Legacy of the Mind (The Legacy Trilogy Book 1)

by HR Moore

  ‘Well the Descendants’ interests run contrary to everything that Anderson is trying to achieve. If he finds a way to send back the relic, then you all lose your authority and the people decide who they want to rule.’

  ‘Why do you think I want to rule?’ bit Alexander.

  ‘Well you are, aren’t you, so you can’t be dead set against the idea,’ she snapped back.

  ‘I rule because it’s my duty to do so until we can find a way to return the relic, and I swore an oath to try to find a way to do that.’

  ‘But the other Descendants don’t seem to be trying too hard to free the world, quite the opposite in fact. They’re doing everything they can to try to stop the world being freed, even if that means destroying it in the process.’

  ‘And you think I’m like the other Descendants?’ he said, hurt at the thought.

  ‘Not exactly, but that’s why I asked the question. So why are you so comfortable with his work, given your high and bloody mighty position in this world?’ Anita knew she was going further than was strictly necessary, but he really was being obtuse.

  ‘I have no interest in abusing the power and authority bestowed on me because of my bloodline. I’m no different to anybody else really. I’m powerful, yes, but so are others and I have no desire to rule in a world where people are not happy. I told you Sprit Descendants tend to be different to the rest. We tend to be more philosophical and less power hungry. Maybe that’s something to do with the kind of skills we respect. Minds respect grand displays of mental and physical power, as do Bodies, even if the displays manifest differently, but Spirits acknowledge that it only takes one person to change the course of history. Maybe Anderson is that one person. Austin can put as many barriers in Anderson’s way as he wants to, but if Anderson continues to fight, maybe he will be the one to free the world. To a Spirit Descendant, that kind of display of power, motivated by reasons we consider more creditworthy than greed and self-interest, would be far more wonderful than the prospect of ruling for eternity.’

  ‘But what about stability? What if sending the relic back causes chaos?’

  ‘I think that’s a bit farfetched. People are pretty good at accepting change when they have to, especially when it’s change they’ve been asking for for centuries. And besides, as you pointed out, the world is heading for chaos as it stands anyway.’

  CHAPTER 12

  Helena bowed before the Great Spirit Leader, perched precariously on a small, round stone ledge above a heart stopping drop down the mountain to the ground below. It had been designed to put visitors on edge and let the Spirit Leader see how they reacted in uncomfortable situations. Helena had been here a number of times before, however, not once had she quite managed to keep her energy stable. This she found extremely annoying, which meant she had to try and hide her annoyance from the Spirit Leader, who could of course read her energy as though she were an open book. All in all, it was an especially stressful experience and she didn’t relish her visits to the mountain.

  ‘So nice to see you again Helena,’ came the Spirit Leader’s calm, even, almost bored tones, from the centre of a mat in the middle of a small pillared room, open on all sides to the elements, the wind gently toying with the fabric draped from the ceiling. He was a shortish man, of medium build with thick, wavy, sandy coloured hair and a voice that had a way of penetrating to the core of a person, so they couldn’t help but sit up and listen. He had wise features and an aura around him of gravitas and severity, the kind of person you would always want on your side, for some irrational reason that you could never quite articulate.

  ‘The pleasure is all mine,’ replied Helena, in a voice slightly louder than she had meant it to be. ‘How can I be of assistance?’

  The Spirit Leader chuckled, ‘typical Body,’ he said, ‘no preamble, just straight to the point.’

  ‘My sincere apologies,’ jousted Helena, ‘how’s the family?’

  He snickered again, pleased to be having an effect on her. Helena had never liked being so out of control. ‘Very well, have it your way. I summoned you here to see how you’re getting on with Anita.’ He hadn’t moved a muscle since she’d got there and he stayed very still as the words hit Helena’s ears like bullets, watching for any slight reaction she might show.

  Helena froze. How the bloody hell did he know about Anita? Who had let slip? Did they have a mole? She knew he would’ve already read her surprise, so there was no point in trying to hide it. ‘How do you know about Anita?’

