The Assassin Princess (The Legacy Novels Book 1) (19 page)

“Many go in, one must go. On that occasion, I was the one to go, and let me tell you this. I remember everything. I’m the only one to have entered and left with my sanity. Previous men had been asked, quizzed, and tortured for information despite their lack of reason, but I was left alone for I was just a child. I never told a single soul. I will tell you though because now is the time all things are coming together. So listen. Three days later I arrived back at Legacy after a long and perilous trek. I was certainly exhausted, but knew I wouldn’t die. I couldn’t. Can’t. I learned that within the first few days of travel.”

“You cannot die?” Hero asked.

“I’ve survived for near on three hundred years. I can’t die. A symptom of the whole mess, but let me continue. I couldn’t die, but I was starving and dehydrated and very smelly. I’d walked alone, night and day, and pounded upon the gates of the city for entrance. I would not speak, I would not tell, and eventually I was left to live my life. I wasn’t expelled to the Edorus Mountains like so many of the others had been, raving and mad. Our Lords of Legacy have not always been as benevolent as my husband was. Anyway, what more can I say of myself? I grew up, and then I aged very slowly. To avoid suspicion, I would leave the city and disappear for a generation or two and then come back a lost soul, welcomed into the fold of Legacy. The last time I returned I was still looking quite young, and I fell in love with a young man called Graeme, Lord of Legacy. He and I married and the rest is history.” Grace reached her hands out to Hero, taking his into hers. There was a chill of excitement that ran across his flesh, now knowing that the woman in front of him was very, very old. “Hero, I possess knowledge that no one else has ever had, and I know what lies within those lands.”

“Tell us, Lady Grace, how will the Mortrus Lands help us?” Hero asked.

“Only within the Mortrus Lands, where all things are coming together, will we be able to stop Adam and save Ami’s life, for she may have done bad things already under my son’s influence, but if we fail to stop her, she will forever be a monster and the bringer of death.”

*

Ami rose over the side of the road, keeping herself between the rocks that marked the edge. The castle was dead ahead, the gates shut, the wall high; easy money.

Groups of people scattered the roadway, waiting for news of their heir. This wasn’t going to happen though. Even if Hero wanted to replace her with his
next-girl
, it still wasn’t going to happen. Soon he’d be dead, and she’d be dead, and Adam would come.

That was the plan, and she intended on sticking to it, no matter how many times her blade flashed a bright white; no matter how much she thought of the body miles below, laying hidden in an abandoned and rotting room; no matter how much doubt was building in her mind, how much she missed her family, her life, or however many flashes of that
other
place came to her. She would stick to the plan, because without it, what else was there?

With a quick hop, Ami sailed above the plebs, and landed on the high wall. Guards walked to the left, to the right, and at any moment they’d look round and see her.

Quick to the left, she ran a blur, her sword out and up, and the head of the first Guard hit the ground with his body. She flattened against the wall, ducking into shadow.

“What the—” Two Guards ran from the right, and Ami threw her sword. The tell-tale singing of steel was their only warning as the blade pierced their skulls.

Somewhere in the distance a bell was struck, voices raising the alarm. The bodies by the city gates had been discovered and soon Guards would be all over her as they ran from their posts to answer the call.

She pulled the sword from the dead heads, a sloppy cracking sound, and grabbed the top of the wall, somersaulting over it and dropping down into the courtyard. The keep was close, but Guards now emerged from doors and down steps. Keeping to the wall, she cartwheeled to the left, in silence, in stealth, until she was behind a stable building. The horses were neighing, whinnying, knowing somehow that the bells rang for danger.

She waited and watched as the three Guards on the wall were found, and more bells rang loud from the keep.

*

It was night time, the best time.

The dark cloud rose from his palms and, flying high, smothering the artificial lights, sending the street into darkness. The only lights remaining were multi-coloured flickers from shaded windows, small red blinks from motorcar dashboards.

His approach was silent, his boots mute even on concrete as he walked up the driveway and peered in through the front window. The curtains were drawn of course, but a small slither was all he needed, and Adam saw him there with a woman, lounging on the sofa without a care.

He made his way to the dark fence that separated the back from the front garden, and hopped up and over it with ease. His blade gave a low green glow, lighting his way to the kitchen door. A florescence seeped through the glass.

The door was unlocked, and he went in.

The smell of cooked meat filled the air, reminding him that he’d missed many meals, possibly years of them. The kitchen floor was clean and the surfaces clear of clutter. Yes, what a neat man. Holding the blade before him he turned out of the room and into the hallway. The next doorway was lit.

A voice came from within and Adam froze. “Come on in, son. I’ve been waiting for you.”

Talos leapt from
the edge of the forest and touched down at a full gallop, his hooves ripping the earth from beneath him as he sprinted the slope to the meadows. He ran for the hills, feeling his strength return to his old and worn body, feeling his limbs limber up and his muscles flex. He was strong again, full of power and energy; he had a purpose again, and it’d been so long since he’d had a purpose.

The sun hung over the west like a fireball ready to drop, and with whispered words to the princess, he pushed his power to his horn. “Ami, stop. Hold on to the
true you
. I’m coming.”

