The Girl With Red Hair (The Last War Saga Book 1) (34 page)

“You can’t,” Alexander said. “She’s just a child. She’s done nothing wrong.”

Lilacoris regarded Alexander with an expression of mild amusement, but ultimate boredom. The hate and anger had completely dissipated. “Her destiny is sealed, but you’ll join her soon enough. I won’t make you wait. I’m not a monster.”

“Then let us go,” Alexander said, taking a painful step toward her. It hurt to breathe. “Let us find Adelaide and we will be gone from your Realm.”

“A temporary solution at best. No, I cannot show mercy if it means that any of my Realm would die.”

Alexander took another step forward, this one stronger, though the pain still coursed through his body with each heartbeat. “So you’d kill us,” he gestured to Sachihiro and Jaydan. “And kill a
child
?”

Lilacoris’s eyes hardened. “Yes.”

“Then you
are
a monster. I will never allow you to harm Adelaide. Or my friends.”

Lilacoris’s expression melted and she took a step away from Alexander. This emboldened him, and the next step he took was the strongest of all. He would use his hands if it came to it.

Above, on the dais, the Council members shifted as a single unit, moving for the large door set in the corner of the room. Lilacoris turned and sharply followed suit. The thrill of victory was fleeting.

“Oh shit,” Jaydan said.

Alexander thought to go after Lilacoris and the council members. He had a mind to punish each in turn, but Jaydan’s tone made him spin around. Suddenly, the Council seemed to be the least of their worries.

The elven guardsmen were rooted in place. Tendrils of black mist pooled on the floor like an inky fog. It wrapped around their legs, slowly curling upwards. Hungry.

Sachihiro and Jaydan were at Alexander’s side in an instant and they backed away together.

“That’s different,” Jaydan said. Sachihiro grunted.

The black mist continued to seep from beneath the large doors they had been dragged in through. It continued to move of its own accord. The elves twitched violently. Blood spurted from eyes and began to flow down their convulsing bodies. It mixed with the black mist and evaporated with a sizzle of steam.

“The other door,” Alexander said.

He turned and stumbled, but Sachihiro caught him and ducked under his arm. Sachihiro’s sewn mouth contorted into a vague semblance of a smile, and Alexander nodded his gratitude.

“It’s not here,” Jaydan said as they reached the corner.

The wood was seamless and barren. Alexander shook his head. There had been a door there only a moment before. He had watched the Council flee through it.
I should have chased them down when I had the chance.

“Could it be magic?”

Jaydan ran a hand over the wood. “I don’t know. I can’t
see
anything with this cursed thing lodged in my chest. Could just be hidden. Maybe there’s a lever somewhere.”

Sachihiro grunted and pointed back toward the center of the room. The black mist was retreating from the guardsmen. Alexander allowed relief to slip into his mind just a moment, but the elves’ eyes dismissed any notion of safety. The mist continued to fade, but thin tendrils curled up from bottomless eye sockets, as if all of it lived within the elves’ skulls.

One took a step forward. The blood had vanished as well, stolen away by whatever magic now possessed the guardsmen. Alexander reached back for Jaydan, blindly grasping for the Healer.

“Any luck with that door?”

At the edges of his periphery, Alexander saw Jaydan shake his head.

Sachihiro grunted and gestured at the elves. They were slowly gaining their senses. One brandished a spear. The others produced small, curved daggers.

“Make a break for the other door?” Jaydan suggested.

Alexander surveyed the room. The hall was large by any estimation, but he knew he’d never outrun anyone or anything in his current state. He looked behind him to confirm that an open door didn’t await entry.

Sachihiro balled his hands into fists and nodded at the elves. It was clear he meant to fight. After all he had been through, the man was still willing to sacrifice his body. Alexander used the wall to steady himself and shook his head.

“I can’t.”

“None of us are in good shape,” Jaydan said. “But I’m going to take a wild guess and assume those elves aren’t about to lend us a hand.”

Sachihiro turned, pointed at Alexander, and then pointed at Jaydan’s chest. He then thumped his own chest with a fist and shook the other at the elves. The shadowed creatures crouched, weapons readied. Were they about to attack? Or were they waiting for them to make the first move? Alexander saw the same dark ending either way.

“What are you saying?” Alexander asked. “You can’t fight six of them.”

Sachihiro repeated the string of gestures. A glance passed between him and Jaydan that Alexander couldn’t decipher. Jaydan patted Sachihiro on the shoulder and turned to Alexander.

“It’s a terrible idea, but Sach is going to buy us some time.”

“For what?”

Jaydan gestured to his chest. “Time for you to rip this thing out of me.”

Alexander felt dizzy. He leaned harder on the wall and shook his head. “No. You’ll both die.”

Jaydan shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. I heal pretty fast. And Sach is awfully skilled at getting hit.”

Sachihiro elbowed Alexander sharply. The elves were creeping toward them.

“Any better ideas?” Jaydan asked.

Alexander’s head swam. He needed to get them out of there… alive. Adelaide’s life depended on it. If he had been worried about her before, then he was downright terrified after Lilacoris’s words. And he couldn’t help but think he had already failed her. He thought to accept his fate as penance for it, but then another presence in his mind disavowed any doubt. There wasn’t time to think on the strangeness of it.

“All right,” he said.

Sachihiro charged the elves. Jaydan slid down the curved wall and Alexander followed with far less grace. He looked into Jaydan’s eyes and tried to stop his hands from shaking as he grasped wood and flesh.

Jaydan nodded. “Do it.”

