by Blake Rivers
He’d found himself upon the cliffs of Noxumbra, overlooking the sea, and his memory had faded; all that remained was the tattered mind held together with green and jealous hatred for those he wanted to destroy.
He remembered now, and screamed, turning in time to see his father’s move to strike.
“You remember now, do you?” his father taunted. “You remember what you really are?” His hands were glowing balls of power.
Adam threw his arms out and his body burst into green flame that lit a pyre around him. The flames shot from him, his scream already eternal; his father was no match. He was thrown far across the clearing to the very edge, bound tight in a black shroud, twisted by the entirety of Adam’s power, sealed tight and forever entombed.
“Die!” Adam screamed. “Die! Die!”
The girl moved toward him, her sword slicing through the flames to pierce his side. He turned on her and threw her back, reaching for his sword—
The sword was gone.
A singing of metal sounded from behind him and from the trees stepped an old woman, creased and wrinkled. His mother. In her hand was his sword of power.
“Hello, Son,” she said, her eyes reflecting his green flame. “I think you dropped something.”
Adam laughed. He turned on the spot and laughed at everything he saw. A Guard at the edge of the clearing dragged his father between black trunks; the powerful girl stood at his side, her sword flamed, his mother at her flank, his own sword pointed in threat.
“You all think you’re so smart, huh? I am here in the mad place, expelled from my lands, expelled from sanity.” There was movement in the dark, a shadow fast approaching. “You think me weak? Oh, how wrong you are.” He held his arms up, the green flames flickering to black. “When I left here I left without a mind to speak of—but you can never really leave.”
From the shadows stepped a man of black fire and white skin, a man whose fire joined with Adam’s. He smiled his sharp teeth, and the black flames leapt forward.
*
Daniel watched the woman as she watched him, and the rain fell heavy upon the empty street between them. He didn’t know why he stood in only a tee-shirt and jeans, soaked to the bone and shivering with cold, or why she stood within a well-lit doorway beneath a canopy, dressed and dry in a simple white gown. He knew only his name, and that she was beckoning him toward her.
His shoes squelched with each step as he walked across the deserted road and up the short path. He looked up at her, her profile a golden map of delicate beauty lit by the outside light, a glimmer of a smile.
A castle, a sword, a girl.
She held out her hand and Daniel took it.
“Hello, Hero,” she said, and pulled him forward, up onto the step and into the house. “Come in, out of the rain.”
The door swung shut behind him.
“Hero?” he asked, though even the sound of it brought a feeling of home back to him, a safe harbour to run to when all else was out at sea. Then the feeling was gone and it was only a word.
“It’s your name,” she said, leading him down a hallway and into a warm room with a sofa and chairs, an empty TV screen, coffee table and bookcases. He was left there for a moment as the woman vanished, reappearing with a towel. He took it and wiped his face and hair. She offered him a chair, and he sat. She sat opposite.
“My name is Daniel.”
“It is here, yes,” she said, her eyes so familiar, sparkling under the low light of the lamp. “My name is Charlotte Rose here. In Legacy, I have been, and in some ways, always will be, Grace Rose.”
Daniel blinked. Images flashed in his mind of things that made little sense, yet fit loosely together like a jigsaw incomplete. He saw black trees, blue mist. He saw a girl with brown hair, brown eyes.
“Grace? Grace—and I am the hero?”
“Yes,” she said, “it will take a few minutes, but it will all come back, and soon, so listen to me now. You were in the Mortrus Lands, and you went through a portal. That led you here, to this layer.”
Daniel watched lightning flicker at the edge of the curtain. It changed the room, for but a second, into an old movie theatre where the projector hid behind the window, bringing his life into a crude focus of warm and shaded lamplight, growing shadows dark and deep across the plush carpet. All was quiet except for the ticking of a clock, the rain against the windows, a far thunder, perhaps the rolls of film churning and churning.
