The Nameless hero Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Diablo or any of its contents. So please don’t sue.
Author’s note: This is my first shot at writing a fan fic. Reviews are welcome, praise and flame alike (but be constructive). Perhaps I should mention that English isn’t my first language, so bear with me  ^_^








Where no shadows lie                       

                                                              Part III



As Derrim emerged from the Labyrinth, he could see faint sun beams piercing through the thick clouds.
He was weary as all the ordeals down in the dungeon caught up with him in every step. As he walked down the gravelled walk, the first snowflakes began to fall.
When he reached the town square, all the people there stopped to look at him.
In answer, he held his sword triumphantly high and the people began to clap their hands and to cheer.
Though Derrim felt proud, his mind did not for a second stray from the thought of the stone in his pocket.
The town folk approached him.
“What is your name, son?” one of the men asked. But Derrim only shook his head, too weary to answer.
“A most humble servant of the Light” a voice said. “He will not even tell us his real name.”
It was Cain who spoke.
Derrim looked at him to find out if it was ironically meant or not, but the old man’s face was expressionless.
Back at the Tavern of the Rising sun, Derrim tumbled into bed.

When he awoke, Gillian was sitting beside his bed and she was smiling. It was the first time since he arrived to Tristram, that she had done that. It made his heart all warm.
“What are you smiling about?” he asked.
“I am smiling because we are free. And you saved us! I don’t know how we will ever repay such a debt, but there will be a grand celebration tonight here at the tavern”.
“You don’t owe me anything”
“Well, a party is the least we can do”
She got up and left the room.
Derrim checked his pocket to see if the stone was still there. Then he fell back to sleep.

When darkness had fallen, Derrim descended from the upper floor. He had tied a string around the stone and hung it around his neck. It was now safely hidden by his shirt.
He first saw Gillian, who gave him another heart warming smile and spontaneously came up and gave him a hug. Derrim felt confused as it gave him feelings he had never felt before. He staggered a little for his legs felt like jelly.
Gillian laughed warmly at his expression.
“You haven’t hugged many girls, have you?” she said and caressed his cheek. Then she left, leaving Derrim with his whole inside in an uproar.

The party went on and everybody wanted to speak with the hero. When they asked him his name he only shook his head or said “My name is not important”. He could not explain exactly why he said so, not even to himself. He had dreamt of this moment when he revealed who he was to everyone that had been mean to him in his childhood. But now it was as if something held him back.

Gillian took a mug of ale and held it high in the air.
“To our hero” she said and everybody did the same and toasted Derrim and drank to his good health.
He smiled, but to Gillian it seemed as if the smile did not quite reach the eyes.

Derrim was back at his room at the inn. He heard a light knock on the door, and half expecting Gillian, he bid the knocker to enter.
It wasn’t Gillian, but Janis, one of the younger women in town. She gave him a big smile that Derrim all too well knew what it meant.
“Look, I…” he started but Janis interrupted him.
“I thought you might want some company” she said, still smiling.
“Oh, uhm… I am really tired, so I was going to go to bed now”.
“What a coincidence, so was I” she said and resolutely reached to unbutton his shirt, but Derrim clasped her wrists suddenly mortally afraid that she would find the stone hidden by the cloth.
“Ow, you’re hurting me!”
“Strangle her” a deep voice spoke.
“Did you hear that?”
“Let me go!” she cried.
Derrim just stared at the girl intently, unable to form a thought of his own. Janis saw the wolf eyed look in his eyes, sobbed, and with great effort managed to pull away from his tight grip and ran out the door.

Derrim looked down at his empty hands, suddenly coming to his senses again. He ran downstairs to find Janis but the common room was empty, except for Gillian who gave him an odd look.
“I… I” he started but found he had no words of explanation. So he just turned on his heels and went back up again, leaving a puzzled Gillian.