Chapter Thirty-Eight

SHE WAS GOING to die. It wasn’t a thought Adelaide had ever had, but now it was little less than certain. She couldn’t stop shaking or sobbing, but it wasn’t dying that scared her. Miss Hastings had always said that death was a beautiful thing unto itself, a mirror of life. What scared her was the thought of leaving them behind. Jaydan, Alexander, Sachihiro… even Tannyl.

She had wished her whole life to have someone to talk to beyond Miss Hastings. She had given up hope and was content with only her caretaker as her lone friend in the world. But like a wildfire, the others had swept her up into something wonderful.

It wasn’t death that scared her. She had lived more in the last few days than she had ever dreamed possible. She had seen things she didn’t think possible and felt care like nothing short of…
love.

She bit back her tears and stopped shaking at the thought.
Love.
It was the dangerous emotion Miss Hastings spoke of. She loved Miss Hastings, sure, but she had never truly
felt
it. Now, curled up at death’s door, she felt it coursing through her body, melting the fear away like snow before the sun. It didn’t make any sense. But it was undeniable. She loved them. She loved Jaydan for his inquisitive and snarky attitude, Sachihiro for his wit and undeniable spirit, and Alexander for his unwavering kindness and wisdom. She even loved Tannyl for reasons she didn’t yet understand.

The elf appeared in her mind. He was frowning, but Adelaide felt more than a simple memory. She sensed him and knew he was in danger. It made less sense to her than loving him, but it was equally undeniable. She
knew.
And suddenly she understood.

She opened her eyes and stood, clinging to Sachihiro’s sword. The black mist had gathered around her, keeping its distance, but completing surrounding her. It pulsed and continued to grow in height. It towered over her and reached toward her with ethereal hands.

Come to us, child. Dance in the shadows with us.

Something warm built up in her chest and flowed to her limbs. It tickled slightly and made her skin dance, but she had never felt more clearheaded. She had never felt so strong. She
knew
Tannyl was in danger. She
knew
he needed her. And she
knew
what to do.

“My friend is in trouble,” she shouted to the shadows. “He needs my help and I am going to save him.” There was no doubt in her assertion. No fear. No sadness. Only one thing remained, and it made up the whole of her being.

Why would you save him, child? Dance with us!

It should have unnerved her that the shadows responded, but it only further steeled her mind. “Because,” she said. The strange warmth and energy continued to grow. Her body was glowing. “We’re family and I love him!”

With that, she charged for where she knew Tannyl was. The sword felt like a feather in her hands and she held it up like it was a toy. The warm glow of her body grew, transforming the small girl into a ball of streaking light. The shadows parted to her radiance.

She ran. Faster than any little girl had the right to, she ran.

Tannyl’s hands were tied above his head, fastened to a tree trunk that had been thrust into the ground. It still had its bark, and it tore at Tannyl’s back as he thrashed against the bonds. It was still night, and the clearing was empty. They were going to let him suffer first.

“Tannyl?”

He shifted and turned his senses to the sound. It was different than the last time he had heard it. “Maira?”

He heard a tearful sniff from behind him. “I knew you’d come. You never left my mind.”

His heart pounded in his ears and a sweat broke fresh from his brow. “I didn’t come for you.”

“Please, Tannyl,” she said. “I don’t want to remember anymore.”

“What did you say?” The pounding in his ears was thunder and her words were lightning.

“The memories. They won’t leave me alone.”

“You?!” He thrashed, ignoring the biting pain at his wrist. “Before, in the forest. It was you!” Suddenly, his memories opened fresh and he saw her in that moment. It wasn’t Fae’Na that had come to him, but
her.
How had he ever thought otherwise?

She was close, tied to the opposite side of the same tether. He could feel her shoulder press into his as she twisted toward him. “You saw what you needed to see. But you came for the same reason. You need me just as I need you. Please, Tannyl.”

The sultry tone was completely absent from her voice. She sounded… scared. And sincere. He wanted to hate her. He wanted to kill her. But hearing the fear in her voice…

“There’s nothing I can do,” he said, letting his body hang slack.

“Is this your penance?”

He looked at the clearing. He could still see the remnants of fire, even after so many years. The undergrowth had returned and a few saplings reached for the sky, but it was a sharp contrast to the fullness of the forest. A stark reminder of what he had done. And if he had forgotten… well, the pile of tinder at his feet told him they meant to remind him.

“They’re going to burn us,” he said.

Maira twisted further against her bonds. He could see her in his periphery. Her face was streaked with tears. It was the face of a different woman. Something in his heart broke for her. He cursed the reaction, but he could do nothing to suppress it. He knew it was because she was in his head somehow, but he didn’t care.

“They used me to lure you here,” she said.

He shook his head. “No, I was coming anyway.”

“To die?”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

“We can be together in death, Tannyl. It’s truly a beautiful thing.”

“Is that supposed to be a comfort? I came to… It doesn’t matter, but I have no intention of being with you in life or in death.”

“But you must help me, Tannyl. The memories…” She shook her head and began crying again. “I don’t want to remember. Help me bury them.”

She was clearly delusional. The Druids may have thought to use her as bait, but in fact she was more effective as further punishment. Watching her burn alongside him would be his only comfort. Movement at the forest’s edge broke off the thought and focused his senses. They lined the border, too many to count, but Tannyl knew they were nowhere as numerous as they once had been. And they would continue to dwindle. He had seen to that.

Only one approached the stake. The others hid from the moonlight in the shadow of the trees. Fae’Col’Gae’San’Na’Ling, the Ancient, stopped at the edge of the unlit pyre. She carried a torch.

“Careful with that,” he said. “Wouldn’t want to burn down the forest.”

The flicker of the torch twisted the sneer on her face into something even more sinister. “Still your tongue betrays you,
Betrayer.
”