Darkmouth

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 ends with you falling down a toilet or something, you’re not going to make me feel any better right now.”

The car pulled up at the school. Finn didn’t move.

His father shifted a little, the armour of his fighting suit creaking in the car seat.

“It’s not all bad news,” he started.

“How is this not bad?” interrupted Finn, dismay in his voice. “My Completion Ceremony is only a year away, Dad.”

“When did you turn twelve?”

“Two weeks ago.”

“So, the ceremony is eleven and a half months away to be accurate, but plenty of time still.”

“What about this morning – did you not see?” said Finn, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Finn, our family has defended Darkmouth for forty-two generations.”

“Well, I haven’t.”

“But you will,” said his dad. “You’re going to be generation number forty-three.”

“I won’t be ready.”

“Darkmouth is going to be your responsibility.”

“It can’t be,” protested Finn.

“It has to be.”

His father let a hush settle in the vehicle before continuing.

“Anyway, the Council of Twelve has been in touch,” he said. “They have good news.”

“Does it have to do with me?” asked Finn.

“No. Well, yes. Kind of.” His father paused. “The Twelve have offered me a place on the Council. Forty-two generations, Finn, and not one of our family has ever been invited to become one of the leaders of the world’s Legend Hunters. Sure, most of the world’s Legend Hunters are sitting at home getting fat right now, but still, it’s a huge thing for us, a big honour, and—”

“Hold on,” said Finn. “You’ll be on the Council of Twelve?”

“Yes, isn’t that excellent?”

“Aren’t they based in—?”

“Liechtenstein. Small place with big mountains.”

“So, you’ll be out of Darkmouth?” asked Finn.

“Yes,” said his dad. “Sometimes.”

“And me?”

“No.”

“Oh great,” said Finn, feeling a great weight settling on his shoulders. “You’ll be gone and the protection of Darkmouth will be up to—”

“You. Exactly. Won’t that be cool?”

Finn stared at him as his brain tried to process that notion.

“It doesn’t change anything, Finn,” said his father. “Not much anyway. You’re about to become the first true Legend Hunter to graduate in years. Darkmouth was always going to become your responsibility at some stage after that. And I won’t be going straight away. The Twelve say there’ll be a process, some checks.”

“What kind of checks?”

His dad shrugged. “I don’t know. Background stuff, subject to confirmation of rule 31, clause 14 of the whatever. You know, paperwork. The Twelve love their paperwork. Anyway, it’s happening.” He cleared his throat. “Just as soon as you become Complete.”

“And what if I’m not ready?”

With a squeak of his fighting suit on the car seat’s leather, his dad turned to look at him directly. “Finn, every Legend Hunter in this family had their Completion on their thirteenth birthday. Every single one, as far back as records go. They could have waited until they were fifteen or seventeen or even nineteen, like weaker families, but they didn’t. So, our family – past, present and future – needs you to be ready. I need you to be ready. This town needs you to be ready. You will be ready.”