There was a shiver from the dark woodland, a misty horizon to the north. His crystal stump pulsed.

*

“I sleep, and I am back there. I do not dream, but travel somehow, travel back to a shadow. I see it all happen, and sometimes I see other things.” Grace stopped. The three listened. She looked to the girl. “You’ve been there, even if you don’t remember, and whatever you know or dream will be of use. You both have a power, but it’s your own inner self that’ll tell you how best to use it. Go we must, into the Mortrus Lands.”

Just then the bells rang out in the tower and the library doors swung open. Two Guards entered and Hero and Raven sprung to their feet.

“Lady Grace, Hero, we are under attack.”

*

Guards flooded the courtyard, lining the walls and barring the gates. Weapons were passed and handled, bows strung, swords drawn. The stables were overrun as horses were taken, untethered, and saddled. Ami remained unseen. Slunk down behind the wooden structure, she’d kept out of sight, spying upon them through a hole left by a missing plank. Only one horse now remained, unsaddled, tethered by a makeshift harness.

It was looking at her, as she looked at it, and despite the chaos around her, Ami raised her hand through the gap to stroke its muzzle.

“There, there,” she whispered, “don’t you worry on such things. You are beautiful, aren’t you? Yes, and you know it. You know it.”

Her thoughts took her back to the meadow walks with her mother during the autumn months, where they’d visit the horses there. “Aren’t they beautiful, Ami?” her mum would say, and would lift her up so she could stroke them. They’d shake their massive heads, warding the flies away, and she’d make up names for them, visiting them year after year.

She refocused on the present as more Guards gathered, metal chinking on metal, scraping on the ground. They were spreading out across the castle, and she knew it wouldn’t be long before she was discovered, but there was no way to sneak past them all.

Or was there?

The horse pushed its nose through the gap, blowing its lips at her and nodding as if in agreement. She ran her hand along its muzzle and looked beyond it into the courtyard. A lone Guard stood in front of the stables, away from all the others. He was busy inspecting his sword, testing its sharpness with his thumb. He cut himself. Bright-spark. He was about her height and size she thought—a mere boy—sent to Guard a near empty stable. He’ll do.

The horse backed up and Ami gripped the rotten boards and pulled them free, careful to remove them quietly, discarding them to the side as she crawled through the gap. The stables were shaded and eerie, the sunlight coming through in small shafts, reminding her of the house below, and the man that was—

The old wood creaked as her feet whispered along the straw-strewn floor. She crept up behind him giving a small tug on his robe. He turned, grey eyes opening wide as her fist met his throat, silencing him. She then brought his head to her knee, knocking him cold and dragging him to the back of the stables. Within moments Ami was dressed in clean, grey robes of the Guard. Her hood was pulled up and she’d tucked her hair into her top, her sword buckled at her side. The still breathing body she hid beneath some straw.

Casually she walked from the stables and into the courtyard. The hustle was different at its core, and she was pushed from side to side, jostled in a crowd of tall, strong men. Some growled and cursed, while others laughed, holding weapons, swords swinging, bows stretching. Ami continued on regardless, passing as one of them, sauntering between them toward the keep, its front doors now closed and barred. There was, however, a large window on the far side, about half way up the tower. The wall was in shadow there, and if she could climb it, she’d be able to enter unnoticed, far away from the amassed militia.

Head down, Ami pulled her robes tight and manoeuvred herself to the far left of the battalion, following the tower and its large buttresses round to the side.

A shiver of green light ran down her body.

Crouching, Ami scrambled like an insect up the wall and broke through the window into the room.

Ami
.

She heard the voice call her name as she hit the ground and rolled forward, skidding to a stop on her knees. The trees were dark to her right and the white steps that led to the stone platform were in front of her; the now familiar columns and arches towered.

Kneeling between the columns was a girl, her long hair flowing either side of her bowed and hooded head—and then only a grey stone wall, a doorway filled with armed men of the Guard. Ami jumped to her feet, her sword ready.

*

Talos charged through the Commune Valley, a blur of white only, and jumped the wrecked bridge with ease. On through the mountain pass he sped, up to the city gates where Guards were stationed in great numbers upon the walls, their weapons raised—but he had no time for such foolishness.

Ami
, he thought, pushing with his mind,
fight it
.

The unicorn’s stump blazed a bright white flame and his body became luminous, changing into light and passing through the gates as if a ghost. The Guards looked on mystified. He had no interest in them. The flare of the power became solid once more, and his hooves sounded out on the paved road. He broke through the assembled and headed to the castle.

*

An explosion rocked through the keep and the library walls shook. Books fell from shelves as stacks tipped and masonry dropped to the mosaic floor, cracking it across a perfect blue sky. Screams echoed through stone walls.

The hallway was already filled with clouds of grey dust and debris as they emerged, stumbling from the room, coughing and spluttering into their garments, Hero, followed by Raven, Florence and Grace.

“Dear God,” Hero said as they approached the top of the stairs. “No, please no.”

Green flame fell, burning everything.

Men, women, and children ran below, on fire and screaming, dying in smoke filled chaos. Stone and mortar fell in chunks, and Guards fell with them. They hit the floor with an audible crunch, one after another.

