Backed up against the brick, Finn could taste the deathly sourness of the Minotaur’s breath and see the deep blackness of its mouth. He was briefly mesmerised by the radiance of that fat diamond ring lodged in the Legend’s nose.
Finn tried to think of a way out, of a fighting move his father had taught him, a plan, an escape route, anything other than just giving in to the inevitable pounding thought that he was about to die.
As it poised to strike, the Minotaur still had just one thought in its head, although it had evolved to include repeated use of the word ‘maim’.
If this Legend had been a little less single-minded, however, it might have realised that the sliver of time it took to move in for the kill was long enough for a shadow to pass above it and the boy; for that shadow to grow larger, darker; for it to become solid as it bounded across the creature’s great shoulders and landed behind it.
The Minotaur turned. The armour on this new human shimmered; it was hard to focus on. He seemed to be there yet not there. The figure carried a weapon similar to the boy’s, but larger. And the Minotaur knew instantly who it now faced.
This was not a Legend Hunter. This was the Legend Hunter.
The Minotaur had moved barely a centimetre in attack before it was struck by the glowing net of the Legend Hunter’s weapon. For the briefest of moments, it was frozen in an all-enveloping web of sparkling blue. Then, with a stifled whooop, the Minotaur imploded. All that was left was a solid, hairy sphere no bigger than a tennis ball.
The Legend Hunter remained steady, a thin wisp of blue smoke drifting from the barrel of his weapon. “Bullseye,” he said, popping open his visor to reveal a face as solid as the helmet and an obvious delight at his quip.
Finn picked himself up off the ground and glared at him. “Where were you, Dad?”
Like other Blighted Villages around the world – with names such as Worldsend, Hellsgate, Bloodrock, Leviatown and Carnage – Darkmouth had been home to generations of Legend Hunters, families who swore to protect the world against the unending attacks from what they called the Infested Side.
Except the attacks did end.
Mostly.
Each year had brought fewer reports of humans captured or killed by Legends – and of Legends captured or killed by Legend Hunters.
In Blighted Village after Blighted Village, the attacks had slowly died out. For the first time in thousands of years, our world appeared sealed off from the realm of Legends. After many generations of war, the Legend Hunters could stand down.
Except for one village. One family.
“You were fine,” said Finn’s dad, breezily. “I had you covered the whole time.”
“That thing almost killed me.”
“You know I would never let that happen.”
“It didn’t feel like that.”
“Look, Finn, don’t be so hard on yourself. You did well. A little loose in parts maybe, but you weren’t exactly chasing after a chicken there. And don’t be so sour. Most twelve-year-olds would die for a chance to run around chasing Legends.”
“Die?” said Finn.
“You know what I mean.”
Finn’s father held his gaze for another moment before giving his son a gentle punch on the arm and picking up the desiccated remains of the Minotaur.
Wearily, Finn unhooked the container from his belt and entered a code into a keypad on its side. The lid hissed open, releasing a small cloud of blue gas and the faint tang of what smelled like orange juice. His father placed the round object in the box and pressed the lid shut. “It’ll have a ball in there,” he said.
Finn shook his head in mild disdain.
“Oh, suit yourself,” said his dad as he grabbed the container and began to walk out of the alley. “Get out of that gear and I’ll drive you to school.”
“School? Seriously? How am I supposed to go to school after that? I’m not going. I’m just not.”
But his dad didn’t stop, so Finn reluctantly picked up his Desiccator and started to follow. A glint of light in the rubble caught his eye, a tight curve of crystal lying where the Minotaur had been desiccated. It looked like the diamond that had been in the creature’s nose.
Odd.
Finn picked it up and examined its jagged beauty. He began to call after his father, but stopped himself. If he was being forced to go to school after all of that, then he wanted a reward.
He slipped the diamond into his pocket before jogging clumsily on, his suit clattering all the way.
They drove through Darkmouth, their car a large black metal block on wheels, its seats torn out to make room for lines of weapons and tools of various shapes and sizes and sharpness.
There were a few people on the streets now, though most had their heads buried in hoods, their faces down, protecting themselves from the drizzle, looking like the last place on Earth they wanted to be was the last place on Earth where Legends still invaded. It didn’t exactly help their mood that Legends always brought rain with them.
“It’s always the same when a gate opens,” Finn’s dad observed. “At least a small gateway means only a light shower. There was a time when the bigger gateways brought terrible storms. The old stories blamed them on the gods. As if, eh?”
Finn didn’t answer. His father tutted. The car swung right.
Before jumping into the passenger seat, Finn had thrown his suit into the rear of the car. On his lap were his schoolbag and his Desiccator. He held the canister in front of his face and gave it a rattle.
“It never ceases to amaze me, that trick,” said his father.
Finn felt a spark of sympathy for the creature trapped in there. From the outside, the only evidence that a Desiccator net’s victim might once have been something living was the way the exterior of the resulting ball was coated in whatever the creature had been wrapped in originally: fur, scales, skin, leather trousers.
“Doesn’t it seem a bit cruel to do this to them, Dad?”
“Maybe you’d prefer to tickle the next Minotaur into submission. Or pet him and offer him a biscuit. Seriously, Finn.” He glanced across at his son and noticed his scowl. “OK, so this morning didn’t go too perfectly.”
“Neither did the last time,” said Finn, grimacing.
“Yes, but—”
“Or the time before that.”
“My point, Finn, is that you are learning,” said his dad. “I was the same when I was your age. Did I ever tell you about the time I—?”
“Yes,” said Finn with a sigh.
“And the day I—?”
“That too. All I ever hear about are the great things you did when you were my age. You defeated this Legend. You invented that weapon. Unless you’ve a story that