Broken Prophecy

By K J Taylor

BROKEN PROPHECY - the only novel in which a major plot point was decided upon by the author flipping a coin. A fun adventure that satirises fantasy tropes in the style of Terry Pratchett.

Ambit Afterman is the Chosen One. Born with the mark of the silver bellflower on his palm and given a magical spear, he is the one whose coming the prophecy foretold.
Unfortunately, he would much rather drink beer and get laid - destiny can go fuck itself.
Together with his demon friend Snarl, Ambit sets out on a mighty quest - to make sure the prophecy doesn't come true, and avoid doing anything heroic under any circumstances. Along the way he will make polite conversation with demons, not deliver any great speeches, not train with the wise monks, and weasel his way out of adventure and into the nearest pub. But there may just be time to have cheap sex with the beautiful princess along the way.

• Language: English
• Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers Australia
• Release date: Oct 1, 2015
• ISBN: 9781460705384

K J Taylor

Born in Canberra in 1986, Katie J Taylor attended Radford College, where she wrote her first novel, THE LAND OF BAD FANTASY, which was published in 2006. She has a Bachelor’s Degree in Communications and a Graduate Certificate in Editing.

Book preview

Dedication

Dedicated to Steve – another guy who has his priorities straight.

Author’s Note

Dear anyone who picked this book up for some damn reason,

This is a work of (albeit very dry) satire. I hereby swear by all the gods I don’t worship that I will never, ever take Chosen Ones or multicoloured hair seriously (no offence to anyone who likes anime). I also generally despise prophecies.

People have told me I should write more humour, as opposed to the dark and gritty material I’m generally known for. Contrary to what those books might suggest, I actually do have a sense of humour, and this is the second satire/parody I’ve published – the other one being The Land of Bad Fantasy, for children. Anyone who has read that book will spot something in this one which may be a tad on the familiar side.

Typically for most humorous works, I wrote this one while I was very angry.

Contents

Dedication

Author’s Note

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty-one

Twenty-two

Twenty-three

Twenty-four

Twenty-five

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Also by K.J. Taylor

Copyright

One

‘Once, long ago, the Land of Flowers was happy.’ The storyteller paused to look meaningfully at his audience. ‘Yes, very happy,’ he added. ‘But then the demons came. One day the sky went dark and the Nine Mountains erupted, with fire and smoke pouring into the sky. The land went dark and lava flowed over the earth, and the demons came crawling out of the ground – thousands of them, with burning eyes and metal teeth. They spread everywhere, killing everyone they found, destroying villages and towns, spoiling everything.’

The storyteller’s voice rose dramatically and his audience, mainly children, listened expectantly. Around them other people were half listening. Adults relaxed in the shade after a long day’s work, and a young woman was singing for tips in the background. She provided a rather nice soundtrack.

‘Today, the Nine Mountains are home to the nine demon lords,’ the storyteller continued, ‘and they send their minions out to oppress anyone living too close to the ruined lands they’ve taken for themselves. One day, perhaps, they will spread through the whole of the land and the human race will be wiped out.’

‘Or maybe they’ll bore themselves to death first,’ a lazy voice put in from somewhere behind the audience.

‘But there is still one thing that can stop the demons and put everything right again,’ said the storyteller, ignoring the interruption.

‘The Chosen One!’ a small girl piped up. Around her, the other children buzzed excitedly.

‘Fifty years ago, when the demons first came, it was said that someone would come with the power to drive them away forever,’ the storyteller nodded. ‘A special warrior, with a special weapon.’

‘Bullshit!’ the heckler from up the back shouted.

The storyteller glared in his direction, and went on doggedly. ‘Some say this destined one hasn’t been born yet. Others believe he is already here, and that one day, any day now, he’ll appear to begin the fulfilment of his great destiny. For all we know, he could be here today. He could be one of you, and you don’t even know it yet.’ He smiled at the fascinated children.

‘I wouldn’t count on it, kids,’ the heckler threw in.

‘When will the Chosen One come?’ a boy asked.