“What happened?” he thought. “What was that voice? And where did it come from?”
He opened his shirt and brought out the stone and weighed it in his hand. It felt strangely light.
The colour reminded him of sulphur. He touched the pointy end with his fingertip. It was sharp like the point of a dagger. The other end was perfectly round. Derrim tucked the stone back under his shirt.

The day after the grand celebration, Derrim stood on the street outside the tavern. It was a beautiful day with the sun shining from a clear blue sky. Snow had covered everything, and to Derrim it felt like the whole town was being cleansed.
In his hands there was a sword he had retrieved from the Labyrinth and he had a particular goal in mind as he wandered down the streets.

Many a townsfolk came up to greet him and everyone wanted to ask about the Lord of Terror and how he managed to slay him. Derrim gave them the story and perhaps altered a few details to make his deed sound even more heroic.

A while later he was at the blacksmith’s shop. A man, almost as wide as he was tall came to meet him.
“Hail to thee, warrior of the Light” he greeted jovially. “I am Griswold, the blacksmith.”
“Good wishes to you, Griswold. I have something for you, you cannot refuse” Derrim smiled.
“I like the sound o’ that”
Derrim brought out the beautiful sword he had found and gave it to Griswold.
“What do you say? Isn’t she a beauty?”
“Aye. I s’pose you recovered this down the Labyrinth?”
“I did”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t take it off your hands. I wouldn’t be able to sell it”
“Why not?  It’s a beautiful sword, and the handiwork is just excellent”
“Aye… But once people find out that you found this down the Labyrinth, they tend to shy away from it, with the demons and all”
“But you don’t have to tell them that, do you?” Derrim was getting more and more irritated by this stupid man.
“Aye… But I’d know”
And with that he indicated that the conversation was over.
“Go with the Light” Derrim spat and went back to the inn.

Derrim awoke with a start. The dream had been so vivid. He had been back at the Labyrinth, facing Diablo once again. But this time it was the Lord of Terror that had the sword, and he had run the blade straight through Derrim’s body. The demon laughed a weird, twisted laughter and licked the blood off the blade. While Derrim felt all of his strength leave his body the horrible demon spoke up.
“Listen you little maggot. You must travel east. East I say!” and then he laughed again.

The days passed. Derrim mostly stayed at his room at the inn. Troubled by nightmares during the night, the only time he could find some rest was during the day.
Derrim sat in the bed, and staring at the opposite wall.
His pride and joy in life, the Paladinian sword Doom Song, was leaned against the wall. He never carried it no more.
His mind wandered and, suddenly, the memories he had buried so deep in his soul came back.

Once again he was before the four High Priests piecing looks that made him feel like sinking through the floor.
“Apprentice Derrim” High Priest Hakryn spoke. “You stand before us here today to face the Trials. What say you?”
“I realize the great honour that you have bestowed upon me with letting me do the Trials, without receiving a calling from the Light. But I hope I will be found a worthy warrior of the Light”
“Well spoken Apprentice Derrim. The first Trial you will face is beating Brother Tyus in sword play”
Derrim nodded and prepared himself to face Brother Tyus. This Trial was the only known one. No one except the High priests and the Brothers knew what the other tests consisted of.

Brother Tyus prepared himself. Derrim felt calm inside. He had already beaten brother Tyus several times in practise.
There was a circle in the floor that they were supposed to fight within.
“Brother Tyus, Apprentice Derrim, step into the circle”
They were given wooden swords to fight with. Derrim gave his mentor, Brother Darius, a confident smile.
“The rules are, the first one to step out of the circle have lost. And the first one who gets three touches with the sword on the other ones body have won. Let the Fight begin!” High Priest Ulysses said.

