by Blake Rivers
“I have to find a way to this blade,” she murmured. “I have to break its secrets.”
A cry floated up through the storm then, a call from beyond her prison.
“Ami!—”
Raven.
She looked out into the night and called out to him over the thunder; but the only reply that came was a caress of misted rain, and she dared not approach the gallery.
The woman sighed and turned to Ami, moonlight striking a crescent upon her cheek as the last of the flamed power left her, the storm continuing on.
“Your Raven is not important. I’m not even sure that you are that special.”
“Who are you?” she asked, hearing no more from the land below; Raven’s calls had fallen silent.
“I am Romany,” she said, “ruler of Darkscape, goddess of this land. You should use these last few moments of life to tell me of the blade. But you begin to bore me already.” She turned the sword in her hand. “This is your sword? You did not steal it?”
“It’s mine.”
Romany became still again, too still, a mime, a caricature. After a while of waiting, life returned. “Perhaps, then, not useless. How was this blade made? Where was it made?” She flicked it expertly through the air and Ami flinched as its tip landed against her skin, the steel resting across her arm. It shimmered with violet flames that ran to the tip and winked out. “Curious.” She smiled down at the sword and then at Ami. “The power within it responds to you.”
Raven is alive, but for how long?
The sword was close; if she could just grab it—but Dangerous was no closer, and Ami felt only the girl. Just a girl, just Ami. She focussed on Romany.
“Why are you so interested in my sword? How do you know of me?” she asked, but the woman had turned her back on her to inspect the blade in the moonlight, the storm now finished.
“This is not metal, but some other material, yes?”
Ami said nothing.
“You think I do not have ways or dragging every last thought from your mind? I could strip secrets from you as easily as I could flay the flesh from your bones.” She paused. “I would rather you share with me your tales though, I think, for there may be some gems that prove useful.”
Dangerous. A glimmer, a bloom in the barren.
“I will not be used,” she said, but she had to think quickly. Her life, Raven’s life and possibly many more lives depended upon her next few words. She had to be smart. “However, I am not adverse to talking, if you wish.”
Romany considered her and caressed the blade as her dark eyes burned. Finally she nodded. “I shall call The Order and have them prepare a room where we may talk. In the meantime?” The column of flame flew around her once more, and Ami was caught.
Romany left the room.
*
Hero dropped to the ground, Florence steadying his landing.
All was black and shadow against the wall, the thoroughfare in front a long cobbled stretch of moonlight cutting through the town. There were no lit windows, no glow of a warmed hearth, and the only sound to be heard was the ragged puff of their own breath, a faint steam rising, curling and disappearing into darkness.
The light of life they’d followed still hung low and distant, beyond the streets, over the cusp of the hill itself.
“It feels wrong here,” Florence said, stepping forward. “I can feel the fear.”
“So it’s not deserted then?”
She shook her head. “No. Far from it. I can hear whispers, though no words. There and there.” She pointed to the closest houses, squinting. “They’re hiding. All of them. There are so many of them…”
“Is Ami among them? Raven?”
“I—” Florence shook her head. “I can’t tell. I don’t know. It’s possible.”
“But not likely. Not Ami, not hiding.” His eyes scouted the road ahead as far as he could see. There were many side streets, narrow alleys breaching close-knit structures, but no movement beneath the eaves—a scurry of a cat maybe, the snuffle of a rat in the gutter—but nothing more than that. There was not a voice to be heard, their own whispers too loud.
Looking through a nearby window and cupping his hands against the cold glass, Hero saw very little: a chair and a table, an empty room, too dark to discern. He turned back and looked to the stars, unfamiliar and magnificent. Legacy had never seemed so far away, so distant. Even when he’d travelled beyond the Madorus Lands and to the broken islands off its coast, he had not felt as far from his home as he did now; now his home was in a different reality, a different layer of existence. But Ami was here.
A single star shot across the expanse, its long tail fading. A second appeared, and then a third, and as Hero watched, clouds gathered from nowhere and a storm quickened the skies. Thunder crashed and lightning licked, the wind a sudden gale that whipped their robes and snatched their hoods, all within the blink of an eye.
Hero pulled Florence to shelter beneath the doorway of a crooked house, while grey spectres glimmered behind windowpanes—the petrified and hidden, reticent ghosts thought missing.
The townsfolk.
The star-shots increased, seen through the bellies of swirling clouds; they did not peter out nor disappear, but instead arced downward, a thousand flaming arrows heading right for them. They fell with a hard rain, filling the black street with smoke, steam and mist, giant stars exploding over and over.
The thoroughfare was soon alight with a chicane of flame, running a hell’s path across the hilltop.
“We have to run for it,” Florence cried over the din. “We can’t stay here, it’s not safe.”
A star hit a building to the right, firing stone missiles over their heads.
Hero agreed, and taking Florence by the hand, ran into the anarchy, dodging all he could.
*
Raven had walked quite some way down the hill, his eyes misting, staring up at the palace, his arms and legs aching. He was sick, for sure, sweating and shuddering. That girl, that dark haired girl—what had she done to him? It’d been a struggle not to trip on the cobbles or give up completely and lean against a house and sleep, but the urgency to find Ami was too strong; and besides, all that lurked behind his lids were the dead, and they accused him of much, of running away, of being a coward.