‘Nobody knows,’ said the storyteller. ‘That’s all I know. But maybe, one day . . .’

‘Maybe one day people will stop wasting time on fairy tales,’ said the heckler.

‘Will you shut up?’ the storyteller finally snapped.

The young man lounging on a rock by the wall of the town tavern only grinned at him, and when the other adults nearby muttered ominously, he grinned at them too. The singing girl took the opportunity to sing a little more loudly, and was rewarded with a faint rattle of demon eyes thrown into the bowl at her feet.

Seemingly realising he wasn’t going to win this particular confrontation, the storyteller pushed his red-striped hair away from his face and turned his attention back to his listeners. ‘If you want to know more about the Chosen One, the monks in the valley are the people to ask,’ he said. ‘They know the prophecy, and they can recognise the Chosen One. Many people go to them asking if they’re the one, but all of them have gone away disappointed.’

‘I want to go and see them!’ a small boy said immediately. ‘I want them to teach me how to fight demons!’

‘That’s definitely something you can find there,’ said the storyteller. ‘The monks are always happy to take on new apprentices.’

The boy glanced proudly at his friends, golden eyes shining with excitement.

‘Oh goody, let’s all go and get ourselves killed,’ the heckler muttered. ‘Why is everyone letting this old goat tell their kids what a great idea it is to go and fight demons?’

‘And I suppose a coward like you would tell them they shouldn’t?’ the storyteller threw at him.

‘I’d tell them to make up their own minds, is what I’d do,’ said the heckler, idly rolling the shaft of a spear over his palm. ‘That’d be why you’re the popular one, right?’

‘Well, I’m not too scared to go and see the monks,’ the golden-eyed boy told him.

‘That’s because you’re a stupid kid,’ said the heckler. He winked at the singer, who had stopped singing and was now eyeing him with interest. ‘Hey, sweetie, want to see my spear?’

‘Who are you, anyway?’ someone else asked. ‘I’ve never seen you around here before.’

The heckler shrugged. ‘I’m just passing through.’

‘Going anywhere in particular?’ the man asked.

‘Trying to work out where I’m going at the moment,’ said the heckler, resting one long leg on the other and stifling a yawn. He leaned his spear, which was a shabby thing with its shaft bound with leather, against the wall beside him.

‘One of the Dispossessed, are you?’ said the storyteller.

‘Stop doing that,’ the stranger growled.

‘Doing what?’

‘Giving everything names,’ said the stranger. ‘It’s obnoxious. I’m not a Dispo-whatever; I’m a traveller. Labels are unnecessary. And right now I’m way too sober, so fare-thee-well, grandpa.’ He stood up, heaving a heavy pack onto his shoulder, and sauntered off into the tavern, snatching the spear along the way. The singer glanced around and followed him.

Next morning the traveller woke up. He immediately regretted it. He rolled over and pressed his face into the pillow of the bed he’d hired, but it was too late; he was awake now, and apparently stuck with it for the time being.

‘Ugh, who turned up the sun?’ he mumbled.

Beside him, the singer stretched and smiled at him. ‘Good morning.’

‘No it isn’t,’ he said immediately. ‘Please kill me and throw my corpse in the river.’

She giggled. ‘Do you even remember anything you did last night?’

‘Yes, I got drunk,’ he said. ‘I may also have done some singing of my own before we wound up here. What’s your name, anyway?’

‘Selwa,’ she said. ‘What about you?’

The traveller rolled over and sat up. ‘Er, I’m Ambit,’ he said, rubbing his eyes. ‘Was I any good in bed, by the way?’

‘Terrible,’ said Selwa.

‘Thought so. I suppose I should get going before I meet anyone a second time. The first time is usually enough to make the second time a bad idea. You’re not married, are you?’

‘No,’ she said, ‘not that you cared last night.’

‘Thank fuck for that,’ Ambit said, dragging himself out of bed. ‘Thanks for the company.’

‘You’re welcome,’ said Selwa. ‘You’re interesting. We don’t get many interesting people around here. Where are you from?’

‘Nowhere that exists anymore,’ said Ambit.

