Chapter 5: The Madman

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I stared intently at the unconscious body of the three remaining fighters. Adrenalin from the battle pumped through my body, making my hands shake uncontrollably. Although I knew it was hopeless, I prayed that Stump would unleash his inner Rambo and help us win the battle. Then, as I started mumbling my plead for a seemingly impossible victory to whatever Shadowlord would listen, Ivan’s eyes opened and he gasped for breath.

“Interesting…” Ivan blurted out in wonder instead of moping in defeat and humiliation contrary to my expectation. He sat up and scratched his head.

My mood immediately uplifted given that there was now a potential for victory. Everyone eagerly watched with burning curiosity at the two unconscious squires. The world froze for what seemed like an eternity. I could only hear my heart rapidly beating in my chest. Suddenly, Stump’s eyes flew open! I roared in outrage and disappointment. Seconds later, Jeremiah’s eyelids separated and the Super Squad all jumped up and rejoiced with screams and laugher as they congratulated each other. Not wanting to withstand more insults from Ivan, I spun around and marched away with my roommates close behind.

I ran away from the weapons storage room, tears blurring my vision. I slid my visor down to prevent anyone from seeing my moment of weakness. We climbed up the stairs of the Sir Henry Building, ran across the courtyard, and heaved ourselves up using the sewage pipes to reach our windowsill. I angrily tore my armor off and threw it across the room. The bitter taste of defeat lingered in my mouth, or perhaps it was the aftertaste of the daryyl juice. I rinsed my mouth just in case. I collapsed onto my bed staring into outer space, trying to comprehend our failure. Before I knew it, my exhaustion took over me and I slept a dreamless slumber.

We woke up the next day, looking defeated. We silently brushed our teeth, put on our armor and got ready for breakfast. Suddenly, Urf threw up his hands.

“We can’t just sit here and feel sorry for ourselves! There’s only one choice. We risk breaking the oath or do the mission!” Urf said and glanced at me, signaling for me to choose between the two paths.

“Both are extremely risky, I am too conflicted to make a grounded decision.” I commented while shaking my head, smoothing out my already perfect mustache with the tip of my index finger and thumb. “I call for a vote. Who says we go kill Alyximeme?”

Urf’s hand immediately shot up. The confused Imbeseel followed Urf’s lead, unsure what was happening. After a long debate with himself, Grubby reluctantly raised his hand.

“Well, the choice to execute the mission is approved,” I announced halfheartedly.

“But won’t we all die?” Stump quietly protested.

“Kid, there are things far worse than death. A heck lot of those things are gonna rain hell down on us if we break the oath. You do not want to suffer a Shadowlord’s wrath.” Grubby explained.

“Since we all are agreeing to this, I suppose the best course of actions would be to familiarize ourselves with the enemy…perhaps find his weakness.” Urf suggested.

“Okay, sounds good.” Grubby agreed.

“Your plan is cool and all, but where do we find the information we need?” I asked. Little was known about our adversary as he was clouded with rumour and myth.

“Jake Armstrong!” Urf jumped at his own realisation. “Let’s go. Follow me!” Urf hastily walked out of the room to commune with a madman. The rest of us ran after him stuttering in amazement of the crazy plan.

Urf marched across the courtyard and walked into the Grand Tower where the Director’s office was placed in the lofty attic. Rather than walking up to the Director’s office, Urf climbed down the spiral staircase. The path we walked down was lit by torches unlike the rest of the tower which was lit by natural sunlight. After what seemed like an entire mile of walking down, we reached a wooden door with the words ‘DUNGEON’ engraved on a stone brick above the door. The man beside the door was clearly a guard. He wore chainmail and a visor which obscured his face.

“Who do you want to see?” The guard asked.

“Armstrong,” Urf replied.

The guard let out a chuckle. “First off, you haven’t got the security clearance to even come to the doorstep of this tower without the permission of the Director. Second off, Armstrong isn’t even in here!”

“Where is he?” Urf and I simultaneously roared in desperation.

“How should I know?” The guard said, shrugging.

“Please, tell us!” Urf pleaded.

“I said I didn’t know.” The guard shot back.

I grabbed him by his shoulders and pushed him onto the wall.

