The Truth about Heroes: Complete Trilogy (Heroes Trilogy)

by Krista Gossett

  Krose grabbed her hand and squeezed it. She welcomed the warm calloused feel of his skin and squeezed it back as they walked on.

  Dinsch didn’t know if he was really ready to know. There was a feeling of war in his heart like need and denial clashing stubbornly. He wished he could just get on a boat and leave this city, telling himself that Seles was fine and her husband was going to take good care of her. He cursed his stupidity; he had said his goodbye to her, left her to that husband she loves and he knew he could be setting himself up for a lackluster reunion, once again interrupted by the dull man she had chosen. He would be hard-pressed to top his last parting line at that. The thought made him smile. Seles had always had a stubborn way of making choices that most would see as punishment. At least that was the way he had always seen her; the Bryfolk girl that would hole herself up with dusty books and stubbornly insist there was nothing more between them than celebratory sex on a magical evening that otherwise meant nothing.

  For hours, he took every other street other than the one that led to the manor she called home. Or maybe, did call it home, if she hadn’t lived. It ate at him, wanting to know if she made it, not wanting it to be otherwise. After much internal debate, he realized he was standing in front of the manor. Either he could flee or face the moment of truth.

  The manor was not as glorious as before; the bastion of concrete and stone had suffered large cracks when the earth had shaken and the clean-up was looking to be an arduous process that no one was hurrying to accelerate. Dinsch frowned as his eyes drank in the scene; the usual guards and passing servants were nowhere to be seen and he did not know a lump was forming in his throat until he painfully swallowed it. As the minutes passed, the place was feeling more like a ruin, a tomb, and that thought made him frantic. He started to hurry about, slamming open doors and he was barely containing his hysteria as every room proved to be empty of life. When he reached the courtyard, his heart leapt into a thunderous rhythm as he saw Seles kneeling beside a stone in the gardens. It took every ounce of restraint not to grab her up and run with her, but he wasn’t looking to be reprimanded by her husband for the impulse.

  Dinsch approached her calmly, making enough noise as to not startle her but when he was a few feet behind her and to her right, he stopped and realized what he was seeing.

  The stone clearly had her husband’s name engraved upon it, as well as the year of his birth and death. Dinsch felt a bit guilty having thought ill of the dead.

  “I’m sorry, Seles; I know he was good to you,” Dinsch finally said, his words truly apologetic.

  Seles spun around, her eyes wide and round with disbelief as she rose shakily to her feet. She almost lost her balance but Dinsch caught her arm. His movements seemed to make her own bolder and she launched herself at him, wrapping her arms about him in embrace and lying soft kisses of relief on his face.

  “I never thought I would see you again, didn’t dare hope…” Seles breathed out between quick kisses and soft sobs. Her cheeks were wet with tears and her eyes were red in a way that told him she had been crying long before he got there.

  He wrapped his arms about her waist and let her do as she would, his own joy swelling inside him in a way only she could ever give him. She tore at her clothes and tugged at his loincloth, feeling his cock rise swiftly to answer her silent pleas. She threw her legs up around him and sheathed herself on him but stopped to meet his gaze and stroke his face tenderly.

  “I was so afraid I had missed the chance to tell you how much I have always loved you,” Seles told him, watching his passiondarkened eyes as red as blood. She started to buck against him and he sighed and held his legs steady as she steered them towards climax. When she leaned back with her climax setting upon her, he sucked one of her soft pink nipples into his mouth and soon followed with his own.

  When they finished, he allowed himself to collapse in the soft mossy grass and she rolled off of him to lie beside him. So many questions sprang to Dinsch’s mind but he was finding it hard to ask them as clarity came back to him.

  “Why are you here, Seles? Everyone has left,” Dinsch asked her softly, not looking at her but squeezing her hand.

  “The ones that survived the Waking left shortly after they saw the Master had perished. I told them to take whatever they would for their service and wished them well. I insisted I bury my husband alone. Carved the headstone myself too. I… wanted to leave. It is so lonely here. But… I didn’t want to leave until I knew you wouldn’t be coming back for me. I wasn’t sure if I would ever be able to leave; my heart despaired. I couldn’t bring myself to give up hope,” Seles told him, her body wracking with sobs now.

