by Blake Rivers
“Ah, your dress. That’s what drew his attention. Those we’ve seen are in pale, drab clothing. Hardly any colour, like the streets. You’re conspicuous in your beauty.”
Ami’s cheeks rouged as she looked down on herself. “You’re sweet and right. It’s a lovely dress but…”
Raven jumped back as green fire swirled from her feet and up her body. It engulfed her completely, the flames hot and deadly. As soon as they appeared, they left, leaving her dressed in a grey robe not unlike Raven’s own. Her hair was covered by a hood, her empty scabbard hidden within.
“This would be better.”
Raven turned to the bookshop, but the man had gone.
“Sorry,” Ami said. “I guess that was quite conspicuous too. I have the instinct kinda built in, but I’m lacking in the experience.”
“It’s okay,” he said, seeing her falter and hating it. “No one saw. Let’s go.” He took her hand and felt the power beneath her skin, her eyes flashing violet for a moment as they walked across the street.
The inside looked dark and murky, the smell of old printed pages seeping out into the street, while above the clouds hung heavy once again, the first patters of rain tapping upon the sign. A far thunder rumbled and the ground gave a shiver.
*
Ami closed her eyes before crossing the threshold, stretching the moment out, the smell of the old books close yet caught in stasis as she searched for Dangerous. She saw the rain in her mind, in that other place, saw it hit the perfumed grass and explode before the white steps that led to the platform beneath the arches.
There was the rosebush to her left, forever in bloom, forever growing against the stone walkway; and standing against it was her shadow-self, caught in the shower and looking radiant and forever young, forever her double.
She reached out to take herself in hand, but instead felt Raven’s large, roughened fingers coaxing her forward, the moment snapping, her eyes opening.
Ami could smell the roses still, even as she followed his lead and entered the shop.
And just in time, as the few drops were joined by many, quickly becoming a torrent, falling hard, heavy and fast. Thunder grumbled of the promised storm and made good on that promise, rocking the sky.
Quite suddenly, Ami was hustled aside by a small, mousy man who skipped out into the rain to grab the sign. He pulled it awkwardly into the shop, pushing away Raven’s help, and swung the door closed with a bang that was lost in a volley of thunder.
Again, the earth gave a small quake.
“I wish she wouldn’t…” he whispered, turning full circle before finding the perfect spot to store the sign. He dragged and whooshed against the floor in long, brown robes, his shaven face a healthy pink, his eyes small and dark, buried deep. “I’m sorry,” he said, looking up at them, “I cannot have the shop getting wet, not even a little. The books, you see…?” His voice drifted off as he swept his arm back at the shelves. “They are old, some of them, and very precious. Delicate. You’re not from around here.”
“How can you tell?” Raven asked, with a wry smile.
“It’s obvious. I’ve never seen you. No one comes here, no one new. Visitors aren’t permitted, which makes you two very out of place indeed.” He clasped his hands and shuffled further into the shop. “That’s dangerous for you, dangerous for me, and dangerous for anyone else who you approach, hm?”
“We’re sorry,” Raven said, “perhaps we should go.”
“Go? In this weather? Out of the question.” A smile broke across his face as he stepped behind a large desk and moved books from one pile to another, making it so tall only his eyes could be seen peering over the top. “No, it would be an even more dangerous thing for you to go out when she is…well, when it is storming.”
Ami approached the desk. “She?”
“Oh, you caught that, huh? Well, it’s no secret. The weather, the storms? She creates them. She, who owns this land, rules it—though it wasn’t always so.” The man retreated again into the back of the shop, disappearing behind a dark curtain drawn half across the room.
Ami and Raven exchanged glances. So there it was, the one the old men had talked of. She.
Around them books were piled on almost every surface, stacked six and seven high, leather bound, dusty and moulded. Some weren’t too shabby, kept behind wood and glass toward the back of the shop, kept in such shadow that Ami couldn’t read any titles clearly, though she doubted they’d mean anything to her if she could. Raven was also browsing, perusing the books on the desk.
