The Assassin Princess (The Legacy Novels Book 1) Page 8

  “Far from raving though, the girl never spoke of what had happened, no matter how much she was questioned, and to this day, Hero, no one knows what she saw there.” She paused and looked down at him. “That’s what the Mortrus Lands are.”

  Hero swallowed. “Is it all true?”

  “Well,” she said, opening the book beneath her hand, “what we do know is that Lionel Barrel was real, and that he disappeared a few hundred years ago. He was a prolific writer and poet, and this very room holds many books he wrote.” She picked up the volume and showed it to him. The author’s name was written as L. Barrel. “We know that Lord Harold entered the lands, his son, Garth, returning in his place, and that since then the mysterious tradition has continued, up until the last lord, my husband.”

  Lady Grace returned to the step and placed the book upon the shelf. Hesitating for a moment, she retrieved the volume Hero had handed to her.

  “It’s all in here, if you want to read it, Hero. Familiarise yourself with your history. My husband may be gone, but we all still hope for the heir’s return, some day. Learn all you can, our history is your history.”

  He reached for the book, but she’d already drifted to sleep. He pulled the covers tighter around her frail shoulders and took his leave, turning to the girl behind the flames.

  “Why do you haunt me?” he asked.

  A laugh. “Do I haunt you, Hero of the Guard, or help you?”

  She raised her hands and the flames raised high, high enough to burn the highest branch of the tallest tree. His arms ached, stone scoring skin, the smell of scorched earth and burning wood.

  There was that small laugh again, followed by a song, gentle, tribal, lulling him to sleep.

  Coughing, then nothing.

  *

  The pain was great, shuddering through each and every part of him. He gritted his teeth, his jaw aching; he breathed in the wet, sharp smell of grass, but couldn’t hold it and coughed, spluttered, choked and doubled over. His eyes opened to grey stone and black smoke, thinning in the open air. There was a stabbing pain in his neck which made his skull explode.

  “I’m glad you’re awake.” Raven’s voice was quiet and near.

  “Aye, a lot of good it’ll do us!” Kane said.

  “Don’t talk like that to your captain,” Raven growled, both Guards now entering Hero’s sight.

  “Why the hell not? The most important thing—the most important task? For all the raving and talking of honour and duty, and the man couldn’t even—”

  “Shut up!” Raven came at Kane, brandishing his sword. “Don’t talk of our captain that way. I should string out your guts from here to Legacy!”

  Hero winced at the pain—and the insult—forcing himself to stand. His legs were shaky, and when he looked down the world spun. He touched the blackened fabric of his robes, small fragments falling away.

  The ruins were blackened and smoky, and Hero realised that his men must have pulled him from the underground fort unconscious. They’d saved his life only to kill each other now in a sword fight, each bearing on the other, their blades touching. He tried to speak, croaked and coughed, leaning painfully on the ruined wall. It crumbled beneath his touch.

  “Enough! Come to me, for I can’t shout—I can hardly—” He collapsed to his knees as he coughed the fire from his lungs. In the black, he saw Ami in flames, the dark figure taking her into his arms. He opened his eyes, breathing deeply, ignoring the stars, flashes and dizziness. His men had hold of him, their swords forgotten.

  “Hero, I’m sorry,” Kane said. “I didn’t mean to cause offence, at least—I did, but I regret it. Please, forgive me.”

  “You are forgiven,” he said, his voice grating in his throat. “It’s my fault. I let her go. But I truly believe that I wouldn’t have been able to stop her. I need to tell you both something. Help me up to the wall.”

  They brought him back to his feet and Hero focussed on the horizon. It was morning, and though the grass of the hill was waterlogged and muddy, and the sky grey with the last of the storm, the distance held promise. Rays of broken sunshine lit their path to the mountains, and a rainbow cut through the sky, a tinge of blue behind it.

  He turned to his men.

  “You heard the singing, the voice?” They both nodded. “I’ve heard it once before.”

