Hero Cast Trilogy Omnibus

by Adam Carter

  She had kept her distance from Crenshaw for several hours. The man was not going anywhere and she wanted to make as many allies as possible in case he attempted to turn them upon her. She did not mention who he was, just as she did not mention who she was. If their identities were revealed she was reasonably confident she would still be able to keep the majority of the prisoners on her side.

  It all depended on who was the greatest liar.

  As the revelries died away and the prisoners went back to whatever sullen lives they lived in the oubliette, Wren found herself finally returning to Crenshaw. Her elation at having bested the troll had drained and as one by one she lost each of her allies it dawned on her just how little she had achieved.

  “Congratulations,” Crenshaw said, the first word he had spoken since the troll had interrupted their conversation. “You’ve earned yourself a corner space, no doubt.”

  “Corner?”

  Crenshaw waved it aside. “I want you to come with me. When Sooty gets here it’s going to be a quick exit, but I’d like to take you along.”

  “Why? I thought we were enemies.”

  “You’re not my enemy.”

  Wren laughed. “Is this where you try to convert me to your cause?”

  “Then stay and die with all these fellows. I don’t care that much.”

  Wren sat on the floor opposite and appraised him slowly, with great care. There was nobility to Crenshaw, as well as sadness, but above all else there was a clear and defined sense of being right. It was not arrogance so much as fact, which Wren found incredibly odd.

  “Your friend,” Wren said. “Why won’t she release everyone?”

  “These people, some could be criminals. They may have been put down here for a reason.”

  “Some may have been victims, like yourself. Others could have been drunk and fell in by accident.”

  “I find I don’t much care.”

  “I thought you were a hero.”

  “I thought so too, once. That’s the problem with hype; after a while you even start to believe it yourself.”

  “Why do I get the feeling you’re talking about the baroness now?” When he did not answer, she asked, “Why do you hate her so much?”

  “A long time ago I served her. I’d never met her, obviously, but I was a soldier in her army, just as you are. I served well, with honour and devotion. She didn’t even know I existed, as it should be with people of her stature. Then this happened.” He indicated his arm. “Later, because I didn’t like people besmirching my honour, I stood up for myself. Someone of similar standing to you threw me in her dungeon, somewhere a lot like this one in fact. Still the baroness did not know I existed.”

  “So this is all about being recognised,” Wren surmised. “You gave your life for the baroness and she didn’t even know you were alive.”

  “I lost my job, my wife, twenty years of my life for that woman. I wasn’t even a number to her, wasn’t even a statistic. I was nothing. And the more I looked around me, the more I could see that everyone in her realm was equally as nothing. So I made her see me, I forced her to take note of who I was and what I represented. And for ten long years she’s noticed me and cursed me daily.”

  “What about the people who have died because of you?”

  “I’ve saved so many from her thugs.”

  “I’ve burned people in pursuit of you. Good people who would rather give up their lives than their heroes. It’s that word, Crenshaw. Hero. The wonders people see in their heroes, and the horrors they’ll be willing to endure just to protect them. You’re a religion almost, and that can’t be a good thing.”

  “If you’ve killed while tracking me, that blood is on your hands, not mine.”

  “You’re a criminal, Crenshaw; can’t you see that?”

  “The baroness is a tyrant.”

  “She’s also the law. No matter how bad a ruler, to go against her is criminal.”

  “Then you admit she’s a bad ruler?”

  Wren tightened her eyes. “I’m not getting into this debate with you, Crenshaw. Not here.”

  “Crenshaw?” someone asked with a frown. Wren realised she had been using his surname by mistake. Murmurs filled the oubliette, murmurs which flowed liked waves.

  “Crenshaw’s band destroyed my home,” someone said.

  “Crenshaw’s sorceress killed my daughter.”

  “Crenshaw ate my goat raw in the field.”

  Crenshaw shook his head. “If anyone’s interested, this woman is Captain Serita Wren of the baroness’s army.”

  Wren rounded upon him fiercely, fury and terror to her eyes.

  He shrugged. “I did warn you.”

  The mood in the oubliette was quickly changing. There was as much confusion in the air as anger and Wren knew it would only be a few moments before someone plucked up the courage to attack one of them. Chances were good that there would be folk willing to attack either of them, but Wren could not see anyone willing to leap to their defence. She was on her feet and in a defensive crouch before she even knew she was moving, her hands balled into tight fists in order to meet the first attack.

  Crenshaw rose slowly and dusted himself off. “We could stand together,” he suggested. “I suppose.”

  “You’re not taking this very seriously.”

  “Well, Sooty should be here any moment now, so we’re not in any real danger.”

  “This Sooty of yours better be a dragon, Crenshaw.”

  “You believe in dragons?”

  “I will if one swoops down and saves my neck.”

  Someone growled and forced his way through the crowd. He was short, bald and fierce, with scarlet tattoos to make it appear his veins were bulging. There was murder in his eyes and a knife in his hand. Wren had no idea which of them he intended to kill, or whether he was all that bothered himself.

  “I thought no one down here had weapons,” Wren said aside to Crenshaw.

  “We don’t. That doesn’t mean no one else came down here unarmed.”