The man reappeared with a tray, a metal teapot, and three goblets.
“Ah, yes, you are still here. I thought you would be. Here, have some tea.” He placed the tray on the desk and stepped away, looking at it. There was a long pause as they watched the man watch the tea. A subtle quake grumbled beneath them, and the stacks and piles of books shifted from side to side, the windows rattling—and then it stopped. The man smiled. “Now I can pour.”
He grasped the teapot in one hand and each of the goblets in turn. Soon Ami and Raven were sipping the hot, bitter liquid. It was not the tea Ami was used to, far from it, but it had a certain charm and she drank it down quickly. Outside the rain lashed the window panes and the world grew darker still.
“It will last a while,” the man said, and put his goblet aside, raising his hand. “The name is Britanus, and I own the only bookshop in the whole town. Now, you could say that I am very rich, or you could say that I am very poor. I would go with very poor, as there is a reason there be only one shop. Most cannot read.”
“You know we are not from here, yet you haven’t asked us where we’re from,” she said. “Are you not curious?”
“Curious?” he mused. “Perhaps a little, but I am thinking you will only lie. Strangers in a strange place, now told how dangerous that truly is, and you would divulge where you are from? Not terribly astute.”
“Okay, so we don’t tell you where we’re from. Seeing as you know us to be strangers, perhaps it’s not too much to ask you where we are?”
“Truly lost, aren’t you? The town is named Darkscape.” He then turned and busied himself with some books, giving short, sharp glances back at the windows. “Are you here to buy any books? I have quite a selection you may well be interested in.” He frowned and turned from them to a shelf behind. Reaching up, his fingers barely grazed the upper most volumes. After a few seconds of struggle, he released a frustrated sigh and looked to Raven. “Would you be so kind as to help me, sir?”
“No problem,” Raven said, stepping to his side. The man pointed to the book in question and Raven grasped it, pulling it down and setting it on the table.
“What is it? Why would I be interested in this?” Ami asked.
“Why indeed?” Britanus whispered, saying no more. He brought a lit candle from across the room and placed it at a safe distance, close enough to see the book clearly.
The volume itself was leather, large, the width of a hand double-spanned. She wiped the dust from the cover. There was no inscription, but a symbol only, the same symbol that was on her blade.
∞
“Familiar, yes?” Britanus gripped the cover between his fingers and threw it open, flicking through the pages apparently at random before coming to a text scripted on yellowed, age-spotted paper.
All three leant over the book to read the small words.
T’was the beginning of time, before time were noted, before th’ world was sliced, many times unfolded. When knowledge and wisdom were that of the Being, and other creatures grew up from crea-tion.
“This talks of the beginning of the world,” Ami said.
“Does it? Oh…” Britanus turned back to his desk and began sorting through more books. Ami continued to read.
Guardians of life, when life was worth living, shepherded herds with hearts full of giving. Yet came a time when Being became, too large and power, too much to sustain. The world cracked and life all but shattered, the shell contained, broke pieces
unnumbered.
“The Sentries,” Raven murmured.
“Yes, it’s talking of the moment the world divided into layers, but this is only an introduction.” She flicked through the pages with her thumb, seeing pictures and drawings and words side by side. “It would take a whole year to read through all of this.”
“Two, if you study it,” the man said, coming back to them, “but it is not a book of leisure, more of reference. You riffle the pages, randomly, like so, and ah!” He’d taken the book in hand and flicked his thumb through, turning the page open to a drawing of a girl, so elegantly designed, so perfect in line and form. It was her. “You find something of interest.” Britanus turned again and scurried busily to the back of the shop. From the full flowing locks of dark hair laying across her shoulders, to the black dress that clung to each curve, a sword in her grip and eyes tipped with green ink. It was her.
