Hero Cast Trilogy Omnibus

by Adam Carter

  “Get that woman out of the pit,” he barked at two soldiers who were just standing around. “What are you waiting for?”

  “She’s not in a pit, sir,” one of the soldiers replied. “I … one moment she was walking, the next she just dropped.”

  “Yes, into a pit. Oh, get out of the way.” Canlin shouldered past the bewildered soldiers and grabbed hold of the woman in the ground. Sliding his hands beneath her arms, he locked his fingers before her chest and heaved. She did not so much as budge. She did, however, resume her cries, although they were short, weak and pathetic. Then she went limp in his arms and he realised with horror she had fainted.

  “Wake up,” Canlin snapped, slapping her about the side of the head. It did not have any affect, which was also odd. Moving around to crouch before her, he grabbed hold of her hair and yanked her head up, hard. Her eyes were open and staring vacantly. The woman was dead.

  Canlin’s eyes fell to the ground and he realised why he had been unable to get her out of the ground. The other soldiers were right: there was no pit. The woman had simply fallen into the ground somehow, her body melding with the dirt and rock.

  Another cry sounded and Canlin looked up to see a soldier standing nearby, clutching his elbow. Canlin hastened to him and pulled at the arm. He was only mildly surprised to see the man’s fingers had disappeared into his arm. The soldier, panicked, began to shake and Canlin shoved him to the ground.

  “Valok can set you right later,” Canlin said. “Everyone to arms! We’re under attack.”

  Soldiers everywhere drew their swords. Mannin looked terrified, although beside her Asperathes did not react at all. Playing a hunch, Canlin moved over to him.

  “What’s going on, Asperathes?”

  “Nothing to do with me, Sergeant. My hands are tied.”

  A tumult sounded at the edge of the soldiers and Canlin saw swords swinging, but to no effect. Then he saw something else; a shadow moving between his soldiers. One moment it was standing on two feet, the next it had dropped halfway to the ground, sliding between the soldiers. A man stepped on the shadow and his foot went straight through, his leg disappearing into the plain until the shadow had passed him by. Another soldier struck at the shadow, scoring what should have been a fatal blow, but the sword passed through the shadow as though it was air.

  “Stop this,” Canlin warned the apepkith.

  “I already said, it’s not me.”

  Canlin’s blade pressed against the snake man’s throat. “Call off your shadow demon or our alliance ends here.”

  Asperathes’s eyes narrowed. “This is hardly the act of an ally.”

  “Nor is allowing your demons to attack me.”

  “Fair point. Sue? Oh, Sue, would you be a dear and stop maiming the soldiers a moment?”

  The shadow creature paused, seemed to look their way. It drew itself up like impossibly rising water, taking on a vaguely female form as it regarded the apepkith and his captor. The features of the shadow creature flowed quizzically. It was the most unnatural thing Sergeant Canlin had ever seen.

  “Stand down,” Canlin ordered the thing.

  A low, sultry chuckle emanated from the creature. “You don’t get to tell me what to do, soldier of Thade. Your mistress killed my family, so long ago now she likely no longer remembers. But I remember.”

  “Sue,” Asperathes warned, “this isn’t the time.”

  “Jobek’s with the woman, your captain,” Sue spat. “I saved her, even acted pleasantly to her, because Jobek wanted me to. Personally I would have left her inside the dirt, clawing away like a coffined corpse which doesn’t yet know it’s dead.” It – she – laughed. “A lie. Jobek had me lie to her and I didn’t even realise. What is a lie, Sergeant Canlin? My people are incapable of comprehending a lie, yet I have just perpetrated one. Does that make my life a lie? A lie is worthless, so I guess it does.”

  The creature was rambling, and all the while Canlin was attempting to conceive a means of defeating it. If it was formed of pure shadow, surely a bright light would dispel it; or would that only make it stronger? He wished he knew such things, but Wren had always been the clever one in that regard. He caught sight of Valok, then, and knew he was not alone in this fight.

