by Adam Carter
“Just tell me whatever you’re trying to say. I don’t have the patience for mind games.”
He must have said something funny, because Asperathes laughed so heartily at this that Valok murmured a swift fireball spell which rolled around his palm for several moments before he harmless dispersed it.
“Sorry,” Asperathes said. “Just thinking of how you wouldn’t survive twenty years in the baroness’s dungeon.”
“You’re being cryptic again.”
“True. All right, if you want a straight answer from me; that shade you killed.”
“Back to the shade.”
“You do realise you’re going to die for killing her?”
“So you said.”
“Horribly.”
“Apparently.”
“And that’s even before we get to the damage done to your soul.”
“I thought we were talking about my soul?”
Asperathes blinked. “My good man, no. Right now I’m talking about what will happen when you find Crenshaw, do keep up.”
Canlin tried to reason out what he was talking about and gave up.
“Sue was Crenshaw’s friend,” Asperathes pointed out. “You just murdered Crenshaw’s friend, and you’re still actively searching for him? That’s like finding the queen bee outside her hive, murdering her, then walking into the hive to announce what you’ve done.”
Canlin could find no words to answer that.
“Well,” Asperathes said, “you did tell me to be blunt.”
A strange laughter filled the area, strange because it did not come from any of the four people standing there. Mannin looked confused, Valok deep in thought, but Asperathes was terrified.
As Canlin saw the woman sitting on a rock, all he could himself feel was a deep and unrelenting fury.
“Valok, take her!”
Valok splayed his hands, but Moya blinked his way and the man’s hands froze.
“Please,” Moya said sarcastically, “if I was here to kill you, you’d be dead already.”
“Where’s Captain Wren?” Canlin demanded.
“Safe with Crenshaw. Those two do make a happy couple, don’t you think? Oh, of course, you haven’t seen them together yet. Well, that will change soon enough.”
“Where are they?”
“Not in the town. That’s why I came here, to tell you you’re wasting your time. They’re at a farm about four miles down the road. Turn off the dirt road when you come to the body pointing the way. Which reminds me, I’ll have to go on ahead and put a body there for you to find. I knew there was something I meant to do on the way here.”
“Why have you taken her?”
“My, you are filled with silly questions today, Sergeant. Your Captain Wren figured it out a lot quicker than you. I need you for something, all of you. And I need you all bally chums for this to work. So while Wren and Crenshaw are making nice, I would appreciate you doing the same with Asperathes. Yes, I can see you there, Asp.”
The snake man had been trying to make himself look small as he attempted to hide behind Mannin, which told Canlin just how scared he was of the woman.
“Oh, hi, Moya,” Asperathes said. “Fancy meeting you here.”
Moya held up a hand. “Please don’t follow that with a line about you being a little tied up at the moment.”
“How have you been? Still as sadistic as ever?”
“We had a falling out,” Moya explained to Canlin. “He didn’t like me being close to his best friend.”
“I didn’t like you using him.”
“But he’s only a pair of boots walking around alive until someone’s feet get cold.”
“Four miles, you say?” Canlin asked, not caring anything at all about her tiff with the snake man.
“Four miles or so, yes. They’re not going anywhere right now; they had a little run-in with a fire they decided to grab hold of.”
“But she’s alive?”
“They are alive, yes.”
“And they’re together? I mean, together without Crenshaw being bound like the snake man here?”
Moya’s brow furrowed. “You know when I said Wren was a little faster than you? I really don’t think you’ve got it even now.”
“This doesn’t make any sense. Wren knows her duty, she’s not about to make friends with the enemy.”
“I didn’t say they were friends, but common ground encourages mutual respect.”
“Now I have two of you being cryptic.”
Moya scowled. “Well walk the final four miles and I won’t have to be.”
“Sergeant,” a soldier said behind him. Canlin found the first two pairs returning. “Nothing, sir. We checked the inns and taverns in our assigned areas and didn’t find any trace.”
“In the middle of something,” Canlin said and turned back to Moya, but she was already gone.
Valok stumbled forward as the use of his hands returned to him.
“You,” Canlin asked Asperathes, “what’s she playing at?”
“Moya? Hell if I know. I never liked her, never trusted her, and if she’s trying to get everyone together it can only be for something very bad.”
Canlin had a feeling he would not be able to get any more from Asperathes so he set the soldiers to watch the area should the sorceress return while he awaited the reports of his other soldiers. They arrived thick and fast, for it seemed none of the soldiers had spent longer on their task than necessary. Finally he received word that Wren and Crenshaw had been seen in the town, and that they had been together.
“The innkeeper I spoke to,” said the young woman making the report, “said that Captain Wren specifically told him to get word to you that she was with Crenshaw.”
“Then why didn’t he send a messenger?”
“He said he hadn’t got round to it yet.”
Canlin wanted to go bash the man’s head in, but he had priorities. “What else did he tell you?”
“Not much. He said they were drinking together, eating together, but they weren’t together. They slept in separate rooms and come morning left together. He said Wren told him they were going to follow the dirt road east.”
“That must be the dirt road Moya was talking about.”
“Sir?”
“Nothing. Everyone fall into formation. We’re moving out.”
