Chapter 2

Alice shook her head and argued, “It may be a simple mission, but it is the only one that I have for you.”

Confused by only having a single mission from which to choose, Malcolm said, “There must be more than one Damsel in Distress.”

“This is the only mission that can be taken at this time,” answered Alice. She didn’t want to tell him the reason for it.

“Why is it that I don’t believe you?” asked Malcolm looking at Alice through eyes that had narrowed into slits. Her manner reminded him of his early missions where she often chose opponents and missions that were well below his abilities.

“It is the only mission that you can undertake now,” answered Alice. At the look on his face, she said, “Look. She’s not the only Damsel in Distress. There are some others, but none of the Heroes are to go after them until the Caretakers decide how to address the situation.”

“What’s the big deal? You tell me where she is, I study the situation, formulate a plan, and then rescue her,” said Malcolm.

Alice wondered how she could put the situation into a proper context. She said, “There are at least ten thousand villains involved. It is bigger than one Hero.”

The idea that a Caretaker would admit that a situation was bigger than one Hero was shocking. If she and the other Caretakers believed that, then he would get no help in trying to rescue the Damsel. Abruptly he asked, “So tell me about this Damsel I’m supposed to rescue?”

“Lilly was kidnapped by a villain named Derek and is being held for a thousand conch ransom. There’s a man who is willing to pay her ransom in the hope that she’ll marry him, but the odds are good that Derek will kill her even if the ransom is paid. He’s done that before.”

“So she is truly in distress. That’s good to know. Tell me what I need to know about this Derek guy.” Now that they were discussing the adventure that he was to undertake, Malcolm became totally focused on the briefing.

Alice began to give a background history of Derek. It was a strange tale of a son of a rich man falling into a lifestyle of depravity. Even as a teenager, women tended to disappear in the area where he was living. When his father cut off his funds, Derek began his career of kidnapping for ransom. After one of his victims attempted to get even, Derek stopped releasing his victims even after receiving the ransom.

In terms of skills at fighting, Derek wasn’t much of a threat. The problem was that he protected himself with the kind of care that only a true paranoid personality could afford. His current place was actually surrounded by a moat filled with dangerous animals. The area between the moat and the house was totally barren. Five very vicious dogs patrolled the area. Alice had discovered evidence that Derek even had bobby traps inside his house.

Malcolm wondered how to approach Derek that assured a reasonable chance of success. He wasn’t going to be able to attack him at the house since Derek was prepared for any kind of approach to the property. Surprise would not be possible with five dogs running loose on the property.

Alice brought up maps of the area for Malcolm to study and he spent hours going over every inch of the maps. He was the type of Hero who entered a situation knowing as much as was humanly possible. He didn’t like surprises and would rather arrive late than dead. He felt that there was nothing heroic about rushing into a situation unprepared. There was another word for that - foolish.

Alice watched Malcolm study the briefing material. Her time with him had taught her that an interruption for something as simple as a meal would not be appreciated. She waited patiently watching for the signs that he was done so that she could order the bath to be prepared. When the expression on his face changed, she knew he was slowly extracting himself from the material. She looked up to the ceiling and said, “Draw a bath.”

Malcolm sighed and sat back with a thoughtful expression on his face. She had done her normal outstanding job of acquiring data about the villain. Turning to Alice, he said, “I’ll need to think about it overnight. Perhaps an idea will come to me.”

“Our bath is ready, my Hero.”

Shaking his head, he replied, “I don’t understand how you can always have the bath ready for me as soon as I finish going over the material.”

He stood and walked over to where Alice stood. With ease, he picked her up and carried her in his arms to the bathroom. She giggled in pleasure at the ease with which he held her. The doors opened automatically as they made their way to the bath.

It took little effort for the robes they wore to be dropped onto the floor and vanish. Holding Alice in his arms, he entered the bath. It was the size of a ten person Jacuzzi, but only two feet deep. Alice kissed him gently. He set her down so that he could caress the rest of her body, but she stepped out of his reach.

Alice proceeded to bathe his body with a soapy sponge using soft strokes that hinted at pleasures to come. Malcolm considered how rare it was for a man to be treated with such tenderness. In the movies on Earth, it was the man who bathed and pampered the woman. In a way, the reversal of roles seemed wrong to him, but for the moment he enjoyed the feelings knowing that he would have his turn at bathing and pampering her.

Malcolm kissed Alice one last time and stepped into the portal to transition to Chaos. The days spent preparing for the adventure had come to an end. Along with it, the time to bid farewell to his caretaker had come. There was the normal sensation that accompanied the shift to Chaos and he looked around at the small room of the bank.

He stuck his finger in the hole and watched as his container appeared on the table. Opening it, he examined the contents. His first act was to grab a knife and slip it into his belt. Now that he was armed, he could afford to take his time selecting what he would take on this mission. He grabbed his coin purse and added that to his belt. With a weapon and money, he could thrive on Chaos.

Looking over his stock, he took out the morning star, a spiked lead ball attached to a wooden handle by a long chain. It wasn’t only lethal looking; it was a lethal weapon. One blow could shatter bones and pulverize internal organs. He considered taking it, but decided that such an obvious weapon would scare away his prey. He set it back in the container.