  It was something she should have already considered.

  The knife-man lunged for her, but he was untrained and Wren blocked the attack with her forearm, simultaneously punching him hard in the face with her other fist. The man went down, startled, and Wren glanced at the knife on the floor, wishing she could snatch it up but knowing she would be engulfed in a mass of sweating, stinking bodies should she do so.

  Behind her, Crenshaw stretched lazily. “As much as you guys want to kill us,” he said absently, “I’d suggest you think about who we are. A trained captain in the service of the baroness and one of Thade’s greatest enemies? If you’re going to take us down, you’re going to need a halfway decent plan.”

  The crowd paused, no one individual brave enough to take another step forward. Wren could understand Crenshaw’s intention, but as soon as they did formulate that plan he was suggesting they would implement it and she and Crenshaw would likely die. She would have preferred them to attack as they had been, so she could have taken down the first few assailants and make the others take a step back to rethink.

  “Mental games,” Crenshaw whispered to her as he took her by the arm and led her off to a corner. Wary eyes followed them, but once the prisoners realised Crenshaw and Wren were not going to attack they delved into a long discourse about what they could possibly do.

  “Mental games or not,” Wren hissed quietly, “they’re going to kill us.”

  “You’re forgetting about Sooty.”

  “I don’t believe in Sooty! Crenshaw, this pit’s damaged your mind if you think some woman’s going to swan in here and sweep you off your feet.”

  Crenshaw’s only response was to fold his arms and close his eyes. He looked far too relaxed, far too happy, for someone who was about to die.

  A nagging suspicion tugged at Wren’s mind that perhaps this Sooty would come through for them after all. It was a vain hope, but at that moment one she would take.

  She and Crenshaw waited for th
e next half hour, neither of them speaking, neither of them moving. Wren continued to watch the crowd grow in confidence. There were a few arguments, one or two scuffles and an eye taken out. Wren watched it all with a growing sense of despair, until finally more and more confident scowls were directed her way.

  “I think this is it,” she said aside to Crenshaw without turning her head. “Your friend Sooty better get here in the next two seconds or we’re in trouble.”

  The approaching mob suddenly stopped, eyes wide. Wren had no idea what was wrong with them but chanced a look behind her. Either Crenshaw had done something weird or Sooty had just silently broken through the wall. What she saw shocked even her, for Crenshaw was gone.

  “Of all the …”

  “Get her!”

  Wren span, facing the horde alone, but even as the first weapon was swung at her did she feel something grab her arm from behind. The touch was soft and cold and as Wren was dragged backwards she could see she was being held by fingers formed of nothing more substantial than misty blackness. She ran backwards, choosing whatever this being was over the mob. Her brain screamed as her vision blurred and rock enclosed upon her. She had no idea what was happening, but as rock took solid form before her, sealing her away totally, she realised in panic she was walking through the wall.

  Instinctively, Wren took a deep breath and held it as her heart pounded. Her vision became a mass of dirt and rock, of creeping roots and worms. Her senses reeled and she felt incredibly nauseous, but the hand holding her did not let go and she continued to be drawn through the underground. She had a sensation of moving up as well and just as her brain began to question this she found light explode upon her world. Wren collapsed upon the grass, vomiting violently as her mind tried to catch up with her.

  Once she stopped shaking, Wren rose unsteadily to her feet and looked about. Crenshaw was leaning against the well. He had removed the lid and was absently tossing in stones. It was not Crenshaw who drew Wren’s attention, however. Beside him, slowly bobbing up and down as though it was on the deck of a ship, there was an emaciated being. It was jet black, formed of wispy shadows which shimmered like rising heat. Its form was vaguely female, and Wren had the impression this was not its natural state but just cosmetic for the sake of Crenshaw. Its face was strange, for while it did possess eyes and a mouth, they were flowing, incorporeal features which melted, coalesced and often simply vanished.

  “Sooty?” Wren asked.

  “Because she’s black as soot,” Crenshaw supplied. “I should have warned you not to keep your eyes open during the journey. Tends to make people vomit.”

  “I take it you didn’t warn me on purpose.”

  “That too.”

  Wren looked to Sooty. At least here was someone she wasn’t angry with. “Thank you for saving my life, Sooty.”

  “Sue.”

  Wren was taken aback at the silky voice. “Sue?”

  “My name is Sue,” the wraith-like figure said. “Joe calls me Sooty because he’s trying to be funny.”

  “Funny? Sounds a little racist to me.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  Wren could not help but find she rather liked this Sue. Having regained her resolve, Wren turned her attention back to Crenshaw. She opened her mouth to speak but he tossed in another stone and she lost her words. She heard a cry from below, followed by a string of curses and could believe Crenshaw would stand there all day if she let him.

  “Jobek Crenshaw,” she said, “I’m placing you under arrest.”

  “Good luck with that.”

  “It’s now official. Any actions you take henceforth shall be construed as resisting arrest and shall only make your sentence worse.”

  “Your baroness will execute me; it can’t get much worse than that.”

  “The baroness has various methods, Crenshaw. Trust me, it could be worse.”

