The Assassin Princess (The Legacy Novels Book 1)

by Blake Rivers

  She tripped and caught herself before she could fall into darkness, and by the fading light of the outside world, Ami saw a pool of water, a pool she’d seen before. This was the cave. She stared at it for the longest time, seeing the spiked man slumped in shadow, dying but not dying; the image of herself, like the man, remained only in her memory, though the still water looked dead and haunted. She turned from it and continued onward, skirting its edge.

  The second mirror had simply shown her as she was: cut, bruised, and exhausted. She’d been the girl out of place and time, dragged along by others. That was the girl who’d been ordinary and only a girl. Of course, now she knew she was no longer that girl, and really, never had been. She’d turned from that reflection, leaving her only one other choice.

  She kept her hand out as the ground beneath descended, the darkness complete. She could feel the damp on the rock wall and could hear the trickling of water, could hear the gravel shifting beneath her step. What was she looking for? She held tight to the sword, holding it aloft in front.

  The third choice had been the reflection that had beckoned her, the reflection that had been dangerous. Had she now taken on those traits? The power that Adam gave her was making her ill, eroding her free will with each draft—and she knew it, though it was hard to resist—and yet it seemed surface deep, in need of constant refresh. Her deepest thoughts were still her own, empowered by her choice, her dangerous reflection.

  There was a shuffling in the dark, near and obvious. The path declined again, taking her much lower than sea level. She felt the same sense of going deep—like the fort in the hill—and in the deep, a new sound emerged. A chink. Metal against stone perhaps. Fear sprung a well inside her, but she remained steady. The dangerous girl who’d been her chosen reflection was in control and knew how to handle herself.

  Her foot slipped from under her and she made a grab for the wall, finding instead dry, worn, human flesh. There was a shuffle, a moan, a chink—Ami moved backward, her hands clasped to her chest, suppressing a squeal as the moan came again, muffled in the dark. She stayed still, listening. A chink, quiet shallow breathing.

  “Hello?” she whispered. “Is there someone there?”

  Her heart pounded, the sword in her hand ready to strike blindly—

  Adam is right, she thought, I am thinking like one of them.

  With only faith and an idea, Ami pointed the blade directly in front of her and willed it to become her torch. Within seconds the blade bloomed a bright white that stung her eyes. She lowered it to the ground as the moaning began again, louder this time.

  She looked up and saw the man in front of her, crouched and semi-naked in a chiselled-out alcove. The white glare threw him in sharp relief. He was old and very thin, wearing rotted remains of clothes, the colours all but gone. Filthy and degraded, the man was chained to the floor by a manacle, the source of the metal chinking. He shielded his face behind blackened hands.

  “It’s okay,” Ami said, placing the sword fully on the ground. The light spread a dim glow across the man and slowly, he lowered his hands.

  What was he doing here? Was this who she was meant to find?

  “Can you—can you understand me?” She shuffled forward, the man flinching back against the wall. His eyes were an intense blue that reminded Ami of glass marbles; his beard was long and covered his mouth. He was muttering behind it. “What are you saying?”

  Ami jumped back as the old man spat, “Mortrus!”

  Mortrus? The Mortrus Lands? She thought back to Hero and Xavier’s story, but her thoughts stuttered and fell as other voices echoed from further in the dark.

  “Mortrus!”

  “Mortrus!”

  “Mortrus Lands!”

  “Mortrus!”

  It had become a chant, echoing loud through the cave. How many of them are down here? Ami turned to the man in front of her, shaken but trusting in Dangerous to pull her through. She had no idea if Adam’s power was working for her, or against her, but she knew that Dangerous was hers alone. She was trustworthy.

  “What about the Mortrus Lands?” she asked. The man looked around him, hearing each cry and chant, joining in a with a few calls of his own before looking back to her. He flinched and pulled back on his chains.

  “Devils,” he said, a whispered secret, “devils in the Mortrus Lands!”

  “What do you know of them?” she asked. This must have been what Adam wanted her to see, to hear, but why?

  “Many go in, one must go!” The man shrieked, and suddenly a choir of voices joined the chant, echoing through the cave.

