passed.”
“I kind of liked it, to be honest,” said Mimic, rubbing his arms, “if only because it saved me from the horror of knowing that Bolt is our Team leader.”
Bolt, alarmed, opened his mouth to speak but found that nothing came out. Alarmed, Bolt tried to say something, anything, but it seemed like his own mouth was rebelling against him. Based on the way Joan smirked at him, he suspected she had done something to silence him, likely working whatever witchcraft she had used to make the soul exchange in the first place.
“Man, I’m so glad to see you guys, yes I—” Joan caught herself. “Er, I mean, I’m glad you guys are okay. I was really worried about you guys for a second.”
“Bolt?” said Blizzard, looking at Bolt in confusion. She peered at him more closely. “Something about you feels a little off.”
That’s because that’s not me, Blizzard! Bolt wanted to shout, but again, his mouth refused to move. That’s an evil witch who has stolen my body! Run!
Joan, however, spread her arms wide. “What are you talking about, Blizzard? I think you are probably just disoriented from whatever the fog did to you. I’m still the same Bolt you know and love.”
Blizzard frowned even deeper, but then shrugged and nodded. “Yeah, I guess. This fog is really disorienting. Everything feels unreal around here.”
“I agree,” said Tsunami. He glanced at the scarecrow and frowned. “Where did that scarecrow come from? I don’t remember seeing it before we disappeared.”
“Er, I just stumbled upon it while looking for you guys,” Joan lied. “I think it’s just another one of the match’s obstacles. Probably one of Aeno’s creations.”
“Think it has a treasure hidden on it somewhere?” said Mimic. He reached out to touch the scarecrow, a greedy expression on his face. “Perhaps that felt hat is Aeno’s felt hat.”
Bolt watched expectantly as Mimic’s fingers reached toward the hat on his head. He tried to tell Mimic that he was inside the scarecrow, but again, he couldn’t speak. He just hoped that Mimic might somehow ‘feel’ something was off about the scarecrow when he touched him.
Right before Mimic’s fingers could brush against Bolt’s felt hat, Joan grabbed Mimic’s wrist, causing Mimic to look at her in confusion.
“What’s wrong?” said Mimic, scowling at Joan. “Is there something the matter with the scarecrow?”
“Uh, yeah,” said Joan. “Like I said, it’s one of the match’s obstacles. If you touch it, something really bad might happen, like you might fall into another pit or something.”
Mimic jerked his hand back and stepped away from the scarecrow. “You don’t need to tell me that twice. I’m not the sort of person to make the same mistake twice.”
Bolt wanted to yell at Mimic that Joan was lying, but again, his mouth refused to work. He wondered how Joan was able to talk to him when she was in her scarecrow body.
How am I even supposed to speak without vocal cords, anyway? Bolt thought. Stupid magic. Doesn’t obey the laws of physics and biology.
“Perhaps we should continue heading to the island,” said Joan, looking at Bolt’s Teammates now, “before the fog tries to kidnap you guys again. Once we reach the island, I imagine it will be easier to see where we’re going.”
“Which way are we supposed to go, though?” said Blizzard, looking around at the endless fog around them with a frown on her face. “It all looks the same to me.”
Joan pointed behind Bolt. “I believe that way will lead us to the island. Just follow my lead and we should be all right, yes, we will.”
Blizzard’s eyes narrowed. “‘Yes, we will’? You sound an awful lot like Yoda.”
Joan suddenly gulped. “Er, I mean, of course, we will. You know how big a Star Wars fan I am. Sorry.”
Blizzard still seemed skeptical of Joan, but apparently didn’t see any need to voice her skepticism. She merely followed Joan, along with Tsunami and Mimic, past Bolt. Bolt tried to yell at them to stop, but his mouth still stubbornly refused to budge. He couldn’t even turn his head to watch them walk away. All he could do was think about how the chances of his Team winning this match had just been flushed down the toilet.
TRICKSHOT
Trickshot ran for his life, his feet crunching the snow underfoot, heedless of rocks, ice patches, and whatever else might be hidden in the snow under his feet. So did Holes, Lethal Injection, and Bug Bite. Even TW flew with them quickly, his holographic form barely visible against the stark white snow all around them.
The ground rumbled under their feet, nearly making Trickshot and his Teammates stumble, but they maintained their balance. They even passed what appeared to be several of Aeno’s lesser treasures because they had no time to do anything except outrun the avalanche.