‘Then where are you going?’

‘Don’t know yet,’ he answered, looking around blearily for the water jug. He found it and tipped the entire contents over his head, then shook it, spraying droplets everywhere, before ruffling his blue-spotted hair with his hands.

Selwa got up and started to gather her clothes from the floor. ‘So you’re a wanderer,’ she said. ‘That sounds interesting. Are you hunting demons?’

‘No,’ Ambit said shortly.

‘But you’ve fought some, haven’t you?’ she persisted, looking at the spear which he had left propped up in a corner.

‘A few,’ said Ambit. ‘You can’t go anywhere these days without impaling something or other.’ He had found his trousers by now, and managed to put them on after a couple of attempts.

Selwa watched him, noting the scars on his arms and legs. ‘Is it scary, fighting a demon?’

Ambit picked up his shirt. ‘Have a look at one and make an educated guess,’ he said. ‘Have you seen my boots anywhere?’ Selwa picked one up and hurled it at his head, but he caught it an inch away from his nose and sat down to put it on. ‘Thanks.’

Selwa finished dressing and made for the door. ‘Good luck on your journey. Come and see me if you’re ever in the neighbourhood again.’

‘Will do,’ he said. ‘Er, what’s this place called again?’

Selwa rolled her eyes. ‘Spotswood. Goodbye, Ambit.’

Ambit finished lacing his boots, and picked up his pack and spear. Downstairs in the tavern room, the owner was waiting with an irritated expression at the ready. ‘There you are,’ he said. ‘Are you leaving today?’

Ambit was already on his way to the entrance. ‘Don’t worry. I’m gone,’ he said, ‘and I hardly puked on your floor at all, so stop scowling at me.’

The tavern owner’s face went from dark to thunderous. ‘You’d better not show your face in here again, you –’ he began, but Ambit was through the door before he’d finished throwing out the witty insult he would no doubt come up with. Ambit considered throwing one out, too, but his brain wasn’t up to it just then, and the moment he went outside the sun sent shafts of hot pain into his eyeballs and rendered him speechless.

Blinking and grimacing, he put his head down and walked off, out of the town of – what was it called again? – Spotswood. A very clean and wholesome place, clearly, full of happy children and colourful houses, with flowers everywhere, between the buildings and in open spaces, before the fields appeared.

Ambit waded through them without looking back, spear slung over his shoulder. He followed a river whose waters shimmered in the sun, beautifully clear, cold and clean. The sand at the bottom was black, and so were the rocks, and there weren’t that many fish about, but it was clean and pretty enough. Ambit paused, looking at it, then dumped his bag and spear, stripped off and jumped in.

While he was crouching neck-deep and scrubbing himself with a handful of sand, something moved through the trees not far away. A clump of nodding daffodils suddenly wilted, and then shrivelled under a blast of heat and something black emerged like a blot on the beautiful landscape. Glowing red eyes narrowed into evil slits, and a faint hiss snaked out from between shining metal fangs.

The creature waddled out of its hiding place, claws digging into the ground, spikes leaving blackened scratches on a nearby tree trunk. Its tail dragged behind it, the tip flicking.

It went as close to the water’s edge as it dared, still hissing balefully, and then turned its attention to the spear left lying on the bank. It bit at the leather-wrapped shaft, managed to get a grip, and slowly started to drag the weapon away.

Ambit heard the spear bumping against the tree roots where he’d left it, and turned around to look. The weapon had wedged itself in place and the demon was hissing angrily as it tried to pull it free.

Ambit swam back to the edge and rested his arms on the bank. ‘Need a hand?’ he asked.

The demon let go of the spear and waddled over to glare at him. ‘It’s going to rust if you leave it in the mud. Where were you all night?’

‘Resting. I was tired,’ said Ambit. ‘And that spear can’t rust, remember? Not that I care.’

‘You’re supposed to be taking care of it,’ said the demon, waving an accusing claw at him.

‘I am taking care of it,’ said Ambit. ‘I’m way too hungover for your nagging, Snarl.’