Derrim made a few trying swings with his sword that Brother Tyus easily parried and he touched Derrim two times with the tip of his sword before he could parry.
Derrim soon noticed that Brother Tyus was doing everything he could to beat him. But that only incited him to do his very best.
He kept out of the way of Brother Tyus’ sword and rapidly thrust two hits in the Brothers chest.
“The score is two – two” High Priest Hrolan spoke.
The swordplay went on, neither combatants willing to give in.
Finally Derrim jabbed his wooden sword into Brother Tyus’ arm.
“Apprentice Derrim, you have passed the first trial”
Derrim had to bite his lip to prevent himself from cheering wildly.

“The second Trial is that of mental capacities. Apprentice Derrim, you will first summon a Holy Bolt.
Derrim nodded and took a deep breath, and began focusing on the power within him. He felt the power rise and rise until a blue bolt shot right out of his hands and hit the opposite stone wall.
“Very good Apprentice Derrim. Now, enhance your aura into the one they call Prayer, the healing aura. You may sit down for this one”

Derrim sat down on the floor, and tried to block out all thoughts of everything but calling forth the healing aura. He relaxed his muscles, hoping by some divine miracle he would actually succeed in bringing forth the aura. He tried and tried until sweat broke out on his body.
“Apprentice Derrim, your time is up”
“No! Just a little more. I can do it, I know I can!”
“Your time is up!”
Derrim noticed his nose was bleeding. He wiped the blood with his arm
“This is not fair; you didn’t give me enough time!”
“Apprentice Derrim, you were given a full well half an hour to complete the second Trial, which is a lot more than you have when one of your comrades is dying. You have failed the second Trial” High Priest Ulysses said.

The four High Priests gathered around some strange pedestal that was covered with a purple silk cloth. High Priest Ulysses brought out a beautiful sword. Derrim could see the golden hilt was adorned with four gems, one red, one yellow, one green and one blue. He instantly felt a wave of desire washing over him. He wanted that sword, no matter what.
“Apprentice Derrim, kneel to the Orb”
Derrim did what he was told and kneeled in front of the pedestal.
High Priest Hrolan took the cloth and revealed a perfectly round glass orb.
“This Trial is the foremost. You do not speak of it after we leave this room” he said. “If the Light acknowledges you as a warrior, the orb will start to glow. Any questions?”
Derrim shook his head.
The four High Priests bowed their heads and started chanting in low voices. Derrim waited excitedly for what was going to happen.

Suddenly the High Priests stopped chanting and looked to the Orb.
Derrim silently begged the orb to glow. But nothing happened.
At length high Priest Hakryn spoke:
“Apprentice Derrim, you have failed the last Trial!”

Derrim bowed his head and felt the cool stone floor to his forehead.


Later the same night, Derrim stood outside the enormous doors that led into the Hall where he had been tested. He hesitated.
“What are the odds of the door not being locked?” he thought. “Or that the sword will still be in there?”
His hand reached for the door knob, and opened the door carefully so that the door wouldn’t creak. Inside it was dark, but Derrim’s eyes had already adjusted to the lack of light so he silently snuck in.

He walked up the long isle and saw once again the orb. A thought of smashing it came to him, but he quickly changed his mind.
And there, up at the altar, was the sword. “They haven’t taken it away” he thought excitedly and ran the last few steps up to the altar.
Derrim had the sword in his hands, and drew it from the sheath. A feeling of awe came over him for the excellent handiwork of a very talented blacksmith. He took a few trying swings with it and felt mightier than ever before.
Suddenly there was a sound heard at the door.
“Hello? Anyone in here?”
Derrim froze. He prayed that the room would be dark enough for him to be unnoticed.
But his prayers were unanswered.

“Derrim? What are you doing here?”
It was one of his fellow apprentices, Crispin.
“It’s alright Crispin, I was just getting this sword… For Brother Darius”
Crispin gave him an odd look.
“Why? What is Brother Darius doing with the sword?”
“I don’t have time to chat right now” Derrim said and tried to get past Crispin, but he would not let him.
“I think you should leave the sword where it belongs”
“Listen, Crispin” he spat “If you don’t get out of my way then I’ll have to…”
“Have to what?”
Derrim drew the sword and threatened Crispin with it.
“I am sorry, but that is a Holy sword. I cannot let you steal it!” he said boldly.


