The Assassin Princess (The Legacy Novels Book 1)

by Blake Rivers

  The shadows had bled light from the meadow, spilling like ink down the slopes of hills until everything was in total darkness. A chill passed over his body. He could barely see the trunks in front of him, save only that they were a blacker black than the night. Tall and thick, they grew into one another creating an impassable wall. He reached out now to touch the bark, his fingers lost in the shadows, but drew back as he felt the pull. It was guiding him to his right, and sensing no danger, he followed it and walked along the tree line. To his right, far off into the night, he saw the comforting flicker of a fire, his beacon. He bent and collected loose wood, sweeping fallen twigs and branches into his arms.

  But he wasn’t alone.

  There was definite movement ahead, and though he heard nothing, Hero saw the flicker of shadow against shadow. His hand grasped his sword fully, but stayed it long enough to watch the flicker turn to motion. No danger, a voice inside him said, and a moment later, with a grunt and shuffle, two silhouettes appeared. Horses, alone and harmless. He watched them for a moment, the two creatures surreal in the night, their massive heads cut against the stars. They approached with caution, their steps tentative, their large eyes barely sparkles of reflected sky. Was this the pull he’d felt, a pull toward these horses?

  When he stood, he saw that one had already lowered for him, kneeling to the ground. The pull drew him forward, and Hero climbed upon its back without another thought. It rose up next to its companion, and with a fast trot carried him back toward the small spark of dying flame.

  *

  His men had seen his approach and stood with their swords drawn, but Hero dismounted without a word, dropping the wood next to the fire. He began to feed the broken branches into the dying embers, the mares settling nearby.

  “Where did you get horses from?” Kane asked, kneeling beside him.

  Hero watched Raven for a moment as he approached the mares, reaching out to stroke one; he was whispering, though Hero couldn’t hear the words. He turned back to the fire. “I found them.”

  “I can see that,” Kane said, “but where did they come from? There have been no herds on our journey, and we haven’t passed through any settlements. Do you think they’re strays from the valley?”

  Hero stared forward, unsure of what to say. He’d just found them, as he’d said, but how could he explain the pull he’d felt? “I believe the power helped me find them. As we were in need of horses, it…drew me to them. I don’t know where they originally came from, but it is our good fortune.”

  Kane shook his head and took one of the broken branches in hand, looking at it in the light of the fire. “Wood from the Mortrus Lands. It looks normal.” He threw it to the flames, the small fire catching it and swallowing it whole. “But we know that the Mortrus Lands aren’t normal. This…pull? That’s not normal, Hero. None of this is. What other mission have we been on, whether in or out of the city, where the stakes were so high and the situation so far from normal? We cannot predict anything here. It’s all new territory.” He paused, studying Hero for a moment before continuing. “We have been told that Legacy was created with magic—our parents’ generation have seen this magic from the Lord of Legacy himself—but we’re not prepared for any of this. Horses appearing from nowhere that you, our most practical captain, were drawn to? Wood from the Mortrus Lands? It burns, sure, but it could just as easily have turned into a pile of snakes and strangled us in our sleep.”

  “What is your point, Kane?” Hero said, trying to keep the annoyance from his voice.

  “My point, Hero, is that we know nothing of such things. We may as well be obsolete. Men with mere metal, against attack-birds and green light and fire…whatever it is, for evil, or for good, it is not for us. The princess had only just begun to discover her powers, and she deserted us, deserted our people, while you were told to let her go by a magical stranger-girl. Is Ami now the enemy that she has deserted us for Adam? Is the stranger-girl our enemy because she told you not to intervene? Who can we trust here in this new order of things, Hero?”

  Hero’s muscles tightened as Kane went on, almost manic in his whispering.

  “If you found these horses, and they’re good horses, then let you have found them by coincidence or by tracking them, or by fate or divine intervention, but not by this power you have been fed. What good is this power, do you know? Have you tested it? Is it good, or is it evil?” Kane’s eyes flashed with the fire.

