Chapter One: “Welcome to My World”

  Listen up because this is important and I’m telling it to you now so you don’t get the wrong idea about me. I’m going to need you to keep this in mind.

  I’m not a hero.

  It’s very important that you understand that. The last thing I want is you thinking I’m something I’m not.

  But I’ll tell you that it’s not because I haven’t tried. I tried. I tried really hard. Did the whole war for all that is good and great thing. It was fun and all except for one thing.

  One very big thing.

  I lost.

  Well, we lost. Me and my weary band of white knights. And we lost badly.

  However bad you may think it was, or heard it was, double it. It made Zimur’s Last Stand look like a walk in the Elder Gardens.

  But then, you might not have heard of Zimur or his fabled last stand. I guess it depends on where you are. It matters little in the grand scheme of things, because you’re here and you’re reading. That’s enough, for now.

  You picked up this book because…well, I won’t venture to guess your motivations. Nor do I necessarily care. I’ll just try not to waste your precious time, while you've still got it. It goes faster than you think.

  So, back to the good part.

  For all the bad the war did, it did one good thing for me.

  It made me realize a couple of things about myself. Things you’d learn if you kept reading, but I’ll tell you now, since you’re early to the party and let you skip the rather long-winded verbosity, I’m known to produce from time to time. Here it goes:

  I’m not the white knight, like my compatriots had been, nor am I the do-gooder with a heart of gold. I won’t jump in front of the princess and take an arrow. I won’t go into the dragon’s cave or challenge any dark lords to duels to save a kingdom.

  It’s not in my nature. Maybe it never was. But you know how those things go when you’re young. You get caught up in the fervor of it all. The pretty words and rosy notions. In having friends. In the adventure.

  And maybe, if you’re really unlucky, you’ll get caught up with a girl who’d you level mountains for and raze villages.

  Unfortunately, this is not a love story either though.

  I’ll tell you this, ignore what those ever-benevolent winners always tell you. You will almost certainly learn more about yourself when you lose than you ever would when you win. Winning just makes you more of who you already were. Losing strips you of all that and bares your bones to the sun and moon.

  It's what happened to me.

  It’s not what happened to my friends. They were all ushered into an early grave.

  Though I do bear many of the qualities of a hero, which is why I’ll forgive your misconceptions. It's probably the dashing good looks, quick wit, and sparkling intellect that led you astray. You’d know this is true if you’d seen my wanted poster. Though they didn’t get everything right. Then again, if you've seen that, then you know who I am. If that’s the case, keep it to yourself.

  Maybe I should put the poster on the book, it might sell better.

  Anyways, I hope you didn’t think this was some run of the mill fantastical tale of triumph. Allow me to dissuade you now while it's still early enough for you to back out. I’m not who you may think. And if you don’t believe it, then you’ll just have to keep reading.

  I’m a mage.

  Most of the time.

  I’m also a merchant of…certain highly regarded items, an intrepid player of dice-mogul (though I promise I’m not a gambling man, except when absolutely necessary), and a veritable menace with a harp, though I’m afraid I haven’t played in years and it is a perishable skill.

  Oh, I’m also a thief.

  Stolen story; please report.

  Sometimes. Well, mostly, if I’m being honest. A man has to make a living.

  No, I am not a thief with a heart of gold either, as much fun as that might be.

  But I do parties on occasion, as a magician, of course, not a thief. Or, I guess, I did, past tense. The land has darkened, if you haven’t been paying attention, and people don’t really have many parties anymore.

  Okay, fine. I did the parties to get close to valuables. I needed it more than they did. You’ll just have to trust me.

  So, yes, I’ve played the fumbling fool and it's quite a good cover, actually. No one expects to see the failed hero at their dinner party. Here is where I’ll share some invaluable knowledge: never do those jobs in the same kingdom you lost in. I learned that the hard way.

  See, I’m already teaching you things. Obvious as they may seem to you, but I tell you, when all hope is lost, sometimes obvious isn’t obvious, if you know what I mean.

  Life isn't easy when you’re on the losing side. It seems that might not have needed to be said, but I wanted to make sure you understood it. Most of the people I fought with died. That is the usual consequences for fighting a war and losing.

  For me however, it was torture and eventual humiliation. How did I survive? Hmm. Story for a different time, I suppose. I don’t like dredging that up so often.

