The Truth about Heroes: Complete Trilogy (Heroes Trilogy)

by Krista Gossett

  The man let down his guard and nodded.

  “My name is Night and hers is Freesia,” Night offered, shaking his head. “I was orphaned as a child myself and picked up by the Cirque. A swordsman named Jasyne traveled with us for a few years and taught me that art. He knew a man named Malek that went mad and killed his pupils then himself. Jasyne had been friends with Malek but Malek hadn’t been the same since the Suleika were slaughtered. Jasyne wanted to return the style to its origins— said only he and Malek knew the secrets.”

  Night looked up at Ashe now.

  “But you’re alive so it must not be the answer you seek. Then again,” Night said, thinking aloud. “You were probably younger than I when you learned, though. Perhaps, it is your answer. I take it that if Malek was your teacher, he left you for dead and that’s how you lost your memory. I noticed the wicked scar on your head.”

  “How can the two of you seriously be babbling about some stupid ‘art’ when we’ve just survived a massacre?!” Freesia said, quietly at first then screeching hysterically. Freesia started to calm herself when she spoke again. “And whatever memories you lost are probably better off gone…”

  Night smirked over at Freesia.

  “Freesia, darling, grief won’t do us any good right now. That devil is still out there. We have to focus on revenge,” Night explained, his voice tender now.

  “You’re an idiot, Night, always oversimplifying things,” Freesia hissed out with venom. “Just how do you plan on doing that? You saw what those machines could do! Think you’re just going to charge in and wrap them up in silk and sorrow? This isn’t some stage act and we’re no warriors.”

  Most men would have gotten angry with this, but Night grinned with humor.

  “You might have noticed, love, but I’m not exactly juggling apples and you’re as slippery as an eel. It doesn’t take brute strength, just tact. Although wrapping someone in silk sounds tempting, I’d rather it be you,” Night countered smoothly. Freesia stood and spun around in one fluid movement.

  “Stop calling me ‘darling’ and ‘love’, Night. You don’t have any concept of either,” Freesia spat back at him. If she weren’t so thoroughly humorless at the moment, she might have just rolled her eyes at yet another corny comeback, but she was hardly in any mood to humor anyone.

  Ashe stepped forward and stood between them, facing Freesia, as any healthy man would do.

  “This is not a time for fighting either. That man is mine to deal with. If the two of you so wish it, we can all go to find him. I’ve heard someone mention seeing those machines coming out of Peneschal Falls and I could use your help,” Ashe calmly interjected.

  “Why should we help you?” Freesia said, her eyes glossy with tears.

  Night peeked around Ashe’s shoulder.

  “He saved our lives, Freesia. There’s more to this than what you may think. The man knows Ashe and this could be worse than we even imagined,” Night added.

  Freesia grew quiet and thoughtful then looked up at Ashe. Her lips pursed together and her eyes narrowed.

  “Fine. I am grateful to you and I shall go. But I wouldn’t let Night stand behind you, if I were you. He may be an incorrigible flirt with women but most people suspect he’s equal opportunity,” Freesia added with a cruel little smile, making her best attempt to restore her wit.

  Night rolled his eyes as Ashe spun around to face him.

  “She’s teasing, of course. Anything to play hard to get,” Night said with a shrug.

  They reached Peneschal Falls within their second morning and tethered their horses in a copse of trees where they would be hidden. It didn’t take long to find the hidden entrance (although crossing was a bit less easy— they used acrobatics, silks and trees to swing across) and be struck with awe as they entered the vast forgotten temple. Ashe felt a strange kind of nostalgia. The symbols carved into the floor were exactly the ones he bore on his body. He wished he had known how to read the language of the Old Tribe; he was fairly sure it wasn’t a secret recipe at least. If it were, he hoped it was cookies.

