The Assassin Princess (The Legacy Novels Book 1) Page 21

  “No,” Talos said. “It was from a unicorn horn this journey started, and began the enhancement of man.”

  “A stolen horn,” a unicorn called from across the bank to murmurs of ascent.

  The forests quietened and even the birds had stopped to listen. The river hushed.

  “Stolen, yes, but how often does this happen in our world?” Talos continued. “A flower is caught in a southern wind and its seeds are deposited in foreign lands; a mix occurs and a new flower springs up to delight us. An animal finds a way to survive extinction and evolves to a higher version of itself.” He was joined by Florina, who nuzzled at his neck. “The men arrived, and we don’t know how, and they did what it took to survive—by accident, by fate—who knows? It’s our fight too.”

  “But that was long ago,” called a voice.

  “We’re a part of it,” Florina said, raising her head, “and maybe we don’t speak for our race, but we, Talos and I, are a part of what has gone on here. I don’t understand it and have only just returned—but I’ve been to the Mortrus Lands and have been one that didn’t come back. I’ve been separated from those I love, the family I had, and I want an ending to this.”

  “We both do,” Talos said.

  Another called out, but Xavier commanded silence.

  “That is enough debate,” he said, “it’s up to the both of you as to whether you join us now, or continue with the human journey. Our involvement isn’t necessary, but if you both feel the need for conclusion and explanation, then you are free to choose. If you come back to us, you’ll be welcomed.”

  Lady Grace looked to Talos with his stump of a horn, and Florina, bright and new. “Thank you, both of you. Your help—your friendship—is appreciated.”

  “Thank you,” Talos said, and then addressed Xavier. “We shall stay, Lord Xavier, and fight out what needs to be fought. The Mortrus Lands are now a part of our own legacy, and if we’re to continue, we must know what went before.”

  “Very well,” Xavier said, and without another word, turned and disappeared into the Solancra Forest, the herd following.

  They were now alone, and Hero felt it. It was if the warmth of the day had receded, and all that was left was the coolness of the coming evening.

  “I need a drink,” a small voice croaked, and all looked over to see Ami sliding from Talos’s back. “I need a drink, really bad.”

  Hero grasped her arm and helped her to the river, holding her hair back from her face as she knelt to scoop the water to her mouth. She slurped deeply before splashing her face and washing it clean. Afterward she sat back on the bank and pulled the robes from her, handing them to Hero. “You can have these. I had to borrow them…” Her voice trailed off and she looked down.

  “I see.” He looked at her for some time, studying her. She may or may not have been the same as she once was, but nothing could change the fact that people—his people, their people—had died at her hand. She had killed his brothers and helped to destroy Legacy, and if Adam’s power was still inside of her, coiled and ready to strike, then they had no choice but to continue their course into the dark mystery that others seemed more sure of. He looked upstream, unable to see the distant dark forest over the natural rise of the land. Soon the day would begin to settle and the sun would set over the mountain city destroyed. How many of its people were dead? How many would see their last sunset and die in the night? No, he thought, it has to come to an end.

  “What do we do now?” Raven asked, approaching the unicorns.

  “We travel north to the flow, below, below,” Grace said, pointing. “And as we travel, we talk, and find out what each of us knows.”

  *

  Adam swung round, pivoted and pranced, the blade coming from every direction; it was a blur of silver and purple. He saw the horizon of the mountains, and then a dark cloak and purple fire. He was thrown back, his head hitting the steps; jumping up, he was faced with the blade once more. His attacker was hooded, but he saw enough to be terrified. Ami, smiling at him; Ami, her long hair sleek and bouncing upon her shoulders as she thrust toward him; Ami, powerful and dangerous.

  His blade clashed with hers while their father watched from the side-lines.

  Jumping from the steps he ran up the staircase, and though it shivered and creaking beneath him, it stayed strong. Ami didn’t follow, but instead lowered her hood and peered up at him, her eyes flashing, her blade aflame.

  “Always knew you were a coward,” she said through a smile, “running away, no courage to face your creation.”