“WHERE IS HE?” I repeated, shouting even louder.

The guard kicked me, knocking me back and forcing me to release him.

“For the third and final time, I don’t know!” The guard yelled.

Before I could draw my sword, Grubby grabbed me by the shoulder.

“What?” I asked in annoyance.

“He might be telling the truth!” Grubby whispered.

“Oh yeah! I just remembered!” Imbeseel exclaimed, “I saw Armstrong in the mental hospital the other day when I was having my monthly checkup!”

“Why didn’t you tell us earlier?” I asked. “Lets go!”

We ran across the courtyard once again, passed the Sir Henry Building and out through the back gate of the ADMI Academy. There stood one single structure built at the very edge of the forest: the Stables.

The Stables was a giant hut made out of wood. The floor was littered with hay and the air smelt like horse manure. I jumped on my horse, James Jr, a strong and brave white stallion. Imbeseel was saddled on top of Stoobid, a strong mule with its muscles clearly straining to support the weight of its rider. Grubby gracefully leaped onto his horse, Bolt, a swift chestnut that was the fastest of the horses. Urf heaved himself onto his horse, Jasper, the most experienced of all our horses. Stump sat atop a grey pony called Samuel.

Our horses galloped with all their might across the wetlands of Raventopia and we arrived at The Paragon Valley Psychiatric Hospital minutes later. We got our muddy bodies off our horses and walked into the medical institution through its arched entrance.

The mental hospital looked like any hospital you would find on Earth, with clean white ceilings, doors, floors and walls. The only differentiations were the occasional screams of madmen and the bars that kept them in their cells. A nurse wearing a blouse and a blue surgical mask walked up to us and asked who we were looking for.

“Armstrong.” Urf replied.

The nurse paused and eyed us suspiciously. Anne Ladle, as displayed on the nametag pinned on her blouse, thought against asking us more questions as she was finishing her night shift and wanted to head home for a rest without drama. She waved us to follow her and led us into the basement, down a long corridor and into the very last cell before the corridor ended. Inside this dark and dirty cell was Armstrong, sitting in the corner, curled up and shivering.

Armstrong was dressed in rags. His face was covered in unkempt facial hair as a result of a ban on the use of shaving razors in the mental hospital in order to avoid suicides. His bloodshot eyes radiated fear. He shivered so violently that the rest of his features were unclear.

“Hey Armstrong, open up!” Anne shouted.

Upon hearing us, Armstrong shot up and waved a long strand of hay in front of him as if he was warding away an evil spirit.

“G-go away! He can’t have me again!” He screamed, fear in his widened eyes.

He threw the strand of hay at us and we slowly backed off. I noticed Stump was still paralysed in fear, standing in front of the bars. Amazingly, Armstrong did not find Stump’s presence intimidating.

Armstrong walked from the back of the cell towards the bars and stared into Stump’s eyes. “Flee youngling, while you still have life in your eyes and breath in your lungs,” Armstrong advised Stump quietly.

“Ask him about Alyximeme!” I hissed.

“Um, do you know where Alyximeme is?” Stump politely asked.

“Approaching the Dark Lord will be the death of you!” Armstrong whispered.

“Please! Tell me!” Stump begged.

"No!" Armstrong yelled.

"We need to kill him! We have pledged to Votumptus, we cannot turn our backs to this!" I yelled.

“As much as I would hate to, I have sympathized to your pleads and my urge to harm the Dark Lord triumphs my fear for your safety.” Armstrong took a deep breath, closed his eyes and gathered his concentration. His hand started glowing with a faint blue light. Suddenly, he opened his eyes and pointed at the wall of the cell. These words appeared:

Chateau du Alyximeme

Nostramous 160.53, Qanstlem 67.2.

After getting the information we needed, we ran out of the hospital, eager to run from such a macabre place.

“What the hell does that mean?” I asked once we had hurried out of The Paragon Valley Psychiatric Hospital.

“I was hoping you knew,” Grubby replied.

“Guys,” Urf said, “the coordinates are in Qwantleish. We need to go to Qwantle, the land of the magic elves.”

Click here to continue to Chapter 6: The Quest Begins