The Truth about Heroes: Complete Trilogy (Heroes Trilogy)

by Krista Gossett

  “What is it?” Rienna asked, not sure of what else to say. She fought the urge to dive for her gown. She felt way too underdressed when he studied her like that.

  Ashe smiled and shrugged. “You’re always looking at my neck.”

  Rienna was a little embarrassed that he had been that observant. The tattoos on his neck weren’t so visible from this angle so that wasn’t an excuse. She could say nothing or she could tell the truth—anything else would sound silly.

  “I know it sounds stupid, but… I guess I like that part of a man. Belias was always pointing that out too, that I was staring at his neck. I guess there are a lot of reasons, but it always feels… silly, trying to explain it,” Rienna admitted, going for the truth. Saying she was a vampire wouldn’t wash.

  “That’s probably the first time you’ve brought him up without looking sad,” Ashe pointed out then looked apologetic. “Sorry, I guess I shouldn’t keep bringing things up like that.”

  Rienna was fine and smiled. “No, really… it’s like you said before; I can adapt to grief pretty quickly,” Rienna said, but a dark cloud swept across her face. “It’s Freesia and Night I keep thinking about. They… they would have been an amazing couple once all this was behind them. Belias and I too. I… don’t think everyone gets to find someone like that and surely not twice in a lifetime. I know it’s pretty… girly of me to admit it, but… I think in some ways it weighs heavier on me that love like that has to end more than it hurts to face death.” Emphasizing her and Belias seemed more like a defense against what Ashe was doing to her now. She held onto her hips firmly to avoid the temptation to reach for him. It embarrassed her and she knew she should shut-up but couldn’t.

  Rienna had realized that was a good segue into her neck fascination. “The muscles in a person’s neck… they are the most animated. They… are full of a person’s essence. In men, I usually see them better. They move constantly and they tell a story and… they… I don’t know, they remind me of… life,” she explained, her revelation falling apart at the end. She was humiliating herself and she crossed her arms over her chest, resting her chin on her wrists.

  Ashe smiled kindly and nodded as if he understood.

  “I think I get it. It’s a lot more complicated than why men like boobs, but it makes sense. It’s… vulnerable,” Ashe added and leaned back himself to look at the ceiling. She could see his mouth twitching like Melchior’s did when he was failing to hide amusement.

  Rienna threw the pillow on her chair at him.

  “Don’t get any ideas about me going soft, Ashe, I can still kick your ass.”

  Ashe frowned, trying to unsuccessfully cover a teasing smile. “You’d probably like my ass better if you could see it. It’s no neck, but…”

  Rienna was out of pillows so she made to retrieve the one she threw earlier and Ashe caught her wrist and pulled her arm so that their faces nearly touched. The pillow on his lap tumbled away as her hip balanced her sitting alongside him. Her breath caught and her eyes inspected his unsurely. She felt the shift tickle the tips of her breasts and knew they were responding to the intimacy of his nearness. He searched her face; not just her eyes, but his eyes took in her nose, her lips, her chin. Her lips parted nervously to speak and he silenced her with a kiss.

  Ashe didn’t just kiss her; he nipped at her lip, tasted it with his tongue, but he never quite deepened it to the point of dipping his tongue in her mouth. He just seemed to savor the taste, the texture, the small gasps that she let escape before capturing her mouth again. Rienna lost her body strength and started to sag against him so he grabbed her upper arms to keep them sitting up rather than lying back onto the bed, keeping her from pressing against him. He wanted to use his neck muscles to have more freedom to direct the kiss. When he pulled away, Rienna was in shock and her eyes fluttered in stunned confusion. She suddenly had trouble meeting his eyes with her own, but couldn’t quite put more distance between them to catch her breath.

  He reached over to grab her chin and she smacked his hand away, putting her arms up to hide her breasts under the thin fabric. He laughed softly and reached again, pulling her head forward so she would meet his eyes. Her lips quivered a little and tears poured in perfect streams across her cheeks but she kept her eyes on him.

