The Last Hero (GollanczF.) by Terry Pratchett

The Last Hero (GollanczF.) by Terry Pratchett Plot Summary

Introduction

Fire burns at the heart of this world, carried on the backs of four elephants standing upon the shell of Great A'Tuin, the World Turtle. But now that ancient flame faces extinction, not from the gods who guard it, but from those who stole it in the first place. Cohen the Barbarian, once the greatest hero who ever lived, has grown old and bitter in his role as Emperor of the Agatean Empire. The soft beds and easy living have killed more heroes than any dragon ever did. When his oldest friend chokes to death on a cucumber in the luxury of civilization, Cohen makes a terrible decision. With his remaining companions—the Silver Horde, seven ancient warriors whose combined age approaches a millennium—he plans to climb to Dunmanifestin, home of the gods themselves. Their mission: return the fire that the first hero stole, but return it with explosive interest. A single keg of Agatean Thunder Clay, detonated at the world's magical center, will drain all magic from the Disc. The seas will dry, the sun will fall, and the elephants and turtle will cease to exist. It's not revenge they seek—it's one last glorious death worthy of heroes, even if it means taking the entire world with them.

Chapter 1: The Silver Horde's Final Quest

The frozen wastes near Cori Celesti had witnessed many desperate quests, but none quite like this. Seven figures huddled around a fire that flickered against the mountain wind, their breath forming clouds in the bitter air. To any observer, they appeared to be nothing more than elderly men complaining about their backs and stomachs. But their eyes told a different story—eyes that had seen everything the world could throw at them and had lived to complain about it. Cohen the Barbarian, his diamond teeth gleaming in the firelight, stirred the pot of walrus stew. At eighty-something, he remained the most dangerous thing on the continent, though he now wore woolly combinations under his leather loincloth. Beside him sat Truckle the Uncivil, Boy Willie, and Caleb the Ripper—names that had once struck fear into the hearts of tyrants. Mad Hamish dozed in his wheelchair, occasionally muttering threats at invisible enemies. The sixth member, Mrs. McGarry, had once been the legendary Vena the Raven-Haired, though her hair was now gray and she spent more time knitting than killing. Their unwilling companion sat bound against a boulder, a young minstrel from Ankh-Morpork whose only crime had been walking down the wrong street at the wrong time. His lute hung in pieces, victim of their recent adventures through the Caves of Dread. The terror in his eyes was fresh—he'd just witnessed these ancient warriors casually slaughter monsters that should have torn them apart. Cohen tapped the barrel beside him with casual affection. Inside, fifty pounds of Thunder Clay waited for its moment. One spark, one impact at the right place, and the mountain of the gods would become a crater. The minstrel didn't understand the plan's full scope yet, but the casual way Cohen discussed ending the world chilled him more than the mountain air. The old barbarian's scarred face held no regret, only a weary satisfaction. They'd cheated death for decades, but civilization had nearly claimed them all. This would be their own ending, written in fire across the sky.

Chapter 2: Racing Against Apocalypse

In Ankh-Morpork, Lord Vetinari read the message from the Agatean Empire with the expression of a man discovering termites in his breakfast. The request was simple: stop Cohen the Barbarian from destroying the world. The method was left entirely to their imagination, which the Patrician found distinctly unhelpful. He turned to the assembled crowd of wizards, guild leaders, and various experts who had crammed into Unseen University's main hall. The wizards had constructed their latest magical device with impressive speed. The omniscope, a giant magnifying glass surrounded by what looked like expensive rubbish, could theoretically see anywhere and anytime. Unfortunately, as Archchancellor Ridcully explained while kicking the floor morosely, getting it to look where you wanted required considerable skill and several sacrificed gerbils. Ponder Stibbons, the young Head of Inadvisably Applied Magic, peered through the device and managed to locate the Horde's position. The images that flickered across the lens confirmed their worst fears—seven tiny figures climbing steadily toward a shimmering city that hung impossible distances above them. At their current pace, they would reach Dunmanifestin in days, not weeks. Leonard of Quirm sat quietly in the corner, sketching designs for what appeared to be a flying machine. When questioned, the artist-inventor explained his proposal with characteristic understatement. They would need several sailing ships, a large barge, more than a hundred swamp dragons, and about sixty apprentices working around the clock. The plan involved launching a craft over the Rim of the world, using the planet's rotation to sling them back up to the mountain's peak. Lord Vetinari looked at the drawing of men leaping from burning ships into boiling seas. Leonard's technical exercises had a distinctly apocalyptic flavor. But with magic useless near the Hub and conventional travel impossible, the Patrician found himself approving humanity's most dangerous invention: a wizard with a really good idea and unlimited funding. The message drums began their urgent clatter across the continent. Time was running out for everyone.