  Hero turned toward the valley seeing small lights flickering in a mist. “I do not know, but I believe it to be good. I believe my guide to be good. And Princess Ami did not desert us, Kane, she was taken.” His voice rose. “What you say is based on fear, and not worthy of a Guard of Legacy.”

  “Caution, not fear, Hero,” Kane warned. “We don’t know what we’re dealing with.”

  “Caution?” Hero stared into Kane, feeling scorned and bruised because every part of his challenge made sense. His actions were rash, his orders chaotic. Is that what he was becoming? Chaotic? Is that why he let Ami go? He couldn’t accept that. “I shall keep faith with those I trust, and you’ll follow your orders. Now get some sleep.”

  Kane stood and settled himself on the far right, as far from the horses and wood pile as he could whilst still within the warmth of the fire. Raven had already settled down with the horses, though Hero suspected he was feigning sleep and had listened to every word.

  Hero hunkered down in his robes and looked up at the night sky, at the stars above that looked down upon him, comforting him in their cold and uncaring and unchanging existence.

  Kane’s thoughts, though careless, mirrored Hero’s own fears, but he didn’t like the rebellion he saw in Kane’s eyes. Twice now Kane had railed against him.

  He raised his hand in front of his face, flexing his fingers. There was a shimmer of purple light on each finger, and then there wasn’t.

  Hero looked across to the fire, seeing Kane watching him.

  “Good night, Kane.”

  “Good night, Hero.”

  Kane closed his eyes and Hero looked back to the stars.

  Caution, he thought, yes…always. He closed his own eyes and thought of Ami.

  *

  Hero woke and sat up, the fire tall between him and the girl. Raven, Kane, and the horses had all gone, as had the twin hills and the valley between them.

  Trees enclosed a clearing, and they were alone.

  The stranger-girl’s eyes shone like gems beneath her hood.

  Was he asleep, or was he awake?

  Hero no longer knew the difference.

  “Who are you?” he said, the flames hot against his skin. It was only then he heard the singing, soft and gentle, barely audible above the crackle and pop of the fire.

  The singing stopped.

  “I don’t think it matters, Hero of the Guard,” she said, “only that you take my guidance and follow it with faith.”

  “And why should I have faith in you?” he said, wanting to get up, but realising he couldn’t. Somehow she was holding him there. “Why should I trust anything you say? The others, my men, they’re suspicious of you and the power you so readily gave me. What is the power? What can I do with it? I feel it in me, but it didn’t save Ami—”

  “I told you that you were to lose her—”

  “Yet it led me to horses.”

  “Hero of the Guard,” she said, her voice becoming dark. “I did not bring you here so that you can doubt me. I am here. You are here. Listen, and be instructed. You must leave, tonight. You have your horses, a gift for sure, and you must go tonight into the valley. It is essential.”

  Hero didn’t want to listen and closed his eyes to her. When he opened them again the girl had gone and there were only the stars above him. The night was still, a breeze cooling his skin. She wanted him to go to the valley, tonight, while it was still dark. Why should he trust her? Hero knew that the question was already moot though, as he did trust her, and it was that simple.

  He stood up, wincing as h
is arms and legs gave him pain, the day’s travel taking its toll. He clutched his sword for a moment of strength, and then called to the others.

  “Up, wake up, men. We need to leave, now.”

  Amid the objections, Hero explained the latest visitation.

  “But, Hero, apart from the fact that we don’t really want to be meeting any rogues, and it goes against the very point of having camped here in the first place, and ignoring the obvious fact that all three of us are exhausted—you never left us. You’ve been here the whole time.” Raven tried to interject, but Kane continued. “And this is what I meant by caution. This mystery girl that only you have seen is sending you—and we along with you—into danger without explanation. We can’t trust her.”

  “We can’t trust her?” Hero shook his head. “I trust her, and you are to follow my orders.”

  “If your orders made sense—”

  Hero stepped forward and drew his sword. The blade was up to Kane’s throat, who’d been quick to draw his own, but not quick enough. “I shall not be dictated to by you, or have my orders questioned. Do I make myself clear, Kane?”

