The Assassin Princess (The Legacy Novels Book 1) (14 page)

*

The sun had risen high in the sky, peeking between two black clouds. It created a perfect slice of hopeful light that fell upon the three. Florence had gathered much from the now deserted tavern, and having roped these supplies to their horses, they were ready for the last leg of their journey.

Hero had reluctantly agreed to allow Florence to travel with them, though he was secretly glad for her company—and her sword. His thoughts strayed to Ami as she hopped upon the back of his horse, and he felt her hands around his waist. The ache in his chest still weighed heavy, now on two counts, as beside him was Raven, carrying his fallen brother at the rear, laying crossways so as to keep the balance; Kane, shrouded in stolen white bed sheets from the tavern.

“What are we waiting for?” Raven asked, his mourning aside for the moment, his face rugged and worn but alert.

Hero looked above as the heavy clouds parted for one last gleam of sunlight before closing to darkness. The path before them now lay in shadow, the cold wind biting his flesh.

“Nothing,” he said finally. “Let’s go. Florence? Hold on tight.”

Above, a lone bird circled them and then hovered, as if watching their departure. It rose and dropped on the wind, finally flapping its wings, heading back into the Commune Valley.

*

The sound of Adam’s laughter was lost in the wind as he watched the bride fall to the ground. It had been perfect, Ami had been perfect, and she had disappeared easily into the crowd as the commotion of the wedding party turned to chaos; many swarmed around the dead girl, coming too late to her aid.

Adam had watched it play out from the water’s edge, the sun high in his eyes. It had been amusing and thrilling to watch his creation destroy beauty and innocence, but now it was over, and he scanned the cliff for his angel of death, eventually finding her standing in the shadow of the old building.

And didn’t she look magnificent?

Adam tried to compare her to the ragged girl who he’d spied on horseback just out of the Planrus Forest, or even to the girl he’d almost snatched from her little abode in another layer. He simply couldn’t. The contrast was too stark, too complex.
This
Ami had undergone such a change.

It had begun when he’d invaded her mind and had delved deep into her thoughts. It’d been almost too easy to penetrate her. She’d been strong, but he’d been stronger.

Okay, so he’d slipped. He’d fed her his power believing that it would be enough to turn her, to make her his—yet each time his infusion had worn off. He’d sent her into the cave hoping that she’d take to his power and use it in fear and frenzy, where she’d try to massacre the crazed old men and the unicorn, maybe even find out the secrets he couldn’t grasp. He hoped she’d lose herself to Adam and get drunk on his power. But there was a hero in her—and
oh that name!
That infuriating man with his self-indulgent name. If Adam had gotten to her first before
Hero
, things would’ve turned out much differently. She would’ve led him through the very gates of Legacy and the city would already be in ruin. Instead, because of
Hero
, he’d had to push hard and he’d made mistakes, he’d been sloppy. But Hero was no longer a concern, was inconsequential, was gone—but the unicorn? She had actually
sympathised
with its plight, pampered to its meaningless blather, and she’d failed the test. Adam’s power had grown thin within her and she’d ridden upon the unicorn’s back,
daring
to think that she could overpower him.

He watched now as Ami jumped from the cliff and sailed in an elegant arc across the sky, dipping down into the horizon as if a bird for water. “Magnificent.”

But Adam had won in the end, and now held the unicorn horn in his hands, transformed into a sword for Ami; he’d deprived the unicorn of its power and pride, and whether his will or not, the unicorn was now gone.

He’d rectified all mistakes now by driving his power deep within Ami, forcing it into the very fabric of her body. Her heart was no longer pumping blood, but the pure essence of Adam—she’d become the perfect assassin princess. Magnificent.

His eyes scanned the horizon for a sign of her, but she hadn’t yet surfaced and the day was waning on. The screams and wails behind him held little interest now as his thoughts focussed on Legacy. Yes.