  Fine, I’ll give you the short of it. The man who won, or the one that ended up with the crown anyway, his name, though I curse it, is Humphrey. Yes, I know, not very menacing, but then again, he wasn’t a very menacing person. Simply evil, and damned clever.

  He didn’t like me very much either, especially after I played a nasty trick on him, which I’ll not tell you about because I still want you to like me, for now.

  When Humphrey realized, to his glee, that I’d survived his machinations, he played with my fate by sticking me in an arena with his bloodthirsty brutes. A game to have me torn limb from limb, such was his promise.

  And, well, it didn’t go so well for them. I had my own tricks up my sleeve and nearly cratered the whole damn place. Nearly.

  Anyways, it was kind of dark and dreary for a while after that. I had a bounty on my head (still do) and it became a whole thing. I ran, he chased, I’m still alive, he’s still in his high castle.

  And the world isn’t really ending, as the title might suggest, it's just… I mean, blah, blah, blah. It just isn’t going very splendidly, so what?

  Sure, the wrong guy is on the throne. So, what if he’s what you might deem as evil. It's just the cycle of things. The good, the bad, the good again. You get the idea. If it was all the same, it would be boring.

  I’m not saying it's a good thing, but the reality is, the good guys don’t always win.

  Quite often they actually end up losing their heads. Or their hearts. And in the worst of times, their minds.

  But I’m getting ahead of myself. I was going to talk about the title, which I’m sure you noticed. Of course, I had to name it something catchy or you wouldn’t have read it. You’d probably have read that Sir Felipe book about saving the kingdom and getting the girl. I mean, do you really want to hear about that? Besides, he didn’t do half the things he claimed he did. I promise you that I was there for most of them. Fine, I wasn’t there. But I’d heard rumors. He’s a prick.

  Listen, you want the truth about doomsday?

  It's about surviving. It's always about surviving. Not everyone does well when the good guys take over either, you know. A lot of people die then, too. But you don’t really hear about them.

  Here's the bulk of my wisdom for you: avoid the big battles with dragons and giants and catapults. Don’t ever curse a witch. Or tell a warlock your full name. Also, don’t cry in front of fairies.

  I really should have sprinkled that wisdom throughout the story, but I’m not known for my patience. It's almost Spring and you need to know about those pesky fairies. They’ll be out in droves.

  Oh, and never, ever cross a Waystone bridge during a full moon if you hear a frog croaking.

  My missing left toe can tell you why, if I ever find it.

  My name? Yes, I suppose you would be interested in that. Bottom line: I can’t tell you. Not that I don’t want to, though I don’t really, but if I told you my name then some of you faltering moral characters might make a run at me.

  So, for all intents and purposes, my name is Madcap. No, I didn’t give that name to myself. But I decided to keep it. It reminds me of a different time. Who had given me that name and why is a story for another time. I’m actually excited to tell you that one, but alas, it would reveal too much.

  And you probably wouldn’t believe me anyways.

  That being said, I can’t promise you a happy ending. Mostly because I’m not sure there really are happy endings, just stories that haven’t finished yet. I’m pretty sure I’d read that in a witch’s hut once.

  It always irked me how that happens in stories. But I can’t blame them, or you, the reader, because most of us do want that happy ending.

  It just isn’t in the cards for all of us.

  Now, I’m still young and things could turn around, but it would be a gargantuan lift for the fates to turn on me now. I’m only just settling into the whole doomed for life situation I've found myself in.

  So, listen, I make no promises. Not a single one. That is mostly because I don’t actually know how this ends. But I’m guessing it’ll end darkly, painfully, and probably with a fair amount of death.

  (And that’s only if I’m lucky, otherwise torture is on the table too.)

  But if it doesn’t, then what a damn good story it’ll be. Besides, if you are afraid of doomsday, which you should be (not just because it’ll sell more books), then I've still got a few good tidbits for you to chew on.

  They might even save your life.

  This may have been boring for you, but it had to be said, and I hope you were paying attention because it was important. But I guess sometimes what’s important to the storyteller isn’t always to the reader. I’ll just hope you can keep up.

  Now that it's out of the way, we can get down to business.

  So, sit back and let me tell you how I’m not going to save the world. Hold onto your—

  Wait, wait. I’ve thought of another one: don’t speak the name of your first love in the presence of a werewolf.

  You’ll have to trust me on that one too.