‘You humans and your beer,’ said the demon. ‘I’ve never understood the attraction.’

‘Sometimes I can’t either,’ said Ambit, pushing himself away from the bank and rolling over to let the water cover his head.

Snarl waited impatiently while he finished his bath and climbed up the bank. ‘Can we go now?’ she asked while he was pulling his shirt on.

Ambit picked up his spear and pack. ‘All right, all right, let’s go. The river should take us the rest of the way. What were you doing all night, anyway?’

Snarl waddled along beside him as he started to walk downriver. ‘Digging for rocks,’ she said. ‘I was hoping this place would have some worth eating, but fat chance. I won’t get a decent meal until we’re in demon country again.’

‘Don’t worry. I think there’s a patch of it between us and there,’ said Ambit. ‘Then it’ll be your turn to have a good feed and I’ll be the one stuck with nothing to eat.’

‘It’d be about time,’ said Snarl.

‘Hey, you’re lucky I don’t pull your eyeballs out and spend them,’ said Ambit, idly kicking a stick out of the way. ‘I’ve thought of it more than once.’

‘Try it if you want your nose bitten off,’ said Snarl. ‘Remind me – why are we going to see these monks again?’

‘To hear this stupid prophecy granddad told me about, remember?’ said Ambit. ‘So we know what not to do. So we can piss off somewhere and do what we like, without worrying about it coming true. I don’t know why you’re complaining. You’re a demon.’

‘I’m complaining because I don’t trust you,’ said Snarl.

‘Why, because I’m human?’

‘Because you’re an irresponsible moron,’ the demon informed him. ‘That is why I don’t trust you.’

‘Now that’s just unfair,’ said Ambit. ‘I have many other fine qualities as well, y’know.’

Snarl growled to herself and waddled on ahead. She was a small demon, not much larger than a child or a large dog. Like a dog she was four-legged, with double-pointed claws and jagged spikes festooning her back and tail. Thick stone plates protected her spine and the top of her skull, and a large blue gemstone sat between the tips of her curved horns. Like all demons she had gems for eyes, glittering red in her coal-black face. Her curved fangs gleamed like polished steel, because that was exactly what they were.

Behind her, Ambit strolled along with his spear resting on his shoulder. He was a tall man, but not in a noble or dignified kind of way – more in a way that made him look as if his body had been stretched out like hot toffee, leaving him with a slouch, as if his spine couldn’t quite manage to hold his chest up. Like most people in the Land of Flowers he wore colourful clothing – blue, green, yellow and pink – but layers of dirt had done a lot to make it less conspicuous.

Not that he would have been very noticeable in the countryside he was crossing now – the land by the river was lush with grass and decked out with hundreds of flowers, which bloomed all year round in these parts. Gradually, the flowers started to fade and disappear as the day wore on and the river led out of the farmlands around Spotswood. The grass took on a drab look and patches of bald earth began to appear. Even the river looked less shiny.

Not long after that the grass ran out altogether, in bits and pieces, and bare, dark rock took its place. The trees had long since disappeared, and Ambit and Snarl walked on to where a seemingly endless expanse of stone took their place. The colours disappeared; there was nothing but browns and greys dominated by the dull black of hardened lava, which had flowed down into the river. It turned into strange, sharp shapes where water had hardened it, and the bottom of the river had been replaced by stone. Here and there, as the travellers entered the wasteland, cracks had opened up in the earth. Smoke drifted up from them, and every now and then a puff of fire would billow into the sky.

Ambit hesitated a little before going into this bleak landscape – he had only been in demon territory once or twice before. Here, with his bright-ish clothes and blue-spotted hair, he stood out like an orange in a cherry salad.

Snarl, however, bounded off over the rough ground very happily, her black back and yellow-tipped spikes blending in perfectly. Sometimes, when she was at the right angle to hide her flame-orange belly, she was almost invisible.

‘Keep a lookout for other demons, will you?’ Ambit called to her.

‘Will do,’ she answered. ‘Does the map say how big this patch is?’

