The Assassin Princess (The Legacy Novels Book 1) (20 page)

“Remember who you were before Adam, before Hero, before Legacy, before all of it.” She was knelt in the place where she’d first seen the girl, as if in prayer or meditation, the stone arches towering above. To each side was a white column, so much more vivid than it’d ever been before. The stars were gone and the day was bright and warm, all quiet except for their breathing, the stirring of the trees.

“I know who I am.”

“Do you?” The blade left her throat and pierced her chest. Ami screamed, and then didn’t, the pain never coming as her body filled with a purple light, and her eyes closed.

Running through the woods alone, Ami searched for the fairies. She’d looked between branches, had inspected the bark, and had thanked the tree as she removed a piece, placing it in her pocket. She’d sought out the bugs in the dark and damp places, and had asked them if they knew where the fairies lived; none of them knew. It’d been the day after her birthday, and she’d just turned nine. It was warm, the sun white and fierce, lighting through the tops of the trees. She’d danced in that light, jumped from patch to patch on the ground, followed the squirrels and rabbits, and had gotten herself lost. But, no, Ami hadn’t cried. Instead she’d sat by a brook, her fingers touching the gentle flow of water and had asked the fairies to find her, to show her the way home. It’d been then that small purple lights had lifted from the strands of her hair and had flown around her head, spinning faster and faster. She’d stared up at them, looking all round her as the light spun and spun and shot off through the trees, leaving a trail of violet light for her to follow. She’d found her way home, and had found
them
. The fairies had been with her all along.

The
power
had been with her all along, locked in a long forgotten memory of a magical childhood.

She shivered, feeling sick, dizzy, her body now dripping with sweat, but the fire deep within would not be quenched. “No,” she said as she stood and backed away from
next-girl’s
raised sword and swung at the castle wall. Her blade pierced the stone, leaving a hole that rippled and began to widen.

Looking up,
Dangerous
lit a fire and Ami fell to the floor.

*

Out of the darkness came the grey, and out of the grey came the flames. They burned high and hot, and Hero knew he was back.

“Hero of the Guard, the time has come for all things to come together.”

He saw her eyes sparkle in the shadow of the hood, and the brightness of the fire outshone the daylight around them.

“Come together?” he asked.

“Yes. North to the flow, below, below.”

“there is no other world. nor even this one. what, then, is there? the inner smile provoked in us by the patent nonexistence of both.”

— e. m. cioran

“being a princess isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

— princess diana

He shuddered at
the sound of the voice.

Crossing the threshold, Adam entered the room and turned to face the man on the sofa. He was young, not much older than himself, his hair short and brown—almost black—his eyes the same as Ami’s. The woman was nowhere to be seen, had obviously left quickly, perhaps hiding on the upper floors, waiting it out. The disruption caused by the prodigal son’s return was to be great. But something was already wrong. His father had known he was coming. He was expected.

“Please,” the man said, “take a seat.”

“No. I’ve come to—” His eyes wandered to the mute television in the corner. He knew these boxes, had seen them in other houses. They were hypnotic and they glared, and for the first time in many years he felt a dull pain pulse behind his eyes. “I’ve come to take you away, Father.”

“I’m sure you have,” he said, so calm, so collected. “And have you now found a way back into Legacy?”

“What do you know of it?” Adam didn’t like this at all. There was a knowing smile upon his father’s lips and he wanted to cut the smile right from his cheeks. The blade shifted in his hand, but he didn’t move.

“I knew you were following me, silly boy,” he said, “the whole way, back before I’d even left the castle. I may have been old, but I was never, ever, senile. I used the power to place a protection on the city so that if you left after me you could not return.”

“You did that?” Adam snarled and thrust the blade forward. “You shut me out of my own home, of my lands?”

“You think I’d leave my people in your hands, son? Little Prince of Hatred?”

“Get up.”

“If you insist.” Standing from the sofa the man stretched, pressing a button on the TV remote. The flashing images disappeared.

“I’m going to kill you like I should have thirty years ago.” And he would. He had it all worked out. After dragging his father through the layers, he’d take him back to the castle and bind him, waiting for the moment when Ami would open the way for him back to Legacy. Then he would take him deep into his own castle where he and Ami, his own children, would burn him alive—along with the old woman—at the peak of the mountain. Then… then he’d open the layers, all of them, and destroy the world.

His father shrugged and turned his back on him, his hands sinking beneath the cushions of the sofa. “Just one moment,” he said, rummaging, “because if I’m going somewhere, I want my wallet—I never leave the house without my wallet.”

“Are you insane?” He wanted to kill him.
Do it, do it now,
but he couldn’t bring himself to touch him. He had so many plans—but this wasn’t going at all how he’d hoped it would.