Chapter 3: Journey Beyond the Edge

The Kite hung in its cradle above the deck like some impossible fusion of bird and ship. Dragons nested in racks along its wings, their scales gleaming with dangerous potential. Leonard of Quirm made final adjustments while his three-man crew prepared for a journey no human had ever attempted—and returned to describe. Captain Carrot of the City Watch checked his equipment with military precision, though his mission badge bore the deeply inappropriate motto "We Who Are About To Die Don't Want To." Beside him, Rincewind the Wiz held the philosophical position that the entire venture violated several natural laws and at least one commandment. The Librarian of Unseen University had somehow smuggled himself aboard, adding both an extra passenger and additional complications to their already impossible flight plan. Leonard's flying machine represented years of careful observation and fevered genius. The dragons would provide thrust in carefully timed stages, while the ship's wings would carry them through the thin air beyond the world's edge. Prince Haran's Tiller, a mystical navigation device, would steer them through the void. The inventor spoke of these marvels with the calm confidence of a man who had never encountered a problem that couldn't be solved with the right application of pulleys and counterweights. The launch itself defied description. One moment they sat in a wooden box surrounded by hissing dragons, the next they were falling through empty space as the world curved away beneath them. The Rimfall thundered past their windows—a waterfall wider than nations, tumbling into star-scattered darkness. Dragons broke free from their pods and spiraled away on jets of flame, their duty done. In the terrible silence that followed, weightlessness claimed them. Rincewind watched a spoon float past his ear and decided that some natural laws were more natural than others. They were no longer part of the world below but had become something new—three men and an orangutan in a wooden ship, sailing between the earth and stars on borrowed time and dragon fire.

Chapter 4: Moonlight and Dragon Fire

The moon rose before them like a silver plate, but as they approached, it revealed secrets that no earthbound telescope had ever glimpsed. Forests of metallic trees covered its surface, their leaves glittering with stored sunlight. Dragons unlike any seen on the Disc soared between the peaks—creatures of silver and starlight that flamed not from their mouths but from quite another direction entirely. Leonard guided the Kite down through increasingly thin air, his hands steady on controls that had never been tested beyond his workshop. The landing involved considerable bouncing, several alarmed shouts, and a final graceful slide across a field of moon-silver grass. Dragons surrounded them immediately, watching with the curious intensity of cats discovering visitors. The view from this impossible vantage point struck them all into silence. The Disc hung above them in the star-filled void, vast beyond comprehension. An elephant's eye the size of an ocean regarded them with ancient patience. From this perspective, the world's true nature became impossible to deny or dismiss—it was exactly what everyone said it was, and the sight was simultaneously beautiful and terrifying. Carrot planted Ankh-Morpork's flag in the alien soil and claimed the moon for all the nations of the Disc. Something ate the flag almost immediately, which seemed to summarize their diplomatic achievements. The Librarian collected samples while Leonard sketched frantically, trying to capture light and shadow unlike anything he'd ever seen. They fed their remaining dragons with the moon's metallic vegetation, not knowing that the energy-rich plants would supercharge creatures adapted to the Disc's heavy atmosphere. When the dragons finally fired for their return journey, the thrust nearly tore the ship apart. But it hurled them back toward the world with force enough to complete their impossible mission. The moon fell behind them, but its dragons followed, streaming through space like a silver constellation celebrating their departure.

Chapter 5: At the Gates of Dunmanifestin

Cohen's plan for infiltrating the home of the gods demonstrated the tactical sophistication that had kept him alive for eight decades of active heroing. They would disguise themselves as gods and walk through the front gates. Evil Harry Dread, a minor Dark Lord who had joined their quest, provided costumes that ranged from the marginally plausible to the deeply questionable. Cohen wore fish scales and called himself the God of Fish. Boy Willie balanced a tomato on his head as the God of Being Sick. Truckle the Uncivil claimed to be the Muse of Swearing, while Mad Hamish simply announced himself as the God of Stuff. Mrs. McGarry borrowed Evil Harry's helmet to pass as a Valkyrie maiden. The disguises were ridiculous, but they worked because the gods expected them to work—after all, who would be insane enough to attempt such a thing? The gates of Dunmanifestin swung open to admit them into a city that defied every expectation. Instead of a great hall filled with carousing warriors, they found streets and shops, bureaucracy and divine small talk. Gods of every size and description bustled about their business, treating the newcomers with the casual politeness reserved for distant colleagues. The Horde found themselves escorted to the gaming tables where the gods played with mortal lives. Fate himself challenged Cohen to a simple game of dice—roll a seven with a standard six-sided die, or admit to being mortal imposters. It was an impossible challenge, but Cohen had spent a lifetime making the impossible look easy. He studied the die, tossed it high, and as it reached the peak of its arc, drew his sword in a movement too fast to follow. The blade split the falling cube perfectly in half. One fragment showed six dots, the other showed one. Seven total, as requested. The gods fell silent. Someone had just cheated Fate himself, and lived to boast about it.