  “My creation? How did you get back here so fast? Where are those blasted horned-beasts?” Adam’s face was a shattered mask of terror and anger. How had she come back? How had she become so strong?

  “Ah, but you did create me,” she said, pacing across the rubble. “Part of me at least. Shall I tell you about me, Adam? Shall I tell you?”

  “I don’t care,” Adam said, his blade riling with flames of hatred. He let loose a stream of power, but Ami deflected it with her palm, sending the green flames back toward him. He dived and landed in a pile of flaming bodies. Screaming, he jumped to his feet, beating the flames from his clothes. “You’re my soldier, my puppet—you do as I tell you. I am Lord of Legacy.”

  He flung out his hands once more, and the mountain cracked beneath him, but Ami had her arms out, her hands flat, and the mountain calmed.

  “I don’t think you are,” Graeme said. “I think you’re just a spoiled little boy.”

  Adam turned his hatred toward his father, and again ran at him, shooting bolts of fire toward him, but to his surprise Graeme simply waved them away with his hand. The flames gathered in front of him, swirled in a ball of light and faded.

  “I have no wish to fight you, Son.”

  “I do,” Ami said as she appeared next to her brother and Adam was thrown, over the courtyard and to the road where he hit hard and skidded to the edge of the mountain. His arms went out before him and his sword pierced the ground, anchoring him there. His shoulder pulled out of joint at the force of it and he screamed.

  “I am the lord, I am the lord.”

  Ami stood over him before he’d the chance to rise. “No, you really aren’t.”

  She kicked him and Adam’s grip faltered, his body slipping from the edge. He fell and fell, the side of the mountain streaming past—he landed with a thump on the returning road, every bone in his body breaking.

  Voices surrounded him, moaning, talking. A flash in his eyes of an arch, a column, steps. The power rebuilt his body, pulling together his splayed and ruptured organs, sealing his wounds, the pain tremendous—his eyes opened, and he stood.

  Legacy’s people surrounded him, dusty, dirty, bloodied and bruised—and they weren’t happy.

  *

  Ami was sluggish.

  Her arms were around Hero, her face laying against his back as they rode slow, hooves crushing roots as they slipped through the trees and low branches, pushing back the undergrowth. Their path north passed through the edge of the Planrus Forest, the rushing river on their right. She saw it sparkle and wink at her through the branches, its gentle roar soothing.

  Her eyes were heavy, but she tried to keep them open, for every time they closed she saw Adam’s face, white and horrid, his eyes flashing green.

  The truth was that she was drained. She listened to the unicorn beneath her tell all of his life, his capture, their meeting; she listened to the travels of Hero and Raven, the loss of Kane, and their meeting of the next-girl. She listened, but did not take part.

  She could remember everything.

  Her night of artwork, television and bed, had been replaced by a journey of fantasy. From her first encounter with Adam and her escape with Hero, to the night of learning, and the morning of listening. Unicorns were real, and evil had a true and relevant place in the world. A land was at stake, a people she was meant to rule—and all had gone so terribly wrong. She’d murdered innocent people. The poor, poor bride, who fell to her deat
h because of Ami’s greed; the man who’d hidden, only to be killed by her hand. All the Guards who’d protected their people and lands with honour and duty—she could not think on it, but could think of nothing else.

  She wasn’t sure if Adam’s power had gone. Held against Hero’s back, she’d watched the hilt of his sword jump up and down on the journey from Legacy, and had once reached out to touch it, but Hero had looked around. Thoughts entered her head of taking all away from them and leaving them with nothing but their dying breaths—and she could still do it, she was sure—but the conflict in her was great. What she’d been through had changed her, and what Talos had done for her was allow her to see it. The pain and abandonment to the evil she’d given weighed on her like nothing she’d ever felt before, yet despite this, she felt more like herself than she’d felt in a long time. She thought that Dangerous was inside her somewhere, recovering maybe, or fighting lesser battles. As for herself, she yearned for her bed, some music, a good meal. She yearned for the normal, the everyday, and the mundane. She yearned for her parents.

