Story 2: Victor and the Hydra of Lake Ferruco

Swiftly dodging between bushes and patches of tall grass, Victor pounded down the hill with Valour outstretched. With a bellowing roar he raced up to the side of the creature and drew back for the first, and hopefully last, blow.

With a sound like a whipcrack, one of the sinuous heads lashed around and snatched Valour out of his hands, hurling it some distance away. Victor gasped and skidded to a stop inches away from his intended target. Three of the heads turned away from Jer now, surrounding him evenly. A thin tongue flashed out of one of the immense mouths and snaked around the needle-sharp teeth that filled all the mouths. Even in the darkness, Victor could see the frills that flickered up and down at the corners of the immense mouths, and the dark orbs that served as eyes; the sulphurous stench coming from the six nostrils seemed to fill up all the air, choking him. He glanced over at Jer who was still standing stock still, a damp patch on his trousers.

“Lad, run!” Victor said. With a grunt, he planted his boot into the side of the hydra, kicking with all his might.

All three heads reared back slightly at the impact. The fourth head let out a roaring bleat and turned around, completing a menacing circle around Victor. “Run!” he shouted, and Jer finally snapped out of his daze. He turned and fled into the night, vaguely towards where Victor had left his father.

Victor looked around quickly. The hydra heads had surrounded him neatly, leaving little room for escape. With the bulk of its body it had effectively blocked the route towards the lake, and he could see Valour glinting off to one side, laying uselessly on the sandy shoreline.

“Jus’ you and me now,” he said, cracking his knuckles. “If that’s how it’s gotta be, it’ll have t’do.”

He dropped into a crouch. All four heads reared backwards slightly, then came in for the attack. With a tremendous yell, Victor jumped, bringing his legs up tight to his body, then stamped on the first head to pass under him. Its jaws snapped shut on empty air and it buckled slightly as he landed on it for the briefest moment, then pushed off. The second head came in a moment later, biting down on the air where he had just been; again, he landed, pushed off and leapt. The third and fourth heads came in together to attack the space just below him and he was able to plant one foot directly onto each scaly forehead before leaping into a graceful somersault off.

He landed on two feet and looked up. Valour’s hilt was lying invitingly close, just a short sprint away. Victor dug his toes in to the sand and lurched forward.

Suddenly he was dragged off his feet as something grabbed his ankle. He looked back; the hydra’s tail was wrapped firmly around his leg and beginning to drag him away. Desperately he thrust his hand out, but Valour was still an inch away. With an almighty roar Victor clawed at the sand and dragged himself the tiniest fraction forward. It wasn’t much, but it was enough; His hand came down on Valour’s leather grip and, with another growling shout, he swung the sword in a glittering arc. It came down squarely on the tail holding him in place and severed it cleanly; the hydra roared with all four heads and thrashed around, trying to turn its bulk towards him.

Victor unwrapped the remaining length of tail from about his leg and scrambled quickly backwards as the heads came down, one after another, slamming down onto the sand and throwing up clouds of the stuff. Victor spat and clawed at his face with his hands, trying to clear them from the gritty sand.

The hydra reared back on its stubby hind legs and brought its front legs down in a tumultuous crash that shook the ground; Victor, jolted almost upright, got his legs under him and was finally able to stand, sword in hand, toe to toe with the beast.

There was the briefest moment of silence as man and creature stared at each other across the moonlit beach. Then both exploded into motion.

Heads coming from left and right, Victor was forced to dodge and duck, bringing Valour up to block the worst attacks; teeth clanged against metal and, more than once, droplets of acidic spittle splattered out of the hydra’s gaping maws to land, sizzling, on Victor’s clothes.

Victor allowed himself to fall into a rhythm, lulling the hydra into the same religion. Duck, parry, retreat, dodge, feign attack,parry. Though fatigue was beginning to weigh at his arms, Victor grinned as he turned the pattern against the creature: duck, parry, retreat, dodge, attack! Bringing the sword up with both hands, Victor let his momentum carry the sword clean through one of the creature’s necks.

Almost immediately a gout of thick black blood spouted out of the severed neck, but Victor was already away, passing down its side. He parried three strikes, one from each head, and grabbed a knobbly protrusion on the thing’s back. As it tried to shake him off, like a wet dog drying itself, Victor let himself be dragged upwards and, at the precise top of his arc, he simply let go.

