A Step into Darkscape (The Legacy Novels Book 2)

by Blake Rivers

  “And then we swing through the trees like monkeys?” He laughed, imagining the sight.

  “Yes, exactly. Me Tarzan, you Jane.”

  Raven shook off the phrase, not understanding, and peered up to the trees. “Then what?”

  “Then we jump for the top of the wall and take out the guards, then into whatever is beyond.”

  “That simple? Do you have to kill?”

  Ami frowned and tilted her head, her eyes flaming green. The sight of it sent shivers down Raven’s back. Did she actually have to reason it out, to think about the value of life and whether it was worth destroying?

  She broke into a smile and laughed.

  “I guess not. We could knock them out from as far away as the trees I reckon, so we aren’t seen.”

  Thunder rumbled far off and Raven felt the ground give a little beneath them, though his concern was more for the danger in those jaded eyes. The Assassin Princess killed, had killed for fun, for no reason. Had she changed, or would she just break, maim and murder?

  “Come on, time to get a wriggle on.” Ami’s body sheened in a glow of green and violet, and Raven felt the spark of her touch on his arm. She leant against a tree trunk and squatted, allowing him his own purchase upon her back before lifting him up. Soon they were flying up the trees, the woodland blurring around them.

  *

  Jonus led the way through the dark corridor, jumping steps two at a time, his brothers struggling to keep pace behind him. The narrow earthen walls soon merged with cobbled flint and stone, the steps rising steeper still and opening out onto a large torch-lit hall. It was dark in its disuse, shadows scurrying the edges where a dank smell of rot rose from wooden benches that might have been of some other place and use once. It was known only as the Western Hall, and as far as Jonus knew, had never had another name. He strode across it, his eyes fixed on the door opposite that led to the Court.

  This find, this event, was disturbing and exciting and she would certainly want to know of it immediately. He was certain. The blade was heavy and unyielding in his grasp, the power running through it obvious and immense. His brothers felt it too, being of The Order, but this was not for he or they. It was for she, and she would decide the fate of the strangers. He strode on ahead, swinging open the heavy door that hit its frame with a hollow crack.

  The Court was as shadowed as the Western Hall had been, though lit with wall mounted torches. It was the biggest room within the palace with only three doors running to it, one from the south and one each for east and west. Around the edges were wooden benches and carved statues glaring from the walls, the floor a mix of stone and marble flags, white and red, chequered as a chess board. At the northern point sat the throne, ornate in wood, silver and gold.

  She was not upon it.

  Jonus turned to each side, searching the shadows. “Where is she?”

  “Do not be impatient,” warned Sanus, grasping his arm. “She is pious, she will do as she pleases and be where she wishes.”

  Jonus shrugged him off. “Of course she will, but this is important, Brother, this is—” A shudder from beneath stopped him, the very ground moving. “She is in the Solar Room.” He rushed to the eastern door and burst through it with as much gusto as the first. The eastern stairs spiralled up before him, carpeted in a fiery red and gold. He took to the stairs as a man half his age and flew upon them, separating from his brothers below. Small windows against the wall shed daylight upon his flight, glimpses of sky and cloud as he hit the landing of the upper floors at a run, stopping only to catch his breath before entering the double doors directly above the throne.

  And there she stood, her back to him, her skin glorious, soft and bronzed. Her arms were raised to the air, to the wide open gallery, to the very world, light shimmering up her body as sun-touched ripples, sparking from the tips of her fingers to fall upon the town. Another rumble ensued, and Jonus felt the whole world tilt somewhere deep in its bowels. It’s him.

  “Madam Romany.” He swallowed audibly and stepped forward. “Madam Romany, I have—”

  “Be quiet.” A simple whisper, nothing more, but Jonus no longer felt his tongue. He bit it hard as he tried to address her again, but his mouth was useless. He tasted blood as it seeped into the back of his throat. Panic rose in him and he stepped closer, wielding the sword before him.