  Dinsch tucked her against him and held her as she cried. He kissed her forehead and smiled against it. She loved him, she had said, and nothing else mattered. They fell asleep holding each other sometime later and it was the best sleep either of them could remember.

  Once Rienna and Krose met up with Finn and Verity at merchant’s dusk, Rienna learned that Finn had already booked passage across the Echoing Sea and they were lucky that it was both possible to cross and also on the smooth swift ship Rienna had promised Dinsch. Rienna told them that Dinsch would be along soon, he had promised, but as merchant’s dusk edged toward sunset, Rienna’s heart sank and it took everything she had not to cry. No one dared speak; she looked as if she would explode in tears or rage, with neither being preferred to the other.

  Rienna rose to her feet from the bench in the center of the plaza as their departure time neared and she smiled weakly.

  “It’s time to go now,” Rienna announced and they fell into step behind her.

  The ship that they were to cross on was a metallic behemoth, obviously a trade ship, with the strange name Moxy Bustion on its prow. She headed up the ramp and tears threatened to spring to her eyes.

  “RIENNNNNNAAAAAA!” she suddenly heard in the distance, and spun so quickly at the sound that Finn had had to steady her to keep her from plunging into the sea. Dinsch was speeding towards them and she did not care if the collision left her bruised, she did not slow as they neared.

  However, Dinsch was much more cautious and caught her in such a way that her momentum made them spin in circles as he held her. Her tears sprung free and she sobbed and pounded at him weakly with her fists.

  “You scared me. I thought I wouldn’t get to say goodbye,” Rienna said pouting again.

  “Not a chance; we just slept too long,” Dinsch told her happily and Rienna pulled back, ashamed that she hadn’t noticed Seles beside him.

  Seles did not look unhappy; in fact, she was beaming at their reunion. With enthusiasm that surprised her, she detached herself from Dinsch and pressed a quick chaste kiss on Seles’ lips and embraced her tightly. When she pulled away, she grabbed both of their hands and sought their eyes.

  “This is… goodbye then?” Rienna asked, solemnly.

  Dinsch laughed mirthfully and chucked her chin.

  “We’re going with you, Rienna. Not happy about the voyage, but Seles and I have been away from the homeland for far too long now,” Dinsch told her to her relief.

  “It’s… really nice to hear my birth name again,” Seles admitted, her eyes demure as she looked at Dinsch. Rienna was happy for them; she knew that feeling. She also knew that it was likely to always be a thing of the past for her. Seeing her first love tainted in darkness and the second swallowed in gory pieces by that same darkness, as much as she would love a third chance, she didn’t feel it was a thing she could trust not to fail once again. Melchior had not been her lover, but even he was gone; someone who had loved her unrequited, watched her fall for his best friend and then his brother and denied her neither. She worried if the curse would fall to Krose for taking her maidenhead, that fate didn’t just work in sequence. She chided herself for such fatalistic thinking.

  She shook her head of those thoughts and started to pull Dinsch and Seles toward the ship. Within moments, they were running alongside her with Krose, Verity and F
inn all awash with the contagious happiness of their group. Rienna let the joy of the two couples she was with wash over her and chased off the dark thoughts. Krose had told Dinsch he was really happy for them and had once again found some quiet place to open up his leatherbound book and start writing again.

  All of the euphoria seemed to tire the couples but Rienna had stayed above decks to walk about. Dinsch and Seles didn’t take long to lose their amorous mood with the rocking of the ship, insuring their bonding would occur above decks while they helped each other get sick over the railing. She usually did not get seasick, but that night she had gotten sick twice in the hour she had spent with her friends before they retired. She paced the deck hoping the fresh air would make her tired enough to sleep and ran into Krose. He was scribbling away quickly, huddled up to an electric lantern to see. Rienna smirked when he noticed her and looked up. His unfocused eyes cleared as he smiled in return.