He would send her there immediately, and she would infiltrate the city walls, unseen and lethal, killing any in her path. In shadow and blood, she would make her way to the castle. Oh, the pure joy of it—

But the thought was cut short as his vision clouded, and the glittering water disappeared into a blur of blue and yellow, wisps of white and twin green hills.

He was flying high, circling downward, seeing the small wooden shacks fly by, the disgusting habitats of the poor and needy. He recognised the Commune Valley and its dirt track road, scored and scarred from years of use. It was now blotched with dark red. He flew low, rising, turning and diving back toward the Edorus Mountains and the bridge that spanned the great distance. Back, for he could go no further west, back he went—and then he saw them.

Two horses, a band of three, two of them hooded, and one a girl, travelling toward the mountain pass. Adam’s blood boiled and he swooped low, recognising the Guards, recognising
Hero
.

Up now, up, back to the black clouds and the waves that ceaselessly rolled on.

Ami broke the surface of the water, her long brown hair streaming behind her, swept back behind her ears, her dark brown eyes now sparkling green in the sunlight.

Adam shook his head, cleared his thoughts, and opened his arms to her. “My dear sister, you are ready!”

She smiled as she walked to him and leant into his arms. “I feel ready. I feel powerful.” She looked up to the cliff. The gathered crowd were moving as one, carrying the bride, hidden behind their clustered bodies. The celebrations were over. “I
am
powerful, and I’ve stolen their beauty and happy thoughts.”

“And more you’ll have, and more you’ll kill.” Adam pushed her back, looking deep into her eyes. He saw no resistance now and could feel the power flowing strong beneath her skin. “You’ll gain entrance to Legacy and let me through into the very keep of the castle—but you’ll have company—and you’ll dispose of them.”

“Company? What do you mean, company?” she asked, ringing out her hair.

“Hero is still alive,” he said, watching her closely. He saw no reaction as she ruffled her hair, letting it dry in the heat. “He survived my little fire, and although it’s irritating, it’s not so surprising. He is headed for Legacy, with one Guard and a woman.”

Ami fluffed her hair again, but gave no sign of anything other than her attention. Adam was impressed. Maybe
Hero
hadn’t made such an impression after all. Good.

“You want me to kill them?” she asked, so casual.

“Yes,” he hissed, holding out her sword. She took it firmly in her hand, and held it aloft, inspecting the shining metal of the slim, but strong blade.

“Good,” Ami said with a smile. “I want to kill, and I want to use my new sword to do it. I want to make it personal.”

Her eyes flashed green on Adam and he felt his whole body tingle with excitement.

“Excellent. We cannot waste time as they’re already nearing the ravine, and I cannot follow past that point. You must go on without me, follow them, stalk them, play with them if you must, but kill them before they reach the castle.”

There was a rumble of thunder somewhere far off in the distance. Ami looked out across the sea, her eyes searching.

“Will you do it for me? For us?”

Ami turned back to him, her smile wide, her now white skin radiant. “Oh yes,” she said. “When do we leave?”

“Now,” he said, holding his own sword firmly in his grasp. He swung it back, ready to slash a rip into the layers, but Ami stopped him, raising her own sword to block his blade.

“Wait,” she said. “First there is something I must do, a promise I made myself that I must fulfil.”

Adam had no chance to respond as she stalked up the beach and into the mouth of the cave, her boots sinking in the wet sand. He watched her disappear into the darkness and heard the screams of
Mortrus Lands
that greeted her. And then just screams.

Not ten seconds had gone by when everything fell silent. Adam could hear the waves rise and fall as if they’d never made a sound before; a seagull, maybe two or three, sailed somewhere near and called out.

Ami emerged with her blade dripping dark red, striding back to him, her smile all the more sinister for the spatter of blood across her face. Adam wiped the droplets with his thumb, smudging them across her pale skin. Her eyes burned.

“Are they—?”

“They are free,” she said. “They are all free now.”

