Kate's Legacy (Soul Merge Saga Book 2)

by M. P. A. Hanson

  “When he told me of his animal’s behaviour around her I realised how close they were.” Endis told her. “That was partly the reason I let him come to Elvardis to see her. He knew what she was to him.”

  “How do we bring him back from this?” Kate asked.

  “There needs to be a reason for him to live. That’s why we were talking to him earlier. Even his half-sister holds no sway over him now.”

  “Then he must live to avenge Romana.” Kate replied. “Marten, you don’t want Kobos to go unpunished for what he did to her, you don’t want the person who murdered her to escape justice. She most certainly wouldn’t have wanted you to render yourself insane for her.”

  There was a half growl from the Jaguar, the only response it had given anyone so far. But it wasn’t enough, she realised, there had to be something she could do.

  “Avenge me.” She whispered to the wind, and changed the sound to echo and carry to his ears alone. “Don’t let the other girls be hurt for me, Marten.”

  It was enough, because just moments later he shifted back, transforming from cat to human in a flash. He was shocked, but she could see the way he schooled his expression he wasn’t going to reveal what he’d just heard.

  “She was yours.” Endis told him, “We’re sorry that she never knew that.”

  Kate’s expression was one of grim determination as she began teleporting the bodies away.

  “Where are you taking her!?” Marten demanded, standing in a flash, his claws extended and digging into Kate’s arm.

  “Her last rites must take place.”

  “Don’t take her just yet.” Marten said, “Give me a few more minutes.”

  Kate traced a finger along the body, and instantly it cleared of blood. She repeated the process with the floor, touching the carpet and causing all the blood to go, even as she teleported Katelyn’s fake corpse away. One by one the rest of the sorceresses left as well, all teleporting back to the ballroom where news of Romana’s death was announced.

  “She was mine Endis.” Marten said, as his friend came to kneel beside him. “What am I to do now? Mother will insist I marry, I won’t be able to. I couldn’t.”

  Okay, Romana thought, so obviously she was quite important to him.

  “You could never marry another. You just wouldn’t be able to.” Endis informed him quietly. “Most men cannot turn back from the state you were just in. We’re forced to kill them. Some men live long enough to avenge their friend and die of grief afterwards. Very few live past vengeance, they prefer to join their loved ones in death rather than live without them. You weren’t as important to her were you?”

  “No.” Marten informed him in a dead voice.

  “Then you may come off less severely than some, but your mortal genes might compromise that outcome pulling you into the tailspin of destruction.” Endis replied sadly.

  “The last thing I called her was maddeningly infuriating.” Marten said, but the revelation was made in a dead voice. “I never told her anything good about herself. I never told her how wonderful her eyes are, or how nice her voice is.” His voice cracked at the memory.

  He thought her voice was nice and her eyes were wonderful. She almost preferred being called maddeningly infuriating.

  “She knows.” Endis assured him, pulling him to his feet. “But she wouldn’t want you moping around after her.”

  Good advice, she thought, she didn’t really expect him to be this choked up about her dying either. Probably this ‘tailspin of destruction’ business whatever it was, making him depressed.

  The two men left the room, while Romana teleported to the caves, unwilling to follow this conversation any further. When she got in, it was to have her dress automatically change into the black leather that was Silver’s clothing of choice, while the hood disappeared, becoming a mask over her eyes. Silver took over the instant the clothes were ready.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  FLINCH

  The sound of clattering hooves down the hallway greeted her as she began collecting the things she would need to fix Romana’s stupid mistake.

  The girl had to pretend to be dead of all things. That just made things hell. Add that to the fact that she was Prince Marten’s chosen and what did it make? Trouble with a capital ‘T’.

  She used the powers to teleport to his room, finding him in his study with Endis and her four other brothers.

  “Not now.” Endis groaned. “You win the timing award that’s for sure.”

  “You mean because Romana just kicked the bucket?” Silver asked innocently. “Maybe I just wanted to offer some comfort.”

  “You?” Endis asked. “You’re going to be comforting him?”

  “Yup. Because I have one vital piece of information for you.”

  “What?” Marten asked, speaking for the first time in a dead voice, she turned to face him, only to find his eyes dim and his face gaunt. He looked like he’d been through hell, in fact, he was probably still there.

  “There is a necromancer among the wytches. And gals as powerful as Romana aren’t allowed to die without a fight.” Silver informed them.

  “They’ll bring her back?” Marten asked.

  “They’ll bring her back, but they’ll keep her from you and wipe her memory from your minds. Think of her while you can boys because you won’t remember a thing about her in a few nights time. Not unless you can shield that is.”

  “I’m not losing my memories of her!” They all yelled at once.

  “Hell no!” Marten said, rejuvenated at last. “How do we do this shield thing?”

  “What would you give me in return?” Silver asked, playing with her knife as she came to sit on the desk. “I don’t do things for free you know.”

  “We’d noticed.” Marten replied. “What is it this time?”

  “I want…” She trailed off thinking. “I want Marten to help me with a little something; the rest of you can get out.”

  After a nod from Marten the other five princes walked reluctantly from the room.

