Colm Brady

Balthazar

What was that infernal screeching, by the blood of the ancients it was a sign. He knew instinctively that some nefarious creature of the air was seeking him ,Trevor, usurper of the crown of Balthazar. No wonder for after 23 years in the obscurity of this town far from the courtly intrigues he was ready. The screeching continued and froze his very being.
“Turn off that fucking alarm or I will go in there and ram it up your hole….”

The fact that he had been ready for years now was of no consequence for his time was now. He pulled on his battle scarred suit and unpolished shoes and made a dash for the front door to avoid the others in the house. They just saw his shoddy malodorous personage but could not see the nobility beneath. Once in the pub he had let slip his being of high birth. The girl had laughed and told him he read too many books. Admittedly he had read all the fantasy books the local library could supply and liked to mentally slay dragons on the way to the shop.
He slipped outside into a drizzling morning. The weather gods were displeased again, this world needed a hero and quick. He had always known he was different to other men and the books had confirmed it. Their heroes always took off with a magic sword and a fairy princess and that was the sort of action he was after. That would show them, all of them.
He nodded at the young goblin on the corner as he bought a paper. In another world the newspaper seller would be his servant and assist him on his quest. The possible goblin stared back without interest and Trevor decided not to share his knowledge of the future mission just yet, As he turned an orc driving a blue mondeo emptied the contents of a puddle all over his suit.
“The curses of the nine levels of morgoroth upon you” he hissed through gritted teeth as the car sped away.
Being an undercover hero had its tribulations. Instead of living on the proceeds of enemy convoys he had to work for a living – in a job. He got on the bus and took a seat up the front of the chariot. A young man sat down beside him wearing an enormous pair of headphones. The pulsing drum and bass assaulted Trevor’s sleepy ears and he swore mentally to use this music as a method of torture in his own regime. He would torture the checkout girls from Tesco; the parish priest , Louis Walsh and anybody remotely associated with the Woodies chain.
He got off the bus and completed the short walk around the corner to the dark building where he worked. It was the regional office of a company that supplied hygiene products to the hotel industry. He didn’t think of the products as toilet roll and air-fresheners but rather by their product codes – an average gents needed two boxes of RT456’s , a case of BR34’s and a Y23 weekly. There was a certain symmetry to the numbers that left him time to focus on higher thoughts.

The elven princess at reception barely glanced up at him as he passed -- his trousers were soaked, the weirdo. There were a few starers in the company but he was a leerer – a whole level above your average saddo.
“Some day she will be mine”
“Some day I will get a job with no weirdos “
He went to his desk and turned on his computer. On the desk was a page outlining his powers on an Internet fantasy game. In the game he was a warrior prince with great powers and was famous in his community. His neighbour in the cubicle next door greeted him with a bow.
“Hail to the successor of Balthazar, how is your majesty this morning?” The speaker had thick glasses and a slightly unhinged manner -he was the only one who knew Trevor’s true identity.
“It is raining again and the bus was late”
“You must overcome these trials, shit here comes the Balrog!”
The two warriors attempted to look busy as their boss approached. He was a middle-aged balding man given to temper tantrums especially at his two workshy clerks.
“Have you two loaded up all the orders from Friday?”
“Nearly all of them”
“This company doesn’t operate on nearly, you pair of clowns”
“Yes boss”
The boss stamped on to his next victim and Trevor’s companion spat.
“One of these days I am gonna tell him what to do with his Jbl30 s”
“Fear not, the day of hewing and hacking is nearly upon us”
“Tell it again, the tale of the hacking and the bloodletting “
“Well firstly there will be great portentous signs…”
“Like the fish that they caught last week with the head of a dog”
“Really, I hadn’t heard of that one – where did you see it then?”
“The Weekly World News”
“What have I told you about that magazine?”
“That they make up stories, oh yeah I forgot”
“What we need are signs, real ones.”
“And after the signs?”
“Well then the faithful ones, like us, will be confirmed as just and worthy and our work will begin”
“Tell us about the women again”
“We shall be much sought after by women but we shall be too busy hacking and sundering the servants of evil”
“Like the boss, I mean the Balrog”
“Yeah he will get his come-uppance alright and soon”

posted by Colm Brady @ 8:03 PM