Paper

Paper

Kell Inkston

I

Finally, the day of the Hero’s
Celebration has come. It’s warm, just as it should be. Ralic gets
up next to his wife as usual, but now dawns the garb of “the hero”.
It was delivered to him yesterday evening to put on, passed down
from generation to generation–and now it is his turn.

It fastens on easily. Ralic’s
surprised; the clothing fits him perfectly, as if it were meant for
him. In a way, it is meant for him–just as it was meant for his
great , great, great, great, great grandfather; each generation of
men given the same task. He leans over to his wife, the daughter of
the blacksmith, and kisses her lightly on the cheek.

“
Good morning,” he
says.

Her features clench and she opens
restful green eyes and stretches forward her pregnant
center.

“
Mornin’, Ral’.” She gets
out of bed herself, returns the kiss, and prepares for the big
day.

Ralic walks up to the mirror, a symbol
of his great wealth, and looks himself over. Long, clean, handsome
features–he looks just like his father at that age, who looked just
like his father, and so on. He smiles the way most handsome men do
in front of a mirror, and Tenay notices.

“
Must be nice knowing you’ll
look like your pa’, huh?” she nudges him gently with a snide look
about her, the main reason he chose her to be his bride.

“
Eh, yeah. I gotta’ say,
it’s kind of a cool feeling knowing you’ll be handsome until like,
eighty.”

She kisses him again on the neck.
“Well, I wouldn’t know. So, do you feel any different putting them
on?” she glances over to his armored garb, a black chainmail fitted
with a brown tunic, all over a thick white
padding. Ralic waves his head about in uncertainty
and raises his brows.

“
Well…Well kinda, not
really. I’m sure once dad gives me the sword I’ll be feeling it
though.” He puts his arm around her and nudges into her neck,
causing a quick squeal from his wife.

“
Your nose is cold!” she
says.

“
Should have been ready,” he
says.

“
Shut up.”

“
You shut up.”

“
Spoiled hero kid,” Tenay
says, pushing him back playfully.

“
Angry smith’s girl,”
Ralic returns with another nudge.

“
Go get ready,
gnave!”

“
I am ready!”

“
Then leave me alone to get
ready!”

“
Okay smith’s
girl.”

“
Whatever, cur.”

This is the extent of their
conversation until Ralic gives a loud “goodbye” from the
door and takes his leave to the grand plaza.

The grand plaza is a wide place
surrounding the great tree the town was built around hundreds of
years ago. People have already gathered around the hero’s pedestal,
where Ralic’s father, a man that is both the previous hero and
now the mayor of the village, waits with the Sword of Destiny in
his hands.

A few pleasantries are exchanged, his
father gives him a great big hug, and then turns to begin the
ceremony just as Tenay arrives.

“
People of our town, welcome
to the day of the hero!” Ralic’s father begins just as the
people uproar in applause and cheering. “The
young Ralic the Twelfth, my son, has come of age.
Now that he is twenty, he will go off to the forbidden forest of
the dark lord and slay him. As you all know, the dark lord
returns every twenty years, and as such must be dealt with by
the noble line of heroes that live in this very village. I know
that times have been hard, and from some recent mistaken
experiments the harvest has been lower than ever this year, but
with the hero off to destroy the Overlord, let this feast serve as
a ringing in of new prosperity. Join me in delivering the Sword of
Destiny to him!” Ralic the Eleventh says amidst
ear–churning applause.

Ralic embraces the
older Ralic. “Thank you, father,” he says, allowing one moment
to gaze into his father’s eyes before he takes the sword from the
pedestal, “I won’t disappoint you!”

The father gives the son a strange
smile and says “You won’t.” Young Ralic returns it with a
smile more genuine than any he’s made in his life and takes the
blade. It positively surges with power, he feels, as though it’s
vibrating in his hand–or he could just be nervous. He pulls up the
blade from its sheath a moment to inspect it, and the brightness
and sharpness are unlike anything else he’s seen. It’s perfect,
this day is perfect, his wife is perfect, his life is
perfect, he is perfect.

With a strong, high wave and a glance
to his wife, he turns for the gates. Once the guards open them for
him, he is on his way out into the dark forest, feeling ready for
anything to come his way. Tenay follows him and looks over the wall
while the others go down to enjoy the traditional feast of the
hero’s departure. 
But this time, unlike all the other times, there is a small stone
in the middle of the road, dug in not even an inch. It trips the
mighty hero, and he falls right onto his face, cutting it on
another rock further down. Tenay gasps, but knows she cannot let
herself be seen by him; his pride would be hurt. As much as she
likes to stick it to him, she knows his ego is very delicate when
it comes to this one, a single day in his life–the one that must go
without error.

Ralic pulls himself up from the dirt,
his face bleeding with a long gash across his cheek, a serious,
scarring injury–but he continues down the road as if nothing
happened. He can’t turn around now.

Hours pass through the dark fir wood,
and Ralic finally finds the dark lord’s ruined keep, but
something’s off. The matter is, it’s not a ruined keep at all. It’s
perfectly maintained and shining with long banners of the colors of
burgundy and gold, and etched, artisan stonework. The drawbridge
comes down for the scarred Ralic, and once he draws his sword,
he enters.

In the hallway, lavished in priceless
paintings and statues, he creeps forward with his blade in hand.
It’s silent; the bridge has shut behind him, and he can no longer
hear nature’s calls around him. He quiets his breath as he starts
up the foyer steps, going roundabout and leading up to a large set
of doors, carved with images of massive, deadly beasts–this must be
where the dark lord is.