  “You still haven’t told me why you’ve taken up writing,” Rienna tried, grabbing at conversation to accelerate her sleepiness.

  “There’s a lot to write about,” Krose shot back softly, shrugging apologetically at another cryptic answer. Rienna sighed with exasperation but smiled anyway. “You look ill, Rienna, pale and clammy. Have you been holding down food?”

  She laughed at his mothering, but shook her head.

  “I think I cleared out my stomach the second time around,” Rienna admitted and Krose frowned. He reached into his satchel and pulled out some herb-seasoned crackers he had baked the day before. He had insisted they would settle her stomach no matter how ill she got. She worried she might be getting ulcers with how ill her thoughts made her anymore, but he had so far been right that the crackers would stay down so she wordlessly complied.

  “Will you tell me a story so I can sleep?” Rienna asked.

  Krose laughed. “Am I that boring?” Krose quickly countered, but with good nature and no hint of offense or accusation.

  She nudged him scoldingly and shook her head. “You know what I mean. You won’t tell me what you’re writing about, but I’m sure all this practice has made you quick enough to spin a good bedtime story at least.”

  Krose looked at her for a moment, the flickering light of the lantern playing at their faces. He tossed her the satchel of crackers and gestured for her to follow. She did so and he led her to her cabin, a small room with sleeping room for one but a chair beside it was good enough for company. He sat her on her bunk and sat in the chair, using his lean legs to push the back of the chair to tilt against the wall. His gaze locked on the ceiling as he gathered his thoughts. Rienna watched him as she curled under the blankets and settled in. He didn’t tell her the significance behind it but nostalgia hit him and he told her the one bedtime story that Seije remembered their mother would tell before their parents left them at the orphanage. Rienna was asleep long before he finished and he was glad for that, since his eyes were wet with remembered longing for parents that would never return.

  For an hour or so, Krose wasn’t quite sure how long, he held her hand as she slept. He wondered if he would be able to settle with a woman once they got back to Ersenais, let alone one that was as easy to be with as Rienna was. He never stopped loving Rienna; he knew he would do anything for her even now, but he also knew it was unrequited. Right now, he was her dearest friend and he didn’t dare take that from her. When he stepped away from Rienna later, he found there was no shortage of whores aboard the Moxy B and took one with gusto to bear away some of that frustration.

  “Land ho!” was the sweetest word any of them had heard in days, but they were hardly prepared for how different Xanias had looked from when they had last seen it as they approached. It wasn’t quite as populated as before, but the rebuilding was in full force and the cacophony of trade and determination filled the harbor. No bodies were draping the streets and it did not take long to figure out that most of the people here now were once the forces that came from the north to chase off the Mycean troops and they had obviously succeeded and worked with fervor to rebuild. The gulls’ cries no longer sounded haunting, but instead sounded excited by the prospect of stealing a fresh catch.

  Again, they all seemed anxious to split up and explore, only Dinsch and Seles wanting to pair up where the others were content to explore on their own. It was unspoken that there was still an uneasiness here; the last time Krose, Dinsch and Rienna had filed down these streets together, they had also been with Pierait and Ashe (and later Melchior) and marching through the aftermath of a massacre. None that had been there were eager to risk bringing it up.

  Rienna couldn’t help but smile at the spot where she had seen Melchior pop up and she had been ready to run her sword through him. For a moment, she had been transfixed to the spot, hoping maybe he would just appear there again. She shook herself from that nonsensical thought and continued on. The tavern where Melchior had first met Ashe (as himself, rather than the puppet) since they were kids was up and running again, the sign missing and she couldn’t recall if she ever knew the name. Without thinking she stepped in and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust to how dim it was. For a moment, she thought she saw Ashe and Melchior at the bar but she shook her head and the specters abandoned her. There were about a dozen patrons but they were not rowdy. The only one sitting at the bar tipped his skein at her and took a healthy swig. She nodded and took the nearest seat at the other end of the bar.