  He went on to tell them about the girl with fire. He told them of her predictions, her guidance, and how she’d told him that they’d have to lose Ami.

  Hero thought of his dreams, his memories. They seemed hazy and distant, but important all the same. “She said that we need to go back to Legacy. I’m more angry than you’ll ever know, my friends, my brothers, for my failure in this task, this most important of all tasks.” He looked to each of them, placing each hand on their respective shoulders. “But if you’ve ever had faith in me, have faith in me now, and if all that happens is that I am hanged for treason once we reach the city? Then I shall make sure that it’s only I at the gallows.”

  “Could they do that?” Kane asked. “Could they take your life?”

  “Lady Grace could order it, and I’d gladly give it if it was she that did—but the visions from a mystery, wrapped in a hope? I have to follow them, as it’s all I have left.”

  Kane looked at the ground, then back to Raven, and then to Hero. “I’m sorry for my words, Hero. I shall follow you.”

  “I follow you,” Raven said, “though it may be hard to follow anyone without horses.”

  He pointed to his right, where Hero saw their two steeds dead on the ground, whether from Adam’s hand, or the shock of the storm, he didn’t know. But it did indeed make things harder.

  “On foot then,” Hero said, and after gathering their small supplies from the saddlebags, they started off down the western slope of the hill toward Legacy.

  Part Three

  The Mortrus Lands

  “he is gone on the mountain, he is lost to the forest,

  like a summer-dried fountain, when our need was the sorest.”

  — sir walter scott, coronach

  Chapter Nine

  Ami was leaving Hero to the fire, standing now at Adam’s side.

  “Will I ever see you again?” she whispered, her goodbye surprising and painful. What had Hero meant to her? She watched him burn, and thought back to the last goodbye she’d given, the one to her parents on the station platform on the day she’d left for university. Her mum had sobbed constantly, and the three of them had huddled together, exchanging I’ll miss yous and hugs. Moments before the train was due to depart, her dad had pulled her aside and sat her down on one of the cold metal benches. He’d spoken to her in a low, but spirited voice. “It was on this very platform where I first met your mother,” he said. “I’d been travelling for many years and had lost my way in the world, deciding eventually to return home, and as I stepped off the train here, my eyes caught sight of the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. An angel.” Ami had smiled, trails of mascara running down her cheeks. “She stood alone at the edge of the platform, wearing a white dress, her long brown hair flowing behind her. She looked like a runaway bride. As soon as I saw her my heart raced and I knew it must mean something, so I approached her—nerves turning to courage—and asked her if she was waiting for somebody. And honey, I’ll never forget it, because her smile broke my heart when she said, ‘I’ve been waiting for you.’”

  Ami had thought it the most romantic thing she’d ever heard. He’d then shown her the exact spot where they’d met.

  “If you’re ever lonely,” he said, “or far from us, then find a platform and a spot like this one, and remember that you’re never alone and that you’ll always be close to us here.”

  There’d been more crying, and when the train had finally pulled away, and their faces had slipped by so quickly, the question hung in the air: Will I ever see you again?

  Turning now from the fallen Guard, her fallen protector, she wished a simple wish, that she’d see Hero again; this she allowed h
erself before the green flames penetrated her heart and blurred everything a dark green. There were no platforms here.

  Ami stepped forward through the rip and onto a sandy stretch of land, shading her eyes from the dazzling sun that burned through a thin, pale blue sky. It was hot. Sparkling waters of a clear blue rolled gentle waves in front, and to each side, the slip of beach ran against jagged rocks in a crescent moon. Craggy cliffs rose from behind, topped with crumbling buildings that were too near the edge, and people were gathered there, dressed in bright blues and reds, dancing to music barely heard that floated down with the breeze. Below, at the base of the cliffs, Ami saw caves worn into the rock. They looked like eyes to her, dark sockets of a skull. She didn’t like them.

  The rip had sealed, and Adam stood at the water’s edge, facing the far off horizon. His hair lifted and fell like a black sail, his arms held behind his back.