The regiment marched swiftly, for there was a strong possibility that in four miles they would reach the end of their journey. Gone were the songs, and in their place were the barked commands of Sergeant Canlin to get his people to move as fast as they possibly could.
It was not long at all before the forward scout reported finding a body at the edge of the road, and Canlin was quick to order it not to be moved. Excitedly, he came upon the body and found it was pointing with a straight finger, directly into an area covered with trees. Taking the regiment in this direction, Canlin only hoped Moya had not been deceiving him. If he wound up losing further soldiers to invisible squirrels, Captain Wren was not going to be pleased.
The trees brought them to a stretch of several plains, the closest of which contained a handful of buildings. One, which appeared to have been a barn, was little more than a burned-out husk. Its walls were black and looked extremely brittle, and the smell of the fire damage was evident even from their distance.
“This could be the farm Moya spoke of,” Valok said. “We should tread carefully.”
“There,” Canlin said. “I can see someone by the main house, drawing water from a well. I’m going over. Valok, take the army and spread out. If Crenshaw is here I don’t want him running out on us. Mannin, don’t take your eyes off that prisoner.”
A series of nods came in reply, but Canlin was already moving. The house attached to the farm was fairly large, which probably meant it housed several generations. If the farmer drawing water managed to get inside Canlin could potentially have the entire extended family to contend with. Not that he was frightened of farmers, but with so many people knowing he was ther
e, there was greater chance the commotion could tip off Crenshaw.
Moving as quickly as a starving snake, Canlin leaped a small wooden fence and threw himself at the well. The farmer still had her back to him and had only just pulled the bucket from the well. It was filled with water, which sloshed all over her feet.
“You,” Canlin said, grabbing the woman by the shoulder. “You’re going to tell me what …”
The woman span about, the bucket struck him on the head and Canlin went down in a spluttering mess.
From beneath the simple attire, Serita Wren stared with wide eyes. “Arno?”
“Captain? But … but you’re …? What are you wearing?”
“My armour got a bit scorched,” she said, holding out a hand and helping him back to his feet. She winced. “Hand’s still a bit sore, but there are some wonderful healing poultices here. They traded a cow for them off a passing magic merchant, apparently. I’ll tell you, I had my doubts at first, but you should have seen these hands just a few …”
“Captain, you’re alive.”
“Oh. Yes. Moya threw me down a pit.”
“I know, I …” This was all going too quickly for Canlin and he entirely failed to process it all. Words failing him, he grabbed Wren and enveloped her in a great hug. She seemed surprised at first, although as he released her she was smiling.
“Why Arno, I didn’t know you cared.”
Canlin felt his cheeks redden and wished she didn’t have to make fun of him. Then he remembered the other part of the situation. “Where’s Crenshaw? Is he here?”
“Sure. He’s in the house, making biscuits.”
“Making biscuits?”
“Yeah, you’d be surprised what that man can do.”
“The man’s ensorcelled you.”
“Ah. Yes, I can see how it might look that way.”
“Moya was right.”
“Moya? You’ve seen Moya?”
“If I kill the man, I break the spell; and at the same time I ruin whatever plan that sorceress has for us all.”
“Good plan,” Crenshaw said from several feet away. The man had the grace of a gazelle and did not look pleased to see Canlin.
The sergeant’s battleaxe flew to his hand. “Ten years’ work has come to fruition, Crenshaw.”
“Put that away, you’re embarrassing yourself.”
Canlin lunged, but Crenshaw was ready. He allowed the axe to come, enclosed his hand over the sergeant’s, and slammed his shoulder into his foe. Canlin lost his balance, but refused to release his axe so Crenshaw swung him with all his might and threw him into the side of the well.
A blast of ice shot through the air from Valok’s fingertips, although Asperathes hurled himself, still bound, into the sorcerer, deflecting his aim.
Canlin scrabbled back to his feet and searched for his axe. When he could not find it he ran at Crenshaw unarmed.
“Arno, stand down.” Wren was before him, between them, and her eyes were angry, disappointed, and certainly not those of a woman possessed by any form of magic.
“Captain, what are you doing? This man is a criminal, our target. You have Crenshaw, I have Asperathes, and if we could pin Moya down we’ll have bagged the lot. We can return to the castle with all three in one catch; we’ll be heroes.”
“There’s that word again,” Crenshaw grunted.
“If there’s one thing I’ve discovered, Arno,” Wren said kindly, “it’s that heroes aren’t all they’re cracked up to be.”
“What are you talking about? You can’t possibly have fallen for whatever lies this man’s been telling you.”
“I think you’d better come inside, Arno. We have a lot to talk about.”
“No, there’s nothing to talk about. Our duty is clear, Captain. The law leaves no leeway for people like him.”
“Then I’ll phrase it another way,” she said. “I’ve reached a decision, Arno; and I don’t think you’re going to like it.”
Sergeant Arno Canlin felt his heart sink. He was so confused in that moment there was only one thing of which he was absolutely certain: he knew without doubt she was right in saying he was not going to like it, for he hated it already.