Flung up into the air, Victor seemed to see the world slow down. Below on the sand, the severed head was flopping backwards and forwards, churning up the bloody sand. The three very-much living heads were darting back and forth, sinuously curving in and out of each other, and the hydra’s body was just finishing its shake and he could see several small wounds in its scales that he hadn’t even realised he had inflicted.

Then time came back and as he flew between two of the heads, he spun in a full circle, sword out. Two more heads went crashing to the ground and he landed, rolled and jumped to his feet.

The single remaining head howled into the night air and, lumbering now, the hydra turned and began to wade back into the lake.

“Oh no you don’t, you beast,” Victor shouted. “You ain’t growing those heads back! Turn and face me!”

He grabbed a fist-sized rock and threw it at the escaping monster, but it ignored him. In a sudden rage, Victor ran at the hydra. As it began to sink into the water, he jumped onto its back, ran up its entire length from severed tail to ravaged neck, and sliced through the last neck before jumping into the lake.

The water was cold and suddenly murky as thick gouts of blood poured out of the hydra’s beheaded corpse. Keeping a firm grip on Valour, Victor swam for the mirror-like surface. As he broke into the air, he could see the last of the creature’s bulbous corpse sliding beneath the lake’s surface. A few bubbles rose to the surface, then silence.

“Guess you can run,” Victor muttered, “But you can’t hydra.” He smirked at his own joke and started to swim for the shore.

The next morning, Victor was up before the sunrise. His bag, already packed, was leant up against the doorway with Valour slung into its straps. He looked around the small guest room, certain that he had left it the way he had found it. The bed was made, the windows were open slightly and even the small bloodstain that he had tracked in the night before was wiped clean.

Nodding in satisfaction, he picked up the heavy pack and shouldered it, then closed the door behind him. Moving quietly through the house, he grabbed a small loaf from the stove nearby and went to the door. Opening it, he looked quickly around. He would miss these folks; they had been generous hosts and their ways were good, but he wasn’t one for long goodbyes. He walked out and quietly closed the door behind him.

He hadn’t gone fifteen feet from the door before he heard it open and close again, then small unshod feet pattering on the path. He stopped.

“Mornin’, Jer,” he said. The feet stopped.

“How did you know it was me?”

Victor turned and smiled. “Magic,” he said, ruffling the boy’s hair. Jer was dressed in fresh nightclothes, sleep dust still in the corners of his eyes. His feet were grubby from the night before and his blue eyes glittered in the pre-dawn light.

“You saved me last night, Mr Junn,” Jer said. “I’d’ve died if you’d not’ve been there.” His eyes glistened with unwept tears; he sniffed and rubbed his nose defiantly.

“Come now,” Victor said. “You’d have been fine. Why, I saw you lookin’ at that hydra, about to give it what for, but I din’t want you to get blood on your nightclothes, was all.” He smiled and Jer smiled back, little rivulets running down his face.

“Thanks, Mr Junn,” the boy said, then he hugged Victor tightly. Surprised, Victor jerked backwards, but then he smiled again and hugged Jer back. As the sun rose, the two embraced.

Jer backed away, wiping his eyes. “I’ll do better next time, Mr Junn. Going to train to be like you. I want to be strong, like you.”

Victor knelt down and tapped Jer’s arms. “Strength’s not what happens here,” he said, then tapped Jer’s chest and head. “It happens here and here. What you feel and what you think, and how you treat others around you. There are lots of different sorts of hero, but the everyday hero is the kind I want to see more of.”

Jer nodded, his expression serious. “I won’t let you down, Mr Junn.”

Victor smiled. “I know you won’t. And, call me Victor.”

Without another word, he turned and walked off into the sunrise. A new day was dawning and, with it, a new adventure waiting to be had.

Story 2: Victor and the Hydra of Lake Ferruco

A little explanation for this story:

In Poisonroot, Victor accidentally signed away the rights to his stories and J. R., a travelling bard/minstrel/teller of tall tales, would romanticise them and sell them to the masses. This is one such story.

Essentially, this is in-world fanfic for my own character :D

And now...