  “Many go in, one must go.”

  “Many go in, one must go.”

  He whispered beneath the din. “Many go in, one must go; two go in, one must go.” He then shook his head back and forth and hid behind his hands.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t—I don’t understand what you mean.” But there was no rousing him, and now the whole cave was in uproar. Fifty voices? A hundred? She picked up the sword as the old man cowered from the fierce light, and stood straight, her back to the rock. The voices echoed from everywhere—Many go in, one must go—from the dark, in the moving shadows. Who were they? Why were they here? She felt fear penetrate her like a knife. Had she have chosen the pink dress, would she have faced this?

  The path ahead lit with a swing of the sword, and Ami held in her scream as she saw the lines of men, chained along the walls in alcoves, far back into the black. Tens of them, possibly hundreds—she didn’t know how many. All cowered from the light, and all were chanting and screaming.

  Many go in, one must go. Mortrus.

  She couldn’t stand it and turned to head back to the outside, to the light, to Adam. As she rounded the corner, a man previously hidden in the dark reached out to her, hooking his hands to her arms.

  “Take me with you,” he sobbed, and Ami lifted the sword to his face.

  This time, she did scream. The man’s blackened face was putrid and decomposed, almost a skull only. His dull eyes bulged, pleading with her from the sunken sockets, dried crusted blood flaking to the floor. She pulled away and slipped, stumbling to the ground. He was dead. Had to be dead. The smell hit her in a wave as he moved forward to touch her hand.

  Ami pulled herself to her feet, ready to run, but the sword flew from her hand as she knocked it against the wall. It clanked to the ground, skidded across rock, and stopped further into the cave, in the midst of the chanting men.

  “Mortrus Lands! Take me back! Please!” The corpse yelled, now in semi-darkness, but Ami was already edging along the wall, whispering under her breath.

  “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry.” And she was. She was sorry that she couldn’t help, and sorry that a man could live while his body not only died, but his skin had slid from him like cooked meat. She was sorry that the tormented souls had been chained here and were suffering. Why? Why had Adam done this? And there was no doubt in her mind that it’d been Adam. She shuddered to think that she’d let him touch her, hold her arm, guide her in anything, when he was capable of such cruelty.

  She slunk away from his pleas and toward the light of the sword, closing her eyes to the tormented men, closing her ears to their tormented chants. She bent down and picked it up.

  Now armed with power, light, and metal, she envisioned Dangerous standing in her place, walking fearlessly onward. She turned in a circle and looked about her. She was just a little deeper than she had been, and she could see further. In front of her was a steep dark path that continued beyond the baying men. Something was moving down there in the shadows, and though she wasn’t sure, she didn’t think it was a man. With Dangerous as her courage, Ami walked toward it, the sword raised in front of her. Old hands and rotted arms made to grab her, but Dangerous ignored them, allowing Ami to pass through.

  As her steps brought her nearer the end of the path, the light from the sword touched the movement and chased the shadows, revealing a grey coat and four hooves, stomping
back and forth, a horn glinting dully.

  “Hello?” she tried, though this hadn’t gotten her very far last time.

  “Hello,” came back the reply, weak but sure. Ami edged forward a little more and raised the sword higher, illuminating the unicorn.

  The creature was dirty, a once white coat now almost a coal black. Ami had never seen an animal so thin, his horn blackened glass, not powerful or magical at all.

  “What—what are you all doing down here?” she asked, coming to a stop before him.

  “Because of the Mortrus Lands,” the unicorn answered. Ami felt her stomach drop. He seemed calm, though sad.

  “What do you mean?” she asked, placing the sword lower, seeing herself in the reflection of the unicorn’s eye.

  “I mean, we have been brought here because we have all been to the Mortrus Lands. Can’t you hear them?”

  It was impossible not to. “I can hear them, but to me they aren’t making sense.”

  “You have obviously never been then,” the unicorn said, “and for that, you have your sanity.” He trotted back and forth, but only to the extent of his chains, wrapped cruelly around each leg.