‘Not really, and it’s probably wrong by now anyway,’ said Ambit. He held his spear out in front of him, braced for trouble. If a demon attacked him, he might well not see it until it was right on top of him. The creatures were notorious for ambushing people and, here, the advantage was with them.

For now, though, everything looked quiet. Ambit kept his eyes open, watching Snarl as she went on ahead. She looked like a moving patch of the lava waste, and sometimes he lost sight of her altogether, but if there was trouble she would be the first one to know.

They were a good way into demon country and had lost sight of the greener pastures they’d left when Snarl suddenly came back. She appeared from behind a crag, darting over to Ambit’s side.

‘There’s trouble up ahead,’ she announced. ‘Human-sized demons – two of them. They’re by the river.’

Ambit took his spear in both hands, holding it across his chest. ‘Moving?’

‘No, snacking,’ said Snarl. ‘You should be able to go around them.’

‘Great. Which side of the river are they on?’

‘Ours,’ said Snarl.

Ambit nodded and walked down into the river, wading across it to the far side. From there he moved on, making a wide circle up the bank and away from the water. Thankfully, there were plenty of rocky crags around, and when Snarl silently indicated that they were close to the demons she’d spotted he ducked behind cover and moved on more slowly, running from rock to rock. He was still close enough to the river to see the demons from a distance – two of them, sure enough, squatting at a cautious distance from the water and crunching away at something or other. Possibly rocks, or possibly human bones. Demons liked anything mineral. Ambit wasn’t going to investigate more closely.

He paused for a moment to watch them. They were about his size, but bulkier, with four horns each and shoulders like boulders. One had a yellow gemstone set into its forehead, and the other had green, and both had red eyes like Snarl’s, but much larger. Like all demons they were black and orange, crusted with stone armour. Ambit could see their steel fangs, jagged as broken stone, which was what they were best at making.

He quietly jogged to the next bit of shelter, stopped to rest, checked the demons hadn’t spotted him, and ran on. The gap between this rock and the next was the longest so far, but he was far enough away by now that the demons shouldn’t spot him. Fortunately, they didn’t, and he reached the last bit of shelter and ran straight into a third, much larger one.

Ambit skidded to a halt, and swore under his breath as the demon he’d surprised turned around. It was enormous; at least twice as big as the other two and far heavier. Its neck was as thick as the width of Ambit’s shoulders, the back hunched and craggy like one of the mountains the demons had first climbed out of. Thin rivulets of lava oozed out of the cracks in its armour, and the tips of its massive claws glowed like hot coals.

The purple gemstone on its head glittered as it peered down at him. ‘A human?’ it said, in a voice like a cliff face collapsing.

Ambit offered the demon a watery grin. ‘Er, hi. Don’t mind me. Just passing through.’

The demon took a lumbering step toward him. ‘Why’d a human come here?’ it asked.

‘I was too lazy to go around,’ said Ambit. ‘Sorry to bother you. I’ll just get lost now.’

The demon grinned. ‘Give me your bones first.’

Ambit had already started to edge around the rocky outcrop he’d been hoping to use as cover. ‘I’d love to, but I can’t walk too well without them.’

The demon followed him, slowly but insistently. ‘I’m hungry,’ it said.

‘Sorry, but I’m not in the business of helping people,’ said Ambit. ‘See you later.’ He put his head down and made a run for it, hoping the demon would take the hint and leave him alone.

A series of earth-shaking thuds behind told him it hadn’t. He swore again and ran faster. A moment later Snarl ran up beside him, bounding over the rough ground with surprising speed. ‘Now you’ve done it,’ she said.

‘Hey, I didn’t see you helping,’ Ambit gasped. ‘You could’ve said something. Like, I don’t know, There’s a damn great demon with an appetite over there. Next we’ll have the other two on our arses as well.’

Snarl glanced back. ‘We do,’ she said, ‘but they’re stuck on the other side of the river.’

‘How did you get across, then?’

‘I can jump further than them,’ said Snarl. ‘Hurry up, before they decide to give it a shot as well.’

‘I wouldn’t mind doing a few shots right about now,’ Ambit said with a touch of wistfulness.