  “Don’t move.” The sword dropped to the floor with a clang, yet still she did not turn, her naked arms raised high into the air, the day’s light nothing compared to her radiance; even though he could not move, speak, could hardly breathe, his heart pounding his old chest, he still worshipped her as his beautiful goddess.

  Her simple dress of white shifted as she finally turned, the garment a radiant armour across her chest, her midriff embellished with a small green jewel at her navel. If he could have, Jonus would have bowed to the ground and shuddered in her presence, for she was most beautiful, and most terrible.

  Her face loomed over him now, her eyes a fiery red, her dark hair falling down her shoulders in streams. Upon her head was a tiara, sparkling silver, around her arm a golden serpent armlet.

  “You dare to interrupt me here,” she whispered.

  Jonus looked away, looked around the room from his stationary stance, anywhere but into those blood-red eyes. It was a simple room, furnished with nothing more than the carpet beneath him and the bare stone walls around him. Four pillars stood outside of the walls and held the canopy of the gallery up, the opening itself four windows long, one whole side of the room itself. Out there, the town sprawled upon the hill beyond the courtyard.

  She took his face in her hand and stared at him until his eyes rolled back to hers. They were on fire now, burning him. He would’ve screamed if he could. His face contorted with the agony of the punishment. Each vein, each artery, each ligament and muscle felt aflame, yet he could not move, could not cry out.

  Finally she let him go, slowly moving her attention to the fallen sword. “For what trinket did you disturb me?”

  She reached to lift the sword, but stopped before her hand touched the hilt. Jonus watched her closely as her face smoothened, becoming ageless—then her eyes were on him once more. Jonus knew this a façade. She was truly a dangerous goddess.

  “Where did you get this? Speak.”

  He could move again and immediately fell to the floor, the agony from moments ago burning a trail under his skin. He moaned, pulling himself up onto his knees, turning his head to her with effort. “A girl, a girl had it in her…possession. We found her…the temple, in the temple.” He coughed and closed his eyes tightly, fighting off the coming of a complete blackout.

  He shivered as her hand smoothed over his skin, caressing his cheek. “A girl? And you stole this sword from her?”

  “We captured her. She is below, held below with another.”

  “Now there are two? Are you sure you are telling me everything?” Her voice was slick silver and he didn’t trust it’s sincerity. At any moment she would snap him, and he would gladly die in her service, but he would prefer to live. He opened his eyes once more and faced her. She looked so curious, innocent and so beautiful. My goddess.

  “We chained them and I took the sword, for I felt power within it. Power that I have only ever known from—”

  “A power to equal me?” She tut-tutted and pushed him to his back. “Nothing is equal to me. You have brought me an interesting trinket, nothing more. You interrupted me, now leave before more punishment is given.”

  Jonus scrambled backward, pulling himself to his feet. “And the girl, Madam?”

  “Keep her below. I may wish to question her.”

  Jonus backed out from the room, taking hold of the double doors, pulling them closed. As he did, a tiny sliver of light remained. He spied her hunched over the sword, staring down at it. She raised her eyes to him, and Jonus fled.

  Too flippant, he thought as he descended the stairs slower than he’d ascended them; too flippant, and she is lying. Whatever they’d
found, it was meaningful to her, and she didn’t want him to know it. He would do her bidding, of course, and keep the strangers below, for what did it mean if she meant to keep her secrets to herself? She was a goddess and he her slave.

  Jonus met his brothers at the bottom and told them all that had happened, all except his doubts. Those he pushed firmly from his mind. She’s lying. She’s worried.

  Chapter Four

  Their flight through the trees was nothing to her, as easy and as quick as stepping across a bridge or climbing a stair, yet Raven clung to her with all his strength, one arm around her waist, the other around her neck. The ground was far below, a green and brown blur, and if his grip were to loosen, his fall would be terminal—yet she sensed a deeper worry in his grasp than that.

  Did she have to kill?