  A shimmer of purple light left Hero’s hand and travelled along the blade. Gathering on the sharp metal tip it winked out at Kane’s throat.

  “Okay, Hero,” Raven said from behind him, “we’re all a little tense and tired. Let’s just think about this for a moment.”

  “I’m sorry, Hero,” Kane whispered. “You are right. You’re our captain, and we follow you.”

  Hero sighed, letting the blade drop to his side. “This is the third time you’ve spoken against me, Kane. I chose you both because you are brothers to me, but you are to be obedient as Guards of Legacy.” Hero looked to Kane, but his face had turned blank, his eyes staring forward. There was no rebellion in them now, but nothing else either.

  “I follow you,” Kane repeated. “We go to the valley now.”

  What had he just done to Kane? Hero reached out and touched his shoulder. “Yes,” he kept his voice gentle, “let’s be ready.” A dull glow of light beneath his hand, and Kane nodded, his face animate once more. He smiled.

  “Right away, Hero.” Kane then moved to douse the fire, while Raven, having seen nothing out of the ordinary, roused the horses and readied them.

  Hero watched Kane closely. What had he done to him? What had his given power done? At the least, Kane could be forgiven for rebellious thoughts when all seemed so lost and mysterious, wrapped in a shroud of magic far beyond their understanding. He’d possibly overreacted—but altering him as he’d done? He was disgusted with himself. He hadn’t meant to—hadn’t even known he could—didn’t even know what he’d done—but never wanted to do it again.

  As the last embers were stomped, and Raven and Kane mounted their chosen mare, Hero took to his own, burying his worry and concern. He was to be strong, the Captain of the Guard.

  “Be on your guard,” he said to them, readying to start down the slope and into the valley. “Follow my orders, and if we encounter rogues, we have our horses and our swords, and we’ll show no mercy to those who’d bring harm upon us.”

  Where was Ami right now? Were they being guided in a direction that would help her and bring her back to them? To him?

  Hero’s heart ached with every moment, and with every moment, he held it in, burying his longing and his guilt.

  *

  The short ride had brought them through the open gates of the valley where they’d stopped beneath a single torch, hanging high upon a post. It lit the road ahead, a deeply worn track that wound like a river between the hills. Wooden shacks rose either side, decrepit and barely visible.

  “I don’t like this very much,” Kane whispered from behind Raven. “It’s too dark to defend ourselves here.”

  “Maybe Kane is right, Hero,” Raven said, but Hero had already started moving forward. Raven followed.

  Somewhere far off a dog barked, and Hero could hear a river, the rushing water carrying on the valley’s cold breeze that whistled between buildings unseen. Ahead, light bloomed in a haze of mist and there were faint sounds of merriment, the trader’s shacks giving way to taverns. Hero’s eyes darted in the dark, watching for rogues while shadows played with them, sounds of scurrying, rustling. Houses lay dormant around them, their wooden walls creaking.

  The taverns were closer now, the tall wooden buildings each side of the track lit with dozens of torches that spilled light into the night, the smell of malt drinks and stale urine potent.

  Hero looked from the darkness into a lit window as they passed, seeing a man fall to the floor, his comrades whooping in chorus. Rosy-cheeked women were slumped in the corners while serious drinkers propped up the bar.

  “Lively, isn’t it?” Raven whispered.

  As living and working was communal in the valley, so was the drinking. There were no rulers, or leaders, no governing bodies of any sort. The contrast with Legacy was not lost on Hero. Without a lord, Legacy fell into chaos and disarray each night, and yet here the whole valley congregated, lost their senses to drink and enjoyed themselves, making music and merry.

  A door burst open to their left and a drunk man slunk to the doorway, laughing as he smothered a woman with slobbered kisses. She gave a high-pitched cackle as he walked with her through the alleyways and out of sight. They continued on, letting the voices and light fade once more into darkness.

  They passed more taverns as a drunk stumbled beside them in the dark for a while, too far gone to notice the horses. He fell behind in the night.