“The Assassin Princess,” she whispered, tracing the lines of fading ink with her fingertips. “How am I in this book, Raven?”
“I don’t know. It’s a very old volume, so very old,” he sniffed the pages, “musty and dry.”
“It’s my face.” She looked to the back of the shop for answers, but the man had disappeared in shadow. Outside the full storm was upon them, the wind a gale that could lift the roof. We’re off to see the wizard…
The Assassin Princess shall be the culmination of power within one girl. She shall be the closest facsimile to the Sentry, and the means to bring all layers together. It will be her fate.
Ami stepped back from the book and looked from the page to Raven. “Who wrote this? How could they know about me, hundreds or whatnot years before?”
“Perhaps…” Raven shook his head.
“Go on.”
“I don’t know how it could be possible, but, you know yourself that some layers of this world move at a different time and speed to others. Perhaps, to us, this was not written too long ago. Perhaps the author is from Legacy. In this layer, the text has been here for many tens, hundreds of years.”
It was possible. She’d learned this fact from Talos of the unicorns who’d been captured by her twisted brother and tortured by him over hundreds of years—though in Legacy, only thirty had passed. If someone had witnessed the events of only months ago, was it possible that a record of it could be sitting in another layer? The proof was in her hands.
She looked at it again, riffling through the pages a little more, letting the book open where it would. The page that opened before them was titled The Mortrus Lands. Below it, a rough sketch of a black forest.
Here’th lay a most darkened secret, a forest that is camouflage for its true nature. Broken and fractured, a sorrowful monument to the Being. Once part of the whole, then a gateway between layers, tunnels of portals, and now only a mystic horror.
“This is so strange.” Ami brought the book to a close and slid through the first couple of pages. Only the symbol was inked, no author listed. She closed the cover and Britanus returned.
“Well, I hope you found it instructive, or at least of interest.” There was a glint in his eye that Ami wasn’t sure she liked—the familiarity of him was somehow obscene, coming from the small, unassuming man. Had he recognised her from the book? He must have. “Would you like to purchase?”
Ami stared at him, transfixed.
“Why does the earth shake?” Raven asked, breaking her trance.
“The book is something truly unique, just like yourselves. It could teach you much.”
“That’s not what I asked,” he said, crossing his arms.
“And yet, that is what I have said. Think on it.”
Ami shook her head. “We have no means to pay, and no means to carry such a large tome through your streets.”
“Then perhaps you should make it smaller.” His smile did not falter, his eyes on hers. Beyond the leaded panes the storm was finally lessening, the patter upon the glass calming, merging with passing hooves, cart wheels trundling. The shop filled with a welcome amber light.
“And maybe the sunshine is payment enough.” Britanus turned back to his desk and fumbled behind his books before rising from them with a torn piece of paper. He handed it to Ami. Upon it was written: Receipt – 1x Book – One ray of sunshine, paid.
The man smiled once more, showing his uneven rows of greying teeth.
“Thank you,” she said, gripping the large volume beneath her arm.
“Are you sure you can carry that where we’re going?” Raven asked, but Ami only nodded.
“Where would that be then?” Britanus asked. “Maybe you came to visit the great palace by the river that cuts through the valley? Perhaps that is where you are going? Or perhaps you’d leave the town, having seen all you want to of this place?” His smile dropped and Ami felt the warning behind the words.
“Thank you,” she said again, “for all of your help, and the book, of course.”
Taking Raven’s arm she turned on her heel and headed for the door. Britanus reached it first however, and opened it, swinging his sign outside once more.
“You are most welcome. Please call again, should you need any other reading materials.”
They nodded and stepped out into the street, the cobbles wet with so many shining rivulets of gold and trickling silver.
Once out of sight, Raven turned to her and gestured to the book. “How are we to carry such a monster without drawing attention?”