  ‘There isn’t much I can’t find out if I put my mind to it Helena, you should know that by now,’ he sent a meaningful look her way as he stood up in one swift, seamless movement and made his way to a small stone table towards the edge of the room. ‘Please,’ he said indicating at the chair next to his, ‘come and join me.’

  Helena made her way to the seat, making a point of doing so at a dignified speed, a shock of cold hitting her from the freezing stone chair as she sat down. She always marvelled that the Spirit Leader could meditate out here all day in such unpleasant temperatures, dressed only in light robes. He somehow seemed to radiate warmth, so she’d often wondered if he cheated and snuck a hot water bottle under his clothes. She’d questioned him on it once before and he had spouted something about harnessing the power of the Mind, her least favourite discipline, so she’d left it there.

  ‘So, how are you getting on with Anita?’ he repeated patiently, more patiently than you would expect from a man so young.

  ‘I would be getting on a lot better if I hadn’t had to take a significant amount of time out to come here and pay you a visit. I told her I would be expecting an answer several days ago, however I haven’t exactly been in a position to follow it up, given that I’ve been travelling here.’

  ‘Then I wasn’t too late with my invitation. Good.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ she barked.

  He fixed her with his eyes in a way that made Helena feel like an impatient school girl, before replying in a slow, even voice. ‘Anita needs time. I know your natural reaction is to bully her into it, but she won’t respond well to that, she’s a lot like you, you see.’

  ‘So that’s why you summoned me here? To bully me into doing things your way?’

  ‘Touché. Hopefully by the time you get back she’ll have had enough time. Until next time Helena.’

  ‘I’ll look forward to it, I’m sure,’ she replied through gritted teeth, making no attempt at all to hide her angry energy.

  The Spirit Leader smiled a tolerant smile as he got up and made his way back to his mat. He sat down and started to meditate, ignoring that Helena was still in his presence. As she made her way out, making sure she walked close enough to him to disturb his energy field, Helena marvelled as she always did that he was so young. That he was no older than her and yet held such a position of authority was baffling. She had reached what most would consider dizzying heights at an early age, but he had reached the pinnacle and she’d always been more than a little jealous. One day I’ll find out how you did it, she said to herself as she made her way down the stone steps to the main chambers below.

  *****

  Alexander sat at Philip’s desk pondering the recent developments. Anita had been distant since they’d returned to the house and he had no idea what to do about it, or indeed if he should try to do anything at all. Maybe a healthy distance between them would be a good thing, although he couldn’t think of anything worse. Then there was the key he’d found that was still bugging him, mostly because he didn’t know where to look next. Alexander got up and started pacing (difficult as this was given the piles of books everywhere), to try to channel his frustration, but the books in his way frustrated him further until he was so wound up he kicked a stack over. Needing something else to vent his anger on, he grabbed hold of the curtains and yanked them open, stupid idea not to let any sunlight in anyway. Bloody Philip, he thought as light poured into the room for the first time in an age and the true extent of the mess be
came apparent. For someone that had harped on about the ‘illuminating power of light’ and how wise the one who came up with the Spirit motto ‘look to the light’ must have been, he seemed to be quite a hypocrite.

  Alexander’s frustration abated a little as a result of his reckless acts, so he stooped down to reassemble the pile of books he’d kicked over, then turned to redraw the curtains; it seemed disrespectful to overturn Philip’s wishes so soon after his death. As Alexander snuffed out the last chink of light, he froze, an idea finding root in his mind that grew to become an epiphany. ‘Look to the light’. Alexander reached for the lamp on the desk and turned it over, what if the key unlocked a real light? Philip had always loved it when the literal and metaphorical collided, so what if he’d taken the motto literally and the key unlocked an actual light? Unfortunately, the lamp on Philip’s desk had a smooth base with no key hole to be seen, however, undeterred, Alexander inspected all of the lights in the study. When none of them produced a result, he went to Philip’s old bedroom and inspected each of the lights there, but again nothing. He finally tried the garden sheds, Philip had loved his garden, but here again no success; there were only single bulbs dangling dejectedly from the ceiling and nowhere to hide a hole for a key.