“There it is,” his father mumbled, bringing up a small black wallet. He stuffed it into his pocket and turned back to Adam. “Now, I suppose we should go outside? Let’s go.”

He pushed past the blade and continued on and out the room. Adam hesitated, the pulse in his head becoming a dull throb.
No, don’t let him escape.
He ran after him, though he hadn’t gone far—he was stood in the driveway looking up at the night sky. Adam stepped out behind him.

The air smelt of the coming rain, and a drizzle of vapour hung a light mist around the open door like a halo. Adam’s sword steamed, the flames still lit a sizzling green. His father took a deep breath and shrugged again. “What a lovely night,” he said, and pointed to the dark streetlights. “Your work, I presume? I don’t mind. I can see the stars better now.”

Adam was anxious. He’d come to this house to take his father to Legacy, to sacrifice him upon the altar of vengeance and hatred, yet the man didn’t seemed concerned at all. He’d wanted shock, awe, fear, at least recognition for his power over everything. It would surely horrify him to know that Ami had turned, his sweet artist, dragged to the lands of Legacy and twisted into a dark avenger to do his bidding. He wouldn’t make him feel small, weak, or insignificant, not now, not on the eve of his greatest hour. He shuddered with anger, watching the man’s smooth smile, his unconcerned gaze that now fell before them.

“Oh, look,” he said. “She’s done it for you, see?” He pointed to a disturbance in the air where white ripples sprung from a central point. A small hole had appeared in the layer, and through it Adam could see swirling stars and white ribbons. “You’ve found a way in after all.”

Adam’s resolve stiffened as he realised the significance. Ami had indeed done it, and the rip she’d created had found him, even here, opening to the land he’d been banished from, opening to the land that was rightfully his. But how had his father known about Ami?

The hole slowly widened and they peered into the beginnings of a long glowing tunnel.

*

Hero came out of the grey and pulled himself up against the wall, the flames changing from orange to green, smoke billowing out through the now open doors. He heard the muffled cries of the dying, the silence of the dead, and the rush of the flames that burned everything. The hallway was foggy with smoke, and to his dismay he saw that the tapestries were now just ash on the ground, the carpet beneath him scarred and pitted with masonry and char. To his left were Grace and Raven, and upon the floor sat Ami, Florence stooped over her, a sword trained at her throat.

“We have to get out of here,” Raven said, pointing to the wall where a hole of white light sent ripples through the stone like water. “Adam’s coming through the layers.”

Hero looked down at Ami, her deep brown eyes red with tears.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “I’m—I’m okay now, I’m—me.”

“She’s lying,” a voice said. Hero hadn’t noticed the unicorn who stood upon the stair looking up at them. He lowered his head in a bow, his horn nothing but a purplish stump.

“You are a friend? Sent from Xavier?”

“I am here for many reasons,” the unicorn said, his eyes touching Hero only briefly, “but all of them friendly.”

“What’s happened to her? Why do you say she is lying?”

“The sword that she used to harness the power was the crystal of my horn,” he said, “and through it I was able to channel my own power. I have managed to subdue her, but her power is in flux and confusion. She may be more herself than she was, for I was able to give some of her own power back to her, but she is not completely cured of Adam’s evil.”

“I’m fine. Hero—they won’t let me go.” Looking down, Hero saw restraints of pure white on her wrists. “Please, make them let me go?” Her sword lay a ways away and Hero scooped it up. Her eyes flashed, only for an instant, but enough for Hero.

He sighed and looked to Raven and Grace, and then to Florence who looked from Ami to the unicorn. “How can we be sure? Maybe she is fine?”

“The only way we can be sure is if we defeat Adam,” Grace said, her voice small as she continued to peer through the ever widening hole. The two figures were getting closer. “It is hard for me to say, even now,” she continued, “but my son must be defeated. This can only happen within the Mortrus Lands. Only then can we be certain of Ami.”

“What is in the Mortrus Lands?” Hero ventured, but it was Florence that answered, her eyes shining white, her voice far away.

“Power, much power, life, death…”

“Reunion, parting.” Talos said. “It is the place where we must surely all come together.”

“Come together…?” Hero thought of the
stranger-girl
.

“I have seen him there,” Grace said, turning from the wall. “Only there, with her. We must go.”

“Then we’ll need more steeds,” Raven said, looking to each of them. “Even if our friend here will let us ride upon him, we are too many to travel on one back, even one as magical—”

“I will stay,” Hero said. “If you can carry three—”

“That won’t be necessary,” Florence said, interrupting Hero. Her eyes were tearful, sparkling white, and though her blade still held fast to Ami’s throat, her attention was focussed upon the unicorn. “I can carry you.”