  “I guess I need more practice; women aren’t supposed to cry afterwards,” Ashe said, laughing at himself and pushing her hair tenderly behind her ear.

  Rienna swiped at the tears then shook her head and smiled, sniffling a bit. She hesitated but then she reached out and took his hand in both of hers.

  “That’s not why I’m crying. I just… I forgot how… how nice… no… how wonderful a kiss could be,” Rienna had fumbled with the words and Ashe had been touched by how sweet and vulnerable she was in those moments. Ashe realized then that this strange bossy woman was someone he actually cared about. Someone it might hurt him to lose.

  The door burst open and Rienna had quickly shot to her feet and looked up to see Krose standing there. He looked at the two of them curiously then remembered what brought him there.

  “One less trip with Ashe here. Melchior wants us all to meet up in the elder’s chamber now. There’s a huge problem,” Krose said breathlessly, getting to the point.

  “Krose, slow down, what problem?” Rienna said, rounding the bed and standing in front of him. She felt silly holding her arms over herself but she could feel her nipples were still sensitive.

  “The elder. He’s dying and the apprentices are losing control of the barrier. If we can’t hold it, we’re going to have to march for war today,” Krose explained.

  Ashe and Rienna shot each other a look and Krose had hurried out.

  “We should’ve had sex but I was being a gentleman. Now we might have lost our chance,” Ashe said, shaking his head jokingly.

  Rienna grabbed the pillow this time and smacked him with it, not caring that her breasts jiggled as she swatted at him. She fled towards her dress and pulled it on and strapped on her weapons quickly, hurrying for the door. He didn’t chase her, just watched her with that crooked secretive smile on his face.

  “Grab your clothes and I’ll meet you there!”

  When Ashe reached the elder’s chamber, the others were already there and it was a state of hushed chaos—the others trying to make the elder comfortable while he stubbornly held up the barrier he had spent his life perfecting to shield this army.

  “Damn,” Ashe said quietly. “I wish the Tree had let us bring along some of its fruit.”

  Finn’s face had lit up and he patted Ashe’s shoulder. “That’s it! Thanks for reminding me!” Finn exclaimed, extracting the fruit from his bag and cutting it into slices for the elder. “I bet you the Mother knew I would need it for this.”

  Finn approached the elder and some of the apprentices made to stop him, but Melchior told him to let Finn through. Finn held the fruit to the elder’s lips and he took it reluctantly at first then quicker as his health seemed to restore. Finn tilted his head and frowned as if he were listening to someone speaking.

  Finn backed up and told his friends, “The Mother says that the elder is so advanced in age already that the fruit will only buy him another week or so of time, but I told her we would be grateful of any time we could use to see his dream to completion.”

  The group all seemed to have mixed reactions of relief and the sadness that the man would have very little time to enjoy his dream. Rienna kissed Finn’s cheek and left the room. Krose had followed behind her but the rest stayed.

  Rienna went out onto the battlements overlooking the training yard and watched the men below put everything into their work. She wondered what brought each of them to march against such a powerful army as the Mycean Royal Army, but it was probably for similar reasons as the rest of them—they must have also lost someone or everyone they love to the Myceans. Rienna looked over at Krose when she realized he stood beside her.

  “I know what it looked like, but Ashe was there when I woke up; said
he had nightmares last night,” Rienna explained, not sure why she defended herself like that. She really hoped what happened wasn’t about to be group conversation, for one.

  Krose laughed shortly. “You read me like an open book. Was it that obvious what I was thinking?”

  Rienna turned to Krose. “I don’t want… complications. I shouldn’t have… gotten mixed up with anyone I’m traveling with. The rest of the group certainly uses more discretion than I at least.” Rienna frowned at that. “Okay, Melchior wouldn’t know discretion if it sat on his face, but he’s such a slut it’s moot point.”

