Fall of Hope (Book 1): Real Heroes Don't Wear Capes (30 page)

“
To
my family?” Gage snaps a glance at Bobby and rolls his eyes
with the return of his pupils. He drops the shell into his lap, still
encased in the warmth of his palm. “Nothing, they are still
alive.”

Something
close to a shadow skims across the sheen of his eyes in that second,
and Bobby cannot keep his next words from tumbling out like froth
from a can of pop when too much pours into a glass. “You wish
they weren't though.”

Gage
considers this with his teeth digging into his bottom lip before he
rolls it against his upper incisors.

“
No,
not really. I don't wish my mother was, but things cannot go back to
how they were.”

“
What
do you mean?”

Gage
sighs and waves his hand. “It's a long story.”

Bobby
leans his forearms against the arms of the chair as though to state
he is all ears.

I
have all the time in the world to hear it. Finally.

Fiddling
one foot upon the other, Gage continues with reluctance. “We
come from a place called Ithéradal—”

“
Ithéradal?
Where's
that?”

“
It
is not of this world. It doesn't matter, at least not yet. With the
war coming it'll become nothing but a desolate wasteland, anyway.”

“
Is
this the war you want me for?”

Gage
nods as he drops the shell back into the collection and wipes his
hand against his trouser leg.

“
But
I'm no good at fighting, you know that. I even get my ass whooped on
Fall
of Hope
.”

“
It
is not about fighting; we have already lost enough warriors trying to
stop them.”

“
So
what do you need me for, and who are we trying to stop? I don't
understand.”

“
You
will when the time comes.”

“
So
what is the war about?”

Gage
doesn't miss a beat, but when he replies his voice sounds flat and
weary. “What are all wars about? Power, greed, obsession . . .
love.”

Sitting
in the chair, expectant of more, Bobby waits for the man to continue.
When he bows his head, Bobby pipes up. “Let me guess, it's like
Helen of Troy—”

“
Helen
of what?”

“
Never
mind,” Bobby says. “Take your time.”

Gage
glances toward Bobby and glances sideways to the fluffy clouds out
the window. Rolling thumb over thumb, he continues to stare. His eyes
glaze over as the light hits them, making them look even more
unusual.

“
Once
there was a boy called Vasco. He was the rulers of Ithréaldal's
son—”

“
A
prince?”

“
You
could say that, yes.”

“
What
happened to him?”

“
He
died. He was second in line to become ruler, but because of his
vicious nature he was chosen above his older sibling.”

“
How
did he die?”

Gage
lowers his head from the window and his creased lids close.
“
It
was an accident,” he says and swallows with difficulty. “But
it was for the best. If he had survived and became ruler, then the
land would have descended into chaos.”

“
So
the war has started because of his death?”

“
No,
not really. His brother would have become ruler in place of his
father, Vatal, as was his rightful place. But that is not how it
worked out. The people—what would be his people—wanted
him to take over. Yet, because of what happened, the rulers exiled
him.”

“
For
what?”

“
He
is a traitor to their land. A murderer.”

“
Who
did he murder?”

The
cool breeze that drifts by as Gage lifts from the bed and heads
towards the window makes Bobby shiver.

“
He
killed his brother, didn't he?”

Taking
a long, audible inhale, Gage's eyes look distant as he stares out the
window with a frown. “It was self-defence. But it doesn't
matter when the target is the most powerful in the land. It doesn't
matter about anything; everything is second compared to his welfare.
Usually an act like that would be punishable by death, but his mother
sent him away; exile was better than watching them execute her son.
After all, she lived with the secret dread of Vasco becoming the most
destructive ruler to take the throne too. He was so destructive he
would force the land into darkness forever.

“
So
he left. It was hard, but I guess everything happens for a reason. He
is now on a crusade to bring Vasco down and save Ithéradal
from the inevitable fall.”

Bobby
scrunches up his face and whirls the chair around to see Gage's
forehead crumbling with worry and harsh lines. “I thought you
said Vasco is dead?”

“
He
is, but that doesn't mean it will stay that way.”