Chapter 6: The Ultimate Sacrifice

Fate's rage at being outsmarted might have incinerated lesser mortals, but the Lady Who Must Not Be Named stepped forward with her own dice—two showing single dots that transformed into a writhing snake before vanishing entirely. She was the million-to-one chance, she explained, the impossible stroke of luck that heroes relied upon. But Cohen had seen too many heroes die believing in their luck to trust even divine favor. The confrontation was interrupted by a tremendous crash as something large and wooden smashed through the gates of Dunmanifestin. The Kite had arrived, its dragon-powered flight ending in a shower of splinters and mechanical debris. Captain Carrot emerged from the wreckage and, with perfect politeness, attempted to arrest Cohen the Barbarian for conspiracy to end the world. The standoff that followed revealed the fundamental mathematics of heroism. Seven elderly warriors faced one young watchman who earned forty-three dollars a month and believed completely in doing his duty. The Code that governed heroic behavior was absolute—one brave man against impossible odds would always find a way to win. Cohen and his companions understood this better than anyone, having relied on it throughout their careers. But Truckle the Uncivil had already pressed the detonator. The keg was hissing, its fuse burning toward fifty pounds of Thunder Clay. In minutes, the explosion would tear a hole in reality itself, draining all magic from the world and sending the Disc spinning into darkness. There was no way to stop it, and no time to carry it far enough from the mountain to matter. Cohen looked at his companions and saw the same realization in their eyes. They had sought a heroic death, and they had found one—just not quite the way they'd planned. With a grin that belonged to a much younger man, he began pushing Mad Hamish's wheelchair toward the edge of the mountain. If they were going to die anyway, they might as well die properly.

Chapter 7: Echoes of Immortality

The Silver Horde's final charge was brief but memorable. They loaded the explosive keg onto Hamish's wheelchair and launched themselves off the edge of Cori Celesti, falling ten miles through empty air toward the jagged rocks below. Their last words, echoing across the divine city, were a question about whether they were supposed to shout something heroic during their descent. The explosion, when it came, turned a mountain peak into a valley of bubbling rock. The flash could be seen from nations away, and the thunder shook snow from peaks a thousand miles distant. When the echoes finally died, there was no trace of the Horde or their deadly cargo. They had found their perfect ending—dying on their own terms to save the world they had threatened to destroy. But death, for heroes, is rarely permanent. Far below in the snowfields, seven horses waited with their Valkyrie riders, sent to escort the fallen warriors to eternal feast halls. The horses stood empty. Their intended passengers had found other transportation—seven magnificent steeds that flew between the stars themselves, carrying riders who had earned the right to explore those millions of other worlds that waited in the darkness. In the years that followed, travelers in the Hublands would sometimes report seeing riders in the sky, ancient figures on horseback silhouetted against aurora and starlight. The rubies Cohen had paid to his minstrel were found scattered in the snow, glowing like drops of captured fire. They became a shrine of sorts, visited by those who understood that some stories never really end. The minstrel survived to tell the tale, as minstrels must. His saga of the Silver Horde spread across the Disc, growing richer with each telling. But he kept the true ending to himself—the knowledge that somewhere among the infinite stars, seven old men were still riding, still seeking adventures worthy of heroes, still refusing to go gentle into that good night. The song remained, and in remaining, made them immortal.

Summary

The last heroes of the Disc found their perfect death in the moment they chose to live—not for glory or gold, but for the simple recognition that some things matter more than personal legend. Cohen and his Silver Horde had spent lifetimes taking what they wanted from a world that measured value in blood and treasure, but their final act was one of pure sacrifice. They saved the world by abandoning their plan to destroy it, proving that even the most selfish motivations could transform into something approaching grace. Leonard of Quirm returned to his painting, commissioned by the gods to decorate the Temple of Small Gods as punishment for his hubris in creating flight. But punishment and reward are sometimes indistinguishable—he had ten years to paint the entire world on a ceiling, and he approached the task with the joy of a man who had seen dragons made of moonlight and the curve of creation from impossible heights. The Kite's voyage had ended, but it had opened possibilities that would echo through generations of dreamers and inventors. In the end, the greatest adventures are not about reaching destinations, but about proving that the journey itself is always worth taking, even when—especially when—no one expects you to return.

About Author

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Terry Pratchett

Pratchett reframes the fantasy genre by intertwining humor and social commentary, offering readers a unique lens through which to examine contemporary issues. His work is characterized by imaginative storytelling, often set in the Discworld series, which follows a flat, disc-shaped world supported by four elephants standing on a giant turtle. This blend of satire and clever wordplay establishes Pratchett as a master of his craft, extending beyond mere fantasy to engage with real-world themes. His early book, "The Colour of Magic", marks the beginning of this journey, demonstrating his commitment to exploring complex ideas through the accessible medium of comic fantasy.\n\nIn a career marked by unconventional paths and innovative ideas, Pratchett's method involved prolific writing and an unwavering dedication to his craft, resulting in an average of two books per year. Even after being diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease, he continued to produce bestselling novels, illustrating his determination and resilience. His narrative style benefits readers who appreciate both the entertainment and depth offered by well-crafted satire. With awards such as the Carnegie Medal and a knighthood for his services to literature, his impact extends far beyond his own works, influencing aspiring writers and humorists. This bio highlights Pratchett's journey from an unpromising start to becoming one of the UK's most beloved authors, a testament to his lasting legacy.

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