A woman, a man, a boy.
In a feverish stupor, he found himself at the foot of the bridge, exhausted and on the verge of collapse.
That’s when he saw her.
Standing at the far side of the bridge, Ami whispered into the wind, her dark hair flying as she beckoned him forward.
“Ami? I thought I’d lost you. Ami!” he shouted, moaning as he made his way toward her, limping and tripping upon the creaking wooden path.
A sudden storm had broken out above, and as the rain fell he tightened his grip on the rail, the elements fighting against him. White flashes flew from the palace and landed somewhere behind in booms and fizzles.
“Ami!”
He was closing the distance, though each step cut his spine with ice. She’s wrong. The wind pushed against him, then with him, swirling around and twisting his robes. She’s wrong. Checking his footing, he looked up at her, now only a few strides away.
A shadow crossed her face and panic rose like bile in Raven’s throat.
She was wrong. Somehow, something.
Perhaps it was the way her hair fell upon her shoulders, or how her eyes remained immoveable, like a picture, like a mask.
“Ami?”
Her smile dropped.
“You’re—you’re not—”
With a twirl in the dark, the wind whipped Ami away, and in her place stood an old man, his long grey beard flying about his chest, his eyes silvery and flashing with amusement as he laughed a low, dark croak, cutting through the storm.
“You’re right. I’m not,” he said, raising his arm and pointing at him, a bright bud of light pulsing at his finger’s tip.
Raven turned to run but the bud of light flicked the
distance between them and caught his back, winding tight around him, binding his body. It was fire, burning through his robes to his skin.
“Ami! Ami!” he cried, panicked and immobile. Then he was lifted from the ground, the old man against him, his face changing and morphing into that of a black serpent, its forked tongue lashing out between sharpened teeth against Raven’s cheek. Hands were claws, grabbing at him and scoring his skin as it pushed and played with its prey.
Raven couldn’t breathe, couldn’t scream, and was thrown across the bridge and through the railings to teeter on the edge; the man/beast held tight to him though, keeping him there to hover above black waters—and now Raven knew why they were black. Now it was obvious. The tar-like substance bubbled, waiting impatiently, hungry for him.
He gave one last cry into the night, but the vines of corrupted power that bound him now penetrated his open mouth and clogged his throat.
“Thanks for dropping by,” the serpent grated, and pushed him from the edge into the water.
*
Hero heard a cry in the night, and there was no question in his mind as to who the voice belonged to.
Raven.
“He’s in trouble,” Florence said.
“Raven! We’re coming!” Hero cried, and together the two of them ran down the sloping street, ducking and diving through the star fall.
Upon the horizon a tower emerged, immense in size and lit like a beacon, while at its base a square courtyard surrounded it, all haloed in an eerie light. It was from the tower that the stars came, shooting high up to fall.
They saw Raven at the bottom of the hill, struggling upon a bridge with a second figure in embrace, a grey-white apparition, burning and steaming in the pouring rain.
“I can save him,” Florence said, pulling her sword from its scabbard. “Follow me.”
Hero nodded as she rippled in her own white flame and transformed into the pure white unicorn, galloping ahead and leaping from the street to the bridge.
Raven had already fallen, and Florina dived into the black water after him; but by the time Hero had caught up, the attacker had disappeared. Booms and crashes continued yet seemed far away as he walked across the bridge, sword raised, looking everywhere for the man or beast that had attacked. Light hid within darkness, shifting the balance; and somewhere in that darkness, someone laughed.
He knelt at the bank and peered into the water’s depths.
Raven and Florina were nowhere to be seen.
Above him, the star-shots were fading, leaving only the storm and the sporadic ground quakes, though they too were lessening. He concentrated, listening for Florina and Raven, for the attacker somewhere in the mist. Wrapped inside the wind, the same low laugh crowed again. Hero turned his blade, his sword at the ready.
But then, in a flourish of splashing whinnies, Florina emerged from the water, tearing up the muddy bank with Raven slung over her neck. He was unconscious, and both of them were coated in the foul, black sludge of the river.
“Quickly, Hero,” she panted, “we have to go. There is power everywhere, and it’s strong and it’s wrong. Hero, we need to run, now.”
Making sure Raven was secure, Hero jumped up behind him, and then they were off, Florina breaking into a gallop away from the palace.
Where were they going to go? Where is Ami? He looked over his shoulder, the palace disappearing around the curve of the bank, its lights dimming.
Raven stirred.
“Hush, Brother, I have you now. Stay still until we are safe.”
“Ami,” he whispered, and then nothing more.
The passing night called out to Hero, animals unseen, chirps and screams, creaks and rustles—but he closed his eyes to it all, and lay over Raven, keeping his brother close, keeping them both close.
*
In her solitude, alone in the cavernous room, Ami searched once more for Dangerous. With the woman far from her, she found she was able to connect to her power.
Her eyes were closed, her breathing steady, and in no time at all her feet had found the grass again, her boots crushing prints into the short, kempt blades as she strode to the white platform, the incomplete arches rising high, the columns tall against a clear blue. The steps were few, and her shadow-self waited at the top, casually leaning against a pillar.