Those who could not be killed by his malice alone had been silenced forever by her power. Her cruelty had risen to the surface and now Adam felt the nagging question in the back of his mind. How powerful was she?

Ami stood away from the water and pirouetted on the spot, with one leg off the ground and her foot sinking deep into the sand. Her blade carved a circle around her and a fierce white light burst forth.

Without a word or a look to Adam, she jumped into the light. Adam followed, not wanting to miss a thing.

“in each of us, two natures are at war—the good and the evil. all our lives the fight goes on between them, and one of them must conquer. but in our own hands lies the power to choose—what we want most to be we are.”

— robert louis stevenson, dr jekyll & mr hyde

The storm closed
in upon the three as they left the valley, lowering like a deathly shroud. It marked them, cast them out, chased them with winds that carried like knives, cutting against their bare skin. The sun had gone and the sky had curdled black and grey.

A single bird circled and hovered.

It was no ordinary bird, and like the others that’d attacked them, it was a little too big, a little too black—not a raven, nor a crow—and Hero had no doubt that it was
his
. He didn’t mention it to the others but instead continued on at a gallop, passing shrubs and scrub into rockier terrain, slowing and coming to a stop at the ragged edge of the ravine where an old tree marked the fall; its gnarled roots broke the ground and hung down into the abyss. Beyond were the tall and dark mountains of Edorus that swallowed the horizon, their peaks lost in heavy, swirling cloud. Jagged fingers rose up from below, scratching at the crossing, a swaying rope bridge that spanned the chasm, joining them to the mountain tunnel in the distance, the Pass of Legacy.

“I can see our home,” Raven said, pointing. “So far away, yet it still shines for me between these crags. It won’t take us long to reach now.”

“I see it too,” Florence said, following Raven’s direction. “It’s beautiful.”

Hero could also see it, a city of white upon a peak far within the range, but as the first few drops of rain fell, he looked instead to their path. The bridge was long, wide enough for two horses abreast, and the tunnel beyond led direct to the city gates, the only way into Legacy by land. He shuddered as thunder broke above, the rain falling harder. Something was about to happen, he could feel it.

“Let’s not loiter,” he said. “We’ll need the shelter of the tunnel when the skies open.”

“Aye,” Raven said, looking back at Kane’s body. “Let’s not waste time.”

The sound of their hooves were loud against the slats as they made their first steps onto the bridge.

Florence shuffled against Hero’s back. “It doesn’t look too safe.” She peered over his shoulder, gripping tight to his robes.

“Hundreds have crossed it a thousand times. It’s safe.”

“But there is always the last time, no?” She clung to him as the bridge swayed to the left with the rising wind. “I mean, just a slip, a single wrong footing, would mean a fall and who knows how many bones lay at the bottom?”

“I don’t like to think about it.”

“It’s hard for me not to think about it,” she said as she looked over the edge. “I’m scared of heights.”

“Don’t look down, look up,” Raven said, pulling back his hood and turning his face to the sky. Florence did the same and laughed as she leaned backward into the rain, the drops spattering her face and running through her hair.

Hero’s unease grew, and as Florence sat straight again, he looked behind at the empty bridge. “Ride faster,” he said. “Something isn’t right here. We need to move.”

“Is it Adam?” Raven asked, righting himself and raising his hood, the bridge cantering hard to the left.

“I don’t know.”

“Adam?” Florence drew her sword, but Hero reached round and stilled it.

“I don’t know,” he repeated, “let’s just get across.”

The sky ripped and the rain became torrential. Hero could no longer see in front of him and his horse slipped on the wooden slats as they pushed to a gallop. Peaks of low mountains passed them by as others loomed to the left and right, cutting out any remaining light. The sky flashed again and the mountains grew, black sentinels either side. Hero felt his gut tighten. Another glance back into the wind and rain, and to a black figure that stood beside the tree, blurred and indistinct. Hero wiped the water from his eyes, but it was no shadow. The face was luminous in the raging storm.