  Feeling deflated, Alexander returned to the study and sat back down in his Grandfather’s leather chair. ‘What does the key unlock you old sod?’ Alexander asked out loud, pulling the desk lamp towards him once more, hoping for some light-related inspiration. He rested it on its side and re-inspected the base, silently questioning how else a lamp could hide a keyhole. Finding no inspiration, he set it upright again, however as he was doing so, his fingers felt a tiny, almost invisible seam running around its base. He paused before turning it onto its side once more and inspecting the seam. The line ran all the way around and looked like nothing out of the ordinary, except on closer inspection, the colour of the base was very slightly different from the rest of it. He tried to slip a finger nail into the seam to prize off the bottom part, however the join was too tight, so he tried twisting instead. To his amazement, the base swung smoothly outwards from a point near the edge, exposing a second layer of brass below. Alexander’s heart almost stopped as his eyes made out a perfect, key shaped hole in the centre of the newly exposed metal. ‘By the Gods,’ he said out loud. He reached into his pocket, retrieved the small key and inserted it into the hole. He twisted lightly and the key turned easily in the lock, making a delicate clicking sound as a panel in the top of the lamp sprung open. He gently swung the panel cover back, noting the exquisite craftsmanship required to conceal the compartment, and delicately retrieved the piece of folded parchment that was sitting inside.

  Unable to contain his excitement, Alexander quickly unfolded the paper and held it up to the light to see what was written, moving his face closer to the paper to make out the words. There were several lines of text and to his surprise, the first contained only one word, his name.

  Alexander,

  Remember the lessons from Philip & Fred.

  Be a good scholar.

  Jeffrey will help you unlock the light.

  Destroy this note when you have memorised what I have said.

  I have faith in you.

  Philip

  He felt suddenly a bit sick. How had Philip known he would find this, why had he written it, what did it mean, and why had he gone to such pains to hide it so that it would be so difficult to find? As far as he could see, there was nothing here that could be considered contentious. Philip & Fred were nicknames that Philip had used for two famous children’s authors. They had written a book of fairy tales that Philip had read to Alexander when he was young. The stories were varied, but usually contained a moral message, similar to most other books for children. Philip’s favourite story had been about a princess who had been banished by her father, the King, as he had gone mad when a group of powerful sorcerers had come to court. The story was about the princess’ quest to retake her rightful position and rid the land of the evil sorcerers, which of course she did. As in every other fairy story, in the process she found her prince and the story finished, as usual, with them living happily ever after. Alexander stiffened as Austin’s final words to Christiana came flooding back to him, ‘we are the only two left that know the truth now that Philip has gone’. Philip had known the truth about Christiana’s bloodline. Was that what Philip was talking about here? Could Anita be considered the princess in the story? Was that the point Philip was trying to get across?

  The second line was clear enough, Philip had often used the words ‘be a good scholar’ and had always meant that one should question everything as good scholars do, even the facts we think we know for certain. What Alexander was supposed to ‘be a good scholar’ in relation to however, he had no idea. The third line was confusing. Who the bloody hell was Jeffrey and why, or more to the point how, would he be able to help ‘unlock the light’ and what did that even mean anyway? Alexander racked his brain, but could think of no one he knew called Jeffrey, either in the real world or in a story book.

  What Philip meant by ‘I have faith in you’ and why he wanted Alexander to destroy the note seemed to Alexander cryptic and possibly a little melodramatic, however, reasoning it was probably for the same purpose that Philip had hidden it so well, Alexander thought it would be prudent to follow his instructions. He picked up the note and took it to the fireplace, making sure that he both remembered what it said and that he hadn’t missed anything. He then picked up a match from the mantelpiece, lit it and set the paper alight. He held onto the parchment for a few seconds before placing it in the fireplace, waiting to ensure there was nothing left but ash before turning to one of the shelves near the desk and picking up an old, worn book. This seemed like a good moment for Alexander to remind himself of the stories of Philip & Fred.