I pure desperation, Derrim thrust the sword through Crispin’s body. With a surprised groan he sank to the floor.
“You… will be banished to Hell for this” he whispered and then he was gone.
Derrim felt cold inside. No emotions went through his body. He simply cleaned the sword on Crispin’s cloak, sheathed it and then ran back to dormitory to get his things.
At dawn he was on the first ship back to Lut Gholein.

Derrim violently shrugged off the memories. It was the first time since it had happened that he had allowed himself to think about it. He looked at the sword at the opposite wall. Ever so slightly he had begun to hate it.


Derrim would often take long walks. Sometimes he would even take Gillian with him. It was on a cold winter’s morning, during a walk in the forest outside town, that he first spoke of his troubles.
Derrim drew a deep breath and filled his lungs with cold air. At length he spoke, to a surprised Gillian.
“I wish I was pure again. If I ever was..
“Why do you say that? You must be one of the purest people there is. To stand up to demons like you have, it takes a pure soul to come out alive.
“You do not know my life”
“No, I don’t even know your name” she joked but he refused to take the hint.
“Springtime will be coming soon. For you at least. I don’t expect I shall see another one”
“Why do you say that?” tears were in Gillian’s eyes, for he was very serious.
Derrim gave her a faint smile.
“Nay, I shall not trouble you with my burden”
“A shared burden is a lighter one” she said softly.
Derrim met her eyes and it looked as if he was about to say something. Then he drew his cloak tighter.
“I expect we shall see snow fall ere the night is here” he simply said and continued walking.

Derrim came down the stairs to the empty tavern. There was a faint light coming from the embers in the fire place. He threw a log on and the fire blazed up.
“You too have trouble finding rest? A voice came from behind and Derrim turned around. He did not know whether to be relieved or angry that Cain was there, so he spoke nothing in answer. Cain gazed at him, many questions were in his eyes.
“Ogden tells me you wake up in the night screaming. What do you dream about?” Cain finally said.
Derrim did not answer, but sat down next to Cain.
“The dreams… They are so vivid” he said at length.
“There is little known about dreams and their purpose. Perhaps your dreams is just a way for your body and mind to process such an ordeal that you’ve been through. Perhaps you would be better off talking to Pepin”
Derrim got up and grabbed a poker and stirred the fire.
“Maybe…” he said. “Maybe we should not fight. Maybe the demons are meant to rule this world.”

“Well, then the High Heavens would not put up such a fight”
“They do?” Derrim shook his head in disbelief.
“Sure they do! Take you for example. Do you not think that you were destined by the Light to save Tristram?”
“I beg your pardon, but I do not believe in the Light”
“You would think someone trained as a Paladin would know more of the almighty Light and its powers.”
Derrim turned to the fire again.
“So you mean there is still hope for me?”
“Hope dies last. But it is up to you and the choices you make from now on.
Now if you will excuse me, I will go and try to find some rest” said Cain and left, leaving him with many thoughts.

Derrim sat in the tavern and ate his dinner. He could feel the curious glances from the rest of the townsfolk but since lately he had become increasingly aloof and sometimes even outright hostile to the others, no one approached him.
“Look at them. Peasants! Why don’t you kill them?” a deep voice spoke.
Derrim looked around to see who it was that had said that but no one was looking in his direction, or seemed to have heard the words. He began to take another spoon full of soup, but as he looked down he saw the bowl was filled with worms. Derrim instantly sent the bowl flying and spat wildly.

Gillian hurried up to him.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“That bowl was full of worms and maggots. I suppose you think that is funny?”
Gillian simply picked up the bowl at the opposite wall.
“I can’t see any worms. Are you sure…”
“I know what I saw!”
“Perhaps someone can’t handle his drink” one of the men from another table said mockingly.
“Fine!” Derrim said and stormed out of the inn.