  “This isn’t the way,” Asperathes said to the shadow creature. “Sue, you sided with me and Crenshaw because you want justice for your family. You can’t do that by slaughtering these soldiers.”

  “They work for the baroness.”

  “So does Wren, and you left her alone.”

  “Befriending her sickened me. It made me realise something, Asp. It made me realise I don’t want justice, I want revenge.”

  Canlin knew the thing was about to attack and shouted a command just before it pounced. However, the shadow moved so quickly that his order counted for nothing. Sue struck out with her arm, the black mist-like substance passing through the throat of the closest soldier and fusing his windpipe inside his throat. The man fell, trying to gasp and failing as he died, but even before he had struck the floor had the shadow creature neatly sliced off a woman’s leg at the knee.

  Valok was moving, shouting something arcane and flinging his hands before him. A bolt of vapour shot through the air and struck the shadow on the back. The creature wailed in pain and black wisps rose from its torso, but it did not kill the thing. Standing uselessly at the side, Canlin gripped his sword and wished he knew something which might be able to help.

  “Let me talk to her,” Asperathes said. “I might be able to reason with her.”

  “She’s killing my people, snake man, it’s far too late for that.”

  “She could slaughter you all and there’s not a blessed thing you could do to stop her.”

  “Then you haven’t seen our resident wizard at work.”

  Asperathes growled and took a step towards the sergeant, but Mannin was there in an instant, her sword replacing the one Canlin had removed from the prisoner’s throat. Canlin did not bother showing how impressed he was by her swift actions: he had already told her that her life depended upon Asperathes behaving.

  “Sergeant,” Asperathes said, his body aching to attack but utterly restrained, “you don’t have any idea what that creature is. It’s called a shade. It’s of a species more ancient than both of ours put together. It’s believed they were birthed at the very instant light erupted into this universe. The darkness with the light, for all things must have opposites. You cannot fight primordial nature, Canlin.”

  “I can’t. Valok can.”

  Asperathes shook his head in annoyance, but Canlin did not care. He looked back to the shadow creature. It had ceased its attack upon the soldiers and was warily regarding the wizard. Valok was cautious, even a little afraid, and Canlin could see Valok knew full well this shade creature was something born at the dawn of time. Valok fired off another blast, but Sue caught this one with her arm, the energy splashing off her harmlessly.

  Sue stood, legs parted, waiting for his next attack.

  Valok was already prepared for the failure of his blast and sent a surge through the ground. The battlefield shook as energy shot through the ground directly at his foe. To Canlin’s eyes it looked as though some great whale was tunnelling towards the creature, releasing spouts of superheated air which broke the surface and spurted high into the air.

  The trail struck Sue, blowing her off her feet. Canlin watched her sail through the air, her body shimmering until she struck the ground once more. Flattening against the grass, she scuttled off to recover.

  Already tired, Valok readied his next spell.

  Canlin, though, had seen something the wizard had missed: a way they could defeat this shade.

  He stopped himself from shouting over to Valok, for revealing their foe’s weakness in the presence of their foe would have been foolish. However, he could see Valok had yet to see how to defeat the creature. As such, it was up to Canlin to end this. For all the magic, for all the power in this fight, it would be a simple soldier wi
th a sword who ended it.

  Canlin held his ground, watching silently until Sue rose back to a standing position. Valok fired something at her, but it was only a feint, for she evaded it with ease and even Canlin could see there was little strength behind the assault. Hunching back her shoulders, Sue stabbed out with her arms, darkness streaking from her like snaking vines, slithering through the air to whip at the sorcerer. Valok cut off his attack to focus upon the limbs, blasting them with mild shocks of light to keep them back.

  With his foe’s attention focused upon Valok, Canlin seized the moment and lunged. Hurling his sword onto the ground, Canlin kicked the blade so that it sliced through the shade’s feet, causing no damage at all. It came to rest directly beneath her, so her feet disappeared into the sword rather than into the ground. Reaching down, Canlin grabbed the sword at hilt and tip and heaved.