  The bartender did the patented, unnecessary swiping at the bar with a wet rag. The man was young with chestnut hair but he wore an eye patch, a wicked scar wicking from the top and bottom to affirm it wasn’t for show. Despite that, he had a quick friendly smile for her.

  “Can I get you anything?” he asked her now.

  “Ah, it’s been a while. The world was a darker place when last I was here. I saw this place razed to the ground…” Rienna mused, but caught herself reminiscing unpleasantly and shook her head apologetically. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to blurt that out. Club soda please.”

  He snatched a clear sparkling bottle and cracked the seal at the top with practiced ease and set it in front of her.

  “Thank you,” she told him and reached into her pocket to pay. He reached over the bar and stopped her, leaning back when he saw that spooked her.

  “No need, miss. It took me a moment to recognize you, but it’s on the house. No hero is going to pay in my bar,” the bartender told her kindly.

  “How…” Rienna started to ask.

  “There are stories of a woman and her strange group of companions circling these parts. Your swords are pretty famous. Everyone knows you stopped the Old Gods on the floating island. There is not enough coin in the world to repay you.”

  Rienna was humbled and grateful, ever in awe of how fast word traveled, but this time she grabbed his wrist before he could walk away.

  “It’s been so long since I have been here; will you tell me how Vieres has fared?” Rienna asked. The bartender smiled and complied happily with her request.

  Rienna learned that the place where the land was dying in the east had been rid of wraiths and it was populating again. Northern tribes were reassembling with the threat of the temperamental elementals gone. Most places were quickly rebuilding and Ersenais was coming along well. The princess was filling her role as queen wonderfully and she was thrilled to learn that Seije was still captain of the guards as well. There was nothing but good news and it warmed her heart that the world was not lost in all the turmoil she had fought with her life to save it from. When she was ready to leave, she thanked the bartender (whose name was Farrow) and headed up the road to see the city recovering before her. Flowerboxes were filling windows, a good deal of the buildings were like new and there was no evidence that this place had been a mass grave. Still at the steps of the central building, flowers lined the street in honor of the fallen. The cloying fragrance of the flowers felt heavy on her tongue and Rienna lurched forward, vomiting once more. It was time she found a doctor. It occurred to her t
hat it would be an ironic thing to defeat armies and gods and fall victim to a flu.

  Chapter 8: Overabundance

  It wasn’t long after they departed from their friends at the Walk of Respite that Lyria and Pierait had inevitably found their way back to Maharyjab, where he had found her working as a barmaid for the closest man she could call a father, Urys. They learned from the merchants that everyone steered clear of Myceum still, that the fleshy globs sloughed from the mechanical abominations and the legions of fallen soldiers of Mythec had clogged drainage and the streets were grotesque with slimy leftover corpse-mash. When Stoneweld had split, it hadn’t come close enough to mercifully drain the ruined kingdom. The carrion animals also avoided it like the plague. Even from several miles, the hot sun and lack of rain after turned the clotted mess into an unbearable stench that only men blessed with the lack of smell could stomach. They said any man stupid enough to try would end up heaving to the point of asphyxiation or until he vomited his own stomach and intestines. One man at least had been seen retching so hard, blood and excrement had come up. Lyria knew better than to blindly believe that; though she did not doubt that the odor would be unbearable, she also knew how a merchant’s loose tongue had the tendency to be peppered with exaggeration.

  Pierait seemed more like the silent man she knew before once they had separated from their companions and made the trip to her old home. Days were hot and silent, but once the sands cooled and camp was made, Lyria would prod Pierait for tales. She had not known the friends he traveled with between Morgaze and the Uzhuak Forest well and she wanted to know more since there was time to reminisce. Pierait seemed to have some trouble remembering, explaining that it was much like being a detached observer when recalling his past where he was still Soulless. However, as rough as the recollection started, once he got talking for a few minutes, the memories rolled off his tongue more easily. Lyria had enjoyed hearing all that they had been through and almost wished she had been there for much of it. Her and Pierait’s own tales had been a lot of desert and darkness and he told her of the sea and the jungles and she made him promise they would see such places together someday.