  “Captain, I spent long years listening to the screams of those dragged off to the death chamber, while those around me took bets on how long the cries would last, knowing at any time it could well be their turn. So yes, I know full well it could be worse.”

  He spoke with such conviction, such repressed emotion, that Wren did not doubt his sincerity. That he had been a prisoner of the baroness had been a rumour for several years, although to have him confirm it for a second time afforded him a reason to hate the baroness.

  “If you were in her dungeon,” Wren said, “you must have done something far worse than what you told me down in the pit.”

  Crenshaw merely grunted. She had the impression he did that a lot. Reaching down, he hefted the heavy lid of the well and put it back in place, fastening the clasps which would keep it in place. Then, without a word, he strolled away.

  “Wait,” Wren called, “where are you going?”

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m going to find Asp. He’s around here somewhere.”

  “You’re coming back with me,” she insisted.

  “No, I’m not. Besides, you don’t even know where you are.”

  Wren had not thought of that. They were standing in rough land surrounded by the ruins of an old fortress. There was a wide dust road heading towards the ruin, but everything else was overgrown with wild flowers and bushes. She could see trees nearby but did not know whether this was any indication of the woodland in which she had left her soldiers.

  “They’re about a mile due east,” Sooty said.

  Crenshaw glowered at her.

  “Thanks,” Wren said. “At least someone has a sense of civic duty.”

  “Shades don’t understand lies,” Crenshaw said. “Everything with them is always so exact.”

  “We are creatures,” Sooty said, “of extremes. Light and dark, black and white. With a shadow, it is or it isn’t.”

  “But aren’t some shadows stronger than others?” Wren asked.

  “Yes, but a creature is either living or dead. Even dying, a creature is alive.”

  Wren had never heard of shades and only assumed that was their species name. If Sooty was a literal person, there was a chance she would also be law-abiding.

  “Will you watch Crenshaw while I fetch my soldiers?”

  “No.”

  “This man is a criminal.”

  Sooty tilted her head, her features flowing like oil in a pan. “Dear, we’re all criminals to the laws of others. Jobek, if there’s nothing else you require, I’m going to shoot off.”

  “Sure, Sooty. And thanks for the save.”

  “It’s no more than you’ve done for me in the past.” Her body descended, her legs bent as they touched the ground and covered the grass without ruffling it in the slightest. Within moments her entire form was on the ground and resembled nothing more than a shadow. Then she shot across the land like a scuttling spider.

  “Wow,” Wren said. “That was … weird.”

  “It would be ironic if they could reach the speed of light.”

  “No wonder no one knows about them.”

  “Oh, people know about them. But then some of us are just too obsessed to focus on anything like other species.”

  “That’s another dig,” Wren said wryly. “Come with me, talk to the baroness. Give your side of the story.”

  “You think she’ll listen before hanging me?”

  “I’m a firm believer in justice, Crenshaw, and the fact is you have killed a lot of people.”

  “When I was killing people in the name of the baroness she didn’t seem to mind so much.”

  Crenshaw resumed walking away. Wren was faced with an annoying choice, and there was nothing she hated more than annoying choices. She would not be able to take Crenshaw alone, and if they found Asperathes she might as well give up. However, to first locate her soldiers would mean losing track of Crenshaw and having to start all over again. It had taken her ten years to get this far: she was not about to let him out of her sight. All she could do was follow him and hope Canlin managed to track her.

  She noticed s
omething then; her clothes and armour were lying in a heap behind the well. As she quickly slipped into her attire, she found even her weapons had been left behind. Moya had either not expected her to free herself from the well, or had left these as a reward should she escape.

  It occurred to her that Crenshaw was still wearing his ragged clothing, so whoever had attacked him had clearly not been so reasonable. Speaking of Crenshaw, he was already a fair way ahead of her, so Wren quickly came to a decision.

  Searching the ground, she found some twigs and placed them in the form of an arrow, pointing out the direction Crenshaw had taken. It was not much, but it would have to do. Even if Canlin dismissed the indication, she knew Valok would be curious enough to investigate.

  Her job done, she hastened after Crenshaw. In all her years of tracking him, this was a situation she had never conceived occurring.

  CHAPTER SIX

  She was alive. Captain Wren had to be alive; the alternative was not something Canlin would even consider. She was alive and they had to find her before Moya could take her back to Crenshaw and Asperathes. The very thought caused more fear in Canlin than he had ever known. Wren had been chasing the three of them for so long now that for them to finally get her alone and at their mercy was the worst outcome that could possibly have come from the hunt.

  Upon exiting the woods, Valok had scanned for Wren and Moya and had found nothing. He had closed his eyes, muttered foreign words, thrown green sand into the air, and still nothing. He had asked Canlin to concentrate on Wren, asked the entire regiment to concentrate on her, but still nothing. It was when Valok suggested he meditate on the matter that Canlin exploded at him. Valok, to his credit, had taken the abuse silently. It had lasted ten minutes, at the end of which Canlin felt himself burned out but no calmer.

  Since that time all they had done was walk around, with nothing to show for their efforts. Canlin was all but ready to suggest Valok meditate on the matter after all.