  They looked around and saw nothing, but Ashe trusted his feelings. There was more to this place. They broke off in different directions to search the chamber, Ashe heading straight for the altar. He noticed a crack along the side and dug his fingers in. The stone door swung open to reveal a musty but recently used series of tunnels. They walked through these tunnels silently, looking at the pictures and strange writing along the walls. At the end of the tunnel was a large chamber. There was no one there. On the table was a series of maps, the entire Vieres continent in great detail. Several places were circled and numbered. It stared at Calaris, marked with a number ‘1’, followed by a small barbarian settlement marked ‘2’. The area labeled ‘3’ was Merschenez Castle, ‘4’ was none other than the location of the tent. ‘5’ was…

  “That’s where he’s headed! Morgaze Magic City!” Ashe exclaimed, frowning as he noticed that many areas were circled but the numbers ended there.

  “How do you know it isn’t just a trap or something they left to throw us off?” Freesia asked cleverly. “Who leaves maps that isn’t trying to be found?”

  Ashe nodded, having thought of that too.

  “I realize that might be a possibility but…” Ashe began.

  “You think this guy does want to be found,” Night finished. Ashe smiled back at them and nodded.

  “This guy’s an egomaniac, for sure,” Ashe said a little sadly. “Not quite the image I had of a long-lost brother, but there’s nothing I can do now. We have to stop him. We’re the only ones who can now.” He couldn’t help but think back to the strange clear tubing around Melchior’s head that seemed to pierce his skull at the soft sunken parts on the sides of the forehead. What sort of army were they dealing with?

  Ashe grabbed the maps from the table, folded them carefully, and handed them to Freesia, who put them in a traveling pouch for safekeeping. He nodded then led the way back out through the tunnels. They suddenly felt as if they were not alone and walked a little slower, talking in hushed voices about where they were headed next.

  They rounded the corner and were met with a group of three strange travelers that drew their weapons, so they drew as well. Freesia had grabbed a mallet that had been sitting by the maps, but felt rather foolish wielding it.

  Had Ashe heard her right? She was looking for Melchior, just as they were. Ashe lowered his scimitars and shook his head.

  “Looks like he’s long gone, but we think we have a lead. Or a lead to a trap. Either way, we shouldn’t stick around to see if they’re coming back. We’ll share our information but let’s set up camp south of here,” Ashe suggested.

  Because Rienna didn’t have any better leads, she acquiesced, sheathing Justice and gesturing for him to lead the way.

  Chapter 4: To the River of Destiny!

  The two groups of three people glared at each other over the fire, unsure of what to do next. It had been established that they weren’t enemies and they all got the gist of each other‘s situations. Rienna needed those maps but she hardly wanted to share her revenge with those three. She didn’t intend on killing anyone if she didn’t have to, she only wanted Melchior. The only sound they heard was the now far-off whooshing of the great Peneschal Falls. Time ticked by with painful sluggishness.

  Rienna finally made up her mind. They would have to agree to work together. She didn’t like the way Ashe was staring at her. His features were too unnervingly similar to Belias’s (and someone else— she couldn’t quite put a finger on it), but Ashe was otherwise nothing like him. Belias wasn’t so delicate of feature as this one; in fact, she was tempted even to say that Ashe was PRETTY. Ashe was still clearly a warrior but where he wasn’t hard with muscle, he was soft of feature. Belias always sat and talked properly and was sincere. All things that this man seemed a stranger to, Ashe was animated, expressive and teasing. She guessed he became so stereotypically male to offset his somewhat feminine beauty. The man named Night tr
ied to hide his amusement with the situation while his ‘friend’ Freesia, just seemed nervous and a little sad. Dinsch was tense, trying to sit still, but quite obviously disgusted by the horses. Krose looked ready to jump up if anyone so much as breathed in Rienna’s direction. Ashe, of course, wore that smug smile on his face, while Rienna stared back coldly, biting back her agitation. Damn it, but she knew that aggravating smile somewhere too…

  “We have to work together then,” Rienna finally stated. Rienna nodded her head towards Krose and Dinsch. “Dinsch and Krose don’t stand in the way of what I plan to do and there’s only one reason I’m doing this. I need Melchior’s blood on Belias’s dagger, on the sword of my father. None of you here has more reason than I to kill him with their own hands.”

  None could disagree with that and Rienna tried to hide her moment of realization. Ashe did look a lot like Melchior… Ashe’s face became serious and he nodded. If they weren’t related, she’d be damned. Even the tattoos were spot-on. Not exactly the same, but similar enough to not be coincidence.