  That’s when the tears had started, and the sobs caught in her chest.

  “Stop,” Hero said, stroking Talos’s mane gently. “Please, just for a moment.”

  The journeyers came to a halt. In the distance, Ami saw a bank of black trees and felt a shiver. They were near.

  Hero turned to her and brought her into his embrace, while Lady Grace also came to her aid. “There, there, dear,” she said, her voice smooth and gentle. She cupped Ami’s chin, her fingers coaxing her face toward her. “It’ll be okay, I’m sure of it.”

  “I want my Dad,” she said, and fell into Grace’s arms. She smelt of perfume, polished wood and smoke. “I want to go home.”

  “I know, dear, and I’m sure you will soon.”

  Hero looked down at Grace. “But, Lady Grace, Legacy?”

  “The city is lost to us,” she said. “The land is out of our hands. If we can rebuild, then so be it, but not at the expense of our girl.”

  Hero nodded, understanding, and Ami felt a weight lift from her. She looked up at Grace. “I can—I can go home?”

  “If we can get you there, we will, but all of us need to enter the Mortrus Lands. I know that much for certain.”

  Ami closed her eyes and saw Adam again, on his back and looking scared. A flashback? She didn’t know. She opened them and smiled.

  “Let’s go then,” she said.

  Lady Grace hugged her tight and she felt a familiarity and warmth in that hug. “My dear, you are truly special. A true princess.”

  Releasing her, Grace mounted Florina again, and they continued their trek.

  Ami buried herself against Hero once more and watched the sparkle from the river wink as the day began to dwindle. She shivered and closed her eyes, the darkness beyond calling for the blood of the innocent, and the reaping of happiness in greed.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Charlotte watched the rain dash the window, her own face staring back at her in the reflection of the night. The first sound of thunder above startled her and she drew the curtains, smoothing her hand down the soft fabric. Flickers snuck around the edges like a camera flash. This was the night she’d been waiting for. Her husband had been taken, and all was at last coming full circle. She sat upon the sofa and flicked on the lamp beside her, waiting, listening to the howl of the wind as the storm approached.

  *

  The first rock had struck his shoulder, and the man who’d thrown it had burned on the spot, but then came the second, and the third, and soon Adam was under constant fire from the gathered.

  “I am your lord,” he shouted, but the rabble continued their barrage, hurling rocks and abuse, spitting and yelling. He released the power from his palms, burning, killing, but they’d continued to advance, pushing him backward to the edge of the road where he’d teetered, the sheer drop of the mountain behind him. Regaining his balance he’d turned back to the crowd with fire in his eyes, shooting flames like bullets. They morphed in mid-air and changed into birds of green flame that flew up high, before diving back into the crowd of people, shredding bodies, flesh, and bone. Blood flowed and screams were sounded, yet the missiles continued through the slaughter. Adam felt each hit and raised his hands to protect his face, feeling the mushy pulp beneath his fingers. The birds extinguished and the crowd pushed forward, trampling their own dead.

  “No, no, I am your lord, I own you!”

  “I don’t think they are listening, Son,” his father’s voice called from far away, but where? He couldn’t see him.

  “Father, tell them who I am, tell them.”

  “Murderer.”

  “…destroy our land…”

  Voices screamed from the crowd as feet kicked at him, hands clawed at him, and Adam felt himself lifted from the ground.

  “No, no, put me down, put me down.”

  The years of riots and chaos had served them well as the people of Legacy were used to pleas and begs, and had learned to ignore them. They threw him, bloodied and screaming from the side of the mountain.

  The world spun and the sky became the earth; Adam hit sharp rock again and again, all darkness and red. The mountain tore skin from his bones, his clothes shredding, and a blue light moved between dark trees, a high column, a petal lifting in the breeze.

  His bones shattered again as he landed.

  After a time—and how long a time, Adam wasn’t sure—his vision came back to him, and his body pulled together again. He heard the low moaning of his own voice as his throat was repaired, pain like he’d never felt before shooting through every part of him.

  “It’s time,” she said, but not to him.