  *****

  The trip back to Empire was subdued. Cleo had, for the first time all weekend, stopped talking and was lightly dozing with her head propped against the window. Bas was silently staring out, watching the scenery go by and presumably contemplating all he had learned and discussed with Anderson over the last two days. Anita was sure they would see each other again, she had never seen two people get on so well after such a short acquaintance.

  Anita had been trying her best to avoid speaking to, looking at, and certainly being alone with Alexander. She was so confused about what she should do, what she felt for who and how she should proceed, so she too spent the journey looking out of the window, feeling a little empty as she considered her options. Alexander was desperately trying to glean anything he could from her energy, but it was as steady as a rock, not giving anything away. He was fighting an internal battle of what to do next, but now, in a car full of people, was certainly not the time for action.

  The problem as Anita saw it was that she obviously had feelings for both Marcus and Alexander, her energy reacting distinctively to each of their special allures. Marcus was for the most part fun and care free, flirtatious and frivolous in a way that Alexander could not be. After all, Alexander was a ruling Descendant, whereas Marcus was yet to assume the heavy burden of responsibility, living instead under the ominous cloud of his power hungry father. Alexander seemed to carry around with him a weight, possibly as he had some understanding of the perilous position the world was in and that it was his duty to address it. Marcus seemed light as a feather, as though there was nothing in the world that should be worried about with any kind of gusto. Whereas Alexander was closed and protective of himself, Marcus had opened up to Anita, told her about his family and to some extent discussed his past. On the other hand though, Marcus was a protective person who’d already become possessive of Anita and it was wholly possible that he could get worse over time; what if he did turn into Austin? At least Alexander wasn’t trying to force her into a relationship with him, he was trying to do what he thought was best for her, but the way he was doing that was by staying away from her, so maybe his feelings weren’t that stro
ng after all. Anita silently pondered all the way back to Empire, but felt more confused at the end of the journey than she had at the beginning.

  They arrived back in Empire and dropped Bas off first, then Cleo, Anita feeling Alexander turn to look at her when they were finally alone in the car, Alexander glad of the closed glass screen separating them from the driver and Anita annoyed that it wasn’t open. ‘Is everything alright?’ Alexander asked nervously, trying to hide his uncertainty.

  Anita turned to look at him and searched his glorious blue eyes. ‘Not really,’ she replied evenly, dropping her eyes to her lap, surprised at her honest response. ‘I think I need some time to work all this out. I’m confused, I have no idea what to do. I have feelings for Marcus, I feel guilty and I don’t want to hurt him,’ she paused and looked out of the window before meeting his eyes again, ‘but I don’t want to hurt you either.’ A horrible thought suddenly erupted in Anita’s head and her eyes widened a little, ‘sorry,’ she said, her cheeks reddening, ‘that is making the presumptuous assumption that you feel anything for me…’ Luckily at that moment, they pulled up outside Cordelia’s house and Anita made for the door. As she swung the door open, Alexander grabbed her hand, gentle tingles spreading underneath her skin, so she turned and looked back at him.

  ‘Your presumptuous assumption is correct,’ he said huskily, whispering so the driver, who was now unloading the bags, couldn’t hear. A car turned into the end of the road and in the twilight Alexander recognised it as one of Austin’s. He begrudgingly let go of Anita’s hand, ‘looks like you have company,’ he said bitterly, nodding in the direction of the oncoming vehicle. She turned to see the car stop and Marcus’ long, lean body throw open the door and move rapidly in her direction. ‘See you soon I hope,’ said Alexander quickly, as Marcus happily reached his target and protectively took hold of her hand.