The Girl With Red Hair (The Last War Saga Book 1) (32 page)

“Shit,” Jaydan said.

The elves and wolves closed the distance and formed a single wall of tooth and blade. They shifted into a ring, surrounding the trio, and stood at attention, unmoving and unspeaking.

“Well, go on,” Sachihiro shouted. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

“Dammit, Sach,” Jaydan hissed under his breath.

The elves shifted and parted, allowing a new figure to emerge. Two arms were folded across its segmented chest and two more were outstretched in front of the large, vaguely insect-like creature. Its large black eyes didn’t blink.

“You sure are ugly,” Sachihiro said, challenging the newcomer to act first. The situation was grim, and Sachihiro didn’t intend on going down without one last tussle. Let his legend be forged in blood.

The creature’s tusk-like mandibles clacked audibly. Its voice was masculine, but distinctly inhuman. “Your words. Mean nothing to. Me. You have all been. Detained for questioning and. Sentencing. Execution.” It clacked again and stepped closer.

“Execution? For what?” Sachihiro asked, inching forward to meet the challenge, but still tethered to Alexander.

“You will kneel before. The Council and. Explain. Then you will. Die. How is up. To you.”

“Like hell we will,” Sachihiro said, and spat at the creature.

The creature stomped a chitin-armored leg and clacked incessantly for several moments. When he had gathered himself once more, he turned to the elves at his back. “Let them. Rot. Until the next dawn. And. Seal that one’s. Mouth.” A pincer jabbed in Sachihiro’s direction.

The large insect turned and marched sharply down the hallway, clacking noisily. The elves slowly closed in.

“You stay back, or heads are gonna start gettin’ cracked!”

“Dammit, Sach,” Jaydan said. “We can’t win this.”

“Just watch the magic this one has!” Sachihiro shouted, gesturing at Jaydan. “Prepare to be burned!”

Before Jaydan could curse him again, the elves were upon them. Hands pulled the trio roughly apart. Alexander couldn’t stand on his own and went down like a rotted oak. Sachihiro twisted and threw a punch. It glanced off the jaw of an elf, but left him off balance. Something strong latched onto his leg and pulled him to the ground. A wolf, Sachihiro knew as it shook his leg while the elves seized his arms and torso.

There was a brief flash of magical light, but it quickly faded, and Sachihiro could hear Jaydan shouting in pain. He had never heard such a noise, and something about it coming from Jaydan shook Sachihiro to his core. He stopped struggling and focused all his energy on trying to prevent his heart from exploding within his ribs. His chest felt like it was on fire and pain pulsed from every corner of his body. He was being carried, but couldn’t see past the swarm of elven bodies and dark fur.

“Dammit, Sach,” he mumbled to himself.

He closed his eyes and began to prepare for what was to come.

Chapter Thirty-Five

THE ELVES CARRIED them to a dimly lit room with rounded walls that led up into a rounded ceiling. Small holes bored into it were the only light source. They dropped Jaydan next to Alexander and moved to surround Sachihiro on the far side of the room. Jaydan couldn’t see his friend, but could hear him screaming and fighting. Then the sound became muffled. In another moment it stopped completely.

Jaydan didn’t want to move. They had taken it from him; not just his motivation but his
magic.
He looked at the jagged piece of dark wood that protruded from the center of his chest. Buds on it pulsed with a delicate energy. It had drained the residual magic from his body in an instant, and he could see thin tendrils slowly creep from it, weaving into his flesh. It was feeding on any magic he drew on. And growing.

A heavy door slammed shut and silence fell in the wooden prison. Jaydan looked over at Sachihiro. The large man was curled against the wall on his side. Jaydan could see subtle movement and knew his friend was still alive. Alexander moaned beside him and sat up. He clutched at his stomach and hissed.