  His father, a ways off but close, said, “Then let’s end this thing.”

  “My land, I own all of you—will kill you.”

  A circle of light was drawn, and the moment it was complete, Adam fell through, screaming as he went.

  *

  The sky had fallen a deep blue, lilted with yellow and red flecks. Clouds were plough lines in the sky gilded with gold, turning an autumn amber. Hero tried to memorise the sight and capture the moment. He didn’t know when he may see it again, for before him stood a wall of darkness, and at its centre, a shadowed and narrow path which they’d soon enter.

  He dismounted, his boots whispering in the long grass. The trees were black and the trunks, as he’d previously observed, butted so close that there was no space to peer through; branches reached high, tangled, dense and chaotic. The path cut through these, a mouth with a long, dark throat that swallowed the day. He could see nothing of what lay beyond. Behind him was the spring of the river that burst violently from the earth, frothing white into the ancient groove of land between the Planrus and Solancra Forests.

  Ami dismounted and approached him, while Raven and Grace stayed upon Florina. She looked tired, worn, but not dangerous; he kept alert all the same.

  “Hero, can you feel that?” she asked, holding her hands in front of her. “Like a vibration in the air?”

  “I can,” he said, “and I feel it beneath me too.”

  “Time is running short,” Grace said, dismounting and stroking Florina’s body. “Should we lead the way?”

  Florina looked to Talos, and Talos looked to Hero and Ami. All were in agreement. They lined up in pairs to pass through the narrow opening, Grace holding to Florina’s mane, Ami to Hero’s arm, and behind them, Raven’s hand upon Talos.

  “If something awful happens,” Raven said, “how will we get out?”

  “Something awful has already happened,” Grace said. “This is all we have.” With that, the six of them stepped forward into the Mortrus Lands.

  *

  The light was gone and the night of a different land illuminated their path, their world a midnight-blue. The trees that had been their path were now scattered far and wide, though they had hardly moved, and looking behind, Ami could no longer see the river, or indeed anything at all; all had faded to a black. She
looked to Lady Grace and Florina, but they kept a straight path forward, choosing their steps carefully through the rising mist that stole their ankles. Ami felt chilled as they ventured deeper. Memories of home surfaced, yet seemed so far removed from the darkness that surrounded her that she hardly believed a home ever existed; it’d all been a dream she wished were true, where her bed was warm and her artwork was all she had to worry about.

  A sudden scurry from her left stopped her, her reflexes still that of a killer, her hand grabbing for a sword that wasn’t there. Hero placed his hand on hers, a shimmer of purple light running his drawn blade—he’d keep her safe, or die trying—and she believed it, though she wasn’t too keen on his death anymore. She felt her shoulder where Adam had stabbed her. It ached still, though the wound had healed immediately. She rubbed at the spot and continued on.

  The trees began to close in on them and Ami saw the branches bend low to snag her dress. She dodged them and was loathed to touch them. They were the colour of pond slime that reminded her of the putrid man she’d murdered, rotting and foul.

  “Stop here,” Grace whispered, and the group came to a halt, a silence upon all of them, the whispering of their robes muted as they held their breaths. She had her hand up, her head cocked, listening intently. After a moment had passed, she spoke again. “Are you there?”

  A scurry again, movement in branches unseen, and through the mist a breathy voice answered. “I’m here. Come quickly, to your left. Hurry.”

  Grace looked back at them and Ami saw the urgency in her face. “Follow me, all of you.” The old woman then took off at a remarkable pace to the left, between two trees that touched. Ami followed Hero, while Raven and the two unicorns took the rear. Hero’s hand was in hers and she felt his power shimmer against her like the pull of a magnet.

  The ground sloped down and she found her feet tottering to keep balance as the mist took her legs, nothing seen below her hips. Hero’s grip was firm and the blue-tinted forest was light enough for her to navigate. The trees were above them now, their roots the gnarled surface her boots stomped upon. She could no longer see Lady Grace, but the horns of the unicorns lit, lighting hazy beacons that gave her small comfort.