Hero and Florence stood side by side, their blades drawn, peering into the murky depths of hell, and through the torrent of fire Hero saw the shadowy figure of Ami high above them, looking down from a blasted hole in the wall. Her face was illuminated, flicking green, her expression blank.

“She’s not there,” he said to no one, watching her flaming green blade rise and thrust, cutting Guards down, left, right and centre, felling them into flame.

He brought his own sword up and pointed it toward her, watching the blade flood with purple light. It flashed and shot a bolt of power toward her—but Ami batted it away.

A ripping came from beside him, and turning he saw Florence raise her sword high over her shoulder, white lightning covering the blade. Forks reached out and hit the walls and floor as she threw the bolt up, aiming it at Ami—but Ami was too quick, blank or not—and having jumped from her ledge, through smoke and dust, she landed in front of them all.

Green light rippled across her body and her blade raised toward Hero. He stared into her eyes, watching the colours change from green, to brown, to purple, to green, to purple, to brown.

“Ami,” he whispered, reaching for her, but then Florence struck from behind.

Hero was thrown backward, blinded in a coloured explosion, a dagger piercing his mind as the back of his head hit stone, and all faded to black.

*

It was as if she were channel hopping, only the screen was cinematic, and instead of watching, she was in the thick of the action.

As an artist alone, it was the colours that appealed the most, and how they flashed a purple, a green, a white, and a blue; different tones and textures, soft green of a thousand blades, warm chestnut, a horse’s coat, mane of charcoal, rough bark, cold, smooth stone.

The action was fast paced and chaotic as she crossed swords with hooded men who threw their blades to the left, to the right, but never managed to touch her, out-manoeuvred with every thrust and parry. She’d cut and kill them, yet they’d keep on coming. She’d blast them with fire and scatter them with flaming bullets and would almost make it from the room—then she’d be taken down by the girl, who’d push her to the ground and stand over her.

Ami raised her sword, but the girl lifted her easily and threw her down the steps. Flipping, she rolled, fallen petals sticking to her back, others dancing across the grass. Then on her knees, her sword raised, a shot of fire blew the wall from the room. Debris hailed upon the Guards, killing many.

She walked to the edge and looked down. A staircase, people shouting, screaming. Ami lifted her blade and let the fire fall. “Burn,” she whispered, and then steel hit steel, and her sword hit the grass. The girl was above her, standing over her, and she knew her suddenly—how could she not? She was
Dangerous
. She was fighting herself, and the fight wasn’t going so well.

What was she saying? She tried to listen but the screams were loud, piercing and painful, death falling thick and fast, covering everyone indiscriminately.

Guards surrounded her, but they were of little consequence now. She turned and struck out, twisted and jumped, dodged the blade and anticipated the moves.
Dangerous
spoke as she was lifted, flipped, and sent down to the ground, her jaw hitting the steps.

“…will remember who you are…”

Would she? What was she talking about?

“…trust in yourself…”

Then she saw him. Hero, and beside him the
next-girl
who she’d take great pleasure in killing. Ami jumped forward and landed in front of him, the smoke and dust dense. Her eyes locked to his, and in them she saw his fear and concern—weakness—yet, for a moment…

Movement, swift, sure, Ami turned and lifted her blade in time, the explosion throwing her backward.

A voice, two voices, three.

Ami
.

“Ami!”

“…remember…”

*

Talos called to her.

Ami.

Would she sense him? His horn was in her hand and held the power from both of them, but would it be enough to push the sickness from her veins, from her body and mind?

He pushed through the throngs of people who greeted him, tried to stop him, the keep now fully in view behind the castle walls, tall, proud and pouring with smoke. Guards again, raising their swords and bows—please! He didn’t slow, but again allowed his body to pass into light, and through the gate, reformed.

He leapt over horses and men, landing at the open doors of the burning keep. He pushed aside the people, ignored the flames, and galloped to the foot of the stairs where he saw Ami upon her knees, a girl standing over her with a sword to her neck.

“Ami!” a voice screamed.

He mounting the stairs two at a time, stopping only as the other girl raised her head.

His eyes fell to hers and he froze. They flashed a pure white.

*

“Ami!” Grace called out. She ran forward but stopped short of the two. Ami was on her knees and Florence stood behind her, a blazing sword of white fire poised at her neck.

“You were supposed to be the saviour,” Florence whispered, her voice drowned in the noise of panic from below. Her eyes glistened. “You were supposed to be the heir to this land.” Ami’s face was blank, her eyes a teary green, or purple, or brown. She said nothing, but raised a sword that throbbed bright white. The sound of hooves approached and Grace looked over as a hornless unicorn climbed the stairs at a gallop. He froze.

“Talos,” Florence said.

Ami leapt to her feet.

*

“…remember…”

Dangerous
stood over her, her blade at her throat. She saw her own face reflected back at her, only this Ami was radiant. She’d been toying with her, throwing her about like a ragdoll, all the time knowing that she was the stronger.

“Remember what?” Ami said. She was down, she was out, she was going to die by her own hand. Why not talk?