“
What?
They can do that where you're from?”

“
Reanimation
is possible with the right ingredients, but the life gets tampered
with, thus can never replace the person.”

Bobby
considers this, imagining something close to a zombie, or
Frankenstein's monster.

“
He
wouldn't be brain dead, Bobby,” Gage says, but neither smiles
nor reverts his eyes from the glass. “But something much
worse.”

“
Worse
than a zombie?”

“
I'm
a
fraid
so. Although a reanimated person will possess some of their usual
traits, they are sitting in limbo like a new born. Environment and
family shape them. Their interactions, if good, might nurture them
into a being of inspiration. However, if they are only subject to
hate and resentment, well, there is no telling what could happen. But
I can tell you, whatever it brings will not be worth witnessing.”

“
So
you've got to stop that from happening?”

“
Me,
you and the rest.”

“
Who
are 'the rest' and how can we stop it?” Bobby almost chuckles
with the thought of going along with this madness.

“
You
will find out in time. We must prevent the ingredients from reaching
their hands. It will be difficult, seeing as what they need is also
what we need to bring their plans crashing down.”

“
What
are these ingredients?”

Bobby
sees something within Gage's eyes then that makes him wish he hadn't
asked. He studies him with scrutiny for a second before turning away.

“
But
what does any of this have to do with me? It's not like I know
anything about this and can change the outcome,” Bobby says.
There is something in his words that burn his throat as though he can
already foresee the outcome.

“
When
the time comes, you will know the correct path and everything else
should slot right into place.”

Bobby
folds his arms across his slender chest as he takes his turn in
nibbling on his bottom lip. “You're back to being cryptic
again.”

Shifting
his feet beneath him, Gage shrugs. “I don't make the rules; I'm
just here to collect for now. When you're ready to go, then you will
know. You'll do what I say because otherwise the world you live in
will become altered.”

“
Altered?
How do you even know that I want, or will allow you to beam me off to
this magical land? Which, by the way, sounds absolutely delightful,”
Bobby titters with all the sarcasm he can muster.

Deciding
he has seen enough blue sky poking out from behind the clouds, Gage
heads back to the bed. He rests his back against the solid surface
with his arms against the headboard and says no more.

“
So
I'm not the only one?”

“
No,
but you are the one.”

Bobby
feels his heart drop into his bowls at those words. Raising an
eyebrow, he stares at the man lying across his bed with an almost
comical apprehension. “'The one'?”

What
the hell is that supposed to mean? It sounds like a dreadful film
quote when the world is under threat and only one person can save the
day.

“
The
one,” Gage says without expression.

All
romantic, or heroic ideas of joining him form in Bobby's head. They
do not create this impression of a saviour, but something less than
desirable. In fact, how Gage agreed sounded hollow and rehearsed.

Grave.

“
So
how do you know all this about the ruler, don't they keep that
information private?”

“
Everyone
knows because there is a warrant out on his head thanks to his
father. The reward is too good to turn down in these times, even if
they like him and he is their first choice of ruler.”

“
I
guess his father wasn't best pleased when his mother let him go.”

“
No,
he wouldn't have been. She most likely received the highest
punishment for that night. He can't kill her, but he would have made
her pay, that's for sure. No one knows that more than his family.
Vatal was a vindictive ruler and made his people suffer, but they
didn't know the meaning of suffering like we did.”

“
'
We'?”

Resting
his head back against the headboard and placing his hands in his lap,
Gage closes his eyes again. Bobby can tell from them tightening that
perhaps he isn't hollow after all.

Perhaps
he has hardened over time to protect that shell around his heart from
people crushing it anymore.

“
He
was my brother, but I couldn't let him destroy everything and
everyone I love. And I don't intend on doing so now.”

•

As
he opens the door, the frail figure leaning against Benji's door
tilts her head toward the sound. Her eyes are set within dark
colouration, filled with nothing but empty promises.

His
mother slides toward him before peeling herself away from the door.
She shuffles along the hallway in her slippers, and Bobby moves aside
to allow her to enter.