  Off-balance, the shade toppled backwards, for Canlin had broken its contact with the ground, making it stand upon his weapon. Dropping the sword, Canlin encircled the thing with both arms as it collapsed backwards into him. His intention had been to catch and hold it, but it was like trying to seize water. Sue flowed over him in a panic, desperately trying to regain contact with the ground.

  “Now!” Canlin shouted. “Valok, get her in the air!”

  Understanding the sergeant’s idea, Valok cast forth a sizzling and continuous beam of light which snaked about the shade and held it firm. The energy coursed through Canlin, setting fire to his nerves and causing him more pain than a knife through the gut, but he held on. He could feel the shade gradually rising from him, its black tendrils slapping at him as it attempted to maintain a hold upon his person.

  The sizzling beam lifted the shade clear from him, and Canlin collapsed as both finally left him. His body felt like it was on fire, and as he saw the shade being raised above he could see the anger in its pseudo-face. Following the trail of the continuous beam, Canlin saw the strain on Valok’s face but knew the sorcerer would not falter.

  Sue began to panic. Held tightly in the light there was nothing it could do to escape. Panic fired across her face, followed by pleading as she began to fade. For Canlin had seen what everyone else had missed. A shadow was a thing cast from light, but a shadow could only exist when connected to something. Cast upon a solid, liquid, even some gases, a shadow still had form, still had power, but within the air, whose gas was invisible, a shadow could never exist. So long as Sue had at least one metaphorical foot on the ground it – she – was safe. Hanging in the air, bound by pure light, there was no connexion at all.

  Sue began to wail.

  “Stop this,” Asperathes urged. “You don’t know the damage you’re doing.”

  “Oh, I know what damage I’m doing, don’t worry about that. Valok, hold steady.”

  “Sergeant, listen to me,” Asperathes urged. “Sue is a being of absolutes. To destroy an absolute is the most foolish thing any of us could ever do.”

  “She’s killed my soldiers.”

  “Your soldiers are human. There are millions of humans.”

  Canlin regarded him sourly. “Spoken like a true apepkith.”

  “You don’t understand. The apepkith are expendable as well, we all are. But the shades are …”

  “I’m not listening to this.” Indeed, all Canlin was concentrating upon was the tortured face of his victim. Sue had been so certain of herself, so secure in her own superiority, that Canlin felt a wash of satisfaction like no other. No one was superior to a soldier, and many were the foes who had discovered that, to their dismay.

  “Beg me for your life,” Canlin told her. “Plead for mercy from the baroness you despise.”

  “The darkness of the baroness,” Sue replied in a fading voice, “was enhanced by her murder of my family. Kill me, Arno Canlin, and know that darkness yourself.”

  “You don’t frighten me, shade.”

  “Remember that my people do not understand lies, Arno Canlin. Your soul is doomed.”

  An instant later she faded into nothingness and Valok cut off the stream of light. Silence descended upon the field.

  “You fool,” Asperathes whispered, half angry, half afraid. “You poor, poor fool.”

  “What?” Canlin rounded upon him. “I’ve won, we’ve won. The shade is dead.”

  Valok approached, his face pale. “I think he’s right, Arno. I think I finally understand what’s going on here.”

  “The baroness,” Asperathes said, “in the infancy of her rule, sought various means of solidifying power. Slaughtering shades comes with a price. Removing a shadow means a light has gone out.”

  “If you’re trying to tell me my soul is damned, you can forget it. My soul was damned years ago, snake man.”

  “The baroness gained a great deal of power from her atrocities. But it destroyed her. You’ve taken the first terrible step along that dark path, Sergeant. The journey you’re now on will become much easier to tread with each subsequent stride. Congratulations, Canlin, you’ve just committed suicide of the soul.”

  It was a victory; that was all Canlin was willing to entertain. He would not allow superstitious nonsense to cloud that achievement.

  Cloud, or cast a dark pall over it.