  His eyes were closed as she approached him. “Where are we?”

  He turned to her, his eyes opening green and intense. “We’ve slipped into another layer, a place I like to come to.” He scanned the horizon, but Ami could see nothing there. When she turned back to him, his eyes had shifted to hers again. His lips were a grimace. “Fancy a swim?”

  “A—a what?” Ami blinked. Were they here to swim? Strangely, she thought of her swimsuit back home, abandoned and forgotten, stuffed in her bottom drawer.

  “You have no idea what you are capable of, do you?”

  What she was capable of? What kind of swim was he expecting? The music from the cliffs was distracting, drawing her attention too easily. She watched the people for a moment, their coloured dress vibrant in the sun.

  “You act as if you are one of them,” he pointed to the dancers without looking, “like it matters what others do to you, what they think of you. None of it matters now because you are a predator!”

  “I don’t understand,” she said, turning her attention back to Adam.

  His smile distorted further as he stepped past her into the water, his black boots sinking in the sand. Crouching forward, his lank hair touched the surface. “Watch,” he said, and without warning, he sprung high up into the air.

  Ami saw him arc metres above the water, disappearing into the sun scorched blue before dropping down, a black spec on the horizon, plunging into the sea. A faint green glow bloomed and disappeared there. Ami kept her sights on the dot as it became bigger and sped toward her as if a torpedo. In seconds, Adam had risen from the waves and was standing in front of her, his eyes watery and red, stark against his alabaster face.

  “You can do it. It is within your power too. You are not one of them.” He touched her shoulder, and Ami shivered under the transfer. Yes, she could do it, she knew she could. Adam’s touch was reassuring, powerful, pushing all her thoughts of home and parents, music and happiness aside. None of it mattered, only these moments now, with Adam. He was training her.

  She dropped to her knees in the sand and rose on her haunches as if a track runner, poised at the starting blocks. The music behind her kept the rhythm of her beating heart as she looked to the horizon, knowing her power for the first time. She felt dangerous as her fingers touched the hot, wet sand, the tide coming in to greet her. Now or never, she thought, and closing her eyes, she leapt forward.

  She could hear nothing but the rushing wind, the crashing waves below; she was doing it, and the sea was passing her as if she were a bird, skipping the surface, skimming it like a stone. She couldn’t see her feet, her running legs a blur. How was she doing this? But she knew, had surely always known. It was the power—it was all true, and with a thrill of freedom, Ami flew forward, her eyes on the horizon.

  She took a glance back behind her, seeing the strip of yellow sand at the centre of an island, the clearest blue waters surrounding it. Forests spilled down slopes of snow-capped mountains, and clusters of settlements topped the cliffs; it was breath-taking.

  Her awe had slowed her though, and Ami found herself dropping into the water fast, her last breath a swallow of the sea. Panicked and desperate, she tried to push herself to the surface, but which way was up? Her dress and boots were heavy, pulling her down and down until the world spun in a shadowed blue and blurred orange mirror.

  Bubbles rushed from her mouth and blinded her as she emptied her lungs with a scream for help, salt water rushing into her chest, throbbing and stinging—then everything became calm and her body stopped fighting. Now she would die. She waited for the moment when life would fail her and leave in pain or euphoria—but as the moments stretched on, and she sank deeper and deeper still, she began to realise that she wasn’t dying. There was no pain in her lungs, no urge to breathe at all. It was the power. The power was keeping her alive.

  In her panic and terror, Ami had almost missed the new world opening up around her. She kicked her boots and turned, looking down upon the strobes and shafts of light that penetrated the deep, revealing wondrous plants of many colours, swarming sea creatures and crustaceans, rocks and rocky reefs.

  She smiled and moved to touch the delicate petals of a flower that grew from the shadows. Red, pink, and purple, the centre a mouth. A small fish swam by and was soon sucked toward it, the predatory petals closing around its wriggling body.

  She pulled her fingers back.