“Ami,” Daniel sighed. “We needed to save her.” But that was all he could bring. He looked to the walls as if for inspiration and saw landscapes of hills, painted scenes of familiarity. Another frame held a watercolour of a forest, a horse of white strolling from between the trees. “Not a horse—a unicorn,” he whispered, tracing the spiral with his eyes as it faded into the washed green of the meadow.
“Yes,” the woman said, “that’s it, take your time.” She took his hand and it felt familiar and welcome. “You need to save Ami, and I need to tell you how things happen so that you may play your part when you return.”
“Return?” Daniel was struggling. The projection was fading and he held to the towel, stroking it across the back of his neck. His joints ached. How long had he been standing in the rain? Where had he come from? He rubbed his face expecting the familiar stubble, and finding instead someone else’s clean shaven face.
“All that I told you about myself was true, but I was an old, old woman, older than I should ever have been. By returning to the Mortrus Lands I completed a circle and surrendered myself to a fate that had begun long ago when the Sentries built the tunnels, the portals through the layers.”
The Sentries. His memory sparked with white flares of light, spheres and ghostly apparitions that filled him with fear.
“I shall enter those portals, Hero, as I have already done so. I found myself lost, as you have found yourself, only I stood at the edge of a train station platform. There a young man approached me, and I was soon to realise that the man was Graeme, my lord and husband from Legacy. From his perspective, he had just left Legacy and entered the Mortrus Lands with Adam. He was led by the shadow of my younger self to the ruins, and Adam was expelled to the woods, forever to roam with no mind or way out. Graeme was transformed, sent back through the layers as other lords have been, back to the layer from whence he came; only this time, the prophecy of one must go was not fulfilled, and no heir was sent back. It was not her time.”
Daniel followed, though the memories were fragmented still. It was all making a strange kind of sense, as if the scenes were being projected out of sequence—but it didn’t matter, because he’d seen this one before… “So, you and Graeme met after you had both gone through the portals, even though you left later, and he earlier?”
“Yes, as the portals can shift between the layers in space, and time.” She smiled, her lips pouting slightly as she did. “I know this is a lot to take in, but when your memory is back, you will remember all that I say here too, even if you don’t understand it right away.” She squeezed his hand and continued. “Years later we had children, though we knew that Ami, the third child, was to be the heir to Legacy. I remember everything I have ever seen and witnessed in my extraordinarily long life, and so I was able to instruct Graeme on what was to happen, so that he would be ready for when the time came. I have already lived through everything that has yet to take place for you, and for me it was a long, long time ago. You need to understand that we raised Ami to be her own person, one who will choose her own fate, will defy Legacy and any of the trappings she may face. She is the first female heir and she doesn’t have to rule the land the way lords have before her. Adam has tried to take her away and make her his own, but she is much more than a mere puppet that can be manipulated—no, we raised Ami to use the gifts she possesses to fulfil her potential. She is creative and resourceful, full of life and love. She can be corrupted on the outside, but her heart will always remain true—and she must know this, recognise it—for the only thing that tethers her t
o another’s will is her own self-worth.”
“I understand,” he said, realising that Daniel was becoming less and less, that it was Hero of the Guard that now spoke, and Hero had only just begun to truly understand how things were. For what life would it be for a free spirit as she to live by rules set by others? Used by Legacy, used by Adam. He thought of what Florina had said when she’d found her true self once more. Run free. “She needs to know she can run free.”
“Exactly, Hero, yes,” Charlotte said. “Others can tether her to themselves, but she has it within herself, always, to run free from it all, if she chooses to. This is the message you must carry to her in your heart, for she is powerful, so very powerful—more powerful than the unicorns, more powerful than Adam—and if she realises it, Ami can be whoever she wants to be. Take this to her, and make her believe. You will save her, Hero. You will save her.”
He placed the towel on his lap, looking at his hands, hands that had never held a sword—too smooth, too soft—could he now even hold one up? “But I am no longer Hero, I am Daniel. How am I meant to help her?”