He picked up the four-foot stick and decided that it didn’t look lethal enough. A truly paranoid man would figure it held a sword. The paranoid man would be nearly correct. It contained a core of iron that made it an extremely dangerous weapon.

He put it back and considered his choices once again. The weapon required would have to be dangerous enough to be believable and not so dangerous to scare away the villain. Smiling, he picked up the short war axe. It was perfect. The short handle would put him at a disadvantage against a sword. A shield would blunt its effectiveness. It was the kind of weapon one would expect in the hands of a larger man.

He grabbed his saddlebag, saddle, and gear from the container. He closed it and watched as it disappeared. Opening the door, he left the small room. As always, he wondered how it was that nobody seemed to notice a man carrying a saddle suddenly showing up in a bank. He stepped outside and took in his surroundings. The smell of humanity assaulted his nose and he knew it would take a day before he would stop noticing the stench.

The stable was just down the dirt street from the bank. He turned and headed towards it taking care to avoid the piles of manure, puddles of urine, and trash that lined the street. If there were a horse to be purchased in the area, then the stable was the place to find it. The building looked as if it had seen better days. There were a couple of horses in the corral, none of which looked exceptional.

Entering the building, Malcolm called out, “Hello?”

An old man carrying a pitchfork backed out of one of the stalls. He looked over at Malcolm and took note of the saddle knowing that one of his horses was about to be sold. The only question was how much money he’d get out of the deal. With a rumbling from his lungs, he brought up a glob of phlegm and spit it out on the floor of the barn. In a graveled voice, he said, “I got two horses for sale.”

“Let’s look at what you got,” said Malcolm. His eyes took in the worn tack, uneven floor, and splintered wood. He knew he wasn’t going to find a racehorse in this dump.

The old man led him to the corral and pointed to a dun colored horse. It was an average looking horse that appeared to be in a little better condition than Malcolm had expected to find in such a stable. The old man said, “That’s the better of the two.”

Malcolm set his gear on the ground by the corral. Not trusting the wood to support his weight, Malcolm slipped between the rails of the corral and approached the dun. The horse let him approach without the normal nervousness indicative of a highly spirited animal. A thorough check of the horse’s mouth, legs, and hooves showed that it was in good condition. Frowning at the lack of spirit, he knew that he wouldn’t be able to push the horse if it came down to having to flee. He turned to the old man and asked, “What are you asking for this one?”

“One conch, ten shells,” answered the old man. He leaned against a post of the corral fully prepared for a long bargaining session.

“I figure you paid thirty-five shells for this animal,” said Malcolm. Based on the old man’s reaction, he knew he had hit the amount dead on. Walking back to the fence of corral, he slipped between the slats of the corral. He picked up his saddle and said, “One conch, take it or leave it.”

Figuring he could get another five shells, the old man countered, “One conch, five shells.”

Malcolm turned and started to walk away. He’d made a fair offer for the animal and it had been rejected. The old man asked, “Where are you going?”

“To the inn to eat and then to the market to get supplies,” answered Malcolm knowing the man would show up at the market to accept his offer. He headed towards the inn.

The old man watched him walk away. At first, he was confident that Malcolm would turn around after a few steps and accept the offer. Riding a horse would be a lot more comfortable than walking. Definitely, riding would be a lot faster than walking. With a sinking feeling in his stomach, he watched Malcolm go into the inn and knew the man would be willing to walk rather than pay even a single shell more than one conch.

After eating a meat pie at the inn, Malcolm went to the market. He watched different women bargaining with the vendors. After watching for five minutes, he noticed an old woman negotiating with one of the vendors. Her sharp eyes found every flaw of his goods and her honeyed tongue had nothing except praise for hers. He watched her for a minute before approaching her. When she had finished haggling with one of the vendors, he said, “Ma’am, could I talk to you for a minute?”

She paused and looked at him, studying him for a full ten seconds before she asked, “What do you want?”

Holding up four pinches, he said, “I need provisions for three days on the trail.”

The old women looked at the coin with hungry eyes and asked, “So what do you need from me?”

“Get me the provisions and whatever is left from this, is yours to keep,” answered Malcolm. He knew that with her sharp trading skills, she’d be walking away two pinches at the least. She started to reach for the coins, but he stopped her when he said, “I like to eat well.”

“Of course, a strong young buck like you is going to want only the best,” said the old woman with a chuckle. Her hand whipped out as fast as a sword thrust to grab the four pinches. A look of surprise flashed on her face when the coins weren’t there. He dropped them into her hand and then handed her his saddlebag.

Malcolm watched her move her way through the market. She bickered and bartered with the kind of skill that comes only after a lifetime of experience and with the intensity that came from being poor. He revised his opinion of her bartering skills. She’d come out with two pinches and a day’s worth of food.

The hot sun beating down on the place he was standing was becoming uncomfortable. He moved over to a shady spot and waited. The saddle and gear was beginning to get heavy and he set them on the ground at his feet. He’d only been there for five minutes when the old man from the stable showed up. The old man asked, “Are you still interested in the horse?”

“I gave my offer,” said Malcolm looking at the man.

It was a reasonable offer and the old man knew he’d take it. Shaking his head, he said, “Okay. One conch for the dun.”

“Good, I’ll be by later to pick it up,” said Malcolm.

“What are you waiting for?” asked the old man wondering why Malcolm wasn’t going to get his horse immediately.