  “What do you want?” Marten asked.

  “I want your word.”

  “On what?” He asked warily, his eyes never leaving her as she perused the papers on his desk.

  “That you’ll treat me to some sparring matches later.”

  “You want to put the baby on his butt again.” He replied. “May I ask why, apart from my humiliation, you want to do this?”

  “Because I enjoy seeing you with your shirt off.” She replied. “Seriously, though, I feel like kicking your royal behind again. Maybe we should fight in front of all your soldiers again, shred your reputation further.” As his face grew into a murderous scowl, she added. “Besides, if you can beat me, then you’ll be unstoppable with a sword.”

  “They say you really are insane.” Marten said. “Is it true?”

  “I grew up to be tortured until I could bear it without screaming. Recently I was put in a prison of darkness where I stayed for nineteen years. I wasn’t touched, I couldn’t see, I couldn’t hear anything and I couldn’t speak and I couldn’t breathe. It was sort of the icing on my cake.” She told him in a happy voice. “Would you like to try?”

  “Not really.” He said, a sudden respect bleeding into his tone even as it coloured his features.

  “Hey. Stop the whole sympathy and respect act.” She told him, seriously annoyed. “It only means I’m more likely to kill Romana for real. If she’s decapitated then she can’t come back.”

  His mood, which seemed to have gotten better since the possibility of Romana coming back to life had arisen, went straight to anger.

  “If you dare touch her…” he began.

  “I touched her already; remember the whole torture for a week thing. That was so dull.” The word ‘so’ was about twelve syllables long. “She fought quite a bit until we got to the part with the heated iron rod.”

  Without warning, Marten leapt for her. In response she soared towards the window, crouching there.

 
; “You do still want those mental shields don’t you?” She taunted, cocking her finger at him. With a well-timed summersault she was up and flying towards the rain-soaked roof, landing on the smooth tiling with a precision not many had. Marten was one of the few who did.

  He landed directly behind her.

  “You’re not leaving.” He told her. “You need to give us the shields you promised.” Silver’s five brothers landed behind him, ready for battle.

  “I can beat you all.” She told them. “But would it be fair?”

  “Each of us – excluding Marten – is over two thousand years old.” Felix informed her, levelling his sword at her. “I think we can handle anything you throw at us.”

  “Damn.” Felix mumbled minutes later as they all lay broken on the rooftop, the rain falling down on them and washing the blood down onto the ground. She stood over them, her cloak fluttering in the wind, blending into the night.

  “If you want to retain your memories of Romana when she’s resurrected, then find my caves. That is my condition. Fulfil an impossible task, and your minds shall be shielded from the spell the wytches will cast.”

  She sensed a presence behind her, felt Marten’s breath against the back of her neck. She’d delivered him the lightest blows, predicting that he was weaker than the others. As his blade slid around her neck to press against her throat, she reached back with her own and pressed it into his ribs.

  ”I think we should take a peek behind the mask, don’t you?” He suggested. She dug her blade in deeper, but amazingly he remained standing, pulling back her hood with a swift move and reaching behind her plaited hair for the straps. But while doing that his concentration shifted from the blade at her neck. Big mistake.

  She shoved his dagger hand away from her, twisting his wrist in a move that had him gasping in pain. When she’d gotten a safe distance from him, she turned to leave, only to find that Endis had healed enough to get up as well. The other elves were rising as well, their swift healing easily healing the wounds well enough for them to fight again. She flicked the blood from her swords.

  “You’re wasting my time. If you want the shields, be at my caves by midnight tomorrow. If you don’t come, you should be saying goodbye to your memories of Romana. By the next morning you will think she died, you’ll never remember that she was a wytch queen and the incident with the old slave master will be an unsolved murder which you will suspect is the work of a master assassin.”

  “Or we could just force you to tell us.” Endis said, his breath coming in harsh pants.

  “Run a sword through me, I dare you. I won’t even flinch.” She goaded, opening herself up for them to do it. She’d heal the wound in a day; the only problem would be getting back to the caves.

  As they looked at her reluctantly, she heard a sword unsheathe from behind her felt the kiss of steel as it moved through the air and came to rest embedded in her ribs.

  She didn’t flinch, didn’t scream, didn’t even move. Just stared into Endis’ eyes and said the words that she knew would give him nightmares for weeks. “Can I have my present now brother?” She asked in a childish voice.

  She wrenched herself off the sword, and then ran to the roof, pushing herself off the edge and propelling herself forwards towards the river that ran through the grounds and eventually out into the deep forest.

  She made it, splashing into the water in a painful landing that made her breath rush from her lungs, even as the current swept her downstream.

  She floated along on the gentle current until she’d passed under the wall and then swam towards the shore, dragging herself up onto a bank of mud. She was around a minute of running at elvenspeed away from the caves, she estimated, beginning the run. The wound was sore and painful; Lena would probably kill her for getting dirty water in it. It would take time to heal, and she was leaving a trail of blood behind her. But maybe she could prevent that, she thought, ringing her hand with fire and pressing it against the wound to heal the injury.