*

The artist within was finally free to create and destroy at will, life the ultimate canvas, people the ultimate paint. The bride had been her first stroke, and afterward she’d dived into the cool blue waters and let herself drift in the power, in the happiness and beauty that she’d stolen from the bride. Rising, Ami had walked out onto the beach, hearing the dull moans of the old men, inane mumblings of mild annoyance. She freed them. With each turn of the blade, each quick and sharp movement made, her power was assured. Their confused cries of
Mortrus Lands
were silenced forever. In her mind, it was no different to painting. She slashed the sword like a brush, and watched their grimy white skin flay with sprays of burgundy. Even the putrid one had found his end, and her blade had shimmered with green-lit power as his long life dripped upon shaded rock.

She was ready to enter Legacy and face those who would oppose her, to kill and paint their lives upon the city streets, but as Adam told her of Hero, something stirred within. Adam hadn’t seen it, but she’d felt a weakness…

Now she walked through the storm, the rain cold and welcome on her skin. All around lay mountains, jagged peaks and slopes in shadow, a scene that she’d love to paint deep and dark upon a canvas. Adam stood by a tree, looking across a bridge.

“Come closer,” he said, his voice low. “Look at your Hero.”

Ami joined him, and in a triple flash of lightning she saw Hero’s face, bare in the stark light, and seated behind him, a female. Her grip tightened on her sword as her midriff caught fire. “I see him,” she said. “Shall I kill him now?”

Adam nodded, his hair dripping against his cheeks; she could see every shivering raindrop on his skin. “Yes, kill him, kill them all,” he said, “and enter Legacy in my stead.” He took her by the shoulders and moved her toward the bridge, sweeping her hair back from her face, his fingers on her neck. She shivered as the power passed between them.

Ami saw them clearly, riding away from her. Hero and his
next-girl
.

She wouldn’t let them run free from her.

She placed her boot upon the first slanted plank and felt the power reach out. A warm glow of green light passed into the bridge and raced forward; a cracking, wood splitting, splinters flying high, each slat a satisfying snap as the bridge ruptured down the middle.

A neigh, a scream.

Oh yeah, scream. I hope you fall.

“Kill them. Rid the world of them,” Adam said, laughing a hoarse whisper in her ear. “Clear our path of them. And then on to Legacy.”

“If you can’t come with me, then where will you go?” she asked, looking away from the destruction and the stranded travellers, so easily caught.

Adam bared his sharp teeth and gnashed them together. “I’ll be preparing. Rip me a layer from within the castle, for outside of it a rip won’t take. Open the way for me,
heir
of Legacy, and then we’ll take what is ours to take.”

She smiled and walked to the first broken slat. The rain was heavy and grey, the wind a gale that sung through the mountains. She pushed her hair back again, wishing she’d brought a hairclip—they lay on her dresser, she thought, back in her other life—and felt the weight of her new sword in her hand. She intended to use it very soon. Legacy was hers, and Hero would fall.

*

A green shadow passed across the slats, misty in the rain. It ran the centre of the bridge, and in its wake, Hero heard the sound of wood snapping and splintering in the dark.

The bridge trembled and shook as he pulled to the left, grabbing for the guide ropes. Raven followed suit and launched himself to the right, just as the bridge split between them. Shards and splinters flew in all directions, cutting through the rain. The gap yawned, and the two halves of the bridge separated.

“Hold on,” he shouted to Florence, as their side of the bridge flew to the left, tilted, and dropped them down. Hero yelled as pain ripped his arm, their weight hanging upon him, his fist wrapped in rope.

What lay between the two halves was a mouth, and Hero saw the teeth of the ravine, hungry and ready to gnash. The sky was to his left, and the wind pushed him toward the mouth, broken slats drooling rain. His horse lost its footing and skidded away, disappearing silently into the abyss.

As quick as it had happened, the destruction ceased.