“Going through the portals changes you, gives you a new life, a new identity. You must save her from Adam. Use the portals.” Charlotte then looked down to the carpet where a wisp of smoke rose from the fabrics. Daniel’s thoughts jumped immediately to fire, danger, extinguishers, firemen, but as the flame ignited and burst forth, Hero was the one to drop to his knees and close his eyes before it. He knew. Somehow, he knew.
As the flames caught and burned through the carpet, a forest floor snuck beneath him, tall pines surrounding him. He was back in the in-between place of secret meetings and sacred messages. In the air was a Celtic tune that floated beneath the canopied sky. The fire rose and revealed the girl who sat opposite.
“Hero of the Guard,” the stranger-girl said, “come back with me now. We need you.”
“Ami,” he whispered, “it is you?”
“Hero,” Charlotte said from somewhere far away, in another land, in another layer, “remember and make her realise. Use the power.”
A blade was passed through the flames. “Take hold,” stranger-girl said.
Hero took a breath then took the blade. The forest became sky, air, grass and white marble, columns and arches, and a smouldering pile of wood.
“Welcome back, Hero,” the girl said. “Come, we need you.” She took his hand and pulled him from the ground and across the marble platform. He stopped at the top of the steps and looked down across a stone walkway. There stood Ami.
Hero looked between the two.
“How are there two of you?” He shook his head and let go of the first’s hand. “I don’t understand.”
The stranger-girl turned to him. “Think of me as a Shadow Princess. I am that which will always be here, a double, like young Grace.” She pointed to the small blonde girl who darted now into the shadow of the trees. “And like the Dark Adam. Oh yes,” she said, nodding, looking Hero deep in the eye. “Anyone who escapes the Mortrus Lands leaves a little part of themselves here. Grace, when she found and created herself a portal of escape; Adam, when he tore his way through after losing his mind in the blue; and I, from when this Ami leaves here too. We are eternal. Time is no such barrier, and we are forever.”
“A Dark Adam? There are two of him too? That means—”
“It means you need two princesses to defeat him,” she said, looking down at Ami. “The Shadow Princess, and the Assassin Princess.”
Ami smiled. “I like the sound of that. Assassin Princess.”
“I know you do,” said the stranger-girl. She then turned to Hero, grabbing his hand and leading him onto the grass. “We need to get going now though. Both Adams are out there.”
Hero looked toward the wood, an uneasy blue glimmer in the distance, the searching light of the Sentries filtering between the trunks; a flash of blonde hair, white face peeking. He nodded and drew his sword. “Let’s go.”
The three of them began their walk to the woods, the two Ami’s joining hands, purple and green light passing between them, their eyes flashing.
Dangerous.
Chapter Twenty
Talos stood behind the trees and watched through the branches where the mist was thinnest. If it hadn’t been for the dark and deadly blue light, the perpetual night, and the sense of dread that hung in the air like a stink, Talos could’ve believed that he was back in Solancra under a sullen twilight; but he wasn’t, and these woods were filled with the dead.
He’d charged the Guard Raven with retrieving Lord Graeme’s body from the clearing, and though cocooned in a slick coating of dark magic, he was still alive. Raven had been quick to slit the coating and released him where he’d fallen to the ground, gasping for air and shuddering in a cold sweat. He sat now against a tree.
Out there in the clearing a stand-off had taken place, something that should’ve been foreseen, if only they’d had the hindsight of memory. A darker being had joined Adam, a shadow of his former self, twice as mad and further twisted by the lonely, timeless forest where those who do not go existed. They’d joined together and their power had increased, with only an old woman and his love to challenge them. His love. His Florina, morphed into a human female, chosen by the Sentries to leave through the portals. It had been a tragic moment, only just remembered, yet forever scarred upon his heart.