“Somehow, he knew. He knew a lot.” Taking the book in both hands and holding it at arm’s length, Ami pondered the volume. “Somehow he knew. Make it smaller.” Pulses of coloured power swept from her palms and swam across the surface of the book. It began to shrink, down, down, further down until it was no bigger than a playing card. She handed it to Raven. “Keep a hold of this.”
“Surely it should be yours to hold, were we separated—”
Ami shrugged, grinned and pulled at her grey robes. “No pockets.”
*
Hero sat with Florence within the magically restored library at Legacy’s castle keep, waiting for her to speak and relay everything she’d done and seen. It was difficult for her; he’d never seen her shaken before, always the brave and fearless Guard, the brave and fearless unicorn. He’d placed a goblet of wine by her hand, but so far it remained untouched. Hero had finished his and now craved another.
“Hero, these were not creatures from this world. I am fearless when it comes to fighting, defending, yet I couldn’t stay there any longer. The things I saw.” She stopped, her eyes filling with tears that she refused to spill. “The things I saw. They were dark. Dark monsters with teeth, rows of teeth, sharper and finer than any sword of steel. Their eyes were a glowing red. I watched them from the Planrus Forest, I watched them rise from the ground, as all the rumours say. The river no longer has only one spring, but many where the earth has broken and steams. Soon the forests on both sides will flood because of it. And there were noises, Hero, noises of men with wicked voices, calling up from the earth as if from the depths of some hell. I dared walk only a few paces when flames shot up between my legs. I ran. I ran for my sanity and—”
“It’s okay,” Hero said, reaching across to hold her hand. “You’re safe now.”
“None of us are safe, Hero. It’s spreading. Whatever it is, its spreading, and soon it will reach our lands. The quakes we feel? It’s the land ripping itself apart beneath us.”
Hero leant back in his chair and looked up to the ceiling, far, far above. It was a painted picture of beasts and men, a depiction of an old seafaring tale he’d once heard when he was younger.
“We need help, Hero. We need Ami.”
“Raven has been sent to seek out Princess Ami.”
“He has not returned. Perhaps he will not. We need to see your guide, the other Ami. The Shadow Princess.”
Hero nodded in agreement and hoped he wasn’t too late. He couldn’t lose Legacy, and he couldn’t bear to lose her. “Let’s set the fire.”
Chapter Five
The heavy rainfall had flooded the earthen cavern, reawakening the stench of the long dead. It made him feel sick and woozy, but Jonus breathed it in all the same. After all, how many had they left to perish here against the sodden walls over the years? He’d never kept count and yet remembered each and every sunken corpse he’d unchained and dragged away. In fact, if he closed his eyes he could still recall their final screams in echoed memory.
All for her.
But there would be no screams now.
The manacles were empty.
“They weren’t released,” he said finally, turning to his brothers with fiery torch in hand. “The iron is broken.”
“Perhaps an accomplice?” Sanus suggested. “Someone who came to their rescue?” Murmurs of agreement rose in response, but Jonus shook his head.
“No. It’s the girl. I thought just the sword, but… She—”
“Be careful of your words,” Franus warned, but Jonus took no heed, his fingers stroking down his beard.
“My words are always carefully spoken, I assure you, yet a mystery remains. We cannot question the strangers if they are not here, and if they are not here, then they deserve more consideration than we’re giving them. The sword is powerful, but we found more than a sword; we found the girl who held it.” He sighed, the glossy looks reflecting none of his thoughts, only the fire in his hands. “Madam Romany will not be pleased if we do not recapture this girl.”
“And her companion?” asked Laous.
“He can die. His sword was little more than tin.” Jonus turned then and led them back through the doorway, along the passageway and up into the palace. He stamped his feet with each step, scraping his sandals along the ground. He detested the mud, the dank, the dark, the rain—oh, how he hated the rain. It was a relief to step into the warmth of the hall, with its high ceiling and wide open space. He breathed it in, continuing to his left with his brothers following; through a further doorway they entered a room that ran the back of the Court and sat directly below the Solar Room.