  There was only one more lit building that Hero could see, and it was far off the track to the right, set back in a cluster of trees. A light dusting of music floated through the open windows, but no songs or voices; the smell of tobacco was heavy, and the stench of beer and urine somehow more pungent. There were raised voices within.

  Hero clutched his sword. “Be ready,” he whispered. He looked to one of the windows, and in the far off light he saw a man staring back out at him; then he was gone.

  The lights of the tavern went off.

  “Fast!” Hero shouted and galloped past the tavern, Kane and Raven to his right.

  A sound of beating hooves pursued them in the darkness, yelps and cries ripping through the night sky like hyenas, the laughter a mockery.

  Hero drew his sword and his men did the same, Kane jumping to the back of Hero’s horse, facing the oncoming enemy. A slight shift in shadow and the air cut with the singing of metal.

  Kane blocked the first attack.

  Hero threw his blade to the side, metal hitting metal. He kicked out and caught his attacker’s horse, pushing him away, swinging left, fending off another attack. He heard Raven grunt with each swing, a yell from behind as Kane caught one, the thump of a horse and rider hitting the ground.

  How many of them were there? They were circling, spreading confusion, and a pull on Hero’s robes made him kick out; he almost lost his balance, slipping without the grip of a saddle. Swinging the sword beneath him, he jabbed backward and felt the satisfying resistance giving as steel found flesh. A yell of pain, and the blade was relieved of its prey; yet another attack up front and Hero swung his blade back forth, jabbing up and to the side, another on his left.

  Raven growled as yelps and laughter taunted him, while Hero slashed wildly at the unseen men. Their horses slowed and Kane yelled out, falling backward against Hero’s shoulder.

  In the confusion of blood and darkness, a high pitched scream cut through the night and a blade of fire flared into focus. It slashed through the air as a yellow blur, cutting into the rogues. Hero slit a throat, pierced a heart as Raven rallied by his side, their eyes drawn to the mysterious attacker who set their foes alight.

  Hero saw eyes of terror, the laughter now screams, a dark hooded figure wielding the tall steel, a sword aflame.

  The horses had stopped now, a circle of dead around them, and the last of the rogues ran into the shadow, the fiery blade released, spinning through the air and int
o the man’s back. He fell to the flames.

  There were none left alive.

  Hero dismounted and stumbled over the bodies, peering out into the night at the stranger who’d saved them. The girl’s hair was long and messy, lit in the flames of the dead. Her eyes were ablaze with triumph, her rosebud mouth parted. She walked past Hero and to the last man down, pulling her sword from his back. The flames burned low, and extinguished.

  “I think your man is injured,” she said between panting breaths.

  Hero turned back to the horse as Kane slumped forward and slipped to the ground.

  Raven was already there, turning him and assessing the injury. “Hero, it’s bad,” he said, blood flowing freely from Kane’s abdomen, his robes rivers of red. The horse was red. Everything was blood. “I don’t know what to do, Hero. He—he won’t last long.”

  Pushing past the girl, Hero dropped to his knees and felt Kane’s pulse. It was weak. His breathing came in guttural bursts.

  “Kane, can you hear me, Brother?” Hero cradled him as best he could, listening for words. Kane managed something, but Hero was unsure what it was. “Kane, I’m sorry, your injury is—” Hero looked into the blood and grimaced. It was his fault, his brother was dying, and it was his fault. “Kane—I am so sorry.”

  Raven looked up to the girl. “Do you have anyone?” The girl shook her head. “You don’t have a physician? Anyone who could—?”

  “The wound is not healable,” the girl said, her face pained, her eyes now glassy. “No one can help.”

  Hero turned to her, and then to Raven, back to Kane, who opened his eyes and looked up. He coughed, red spittle leaving his mouth and hitting his chin.

  “Hero,” he croaked, “your—” but he didn’t need to finish. Hero knew what he was going to say, but he didn’t know—didn’t even know how to try—yet found his hand already over Kane’s wound.