HERO CAST
Book 3
THE FORGE OF HEROES
CHAPTER ONE
Gazing out at the distant castle from his hillside vigil, Asperathes could not help but be reminded that this was where it had all begun. As he stared down at the mighty fortress, he could still smell the rot and death of the dungeon, could still hear the screams of the tortured, could still see the laughing faces of his gaolers as they dragged prisoners away, never to be seen again.
It had been eleven years since he, Crenshaw and Moya had fled amidst the death and confusion wrought by an outside attack. Eleven years was a long time, even for one of his species. The apepkith were far from human; indeed they were essentially bipedal snake men, although Asperathes found the term somewhat derogatory. Eleven years, and the very sight of that castle still evoked such horror rising from the pit of his stomach.
“You’re supposed to be scoping out the castle, not daydreaming.”
Asperathes cast a wry grimace towards his companion. Captain Wren was an odd bedfellow, but she had proved her worth. Clad in black metal, with an elegant cloak inlaid with crimson, Captain Serita Wren was an officer in the employ of the castle which caused such torment to Asperathes’s soul. That they were working together should have been unthinkable, yet their ends were now following a similar path. Still, Asperathes, whose own dress sense was somewhat flamboyant and silky, rather liked that cloak.
“Just reliving old memories,” Asperathes replied. “Nice castle you have down there. Shame about the back.”
Wren gazed down the hill to see what he was talking about. Unfortunately the hill was several miles from the castle, otherwise they could have used it to their advantage when they stormed the place, but since all the land about the fortress was flat it afforded them a good view. They were both looking at the south side now, upon which there was some extensive repair work being undertaken.
“That’s our way in,” Wren said. “We should report back to the others.”
Asperathes always found it funny when she said things like that, and not in a good way. When he, Crenshaw and Moya had escaped the castle eleven years earlier, it had been Captain Wren whose regiment had been assigned to track them down. After a decade of trying, she had finally caught up with them last year. Crenshaw, being Crenshaw, had been able to persuade Wren to their cause, which was odd since they didn’t actually have a cause. Crenshaw was a drunk, Asperathes a contract killer and Moya had long ago grown bored with them and moved back to the castle. However, Wren had certainly seen something in them she could use, for here they all were, outlaws, planning an attack upon the castle Wren still thought of as home.
There were six of them in their little group. It should not have been enough to accomplish that which they were setting out to do, but Crenshaw would have done it alone and Asperathes was grateful for the company.
“Once we do this,” Asperathes told her, “there’ll be no turning back. We assault the castle and press on until we’ve neutralised the target. You do accept that, don’t you?”
“We’re all in this for different reasons, Asp,” Wren reminded him. “I’m a patriot and if this goes the way we all want it to, Baroness Thade will thank us for it.”
“I doubt she’ll have much gratitude left for me and Crenshaw, Captain. I doubt she’ll even be willing to afford us a ten minute head start before she sets the dogs on us.”
“Why do I get the feeling you just called me a dog?”
“Why, is that offensive to humans? I don’t think I’ll ever understand your species.”
Asperathes did not dislike Captain Wren; in fact she had grown on him. It had taken him a while to work out what it was, but he had been talking with Crenshaw one day and the old soldier had managed to hit the proverbial nail right on the head. ‘Because she’s h
onest,’ Crenshaw had said. It was rare that Asperathes ever came across someone who was honest, and he had to admit it did wonders for his soul.
“You’re right, we should go,” he said. “Crenshaw’s going to think I’ve pushed you off a cliff or something.”
“Or I you.”
“I think we both know whom Crenshaw favours of the two of us.”
“Sure. The guy who’s going to help him kill my mistress.”
Asperathes knew they could share banter all the way back to the others if he allowed them to, but he was concerned when banter drifted too far into the truth. They were all set to assault the baroness’s castle, but with such different reasons it was hardly something to joke about. Wren wanted to save the baroness and kill Moya, Crenshaw wanted to save Moya and kill Thade, while Asperathes wanted to kill them both. With soldiers backing her up, Wren had more of a chance at succeeding than he and Crenshaw, and that had Asperathes worried.
A year’s alliance would collapse just as soon as they entered the castle. It was the castle that had introduced them to Moya to begin with, and that damned castle that set into motion this entire devastating chain of events.
It seemed fitting that after all this time they were all likely going to die there.
They were halfway back to camp when Asperathes spotted the tracks. They had been left by soldiers, for the heavy boots were unmistakable, and there were a great many of them, perhaps as many as two dozen. Of all his companions, it was Wren to whom he would not have to explain such things, and he could see by her brow that she was worried.
“We’ll cut west,” Asperathes said. “That way we should avoid them and still be back in time for Mannin not to worry.”
“You like Mannin worrying, and don’t pretend you don’t.”
“It’s Canlin’s worrying that does my head in. Have you noticed he still glowers at me whenever the two of us go on patrol?”
Wren said nothing and Asperathes did not push her. It would have been obvious to a corpse that Canlin had feelings for her, although Wren either did not notice or pointedly ignored him. Asperathes had never understood the need for emotions of that nature; they had destroyed Crenshaw, had gained Moya too much power and would be the end of their entire mission if Wren succumbed to them.