He had walked for a long time, muttering and kicking balls of snow around.
Suddenly, the landscape changed. The snow melted away and thick dark clouds formed in the sky. Before him lay a dark barren wasteland, where nothing could grow in the dry sandy soil. In his heart he knew that this was the outpost of Hell.
Then he felt his body being lifted up and carried over the dark plains at a tremendous speed.
In the distance he could hear the moaning and agonized screams from many tortured souls.

At length, the invisible hand that was carrying him dove straight down into a hole in the ground.
He went deeper and deeper, and when Derrim had lost track of how long the diving had taken, he could see fire in the distance.
He landed softly on the ground. Derrim was standing in front of a stair. On both sides of him there was lava bubbling.
Derrim looked up at the stairs. It seemed to lead into what looked like a church or even a cathedral.
He slowly took one step at a time and went inside. The fact that there were human skulls piled up against the walls didn’t stop him from feeling awe as he walked the long corridor.
After a seemingly endless walk he saw fire up ahead. It was a huge five pointed star on the floor, a pentagram. Between each point were burning pits of lava. Derrim could feel the heat burning on his face.
He found himself standing in the middle of the pentagram and felt mightier than ever done carrying a sword. He felt like sitting on a throne.
“Power” he thought.

The cold made him come to his senses. He was lying in a drift of snow and was shivering with cold. Derrim quickly got up and brushed the snow off. Though it was freezing he could still feel the heat of the vision on his cheeks.

Gillian watched the change in her friend with wonder. She could be making casual conversations to him, about the weather or that Readith had new born pigs in his sty. Then all of a sudden he could start shouting, claming he saw demons behind her. But surely enough, when she turned around to look, there was nothing there. This always caused him to lapse into
a brooding mood.

But it was a long time since that had happened. Nowadays, he stayed mostly in his room at the inn and ordered the food to be served up there.

Last night when Gillian had been up there serving him his evening meal, he had sat on the bed looking pale and sweaty. When she had asked him what the matter was, he had whispered: “My brother… needs me… I must go… east”.
“I didn’t know you had a brother?” Gillian had said.
Then he had shaken his head and looked at her with terror in his eyes.


Derrim stood by the window, staring with unseeing eyes. In the distance was the church, and before the sight of it had made him sick. But right now he did not bother about it. By coincidence, or the mere irony of life, his window was facing eastward and that was where he was staring.
“I should leave this place soon” he thought. “But go where? East? Yes, that seems a good idea. But why… There is someone there who needs me… Yes that’s it”
Then the world around him seemed to darken and he was blinded by white flashes. Derrim sank to his knees and silently prayed for mercy.
He once again stood at the five pointed star in the twisted sanctuary. He saw legions upon legions of demons, ready to obey his every sign and he felt the mightiest in the entire universe.
“You will be the mightiest there is… There is just one little thing you must do first…” the deep voice spoke.
It didn’t frighten Derrim. He felt calm as he woke up on the floor in his room at the inn.

Suddenly his body began to move with all the speed it could muster. And while clutching the stone he ran down the stairs, and knocked over a few chairs on his way through the common room.
He ran and ran, despite the frosty air biting in his throat and lungs. And when finally he could run no more, he sank down to his knees.
Derrim slowly released his desperate grip of the stone and lifted it over his head. The sulphured colour that he before thought sickening, was now exquisitely beautiful.

He heard  a mumbling chanting in some ancient language in the distance. Whispering voices said: “Do it! You will be the mightiest there is!”
Derrim trembled and sobbed.
The chanting that at first had been barely audible, had now increased in volume. The whispering voices were not whispering anymore but louder and more demanding.
“Do it” they kept repeating and the chanting had reached an almost deafening crescendo.

And so Derrim’s last thoughts of Gillian and their friendship disappeared and he drove the stone into his forehead.