  Of course she didn’t, though the nagging need to take life from another, to feed upon them as a vampire drinks blood, had been an evil temptation—Adam’s influence—his influx of death within her veins. But she couldn’t blame him entirely. There was something within her that wished to destroy just as much as the artist that wished to create. With the power she possessed, Ami was able to do both at the same time. Did she have to kill? No, but part of her wanted to. She was tempered by her own power—that which was hers alone—the Shadow Princess, Dangerous, the girl within that gave her strength. She thought she’d beaten the darkness, thought she’d recovered from it, but it remained, lying in wait just beneath the surface. Raven saw it in her. If Hero had come instead, could she have trusted herself in his arms?

  Up ahead she spied the grey flint of the wall through the thinning thicket of trees, and with one final fantastic leap soared upward, bridging the gap between.

  They landed amid the battlements, Ami crouching low and immediately scouting the area. Two soldiers approached from the left, precariously close and deep in discussion.

  Leaving Raven between the crenulations, she dropped down into the narrow walkway and sunk low to her knees. It took only a moment for the soldiers to notice her, but before they could raise an alarm, she launched at them, taking the sword of one and aiming it at the other, hitting him pommel first between the eyes. He fell to the ground with a solid thump, while the second soldier backed away, his hands raised.

  “Now, don’t you do anything stupid you’ll regr—” but he never got to finish as Ami whacked him round the side of the head, felling him the same as his friend.

  “No,” she whispered, chucking the sword to the side and looking down upon her unfortunate victims. “No regrets.”

  Raven jumped down from the wall’s edge and joined her, stepping over the bodies, looking all around.

  “There’s only these two,” she assured him. “Let’s tie them up.”

  “Huh,” he said, bending down over one and digging his fingers into his neck. “Still alive.”

  “Of course they are,” she said. “You said we don’t have to kill them. You were right. Now, help me tie them up.”

  “What with?” he asked, looking around.

  Ami picked up the first soldier and dragged him forward, laying him upon the other. “By the belt. I just need them trussed so they don’t separate.”

  “Separate?”

  “You’ll see.”

  Raven pulled the second man up so the bodies were together, and once back to back, Ami unbuckled one of the belts and threaded it through both.

  “What are you planning? That won’t hold them, they will just unbuckle—”

  “Not planning on holding them.”

  “Don’t kill them.”

  Ami tightened the belt and pulled, levering and lifting them both into the air. She swung them out toward the wood and let go, the two men sailing high, disappearing into the trees.

  Raven ran to the wall and looked out, shading his eyes to see.

  She listened for a heartbeat, hearing the faint bum-te-boom-te-bum. “They’re alive.”

  “How can you tell?”

  “I just can,” she said, smiling, turning from the wood to look out across the opposing vista.

  Nestled within the four tall walls was a sprawling town upon a hill, a colourful and shaded mix of streets and houses hemmed in by delicious forestry and wild flora. The land without was an untamed mess of nature with no further sign of occupation, but within Ami saw life that walked and talked and lived as she did. Houses butted against narrow streets, and while some leaned this way, and others leaned that way, all were oddly shaped and painted gaudy colours of pinks and blues and reds. From this height, she thought it almost looked a zoo for her perusal, the tiny people a game to be observed.

  Looking down a particular street, she saw that all doors were ajar and all windows were flung open, and what looked like the entire populous of the row were up and about, washing windows, stacking crates, walking from tavern to tailor in their faded cloths and leathers. Some drove carts or rode horse-drawn carriages, while others simply walked on foot, dragging large bundles onward and upward, deeper into town.

  In the distance many townsfolk gathered, swarming a market square, the stalls and people alive and brazen with the shouts of: “Lovely apples!” and “…pears for a bale!”

  They were all crystal clear and small, like pastel coloured ants, going about their business.

  Over the crescendo, lines of chimney smoke and smog scored and dispersed, a grey haze painting the clear canvas of blue.

  Ami sniffed the air, tasting a coming storm.

  “Stranger and stranger still. Are we going down?” Raven asked, pulling his hood taut.

  “Yes, we have to.” She considered him for a moment, and then looked back to the sky, feeling a buzz in the air, static raising the hair on her arms. “I already feel so far away from home. I once thought all this a dream, you know?”