  “You’re not like them,” Ami said.

  “Well, I am not human, obviously,” the unicorn said, shaking his head.

  “Obviously,” she said, moving closer still. “So, why are they like that?”

  “Why should I tell you? You are from Adam.” The unicorn shook his head again. “You hold the stolen horn. Are you the heir? The one whom I have seen in hazy visions?”

  “I am the heir. I’m Ami.”

  The unicorn bowed his head, and Ami returned the gesture, hoping that it was the right thing to do. “Why are you with Adam?”

  The chants had begun to die down, and it became easier to talk—indeed, if Ami moved a small way to her left, she could block the sight of them all together. She did this, and then pondered the question. Why was she with Adam?

  Finally, she came to a compromise.

  “I’ll tell you all about it, if you want to know,” she said, “but in return, can you please tell me why you—and they—have been chained here?”

  “Ah,” said the unicorn, “a barter? Interesting… Well, it’s been a long time since I’ve had a conversation, so please.” He lowered his horn to the raised ground where the rocks were driest. Ami moved over to them and sat. “My name is Talos, and I’ll tell you all, after you tell me all.”

  Ami nodded, and began her tale, but once finished wasn’t sure she’d told him anything worth knowing—she didn’t know much herself and understood hardly any of it. Once again there was the feeling of being swept along with the tide, carried by events that she couldn’t control. How long had she been in the cave? She didn’t know.

  “Well,” the unicorn said after a thoughtful pause, “I do not blame you, for it seems you have been entangled in affairs you knew nothing of. Yet I fear for you. What Adam has done here is cruel, and his cruelty has become desperate. What I would be asking myself, if I were you, is why he wants me to know about it?”

  Ami was at a loss. The voices continued to shriek Mortrus Lands in the dark, and she filtered them out as best she could. “Why would he want me to know?”

  “Because he wants something he can’t have, and it drives him crazy,” Talos said. “He is a selfish being, a cruel and twisted man, filled with thoughts of revenge and vengeance and fuelled by madness. He is not interested in you, or me, or any creature living or dead. He is showing you his cruelty, expecting you to be just as ruthless—his apprentice—thinking that you might find what he seeks when he cannot, despite all of his efforts. And after you have done so?” Talos paused, and motioned to the sword. “I’m guessing you have had your orders—under duress, I am sure—to slaughter us all. Or try, at least.”

  And when you have what you need? You will know what to do then as well.

  It was true, she realised. He’d placed the sword in her hands at that point, and the order was now clear to her. Dispose of them.

  She swallowed and looked up at the unicorn, feeling the first pricks of tears in her eyes. Even dirty and run down, the animal was still magnificent. He’d lost the sheen and glow that Xavier had. She had to know why he was there, why Adam had put them all there.

  “I know it,” she said finally, “and that being true, you have no incentive to tell me anything. But I have no intention of killing anyone, I truly don’t.” Dangerous shimmered deep within. “And if you don’t want to tell me what you haven’t told Adam, then I can understand—”

  The unicorn started to laugh. It was a horrid sound, a rasp of sandpaper. “Oh, Princess, if only it were that simple. I promised you I would tell you what I know. And I shall, but you’ll then know only what Adam knows, and no more.”

  Ami nodded, seeing her own head move in the light’s reflection, deep within the creature’s eyes. “Then that is fair.”

  “I think so,” he said and began to speak.

  Chapter Ten

  The three men of the Guard had made good time on foot and by midday had crossed much of the expanse of the Planrus Lands. They’d even had the good fortune to find an orchard brimming with ripe apples that had grown on the south side of a hill. But as the afternoon had waned on, the apples did little to fill their stomachs and nothing to heighten their spirits. The journey back to Legacy would take days, too many days, and the weight of losing Ami grew heavy. What would it mean for Legacy? The loss of hope, the loss of the heir they’d waited for? The end of the civilised world? But Ami hadn’t just been lost, but had wilfully sided with Adam. If not to kill her, then Adam could only mean to have her join him, and together, what destruction could they wrought if Ami could be bent to Adam’s twisted will?

