Jason Cosmo: Hero Wanted

Chapter 19

I counted three hundred paces before the tunnel opened onto a small ledge overlooking a great cavern softly lit by luminous fungi. A gurgling black river flowed through the chamber some fifty feet below where I stood. This had to be the fabled Hidden River—hidden because it was underground! But what was the test?

"Ahem!"

I whirled about and raised my axe. A narrow path led up to a slightly larger ledge a few yards to the right of where I stood. A thin, bespectacled scribe stood beside a wooden table. A school desk faced him.

"Are you Jason Cosmo?" he demanded in an officious, nasal voice. "Here to be tested?"

"Yes."

"I am Proctorius, Testmaster of The Gods. Be seated. Have you any identification?"

"I have...the Ring of Raxx."

"Is your name Raxx?"

"No."

"Well, then, that is no good, is it? Still, I suppose you must be he. Who else would be here? Be seated. Have you a number two pencil?"

"A what?" The desk was too small. It wobbled and squeaked with every breath I took.

"Tsk, tsk! You've come unprepared. Here is a pencil." He handed me the writing implement, then placed on the desk a sheet of paper covered with row upon row of tiny lettered circles.

"What is this?"

Reading from a sheet of instructions, pronouncing each word slowly and carefully, Proctorius said, "Grid your name into the appropriate boxes."

"Do what?"

The scribe looked up from the instruction sheet and gave me a snooty appraisal. "Can you spell your name?"

"Yes."

"Then fill in the circles on your answer sheet corresponding to the letters of your name." He resumed reading. "Next, fill in your age, date of birth, most recent place of abode, and the name of this testing site, which is Greenleaf."

The voice and manner of Proctorius were more irritating than the screech of a bloody nuisance, but I obeyed his instructions.

He continued reading. "I will now give you the test booklet. This is the Standard Heroic Aptitude Test, which will measure your potential for success as a hero. It consists of two thousand multiple choice questions. You are to fill in the blank containing the letter matching what you believe to be the best answer to each question. Make no stray marks on the answer sheet. You have one hour." He handed me the test booklet and turned over an hourglass on the table. "You may begin!"

I attacked the questions. Some asked about weapons and monsters. Others referred to excerpts from scholarly essays on heroic ethics, methods, and ideals. There were problem questions, asking me to choose the best escape or rescue plan in a given situation. I answered those I knew from experience or common sense and guessed wildly at the rest. My pencil broke twice. Proctorius would only give me a new one after I raised my hand. As the final grains of sand fell I was filling in blanks randomly, not even bothering to read the questions. I filled in the last circle with seconds to spare.

"Time! Put down your pencil! You shouldn't guess randomly, you know. There is a penalty for wrong answers."

"I could never have finished otherwise!"

"My word, you aren't expected to answer all the questions."

"Now you tell me!"

"Well, then," smirked Proctorius. "Give me your answer sheet so I can grade the results. You must achieve a score in at least the 75th percentile to claim the relics."