  The rain would wash most of the blood away anyway, she remembered as she felt a fat droplet land on her cheek. Together the river and the rain would remove her scent, making her hard to track, which was exactly what she needed.

  She’d bended the truth a little when she’d told the princes that she could shield their minds. Technically her caves were magically shielded so that they would protect against the magic of the wytches. If the princes wanted their minds shielded, they’d have to come there, and then she’d decide whether or not she wanted to let them in.

  She came to the edge of the cliff from which the waterfall fell and jumped down, washing the blood from her suit as she landed in the middle of the plunge pool, before diving down and through the small crack in the rocks that would lead her through a ‘J’ shaped pipe and into a small pool in a hidden room. It was just one of many hidden routes she’d installed here. In essence, the caves were more complex than a rabbit’s warren.

  When she walked through the secret door, it was to find a young centaur sitting in the centre of the main room, surrounded by tiny dolls. When she saw Silver, the girl immediately rose and bowed.

  “Night Angel.” She said, almost in awe. Not that name again!

  “Look at me for goodness sake.” Silver replied snappily. “Where’s Lena?”

  “She’s with Leigh.” The little girl, what had Lena called her again? Oh right, Miria, informed her. “Leigh got beat up.”

  “By who?” Silver demanded, the protective urge she’d felt when she’d nurtured Leigh as a small centaur not yet completely exterminated.

  “Lena wouldn’t tell me.” Miria told her. “She shut me out of the kitchen.”

  Silver nodded and strode through to the kitchen pushing the door open and breaking the lock in one swift shove.

  “What happened?” She commanded.

  “Viper’s crew.” Lena said, leaning over an unconscious Leigh and covering the wounds with herbs.

  “Move.” Silver ordered, placing her hands on Leigh and sending the healing magic through her, closing all of the cuts. “I thought I trained you better than this.” She told Leigh, pulling the suddenly conscious centaur back to her feet. “No more solo missions.”

  “I’m not a child to be grounded anymore,” Leigh protested. “I’m over half a century old.”

  “And in ten years you reach your second stage of maturity, clearly the effects are already clouding your mind.”

  “And if I’m not to go on solo missions, then who do I go with?” Leigh asked. “Myrtos is dead.” She mentioned the other centaur that had once lived with them before she’d taken off with a group of mercenaries who had, unsurprisingly, turned on her and killed her.

  “You’ll take Miria and teach her. I assume you have taught her how to fight?”

  “She most certainly has not and will not be teaching her to fight.” Lena insisted, shocked, “She’s only just over a year old.”

  “And she was given this home to be prepared for war.” Silver reminded her. “I trust you haven’t forgotten that.”

  “We’ve been teaching her strategy through board games.” Lena confirmed, “But she’s too young for this kind of thing.”

  “No, she isn’t.” Silver insisted, not used to being confronted by her staff. “Teach her. Dollies won’t help her in the real world.”

  She left the room at that, refusing to tell the brownie again. Instead she made her way to her room, pulling her boots off and throwing herself onto the bed to sleep. Not bothering to remove the mask and swords. Leaving a single knife strapped to the underside of the pillow

  That knife was what saved her life the next morning, as a blade came rushing to sever her head from her body.

  She heard the quiet unsheathing of steel, felt the slightest disturbance in the air, and thousands of years of training came into play. Her hand was already under the pillow, and within a fraction of a second, she had the knife in her hands and blocking the sword aiming at her head with a single fluid movement.

/>   She looked up at the face of her attacker, attempting to see their face in the patchy dawn light streaming from the skylights, but they managed to remain in the shadows even as they brought another blade down which she swerved to avoid and only missed by a heartbeat.

  Too close, she decided, leaping upwards and back from her assailant to land on the other side of the bed. It was only then that the person ran from the room, allowing her a glimpse of a man in black.

  She ran after him, her boots materialising on her feet as she teleported them there with a thought. She caught up with him as he entered the main room, he was running at a human pace, but he was fast for a human. She blurred behind him, pulling the double broadswords from the scabbard laying over her back and pressed one to his stomach and the other to his neck.

  “One more move and you die.” She told him, “Now who sent you?”

  The man struggled against her blades but she compensated, pulling the thick woollen knit cap over his head as she did so.

  “We’d appreciate it if you didn’t kill our guide.” Marten told her from the fireplace door she’d only just realised was open.

  “Guide?” She asked, as he and the five other princes climbed into the room. “Who the hell is this man?”

  “My best tracker.” Marten replied. “And as I said, he’s not easy to replace, so don’t kill him.”

  “He was attempting to take my head.”

  “I might have told him we were coming here to kill you.” Marten hedged while his eyes on the bead of blood that had just dripped down from his man’s neck. “We didn’t expect him to actually try and do it himself.”

  “Then you won’t mind if I dispose of him.” She said, swinging one of the swords back into the scabbard at the same time that she employed a sleeper hold against him, knocking him out quickly with very little effort. Quickly taking his memories she teleported him to a church on the outskirts of Morendor.

  “Great, now how the hell do we get back?” Endis asked, brushing soot from his shoulders.