She ignored the trees behind, the entrance to the Mortrus Lands, and paid no mind to the low building to the left, though she did eye the stone walkway with its arched portals. The rosebush still grew to its edge, always in bloom, a sign of her power, a sign of her true nature. Ami longed to finger one of those petals now, but she had sought Dangerous, and Dangerous waited.
“Why did I lose my power?” she asked, the double of herself dressed as she was, the Assassin Princess attire of dress and boots—a killer style.
“You didn’t, it’s only been muted. Your power is still within you, a part of you. You can never lose it entirely.”
“But it went away. You went away. I couldn’t find you.”
Her double shook her head and sighed. “She is a Sentry and she is powerful, but you are just as powerful. Believe in yourself and you will find your power when you need it; I will always be here.” She touched Ami’s chest above her heart. “I know you want to go in all guns blazing, but to stop her you must relent and listen. Talk to her. Then you’ll find her weakness. But remember: do not give her more than you can afford, for your weakness is her power also.”
Ami shook her head. “I don’t understand. Who is she?”
“Talk with her. I will be here when you need me.”
Her eyes opened to the dark room and the flickering red flame that still bound her. Though the storm had passed, she could still feel the rain in the breeze, cold and welcome against her heat-weathered skin. She thought of Raven, cursing herself for whatever had happened to him. I should have helped him. But of course, she couldn’t, but perhaps she could find him now at least with the return of her powers. She closed her eyes again, but this time felt forward with her mind, out of the gallery and across the courtyard, the moonlight lighting the way as she peeked over the wall and allowed the power to feel out time. The storm restarted, or more precisely rewound, the strobes and flares flying from the land and back into the sky, soaring above her head. On the bridge below she watched a scuffle in reverse, too fast and quickly over.
Everything stopped.
Concentrating, remembering the sound of Raven’s cry, Ami let the scene replay.
There she saw herself, though it wasn’t her—a projection, a man made to look a monster, made to look like her. Disguises fell and Raven was caught, his trust won then quickly betrayed. Someone came though, and as Raven fell a white flash followed; a unicorn.
Next-girl? Florina?
Hero.
Raven had been saved and Hero had ridden away with him, but the monster-man that’d been her, had disappeared. With the storm gone Ami was able to project further. She’d never done this before, never left her body with such freedom outside of communing with Dangerous, and the world was hers to explore. The lightened sky was a lonely sight, the moon spreading its ethereal coolness upon wet streets, buildings short and tall, a dark town at rest. The stars were strange to her, making shapes and constellations both familiar and yet changed. She heard and saw much without meaning to, sensing the stirrings of others within the palace, and even the muted mutterings of those hidden in the houses, frightened and comforted only by each other—yet until the door opened behind her, she’d not heard the woman returning.
Her presence was a tumour on her senses, a dark mass entering her aura. She stood too close and it prickled like static upon her arms. Ami left the nightscape and returned in a rush, her eyelids opening to the dark eyes of the other, Romany.
“Come, Assassin Princess, we shall withdraw to a more comfortable setting.” The flames extinguished, and Ami shuddered with the release, her relaxed muscles re-tensing. She fought her want for immediate flight and set her mind on Dangerous, her wo
rds running through her mind: Talk with her. I will be here when you need me.
The woman took her hand and Ami’s power exploded inside her. It was as if every good feeling she’d ever had had been pushed into one, liquid metal beneath her skin, reigniting Dangerous in her heart and mind. Flowers bloomed behind her eyes and fireworks exploded until finally—always finally—blood spilled. Nothing Adam had ever given her had felt this way, and looking up at the woman now, Ami wasn’t sure she’d meant to give anything at all. Romany’s grasp was firm, her eyes sparked flints.
Raven was safe. Hero was here, and Ami was being pulled like a ragdoll.
“Where are we going?” she asked, but the woman gave no answer, pushing her through the double doors. Here there was a wide corridor laid with a thick red carpet, the walls covered with an intricate painted pattern, vivid colours, brushstrokes on plaster. Red threads connected with gold, making images of plants and vines such as Ami had seen climbing cottages and walls, ruins of castles and abbeys. They turned with the corridor, turn after turn, always left, always silent, sloping upward each time; a teacher leading a student, a parent leading a child, a guard leading a prisoner—Ami felt like all.
Romany’s face was stolid, her expression fixed and blank, the hushed whisper of her dress the only sound. Hush. Hush. Sconces held torches high up and out of reach, bringing the woman’s serpent armlet to life, its eye winking. Ami didn’t like it.
The final turn revealed a dimly lit room through another set of doors, and despite herself, Ami felt comforted by the sight and smell. It was a library, immense in size and stacked floor to ceiling with books. Spines and covers of all kinds, many colours, different sizes. It was a jungle of knowledge. She could taste the tang of their musty pages and it made her think of home, back before Legacy, back before her power, back when she used to enter a library and browse the sections far removed from the mill of people; she used to imagine it was her own library, her own collection where she could spend her entire day reading, drawing, painting and creating.