Victor the Victor in

VICTOR AND THE HYDRA OF LAKE FERRUCO

As told to J.R.

It was a bright morning and the sun was riding high as Victor strolled down the road. He was feeling good after the adventure he had just finished, up in the mountains of Zar, and his bag was weighed down with many gold coins and jewels. He dug one out and held it up to the light, an enormous ruby as big as a hen’s egg. It sparkled and shimmered, casting red light onto his face and tightly-cropped hair.

“Aaaaah! Help!”

The cry came from someone around the next corner, hidden by a fence. There was a scream, then the sound of an immense roar as if some gigantic creature had suddenly appeared. Victor stuck the ruby back into his pack and sprinted for the corner, already drawing his weapon. Valour, his longsword, glittered menacingly in the sunlight as he ran.

He skidded to a stop as a bright flash of colour rippled across the road. The people in the road up ahead stopped what they were doing and stared back at him. Three of them, dressed in a fancy costume made of paper and wood painted up to look like a hydra slowly took their hats off and gaped at him. The audience, watching patiently, looked ready to run at a moment’s notice.

Then he started to laugh deeply, sheathing his sword and walking towards the people. They looked at each other and then back at the laughing man, then slowly began to laugh themselves. Soon everyone was laughing until tears rolled down their faces, and Victor, finally tiring, clapped one of the men on the back.

“I seem t’have disturbed your festival,” he said.

The man shrugged. “It’s not so bad. We do this every year to keep the hydra away, but no-one’s seen it in so long that we do it more for fun and good food now.” He pointed over to a nearby meadow where a few tents and stalls were set up. Coloured flags flickered gaily in the wind and children ran from one adult to another gathering sweets and favours.

Victor felt the wind and sun on his face and suddenly desired to be doing nothing more than walking among the stalls and sampling the local goodness. He slung his bag off his back.

“Mind if I join ye?” He held out a hand. “Victor.”

“Jeryl,” the other man said, shaking Victor’s hand. “Jeryl Baker.” He swept his long brown hair back from his eyes and wiped the sweat from his brow. “Let us finish this pageant and I’ll give you the tour. Why not let my son show you around?”

“Sure thing,” Victor replied, backing away. “You does what you has to.” He stepped back until he could see the whole show as Jeryl replaced the amazingly detailed hydra head back on his body. Shame it’s not accurate, Victor thought. Hydra heads had longer pointy snouts than that, that hooked down for disembowelling. Their necks were longer relative to their body, and they had four heads to start with, not three. Still, near enough.

The act seemed to revolve around a small boy being chased by the Hydra until tiredness, though it was the adults in the costume that tired first. The boy, grinning fiercely, allowed himself to be ‘caught’ by the hydra and shrieked for help. From the mouths of the costume a loud roaring came and Victor fingered the hilt of Valour, itching for the fight that should follow that roar. That, at least, was close enough.

Finally, someone ran up to the hydra and swung a wooden sword at it. The blow hit the creature’s side and Victor heard the audible “oof, watch it!” from whoever was under the strike. The hydra coughed once, fell over and lay still, leading the watching audience to start cheering and clapping.

As they dispersed, the boy of about seven who had been captured wandered over to Victor.

“Hello,” he said boldly. “I’m Jer Baker, Jeryl’s son. You’re Victor, yes?”

Victor nodded.

“I’m to show you round, sir. Where shall we start?”

Victor’s stomach decided things for him by suddenly growling deeply. “Food, I think,” he said.

A short while later, clutching a meat pie and a pint of frothing local ale, Victor was sat on a bench questioning Jer.

“So then, what part did you play, young man?”

Jer grinned. “I’m Boryck, the boy who stumbled into the Hydra of Lake Ferruco’s lair and got eaten for his trouble.”

“Looks like you came out of it ok,” Victor said, taking another deep gulp.

“Better than Boryck did. He died before Haskin the Hero could get to the hydra and slay it in one strike. But they saved his body and some say,” Jer said, his voice dropping to a ghostly whisper, “the the spirit of the boy still walks on the island in the centre of the lake.” He shrugged. “But I don’t believe that. I’m nearly eight, you know!”

Victor smiled and ruffled the boy’s hair. At that moment, Jeryl came up, looking hot.