Hero looked across to Raven who hung tight on his side. His horse had clambered up the broken slats, kicking and whinnying, Kane’s body still anchored to its back.

“Hero,” Raven called out, “stay where you are.”

In the quiet that followed, Hero heard footsteps. They came from behind, slow and deliberate, though he could see nothing; the rain was too heavy, too dark. His feet scrambled against the slick boards, but they gave no grip, and the drop to the ravine seemed certain. Ahead he could just make out the first unbroken board, tilted and off kilter. From that point the rest of the bridge remained intact, but for how much longer?

Florence moved up his body, a monkey climbing a tree, and her hand joined his on the rope, the strain lessening.

“What about your fear of heights?” he asked.

“My fear of dying is greater,” she whispered. “This rope isn’t going to last long with both of us holding it, but at least I can help hold us up while we—”

He felt her look around and come to the same conclusion he had.

The footsteps were closer.

“I think I can get to the far side,” Raven shouted, “just stay there, don’t try to move. Your rope is fraying.”

Hero wished he hadn’t heard that, but now he knew, he could feel his grip slipping, the twine unwinding.

Raven stepped upon his horse’s back, its front legs hooked over the side of the slats, its back legs kicking. From there he freed his hands to steady himself on the rope, and leant forward, stopping only to look back at Hero.

“I’m going to have to jump,” he said, “and if I don’t make it…” but he couldn’t finish. What was there to say? If Raven didn’t make it, then Hero wouldn’t either.

“What about your power?” Florence said. “Can’t you use the power you were given?”

“I don’t know how,” Hero said.

“Try, damn it. Better now than never again.”

As Raven reset his footing, the horse shifting beneath him, Hero spoke into the wind. “If I have anything in me, then let it guide Raven to safety, and get us the hell away from here.”

The footsteps were closer, slower. There was laughter beneath the thunder.

*

Ami had caused more damage than she’d thought.

The split had snapped each slat and the bridge sagged in two halves, gaping into the ravine. What remained was slanted, swinging in the wind. Ahead, through the downpour, she saw the scramble of her victims.

Hero and his
next-girl
were scrambling high up on the left of the split and their horse along with them. The other Guard clung to the right, his horse finding purchase. It was comical. These men were supposed to have
protected
her from Adam? They were so weak, and they would soon die. But she wanted to be the one to kill them, to kill Hero and his
next-girl
, and if she wasn’t quick enough, they’d be taken by the fall into the ravine.

Ami’s next few steps were on solid wood, but after that some slats had fallen, leaving gaps like broken teeth of a comb; others were sound, but slanted and useless.

But wasn’t she powerful? Couldn’t she jump cliffs and oceans? She closed her eyes and visualised what she wanted to do, and took her first step forward. She felt her foot fail for purchase, her boot slipping against ropes and splinters.

Concentrating, she took a deeper breath, and called up an image of steps, white steps in a green moonlight, and even though her eyes were closed, she could see the columns that rose tall into the sky, the arches that were incomplete.

She stepped down onto the soft grass, looking for her rosebush. It was growing as always, against the wall of the walkway, the flowers blooming red. She reached to pick one, wanting to feel the petals against her palm, soft and velvet, but the stem wouldn’t break.
This is my place,
she thought,
mine alone.

She turned to the walkway itself and followed the outside wall toward the far building, where she’d met
him
.

There was a window, large and low.

Ami knelt, and peered through it.

There he was, sitting in a large and ornate chair. He was bent forward, his hands in the grate of a fireplace, the flames a bright green. His face was smooth and seamless, plastic and false, but his eyes were alive and fierce in their voyeurism—he was watching her.

She knew he would look up at her in a moment, so she turned before he could.

Walking now, Ami approached the trees that bordered the grassland and watched as they swayed, shuffling gently under an unfelt breeze. There was a face peering out at her from between two trunks. Small features, a girl. As Ami watched her blonde hair blow about her face, her skin turned grey and old, shrinking and sagging. The blonde hair became white.