  Hero didn’t blame his men for their sullenness. Conversation had run dry by mid-afternoon, and by evening, their silent trek had become its own burden.

  By the time the sun had lowered enough to be setting in their eyes, they’d reached the last stretch of terrain belonging to the Planrus Lands. There, two hills gave birth to a wide sloping valley, home to a self-sufficient community called the Communes. Although independent from the city of Legacy, the Commune Valley marked the outskirts of Legacy’s lands. Beyond it, now scoring the horizon beneath the burning sky, were the barren mountain ranges of Edorus. That was their path, over the ravine bridge, and through a mountain tunnel to the city gates.

  “Hero,” Raven said, stopping beside him, “the day is coming to a close. Should we not make camp here and travel through the valley at first light?”

  Hero nodded. The Communes were a small settlement, but a ruthless people—a trading route through the lands of Legacy. The valley was known for its cutthroat thievery during the dark hours, causing most traders to journey by day; any that didn’t risked being set upon by rogues. “I agree, without horses to speed us through, we should wait.”

  They had stopped a half hour from the valley, the hills looming on either side of them. To the south, rolling lands fled to the far away Madorus Lands, and behind them, their long trek back east. But it was to the north that Hero’s eyes now strayed.

  In the red glow from the setting sun, the edge of the Mortrus Lands were visible, a dark wall of trunks that bowed to the ground.

  “It’s creepy isn’t it,” Kane said, standing beside Hero as Raven searched the ground for stray wood, leaves, and dried grass to feed a fire. “The way all the trees are uniform like that? You think there is something to the old stories?”

  “Lady Grace knew the stories,” Hero said, having filled them both in during the day on the memories that had resurfaced, the disturbing dreams that had littered his unconscious mind. “And Lord Graeme once walked from the Mortrus Lands from another layer. If there is more to know, I believe Lady Grace may have the answers. I believe my stranger-girl is pointing me toward her.”

  “I’m not sure about your stranger-girl,” Kane said, shading his eyes as he scanned the horizon from west to north. “I wouldn�
��t trust anyone who only visits you in strange ways.”

  Hero smiled despite himself and clapped his hand on Kane’s shoulder. “I have seen you visited in more than one strange way.”

  “Verona,” Kane sighed, shaking his head at the memory. “Yes, she was a strange one! But I’m being serious, Hero. That’s some magic she is using there, the same stuff that runs through Adam’s veins.”

  “And Ami’s,” Hero added.

  “Yes, and Ami’s, but the princess hardly knows how to use it.” His eyes were fixed on the dark trees. “Though in Adam’s hands—”

  Hero turned his back on the north, and focussed on Raven’s attempts. He was struggling to find much of anything to burn. The grass was alive and wet, and the closest trees were those to the north. “I’m convinced, at least, that my guide is trying to help us. I don’t know if it involves retrieving Ami, confronting Adam, or sheltering until it’s all over, counting ourselves lucky that we still breathe, but whichever way, if it’s help that’s on offer, it’s better than nothing.” Kane nodded and shrugged his reluctant acceptance, but Hero’s attention had turned back to the Mortrus Lands. He was unsure why, but he felt a pull toward them. “I shall go and forage for firewood there at the base of those trees.”

  “Rather you than me, Hero,” Raven said.

  “Will you make it there and back before sundown?” Kane asked, pulling a plant root from the ground and discarding it.

  Hero eyed the distance between him and the trees. “I shall do my best.”

  “We’ll have some kind of fire burning,” Raven said, “so you can at least find your way back.”

  As the sun dipped lower and the sky bled a halo of red, orange and yellow, Hero set off toward the forest edge. The journey gave him time to think and focus on his own private sorrow for the loss of Ami. There was more feeling there than he’d been willing to admit—even to himself—more than a lost mission, more than a disastrous decision to let her go. His protectiveness toward her was greater than that of an escort or a captain to his liege, and his failure was magnified ten-fold. But his feelings betrayed him and he felt the weakness of tears threaten. Hero pushed them back down deep inside himself as he approached the dark line of jagged trees.