  Raven placed his hand on hers. “It’s an adventure.” His smile brought a tune to her mind that she hadn’t felt on her lips since her time in Legacy. She hummed it now as she took Raven’s hand and hopped the wall to the street below.

  *

  There were none to challenge them as they entered the town, and for that Raven was glad. Without a sword he felt naked and unprotected, and he hadn’t the power Ami had, wasn’t bred among the elite of Legacy. In the Guard he’d always been a protector, a soldier, a man of action with a blade in his hand. He reached for it now, but his scabbard was empty, useless.

  Ami had crouched low to the ground, her eyes that of a predator scouring the shadows. She’d changed in ways that he doubted she’d even noticed. It was natural for her after all, a simple extension of herself, where one moment she was as any woman, no matter how strange of manner, and then the next was a finely tuned weapon, honing in on danger and attacking. He felt safe with her, and yet unsafe. She was their leader, their rightful ruler, and he would honour her and follow her always, but he knew it was dangerous, she was dangerous—the hair-trigger of a taut crossbow, her aim unknown, her range unimaginable.

  Raven joined her now and together they walked up the side of the thoroughfare, their eyes everywhere.

  “So what next, Princess?”

  “We walk, observe.” She looked back at him and smiled, laughing a little under her breath. “Honestly, I’m not sure. This is all new to me.”

  They followed the street round to the left as it curved a little with the line of jaunty houses. Low windows looked in upon families sitting and rising; kitchens in which pans steamed and bubbled over open fires, large tables spread with plates and littered goblets. Raven passed one doorway that had swung wide open into a darkened hallway stacked on either side with piles of clothes. It smelt funky in passing, and he was glad to have moved on.

  Up ahead the street was partially blocked by a wooden cart, fully laden with its tailgate open. In the back were four people, two women and two children, a girl and a boy, sat around the edges while men on the ground loaded up the middle section with crates and roped together belongings.

  “Easy, Toby, you’re gonn
a hit the little ones,” the elder woman said, her grubby face looking down at one of the men with scorn. He’d thrown a rather large sack quite close to the children, though they were too busy slapping each other’s hands in some kind of game to notice.

  “You’re such a stick, Martha.”

  “You mind I don’t beat you with it too, Toby Martin!”

  “Yes, Mrs Martin.” Toby rolled his eyes at Raven as they passed, laughing in jest. “Ah, the Missus. Barrel of laughs.”

  Raven nodded and smiled politely and moved on, aware that the children had stopped to watch them. Ami had turned round to watch them back, but he took her arm and pulled her swiftly along with him.

  “Best keep our eyes to ourselves, Princess. They’ll be eyeing us and lynching us next.”

  “Them? They seem jolly enough?” Ami looked over her shoulder but soon turned back again. “True enough. They’re all frowning after us now. Every one of them.”

  “We stand out. We’re strangers.” Raven was glad when the street curved again, this time to the right. The people they passed were in their own worlds and gave little comment, and if anything only a brief stare. But it was obvious they didn’t belong. He kept his head down. “We could do with somewhere to hide out.”

  Ami shook her head. “We’re here to find out what’s going on, where these men are. We can’t hide.”

  “Just for a little while, Princess, while we gather ourselves. How about there?” He pointed across the street to a row of buildings with open doorways and faded signage. Beside one darkened door, the sign read simply ‘Books’.

  “Looking for a book on sword-stealing, bearded old men?”

  “What—? No. But it could be useful to have a little local knowledge.” He cleared his throat. “In the Guard, we’re trained not only to be stealthy and lethal, but to blend. I suggest blending. Perhaps books can give us an idea…perhaps the man…?” A figure moved within. He seemed to hover in the shadows.

  Ami considered this, her gaze wandering to an approaching coach. It was horse-drawn, the hooves clip-clopping harsh upon the cobbles. The driver looked at them, a frown creasing his brow. Raven followed his gaze back to Ami.