“I see you’ve made yourself comfortable here. That’s good,” he said. “Are you passing through?”

“Aye.”

“On your way to Loknir no doubt?”

Victor nodded. “The Low King has requested my presence. Can’t say I know what for, though. He has plenty of swords to do his biddin’”

Jeryl’s eyes widened at the mention of the king. “You are to be a guest of our King? Then the least I can do is have you as a guest of mine this evening. We have comfier beds than the inn and a warmer hearth to boot.”

“I don’t want to impose,” Victor said, but he could see Jer nodding behind Jeryl’s back. He smiled ruefully. “But I can’t turn down an offer like that!”

Jer and Victor talked long into the evening, and when the young boy finally fell asleep his father carried him off to bed. Victor took a sip of a glass of red wine he had been given and smacked his lips. Dinner had been wonderful, and Jeryl’s wife had been full of laughter and interest at his stories.

Jeryl came back. “Lad fair talked himself to sleep,” he said, chuckling. “Never seen the like; normally we have to chase him up and down the house to get him to lay his head down!”

Victor smiled, but said nothing.

“You ever had children?” Jerly asked. “You’re a natural.”

“No,” Victor said, shaking his head. “Never had the time, I think. Or the want.”

“It’s worth it,” the baker said. He sipped at his own glass and stared out into the night. They were sat on the porch of Jeryl’s house which looked out over the fields. There was a companionable silence broken only by the sounds of the night.

“Ferruco Lake’s near here, you know,” Jeryl said. He pointed out into the darkness. “Right there’s a hill; behind it lies the lake.”

“Quite a story you folks have,” Victor said. “Hydra, I mean.”

“Ah, it was so long ago. Perhaps it never really happened. I mean, hydras.” Jeryl laughed. “Who believes in hydras?”

“Seen on,” Victor said. “Fought it. Nearly had me, but… it didn’t.”

“You fought a hydra?” Jeryl said. “Pull the other one, it’s got-“

Suddenly, an enormous roar rent the air. Victor shot to his feet. It had come from the direction Jeryl had pointed. It had come from Ferruco Lake.

“Stay inside!” Victor said, grabbing at Valour, which was leaning up against the wall. “Look after your family.” He started to move off into the night, towards the sound, as Jeryl went inside.

He had been walking quickly for less than five minutes when he heard footsteps on the road behind him and heavy breathing. He turned around, sword out but held down, to see Jeryl running up the road, his face beetroot red.

“It’s… Jer…” he gasped, almost collapsing, as he reached Victor. “He woke up while we were talking! Left the house, Tree knows why. He does it sometimes, but I thought he was asleep! Perhaps he’s sleepwalking again.”

Victor scowled. This complicated things. He grabbed Jeryl by the shoulders and drew him up.

“Now you listen,” he said. “We will find your boy. We’re going to the lake and we will bring back Jer. Can you run some more?”

Jeryl nodded, trying to catch his breath.

“Do you have a weapon?”

The man shook his head and Victor scowled again. He pulled out a knife from his boot and gave it to Jeryl.

“Better than nothing,” he said. “Now, are you ready to run?”

Jeryl nodded, and without another word Victor turned and jogged towards the dark hill in the near distance. In the moonlight everything looked grey or silver, and he had no trouble avoiding small bushes and the occasional stump.

As he climbed the hill, the lake beyond came into view. Sure enough, the surface of the lake was boiling up and, down by the shore, a small figure was about to stride directly into it. As soon as the boy’s feet touched the water, he seemed to jerk back, as if waking up, and stumbled. He fell as the lake’s bubbling suddenly seemed to reach a fever pitch.

Then, without warning, a massive spout of water erupted from the centre of the lake and, from out of it, an immense snakelike head thrashed around in every direction. A second head gushed out, and then a third. Finally, a fourth, dragging out onto the land two dozen feet from the boy, bringing with it a long sinewy body and tail, four short legs just keeping its bulk above the ground.

Jeryl, staring down at the scene open-mouthed, suddenly started forwards. “Jer!” he shouted, “Jer! Come back!”

The boy seemed to pay not attention and Victor realised that Jer was rooted to the spot by fear. He pulled back Valour and gathered his strength for a charge.