He pushes open the doors, and at a
small round table there is an old man sipping wine next to a
cloaked figure, who in turn is next to a tall tearing of paper,
roughly shaped into the silhouette of a person. The ugly old man
begins weeping quietly the moment he sees the strapping Ralic step
into the room and point his sword forward.

“
Dark Overlord, I have come
to slay you with this blade and free my people!” he says, repeating
precisely what his father had him memorize over the years. The
cloaked figure, only its bright, glowing eyes visible underneath
the shadowy guise, breaks out into laughter. The figure smashes its
fist against the table, swoops the old man’s glass of wine right up
and shatters it against the floor. With one final guffaw, the
figure rubs its blacker–than–pitch face and sighs.

“
Just as I told you,” the
gravelly–voiced figure says to the old man, who is now beside
himself and sobbing loudly. Ralic readies his sword for the awaited
epic battle.

“
I suppose you’ve been
expecting me, but this is not a good time for you to have invited
guests, cur!” Ralic brandishes his blade to invite the Overlord
forward. The figure scoffs but keeps its eyes focused on the boy as
if there is something Ralic is about to do that interests
it.

“
Why yes,
I have been expecting you. I suppose you’re Ralic the
Twelfth, hero of that insignificant speck you call a town down the
road about an hour or two’s way. Is that right?”

“
That’s right, and now I’m
going to slay you and put an end to your dark designs for the next
twenty years, when you will then answer to Ralic the Thirteenth, my
so–”

“
Please, don’t,” the old man
says in a raspy voice to the figure. The figure shakes its
head.

“
Nice scar, Ralic, where did
you get it?” The figure says, ignoring the man next to
him.

Ralic glances down to the dried up
closure of blood on his face. “Got it while walking here actually.
I’ll just tell the people of the town that I got it from
you!”

The figure shakes its head. “I’m afraid
that won’t work, ‘hero’. Each Ralic is supposed to kill me ‘without
a scratch’. But it’s okay considering no one saw you get it,” the
figure says as it raises its hand and begins gesturing its fingers
over the large piling of paper in the shape of a person. Ralic
watches in disbelief as a man that looks exactly like himself
manifests over the paper body.

“
Wh–what’s that?” Ralic
asks, easing into a guard.

Under its cloak, Ralic can see sharp,
white teeth shine.

“
Why, it’s Ralic the
Twelfth–just without the scar, as they would expect. We can’t have
the people of the town getting suspicious that the legend could be
flawed in some way, can we?”

Just as the fake Ralic rises from his
chair with a cruel grin, the real Ralic’s heart drops.

“
Hello, Impostor,” the fake
Ralic says to the true.

Ralic raises his sword and starts
forward. “I’ll end your ruse, magician!”

“
Oh, but the rusing is only
about to begin. With a single wave of my hand, I’ve prepared this
paper body for its many–year performance.

“…
Performance?”

“
You see, I’ve just made a
doppelgänger more perfect than yourself, and after it beats you in
a fight and throws you in a cage with the other yous, it will go
and take your place, eventually become mayor, and slowly, year by
year, push the town into oblivion–this is their punishment for
defying me, lifetimes and lifetimes of misery.”

Ralic had always heard from Tenay’s
father that the food shortages were worse than ever, and often the
adults had to go without food for a day off and on so that he, the
hero, could develop into a strong, energetic man. He sees it now.
The man he knows as his father, more properly the thing he knows,
was made of paper and magic, lying and making mistakes day after
day, but still trusted by the people because of what they thought
it had done for them.

He runs forward to the fake Ralic,
yelling at the top of lungs.

II

Tenay has been sitting in the center
room of her father’s shop, sifting for metal shearing when a gaunt
lad rushes in.

“
The hero’s made his
return!” he says with a yellow–toothed grin. Tenay rises up from
dust, brushes the shearings off her apron, and hurries to the
gate.

A young man blows the great horn as the
gates open way. Standing in the center of the road is Ralic, tall
and with the blood–stained cloak of the overlord gained under his
arm. Cheers abound and music begins as, like clockwork, the hero
returns six hours after he left, just like every previous hero. He
looks over the crowd and sees the way Tenay looks at him, the
expectation in her eyes.

“
I’m back,” he says,
radiating strength that Tenay’s never quite seen in him. His
shoulders are broader, just a tad, and in his eyes exists not a
hint of uncertainty, but truly, she can understand he would be
filled with pride–he did just kill the overlord.

She kisses him and wraps around him.
“Welcome home,” she says, nudging against his chest as he throws
the cloak aside. At that, they all sit down for the great feast,
Ralic and his father sharing knowing glances as they sit together
at the end of the round honored table. While the others sit in the
dirt or stand, only the two Ralics and their wives may take the
small table. As the poverty is great–only the hero’s and mayor’s
homes consists of more than three rooms.

“
What was it like?” is the
first thing out from Tenay’s mouth before her first bite. The young
Ralic smiles and pats her on the back as he shoves his mouth full
of beef. Tenay stares Ralic down a moment with a bland look about
her and gently taps down with her heel into just above his right
ankle. When she hits that sensitive spot she’s known since
childhood, the one that would cause howling of the loudest sort
he’s capable, Ralic does not so much as flinch. She leans into her
seat and begins looking over Ralic with a weighted stare. Her eyes
stop at his perfect, scarless face.