  “I… admit, I got a little jealous, seeing you with him,” Krose said, but shook his head when Rienna seemed wary suddenly. “Not what you think, Rienna, but I could see something going on between the two of you that I would give up ten years of my life just to have with someone. We’re just friends, I know that, but… you know, just to have someone to look forward to. You gave me my best friend back and I am grateful, but I don’t share your enthusiasm for cuddling with him.”

  Rienna blushed and kept looking down at the men below. “It’s not like that, Krose. There’s nothing between Ashe and I either. Sometimes we just end up talking about things and it gets pretty deep, that’s all.” Without Ashe here clouding up her head, she liked to believe it wasn’t serious at all, but she did like Ashe. It wasn’t love by any means, but she warmed to his face, his easy charm, his smell. She wrinkled her face bashfully remembering he smelled a lot like sandalwood and citrus fruit. His lips had been warm and saccharine and she shook her head violently to clear away her thoughts.

  “In that case, I would give up 20 years if what I saw was less than the whole package. You might not want to see it, or maybe just won’t admit it to yourself, but you’re pretty amazing, Rienna. Is it so hard to believe that a once-in-a-lifetime love can happen more than once in a lifetime?” Krose pushed, daring her to deny it.

  Rienna sighed heavily and kept looking at the men, men that might not have another week or two for that chance. She looked at Krose.

  “I can’t think about that now, Krose; you know I can’t. Those men down there? They might never get a chance at all and right now, I want to make sure as many of them make it through Myceum’s tyranny as possible,” Rienna told him passionately.

  Krose nodded and smiled crookedly.

  “That’s the Rienna that I know,” Krose said with pride. “But don’t forget about the other Rienna too.”

  Krose left her at the wall and as she stared down at the men and could see Ashe’s face on each of them. If that’s what it took to let them see another day, so be it. As long as the sentiment made her stronger, she could take it. She just didn’t like when he turned her weak and needy.

  Pierait had passed the Mycean city’s northern gates and no one dared to stop him so far. Without an armored band of allies, those that focused on the lone traveler had talked in hushed voices or steered clear of him. It was obvious that Pierait was one of the Soulless and people around here seemed to know more about the old stories than most. There were people that were kind to Pierait, but there were just as many who seemed scared. Pierait had listened as the braver ones told him that the Soulless that traveled west on Stoneweld sometimes grew full of fury— they were adamant that the Barren Lands on the other side of the Wraith’s Wall held a gathering of Furies and they called to the Soulless in agony and drove many of them mad so that their Purpose would be forfeit and the Soulless would join them. This was another good reason Pierait had left his companions behind; he did not wish for them to be in danger if his quest was ill fated. His companions were integral in healing the sickness in the world and he did not want to jeopardize that. Something told him that Rienna would not have let him go easily. That thought alone struck him as odd; he never guessed at how people would react. Yet it did not change the fact that the thought had crossed his mind and he had left without a word to anyone.

  In the distance, Pierait could see the towering mountains of the Barri Range and it wouldn’t be long before he had to make his way into the Cyryl Desert to approach the Wailing River.

  He would find a soul there. He simply couldn’t imagine not doing so.

  THE TRUTH ABOUT

  HEROES:

  TWO SIDES TO EVERYTHING

  Book Two

  Chapter 1: Broken Glass Ocean

  When in Morgaze, do as the mages do. However, Pierait was no longer in Morgaze and he was hardly blending in. Surrounded by his eccentric friends, it had been easy enough to get around without attracting too much attention but the further southwest he traveled, the more obvious it was that he was a bit unique. Soulless were born on the Stoneweld continent like any other, but they all had a tendency to congregate in Morgaze, where the shaman Shallay could give them Purpose. Pierait knew his companions would not go after him; their war with Myceum was their priority as this journey was his. Nonetheless, he remembered once that his mother had told him that when you separate from others, it is simple courtesy to divert your path from theirs. Never let them change their minds, she said.