  “Be that as it may, it will not be so easy as deciding who gets that blow. Melchior is no pushover and if any of us has the opportunity to take him down, we shouldn’t hesitate. Every second he breathes puts another life at risk,” Ashe stated simply. He sighed nearly imperceptibly. “And believe me, if my luck changes and I can keep him alive just long enough to find out what he knows about our Tribe, I will. THAT much should be allowed to me. I don’t care for the killing blow. He is my blood, evil bastard or not.”

  That confirmed it for Rienna. Blood, and looking as similar as they did, it would have to be his brother. Melchior was clearly older but they were just too similar to even be half-brothers or cousins. The coloring was very dissimilar but there was no mistaking it. Melchior had that same lopsided grin like he was amused by some secret joke. She hated when he did that.

  “If it is agreed then we start traveling tomorrow,” Rienna looked now at Ashe and nodded. “To Morgaze Magic City.” It was all she could do not to dwell on it. There would be time to find out more.

  Morning arrived too soon, for they all felt exhausted. Ashe noticed that Rienna was the first awake and tending to the care of her long sword and dagger with an enigmatic yet emotional look filling her eyes. While the others attended to their morning rituals, Ashe approached her, taking care to make some noise so surprise wouldn’t leave him with that wicked sword in his gut.

  “You don’t seem to like me very much,” Ashe said conversationally, sitting on a boulder a reasonable distance away from her.

  Rienna’s grey eyes looked up at him expressionlessly, stopping her hands for a moment, before going back to the swords. He mentally sighed a bit, glad he didn’t get met with that cold, narrowed look she shot him so many times the day before. He couldn’t bring himself to ask why, curious as he was. He decided that she might volunteer that when she felt the time was right. Maybe she just didn’t like anybody and he shouldn’t take it personally. The two odd companions were obviously comrades, even friends, that Bryfolk Dinsch and the overprotective thief Krose. Even at that moment, Krose was watching him like a hawk. He couldn’t help but smirk at the man. He gathered Rienna was used to having things done her way and was none too happy about having more companions on her personal vendetta. He even guessed she maybe wished to die in the process and didn’t want friends. Too bad for her. There was no way in hell he was going to let her take away his only chance of knowing another piece of his story. As it was, he barely had a decade of memories and a lot of scars and tattoos he had no idea how he even got.

  Ashe had already gathered that he was seven-years-old around the time his Tribe was wiped out; it was a piece of history and he had been able to surmise his age. He was probably nine-years-old when he became Malek’s pupil. He had been alone and covered in blood, bodies of children he didn’t remember scattered around him, according to a single memory he had the night that Night had told him of Malek. Was that a real memory? Even the memory of waking had been unclear; remembering little but that the wound was still caked and he had had a wicked headache. If so, where had he been those years in between? He rubbed at the scar on his head, wincing at the pain. He had heard somewhere that touching a bruise or a scar that still ached would push out the memory of its origin. Whoever said that was misguided. It really just reminded him that pain hurt.

  Rienna caught him wincing when he rubbed the side of his head from the corner of her eye. It was true; she didn’t like him very much, and not for any reason that was fair or rational. But the way he had winced told her very quickly that the scar was soul deep. Curiosity got the best of her. Keeping her expression cool, she looked up at him. Whatever bothered her about him, she couldn’t keep being needlessly hostile. She should at least be conversational.

  “Rubbing it doesn’t make the pain go away,” she stated without emotion and went back to what she was doing. “Does it remind you of something you need to remember?”

  He just smirked and winced a bit, sucking in air through his teeth as he hit a particularly sharp lump of nerves. The skin of the jagged scar even now nestled badly-wired nerves and he could swear he could still feel a dent where steel had stuck there. He had seen how axes stuck in skulls before; barbarians would crush their victim’s head against the ground with their foot as they tried to pull it back out of cleaved bone. Had his master retrieved his sword so heartlessly? Still, he laughed that Rienna managed to hit on the old wives’ tale he had been thinking of himself.