‘Try doing it without your bones!’ said Snarl. ‘Stop talking and run faster, fleshy.’

Ambit was about to say something about how boneless a shot or three made most people feel, but at that point the giant demon caught up with him. He sensed its huge lumbering shape just behind him, and threw himself forward in a roll. Sharp stones jabbed into his head and back, but he vaulted upright and turned to face the creature. It was already reaching out to grab him, and he knew perfectly well that if its claws touched him they’d burn the flesh off his bones. A very handy thing for demons. Human bones were a delicacy to them.

Ambit pointed his spear at the demon’s stomach. ‘Fuck off, unless you want to find out what it’s like to have this little baby go through your guts and out your mouth.’

The demon only laughed at him. ‘Little human with a stick,’ it rumbled, and made to swat the spear out of the way.

Ambit ducked under the demon’s arm and thrust the spear into its stomach, twisting it at an angle that shoved the point upward and into the ribcage. The spear wrenched out of his grasp as the demon reeled away, but he didn’t make any attempt to retrieve it. He dodged out of the way and climbed up the nearest rock spire, where he found a safe perch and waited to see what would happen next.

The demon howled in pain as it backed off, lava trickling down the spear shaft and dripping onto the ground, where it hissed and steamed. The leather wrapped around the weapon had already begun to smoulder before the demon grabbed it and tried to pull it out.

‘I wouldn’t do that,’ Ambit warned.

The demon, of course, paid no attention. Whimpering, it took hold of the spear and wrenched it out. The barbed point ripped the beast’s body open, and a gush of lava followed. The demon screamed and fell to its knees, clutching at the wound in the hopes of stopping the flow, but it was too late. When it tried to get up it collapsed on its side and lay there, twitching.

Snarl emerged from her hiding place and prodded the other demon’s arm. ‘I think you’re safe with this one now,’ she said.

Ambit looked over toward the river, where the other two demons were now hesitating. They weren’t in any hurry to risk crossing the water, and there didn’t seem to be any obvious way for them to get to him otherwise, so he jumped down from his shelter and darted over to the spot where his spear had landed. It was already cooling, lava solidifying on its surface and coating it in a shell of rock. Ambit pulled a pair of leather gauntlets out of his belt and put them on, then picked the spear up and tapped the butt on the ground. The dried lava fell away and shattered, taking the burned leather strapping with it. Underneath, the spear was made from shining silvery metal, covered in strange raised designs which surrounded nine round hollows that looked as if they’d been made to hold something.

Holding the still-hot weapon gingerly, Ambit went over to the demon. It was already dead, and he stood over its head and stuck the spear-point into an eye socket.

Snarl winced. ‘I really wish you wouldn’t do that.’

‘Hey, she’s not using ’em now and I need beer money,’ said Ambit. He flicked the demon’s eyes out with a few twists of the spear, and stuffed them in his pocket before moving off along the riverbank. The two demons on the other side watched him nervously, and he shook the spear meaningfully at them.

‘Unless you want some of the same, leave me the hell alone, got it?’

‘We got it,’ one of them yelled back.

‘Great,’ said Ambit, ‘and you never saw me, right?’

‘Right,’ said the one with the green gemstone.

‘That’s my demon.’ Ambit turned his back on them and walked off, hoping it wouldn’t be too much further. One demon a day was more than enough, and he wasn’t about to spend the night here.

Two

Luckily the stretch of demon country didn’t go too much further. Ambit kept following the river, and by evening he could see green up ahead. Grass started to peek through the stone, and after a while the land gradually flowed back into trees and plants, all of them festooned with flowers. There was some fruit as well, and Ambit picked a good meal’s worth of it and sat down under a tree to eat.

As for Snarl, several times along the way through demon country she had stopped to dig in crevices and other places, and had made a meal of the rocks she dug up. At one point she had even found a rough diamond, which she picked up with a rasp of triumph and carried with her for the rest of the walk – resting it between the spikes on her back.

‘Saving it for a special occasion?’ Ambit asked her now, watching her put it down and caress it with her claws.