  Pierait knew that they headed to Mythec so he had left the forest from the northwest along the outer edge of the mountain pass they’d be going through and traveled into the desert to avoid it. So many times he came close to being swallowed in the shifting sands; some as large as lakes and the deadly sands looked as solid as stone but could swallow you like pudding. Pierait had left great holes in the desert as he used the Void to devour the sands that tried to do the same to him. He was unsure on his feet and his breaths came quick as every yard he traveled felt like he had traveled twenty. The way he slipped and recalculated his balance and used his hands nearly as much as his feet, it was a wonder he was getting anywhere at all. Ability to walk on sand was not in his repertoire.

  Once he was just northeast of Myceum and south of the Respite, the stares were getting too pronounced and he had run into some traveling merchants, so he traded the pale blue mage’s robes he wore for desert garb. It was pale and sandy-colored like the desert and he could cover his face with the loose cloth hanging from the headpiece when the winds kicked up the hot sands. He could hide that shock of pale blue hair and use the shadows to make his yellow, reflective eyes less noticeable. He also remembered to purchase a good stock of food, but weapons were not necessary. He never got the hang of hunting and the Void was never insufficient towards stopping threats. Whatever else was ahead, he knew drawing attention was never a good idea, so that was the priority.

  From the maps the merchants had given him, he knew he was nearing the crossing at Walk of Respite and he needed to be well clear of the desert and the Walk itself, so he dipped southwest (although Myceum was southwest, we would be passing it to the north to head towards the Barren Lands) and kept his eye out for the landmarks, though few and far between. The Mycean Royal Army patrolled that area and they were stopping and detaining travelers. The merchants had warned him of that. The whole continent of Stoneweld whispered about the machinations of Myceum and their attacks on the Vieres continent; they were waiting for retaliation to occur.

  Pierait had heard along the way whispers of places that had been attacked, like Hoshril in the north which was a desert town in the Western Cyryl Desert (possibly Verity’s village but a few had been hit as sympathizers against Myceum) and the Ersenais Kingdom (where Rienna was from), moving to gather together forces from survivors of other places that were attacked. The oddity most people didn’t know about was that the group that was leading the fight against Myceum was being led by one of the men who had been attacking those places to begin with. Not of his own volition, but they wouldn’t be happy to know. He did not envy Melchior if that discovery came to pass. Best to avoid it altogether.

  It had taken Pierait nearly a week to make it from the Uzhuak Forest to just past the Walk and if his progress was any indication, it would be another week before he would even make it to the Wailing River, the river that marked the start of the territory unhappily called the
Barren Lands.

  Pierait did not have an imagination by any means but after seeing so much sand, it started to look like a strange ocean of shattered glass. It wasn’t his imagination though; sand was little more than battered bits of glass after all and he had seen it part like water in an attempt to end his journey many times already. He was ready to be rid of so much white misery and by the time he had shuffled to the City of Maharyjab, it was apparent his Purpose would need a break.

  Maharyjab was a magnificent labyrinth of clay molded into arches, balconies, and stairs both straight and winding. It looked as if the city had been molded from the same colossal ball of red clay. So much of the architecture seemed frivolous to most outsiders, but Pierait was an observer and he had seen that the odd extensions from the walls could be used for hanging clothes or growing pots loaded with fruit-bearing vine plants and the holes above top windows would sometimes drop buckets so that someone on street level could fill it with well water to be raised by pulley. It was a practical city mistaken for an eccentric one, a beautiful machine.

  Pierait did not stick out here, having the clothes of a desert traveler, but it was apparent that the city residents had a keen knowledge of who belonged here and who did not. He did not attempt to deceive them about that. His bags were so light that they were little more than deflated flaps of extra cloth and after exchanging a few questions with an elderly woman throwing him lecherous smiles, he knew all he needed to know about what to do here before moving on.

  Restocking his dwindling supplies could wait—it was rest and a simple meal that decidedly came first. The woman had directed him to an inn called the Sea of Sand and the tavern area was mostly empty this time of day but for a few diners, the barmaid and a stern faced man that was clearly the one in charge. Pierait approached him.

  “Do you have a vacancy, sir?” Pierait had asked. His voice had taken the past week to mature and it was even deeper than Melchior’s now though more velvet than gravel.