“Sorry, Alexander,” Jaydan said, looking at the blackened flesh that was now Alexander’s torso. “It was the only way to stop your wound from bleeding, and it should have burned out any taint.” He didn’t tell the man that it would do nothing to any poison that may be racing through his veins.

That was not the only choice you had, Jaydan. Tell the poor boy the truth.

Alexander nodded and shuffled against the curved wall, melting into it. “We need to find Addy,” he said.

Go on and tell him you burned him alive because you were afraid. Afraid of chance and afraid of me!

Jaydan shook his head and silently wished the voice away. He knew it was futile, but arguing with Rhadiourgia was not likely to help any of them.

“I know,” he said as he stood. “Sach, you all right? We need to get a plan together.”

Sachihiro didn’t respond, but he rolled toward them and slowly stood. Using the wall as a crutch, he hobbled toward Jaydan and Alexander. The light fell across his face just as he reached them and slid down next to Alexander.

“Aw, shit,” Jaydan said.

“Oh, Sachihiro,” Alexander said softly.

The burly man grunted and shook a fist in the air. Anger burned bright in his eyes, but tears streaked his cheeks. Blood ran down his chin and neck.

Jaydan knelt at his side and turned the man’s head to face him. “Let me look, Sach.”

Sachihiro scowled, but remained still as Jaydan examined the crude work. The elves had used some sort of thin twine. It was laced through the flesh above and below his lips over a dozen times and pulled so tight Jaydan could only see the edges of his lips. He couldn’t see a knot or an end to the stitching.

He shook his head. “I need something to cut it with. Unless you can chew through from the other side.”

Sachihiro shook his head and grunted.

It was Jaydan’s turn to shake his head. “I don’t know that I can,” he said, and pointed to his chest. “But…”

Ha! You would risk your life for this one, but not the other. How interesting.

Jaydan ignored the voice, pressed a finger to the stitching holding Sachihiro’s mouth shut, and turned his mind to the magical energy in the air. He seized a small tendril and pulled it into his body. Pain exploded from his chest and he fell onto his back. He could feel the wooded plant pulling at the same thread of magic he had taken in. It absorbed it and pulsed with power.
His
power. He clutched at it and felt the thin vines grow and thicken, digging deeper into his skin and muscle.

Sachihiro grunted and thrashed. Jaydan knew instinctively what his friend was telling him. He insulated his mind from the magic and sat up again, though it was an exhausting labor. Was this what it felt like to be Void? Alexander was wide eyed.

“Some sort of magic-eating seed,” Jaydan said, knowing how crazy it sounded.

“Can you… remove it?”

Jaydan carefully prodded at the skin where the pulsing vines burrowed inward. He shook his head. “This is a fine bit of shit we’re in,” he said.

Sachihiro’s eyes softened and he nodded. He said something, but it came as only a garbled mumble from deep in his throat.

“At least Addy isn’t here,” Jaydan said, surveying the room.

“I was supposed to protect her,” Alexander said firmly. “We
have
to get out of here and find her. She’s just a child.”

“Is she?”

Alexander scowled. “Yes,” he said firmly. It didn’t allow any disagreement, so Jaydan gave none.

Something hit the floor behind him and nearly brought his heart out of his chest. Turning, he saw a wooden pail lying on its side in the middle of the room, something thick pooling around it. He looked up at one of the holes in the ceiling and heard the distinct sound of laughter.

“What is that?” Alexander asked.

“Food, I think,” Jaydan said, crawling nearer the pail. He righted the bucket and sniffed at the contents. “Some sort of porridge, maybe,” he said. As he did, something wet struck him on the top of the head. Warmth ran down the back of his neck. The odor was unmistakable.

The laughter above melded with Rhadiourgia’s that echoed in his own mind, but Jaydan didn’t have the energy to care.

Chapter Thirty-Six

ADELAIDE WAS SPINNING again. Not that she was lost, but because a pair of fairy-winged frogs had drawn her off course. Soon she became too dizzy to stop properly and tumbled to the ground. She laughed.