  A little less enthusiastic about his victory, Canlin turned his mind to helping his wounded soldiers. Valok should have been able to get limbs out of the ground into which they were fused, and injuries could be bound. Whatever Canlin could do to help he would do. Anything to take his mind off the damning prophecy.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Her companion was uncommunicative, boorish and likely hung-over, but Wren was relieved he had been there when she had woken that morning. She had not meant to sleep, but recent events had exhausted her so terribly that she was asleep before she could even think about stopping herself. She had awoken in a panic, only to find Crenshaw snoring noisily in the next room.

  Following a quick breakfast they had set off, although with Crenshaw saying so little to her she had no idea of their destination, or whether they even had one. While they walked, she thought about her visit from Moya the previous evening. She still had not mentioned it to Crenshaw, although the more time passed the more she was beginning to think it might jolt him back to reality. The way he was acting at the moment, she could hardly believe how she had not managed to catch up to him sometime in the last decade.

  Wren was still trying to form her thoughts into words when Crenshaw stopped so suddenly she reached for her sword. Casting a look about, she could see no threat. They were travelling a well-used dirt road linking two towns and had not seen another soul since a hay wain had passed them half an hour back, heading the way they had come.

  “What?” Wren asked.

  “You smell that?”

  Wren sniffed. “No.”

  “Smoke.”

  She smelled the air again and the wind shifted, bringing with it the faintest wisp of what Crenshaw had detected. “You have good senses, old man. So someone’s cooking lunch, who cares?”

  “That’s burning grass, and a lot of it.”

  “You’re kidding? There’s no way you can know what’s burning. Hey!” she called as Crenshaw took off. Ever since leaving the oubliette he had been a slow, uncaring drunk. Suddenly he was taking off like a mouse at an owl convention. Hurrying to keep pace, Wren watched him take off through the trees lining one side of the track. She did not for one moment think he was running out on her, although what he thought he was doing was beyond her.

  She followed him for several minutes, branches scratching her face, roots trying to trip her all the while. The smoke grew so intense she could soon see it, and as she broke out of the trees she could also see its source.

  There was a house before her, surrounding which were several penned-in fields of cattle. The animals were lowing in fear, for a second building, directly behind them, was burning fiercely, the heat so intense several sections of the walls had turned red. Smoke billowed from every crack, every orifice, from the ve
ry roof which was already mainly burned away. Wren supposed this was a barn, which would make Crenshaw’s senses correct, for it was likely used to store grass or hay.

  Several people were standing about. A woman was screaming, a man lay on the ground choking, others just milled around uselessly. Crenshaw was already upon them and Wren had to hurry to get to them in time to hear what was going on.

  “…was playing in the barn,” the hysterical woman was saying. “The lantern overturned, little Harry’s still inside.”

  Wren looked at the blaze. No one could still be alive in there. “I’m sorry,” she said. “If it’s any consolation, the fire wouldn’t have touched your son. The smoke would have got him long before he suffered too badly.”

  The woman broke into a fresh explosion of tears, her head falling onto the shoulder of an older man who was likely her father.

  Crenshaw was staring at the barn. Wren did not like the way he was doing that.

  “Crenshaw, come on,” she said. “There’s nothing we can do for these people.”

  “Crenshaw?” the old man asked. “Jobek Crenshaw?”

  “He’s not a hero,” Wren said. “He’s going back to the baroness to answer for his crimes.”

  “Crenshaw,” the old man said, taking hold of Crenshaw’s hand pleadingly. “There must be something you can do. You’ve rescued maidens from ogres, slain two-headed river serpents, solved the ultimate questions of the gods; surely a barn fire is something you can defeat?”

  “He’s not going to defeat anything,” Wren said. “Crenshaw, come on.”

  Crenshaw took a step forward, was confused when he saw the old man was holding his arm. He had not heard a word anyone had said. The old man removed his hand and Crenshaw said, “Get some wet towels for when I come back with the boy.”

  “Whoa, whoa,” Wren said. “You’re not going in there. You’re under arrest, you’re my prisoner.”

  “Feel free to stop me.”

  Wren glanced to the barn, at the grieving family, and back to Crenshaw. She could stop him if she really wanted to, and they both knew it. But Crenshaw was being taken back for execution and if there was even a chance he could get the boy out of the inferno Wren could not prevent him trying.