The unicorn moved forward from the stairs. “Florina?”

Florence gasped, and gasped again. Her eyes flickering.

The unicorn nodded and bowed his head for a moment before turning back to Hero. “If you will, touch Princess Ami’s sword to the girl’s head. No more than that.”

“That’s my sword,” Ami said, but didn’t look up. Her eyes were to the ground, her sobs evident yet somehow less believable.

“What will that do?” he asked, moving forward to stand in front of Florence.

“Do it,” she said, her voice a whisper, tears falling down her cheeks. “Please. I understand now. I know who I am.”

Trusting in her plea, Hero placed the tip against the girl’s forehead.

The blade lit and burned, lengthened and twisted, a white fire catching the girl’s hair, turning it from blonde to a glittering snow-white. It drew up behind her neck as she lurched forward, falling to the floor, changing before them. In the dying white flames, the girl who’d been a mystery transformed into a beautiful, white unicorn, the sword joining and becoming her crystal horn. She sidled up to the other and bowed to him. They touched horns and a spark lit and fell to the floor.

Behind them the hole rippled wider and became a tunnel. Raven moved away from it with a start as a hand reached out, smooth and parched. There was no time to waste on fear and awe, and lifting Ami from the ground, Hero seated her upon the unicorn before hoisting himself up in front of her. Raven and Grace mounted Florina the next moment, and with a daring leap from the staircase onto the rubble-strewn ground below, they were away, charging through the open doors of the keep.

Adam stepped through.

“…claim my land.”

He stopped. They’d gone. His clammy forehead creased, the throb in his head becoming worse.

“Looks like you were a little too late,” Graeme said, his arms folded across his chest.

Adam turned to him. “Late? Father, you have much to learn. Learn now, from the mouths of babes.” He stepped to the top stair, overlooking the burning inferno and threw his arms open. “Legacy!” he yelled, and the castle exploded.

*

Hero looked behind, his hands holding tight to the unicorn’s mane. They were already halfway down the mountain when the castle exploded, the boom stopping his heart in his chest. Stone fell in an avalanche and jagged rocks cascaded down the mountainside, destroying everything in their path. The city screamed as one, the sound of human surprise and despair.

Then the peak of the mountain was lost in a cloud of smoke, and Hero could see no more. He turned and lifted his sword, shooting a bolt of power ahead of them, tearing the city gates from the walls.

*

He was the eye of the storm, and Adam spun in the wind, laughing and laughing.

The walls of the castle had blown out, the roof had torn apart. Rock fell from the mountain and tumbled the city away, smoke and dust the only clouds in the sky.

He danced around his father in a circle on the steps, the staircase all that was left of the keep, the courtyard all that remained of the rest. He saw people, dashed smears, insignificant bodies that littered the peak in a wet mess of blood and severed parts.

“Oh yes,” he yelled into the air. “Legacy is mine. See, Father? See?”

“Yes, I see,” said Graeme. He’d not moved, his arms still across his chest. “I see. You have won, well done, Son.”

Adam stopped dancing and faced him. “You mock me.” His upper-lip curled in a sneer, a twitch flicking in his cheek, his body preening small green flames.

“I’m amazed you noticed,” Graeme said. “So self-centred you are, absorbed in your own spite, it surprises me that you can understand mockery. Isn’t it all about you, Son?”

Adam turned and ran his hand through his greasy hair and looked out across his land. He was now the tallest thing in the world. He could see the Planrus Lands, the forests, and even as far as the horizon of Noxumbra, his own castle hidden in darkness. To the north were the Mortrus Lands, and to the west the clear waters of the sea, reaching all the way to the south and the marshy Madorus Lands.

He was the master of it all.

“Father, I don’t care for your mockery,” he said, turning back to him. “You are nothing to me now.”

“So why not kill me, Adam, and be done with it? You can destroy all you like. That sword in your hand can unmake anything, but in my hand, it can remake all in seconds.”

“Rubbish!” Adam spat, stepping back and raising the sword. The blade flamed.

“No, not rubbish, just the truth that you’ve never grasped.” Graeme took a few steps forward, the blade touching his chest. “It’s the reason you could never be the heir.” Another step, and the metal pierced his skin, the flames refusing to catch. “You only know destruction and hate.”

“It’s all that matters.”

“Go on and run me through with the sword then, with the unicorn magic that you’ve abused. Run me though, Son.”

A moment of hesitation, and Adam’s eyes dropped.

Graeme leaned forward and pushed him and Adam lost his balance, falling down the carpeted steps and landing on his back in rubble, his head splitting on rock. It healed instantly, but the pain increased his anger.