They’d entered the lands together where they’d found no daylight, and the very feel of the woods had offended them; an unnatural vibe came from the trees where power lurked, disfigured and changed, something dark and mindless. They’d sensed things between the blue and misted trunks, and the further they ventured, the closer the things were. Then the Sentries had found them and told their tale in an instant exchange of power and images. They were spared the fate of mere human wanderers and treated as Sentry-born kin—well, almost—for one must still go, though go without madness, go only because one must. The other was to be sent on, on through the portals, on to another layer to search for the other beings out there, the other Sentries lost between the layers. There was no refusal. If Talos was sent on, Florina would be at the mercy of Adam, and that was something Talos could not abide. Tears and discussions were short as the Sentries surrounded them, and with the decision made, Florina had been sent whilst Talos returned.
Now they were back and his love was in danger.
The black flames leapt forward and swallowed Florina and the old woman, lifting them from the ground as if upon a wave. There they were smothered, tendrils of black smoke entering their mouths and nostrils, their powerful swords useless and flailing.
Talos stepped forward, ready to save his mate, his stump spluttering and flaring with white sparks.
“Talos, stay back,” Raven said, but he couldn’t. He made to leave the trees as the light of the Sentries began to strobe and search behind him, a chant whispered across his coat like a shiver. One must go. One must go. His eyes were drawn to them, the tall pillars shortening into six perfect spheres. He looked back to the clearing in time to see the two Adams bear down upon the women, their fingers stretching into sharp, pointed green blades of light, poisoned power poised above their struggling bodies. Broad smiles lit their crazed faces.
Talos allowed his power to surface and rise within him, and he left the shelter of the shadow and entered the clearing at a gallop. “Get away from her,” he shouted, his stump flaring white.
From the left and behind him, three figures entered the clearing, illuminated in a flux of colour.
*
Their hands were locked together tight as they travelled through the trees and broke the edge of the clearing. There, Ami’s hand was dropped as Dangerous raised the shining curved steel of her sword; it beaded a purple and green flame, leaving Ami awestruck at the sight. She would always be Dangerous to her, her Shadow Princess, oozing confidence and strength and danger. Looking down she felt Adam’s power birth inside her once more and spread out within her. It tingled at her fingertips, giving her
fingernails a sheen, and fell to the floor in jaded sparks, purple light also dripping from her like rain. In fact, her whole body had lit like a neon sign and she’d become luminous with the two colours. Dangerous was the same to her left and Hero, keeping pace, was drenched in purple to her right. She looked on, feeling powerful once more as they approached six clustered and hollowed trees. Black fire floated there like a swamp, swirling all around them, and at the centre of the dark power were the two Adams, leering over those who’d been captured, tangled in black smoke.
Dangerous raised her blade and released power that scattered the clearing, but the Adams seemed unaffected, their focus never wavering, their stretched, green finger-blades clawing at Florence. Ami threw her power to the same end. The Adams laughed.
“Get away from her,” a voice shouted, and through the mist came Talos, four hooves galloping toward them, kicking through the fire, his stumped horn aglow. The light from it chased the smoke that sought to bind him, the tendrils slipping from his neck like a loose noose as he fought his way to Florence—and through the trees came the chants and the spheres of white light. One must go. One must go.
Ami entered the black swamp with Dangerous and Hero, power thrown from their bodies in flares as they fought the vines of smoke. She felt them tighten around her legs and try to pull her under, the flames licking up to her neck. Adam’s fiery eyes found her and the strength within her began to ebb away. No, she thought, struggling to turn from those black eyes, No I won’t. I won’t submit to you. She forced her eyes to Grace, who writhed and turned above the flames like a spit-roast, her old skin crawling with a cancerous black shadow that went beneath her flesh, through her veins. Her eyes bulged as she stretched out her hand. Within her loose grasp was the sword, the sceptre, the horn. Grace’s lips moved, but Ami didn’t need to hear the silent words to know what she said, and as the Adams made to tear their blades into the next-girl, Ami snatched the sword from Grace’s grip.