“Addy, you big klutz,” she said to the twilight.

Her stomach growled, stealing her mirth. She hugged herself and exchanged the smile for a pout. While she had brought along a stolen book and a stolen sword, she had not thought to procure any food. Or water. She hadn’t thought she’d need to. It was a short trip, nothing more than a day or two. She frowned. Why did she think that?

“All right, Addy,” she said, climbing to her feet and dusting off her pants. “Time to find something to eat and a place to make camp, because that’s what Tannyl would do.” She surveyed the surrounding forest. Everywhere she looked seemed the same as any other. She hid the book and sword in the hollow of a fallen tree and set off.

She hummed as she went, skipping between the trees and leaping over fallen branches. It was a game, and one she excelled at. Her humming turned to singing, and soon she forgot what she was after. If it was bliss she was after then she also excelled at finding it, for she had never felt more enlivened. Except for when she was among the clouds. And when she was dancing with Gaia. She laughed at the forest shadows. Everything about her new life felt like a dream. One she had no intention of waking from.

A gust of wind called a stop to her jumping and froze her with a shiver. She looked around, suddenly uneasy. Sometimes the swift change of her own moods surprised her.

“It’s just a bit of wind, Addy,” she said.

She shivered again. It wasn’t cold in the Fae forest. If anything, it was a little warmer than Adelaide would have liked. Sweating was not something she was fond of, but standing there, she couldn’t stop shivering. The wind whistled through the canopy, rustling leaves and snapping brittle branches. The ferns about her bare feet shivered as well, swaying this way and that. They were knives compared to the soft tickle of the clouds.

“Is someone there?” she called out.

Another gust weaved around her and she thought it hid more than air. A voice. It was little more than a whisper, but it seemed to be calling to her. She turned, hearing something behind her. Another faded voice. This one was calling
for
her.

“Who’s there?” she shouted, trying to stand as tall as she could. She shivered again and hugged her shoulders.

The wind faded and the ferns stilled. Silence followed, and Adelaide feared it more than the strange wind. She turned slowly, trying to discern the way she had come. Suddenly, she wished for the cold comfort of Sachihiro’s blade, though she knew she couldn’t properly wield it. Thinking she knew the way, she darted off, no longer jumping from point to point as a game, but leaping to cover more ground.

She found the hollowed-out tree and nearly dove headlong into the narrow gap. She yanked the sword from its sheath and fell backward from the weight. It took two hands to lift, and she did just that, turning it in tight motions, blade following her darting eyes.

“I know you’re there,” she said.

A whisper cut the silence, sounding both near and far. It didn’t speak in words, but Adelaide understood the meaning. She spun in a tight circle, cutting a silver gash in the air with the sword.

“No,” she said. “I’m staying right here.”

The whisper called to her again, this time sounding as if it were in her own head, taunting her from between her mismatched ears. The sword tip dipped, suddenly feeling far heavier than before. Adelaide took in a sharp breath and gripped it tighter.

“I’m not afraid,” she said, but even she could hear the tremor in her voice.

Something moved at the edge of a nearby tree. Adelaide pointed the blade in that direction, but staring right at it, saw nothing. The whisper danced in the dimming light and wrapped its chill around Adelaide’s body. Night was fast approaching, and Adelaide suddenly remembered how much the dark terrified her. She had left that realization with the food and water, and now it seemed the most grievous error.

“Come to us, child,” the whisper said.

The clearness of the voice shook Adelaide and she dropped the sword. It landed point down in the soft soil, sticking straight up. She dropped to her knees and clutched the grip, trying to hide behind the narrow blade. She could see them now.

Tendrils rose up from the shadows, twisting and melding, slowly taking crude shapes. In the long shadows they rose, black as night, but as incorporeal as morning fog. Arms raked at the air. They were many. They were everywhere the light was not. And there was little light.

“Come to us, child,” they repeated, voiced as one haunting breath.