  “I don’t think all the rubbing in the world will return that memory,” he joked back, and then looked up into the sky a bit preoccupied. He looked a bit sad now.

  She now realized that she had never seen such a weakness in Belias before, sadness, and suddenly wished she had. Did she allow him to be vulnerable around her? Did Belias ever feel that way? Would he have let her comfort him if he did? She began to think that maybe her ease with him had been because he seemed so calm, but in some ways, it made her feel at fault that she was so preoccupied with appearing strong that she didn’t allow those around to show weakness. For all her bravado, she did wear her heart on her sleeve sometimes. Men were a different creature, but she had always tried to emulate that strength. The strain of it made her seem cold at times. She quietly realized that this was WHY women seemed cold when they emulated men that way—it wasn’t their natural strength and it took effort.

  “I’m really not sure where this scar came from, but I have an idea. Before, all I knew is that it was supposed to kill me and it’s the reason I have no memory of the times before then. My master must have gone mad and killed everyone but me. I saw the other children there, slaughtered. They were strangers to me and it made no sense. People said I was lucky, but I don’t think so. I’ve never been lucky. I have the worst luck imaginable unless living for more bad luck is the kind of luck they refer to. Is it really lucky to wake up surrounded by dead children and no memory? Who can praise the gods for their luck in light of all that?”

  He smiled at Rienna sheepishly. “In fact, I’ll probably get all of you killed in some really stupid way. I always manage to escape death myself. Lucky, they say. But it appears I’ve lost everything so many times. Can’t remember all of it, but does that sound like any kind of luck worth having?” Ashe shrugged.

  “I used to hide from everyone. Didn’t want to spread the bad luck, always being there to watch people die. But I couldn’t save anyone either. That’s what made me take the chance. I’ve accepted that Fate’s got it in for me. I must have been through a lot of horrible incidents. I know that I didn’t have a chance of forgetting then but I had survived because I had WANTED to.”

  “When I first found out that I had an older brother, I thought maybe luck was on my side. But then I learn he’s a psychotic egomaniac that slaughters people indiscriminately. A man with my face that chose another path.”

  Ashe shrugged again and smiled up into the sky; ‘egomaniac’ had been the word Rienna had used for Melch
ior, as well as recognizing the similarities of the brothers. He was awfully intuitive for a man and she wondered if it was why he was talking to her now, to dispel her obvious dislike. He was answering her unspoken questions, removing the burden of her asking.

  “When I think about the bad things, all I can do is smile. I don’t really get to feel anything too deeply because I’ve never been allowed to be attached to anything. I thought I was coming here to die, but again, I escaped. The good thing this time around is that I got to save two others. Night and Freesia. Can you believe it? All of the massacres I have been through and my hero’s scorecard gets not one mark, but TWO.”

  Ashe held up two fingers proudly to emphasize the point. His grin made his face even more boyish. Again, he looked up at the sky, pulling his legs up to his chest and rocking on the boulder.

  “I wonder if this finally means my luck is changing. I think if I could be lucky, REALLY lucky, just one time in my life, it would mean that I could save all of you. More points for me!”

  Ashe held up a finger for each of them and laughed. “To be honest, I’m kind of soft, but don’t share my secret. Something about seeing people who stay close, families and friends; it kind of makes me jealous. I have one friend back in Guileford, Shyren, and he’s the closest friend I’ve got. Kind of hoping to have more, but that might be greedy.”

  Rienna listened to him intently, having stopped fiddling with the weapons long before, without realizing it. She was slightly annoyed that he was so open. The tiny needles of his confession stabbed her heart, which she thought was incapable of feeling any more pain. She knew that if she had been him, she wouldn’t have lived a day past seven. It suddenly made all the difference in her attitude towards him. She understood why he seemed so carefree. It was hard to believe he had never been able to truly grow attached or feel the loss of the broken bonds. She could not imagine how she could live without love. She lost her husband, her father, her king in one fell stroke and that love didn’t die, it just burned with vengeance. She realized that Ashe was studying her face intensely, a small frown pulling at his lips with the effort. Shaking her head to snap out of the direction her thoughts took her, she looked up at the sky.