  Sucking water into her lungs easily now, Ami moved on, willing herself forward to watch large schools of fish pass by, swerving left, right, up and then down, down, down into darkened depths where she dared not venture. Jelly blobs bobbed alone, passing close to her, pausing and spinning, while scaled tentacles reached between rocks and seemed to beckon her toward them—she moved out of reach, ducking as a spiked, pulsing creature darted fast at her head.

  To each side of her there were red, yellow, and blue vines growing, flowers everywhere, and between each vine and petal, another curiosity lurked, another colourful and wonderfully small, detailed creature or beast. She laughed freely as a sea turtle dared the depths, followed by its family of smaller turtles, each a miniature of the larger.

  Not wishing to push her luck though, Ami turned to the bright blue surface above and kicked her legs, breaking through a moment later into the stifling heat of the tropics. Coughing, she emptied her lungs of water and gasped in the hot, salty air.

  Adam still stood at the yellowed edge of the island, a small black dot. Could she swim as fast as him? Immediately her limbs took to the challenge and she shot toward the land, climbing out of the water, soaking wet and dripping a few seconds later.

  “Good,” Adam said, the grimace now a grin. “Surely you can see now that you’re not like others? That you’re better, more powerful in all ways?”

  “I can’t believe—all the—” Ami stopped, her mind reeling with excitement. What else could she do? What else could she see? A million wonders in the world—in just one—and if she travelled between layers with Adam, how many more would there be? She needed to know all of it, she needed to know what this power could be.

  “All in good time,” Adam said, as if he’d read her thoughts. He placed his hand on her cheek. The sensation was now familiar, and Ami closed her eyes to the warmth of it. A bloom of green flame spread from her cheek and travelled across her body, over her skin, under her skin, infusing her with power. Yes, give me more, I need more. Her hair was drying, steaming, the last drop of the ocean leaving her as the flames dispersed into the air.

  Ami sighed, shivering, shaking.

  She felt no revulsion at his touch now, and why would she? He was showing her a world and a life that only she was entitled to, and the power felt good…for a while at least.

  He took her arm and turned her.

  The music seemed louder now, the tune almost tribal, and her eyes betrayed her another glance upward. Adam, though, was pointing to one of the caves. The mouth was wide and dark, the sunlight hardly penetrating its entrance.

  “In there, you’ll find something interesting. I needn’t tell you anything more,” Adam said, moving her c
loser to the mouth of the cave. The dry sand stuck to her boots, making her feet feel heavy—or was it her head that felt heavy and woozy? “If you’re ready, you’ll know what to do with what you find, and when you have what you need?” Adam held out his sword and placed it in her hand. She gripped it, a vibration running from it and along her arm. “You will know what to do then as well.” The sun caught the blade and it shone a purple light, then was gone.

  She looked back to Adam, but he’d already retreated to the sea again, his back to her, his hands crossing his chest. She looked down at the sword. What had she seen in it? She saw her reflection, her face a pale colour, stark against her long, dark brown hair, distorted in the folded steel. Then she looked up at the dark eye that watched her, and moved toward it. Adam wanted her to go in, so she would, but what would she find in there? Something interesting? She felt her confidence wane, the blade feeling too light in her hand, as if she were the steel, and the sword a feather.

  She stepped inside.

  *

  As her foot crossed the line of light to shadow, Ami thought of the last few contrasting days. In her own layer, she’d been the artist, creating and expressing, hoping for a future of choice and freedom; but she’d been snatched from that, made a puppet of necessity. Swept along by each turn of the tide, Ami had lost herself in awe, unable to catch her breath.

  And now, in the cool dark cave, she began to ponder the moment that she’d made a choice, her only choice, the choice between three mirrors, three reflections, three versions of herself.

  Tragic Hero, her protector, would’ve had her raised upon a pedestal, the figurehead for a new era of peace for a land she knew nothing of and cared little about. Apparently it was her destiny, her own father’s Legacy, though her father had not given it to her as previous lords had done. Was it her destiny to rule Legacy? Was it ever meant to be so? That had been the pink dress of a princess.