The Girl With Red Hair (The Last War Saga Book 1) (5 page)

“Alexander.”

Jaydan nodded a silent greeting and turned back to the girl. “What’s your name?”

She sniffled and looked at him. She stared for a long time, seeming to examine the young man.

“Adelaide,” she said, still staring intently at Jaydan. “You can call me Addy. If you want. But
he
can’t.” She pointed away from them.

Just then Tannyl appeared, carrying his bow in one hand and Alexander’s glaive in the other. He dropped the weapon at Alexander’s side and looked at Adelaide. He grunted.

Alexander’s mouth opened a fraction, but he shut it quickly.
Words have more power than any weapon. Be careful where they’re aimed.
He wanted to dismantle the proud elf, but knew it would help little. And he certainly didn’t want to start an argument in front of Adelaide. He already felt a protective bond with the fragile girl. She reminded him so much of Rose. And Cathryn. And Felicia. And Sonya. And…

“You’re dirty,” Adelaide said suddenly, her eyes pinned on Tannyl.

All parties looked at the young girl. She looked stunningly defiant in the moment and Alexander now saw her more clearly. Her eyes were firm, one of stormy gray, the other a brilliant gold. It was strange that he hadn’t noticed the difference before. And now that she was sitting a little taller, he noticed her ears as well. One stuck out prominently from her long red hair, coming to a sharp point, marking her an elf. And a Noble elf at that. The other was largely hidden beneath the disheveled strands, but was most certainly not pointed.
Strange,
he thought in the brief moment of stunned silence. Perhaps she was not so similar to Alexander’s many sisters after all.

A strained noise came from Tannyl’s mouth, as if too many words had tried to exit at the same moment and clogged behind his teeth. Instead he grunted again, shouldered his bow, and stomped angrily into the forest. He quickly vanished from view, but a string of indecipherable grumbles trailed behind him.

“I think you hurt his feelings,” Sachihiro said with a devilish grin.

Adelaide shook her head and scowled. “But he is. I can see it.”

Alexander had to suppress a laugh. This small child had said in a few words what he had meant to say in many. He tucked his chin to his shoulder, turning his mouth from her view, catching Jaydan’s attention.

“She’s not with you?”

Jaydan shook his head and mirrored Alexander’s position. “No. We just found her in the middle of
that
,” he said, nodding back toward the ashen pit. “Woke us up with a bright flash. She’s not with you? You look like kin.”

Alexander shook his head and turned back to Adelaide, who had pulled her knees tight to her chest and was staring between them. She was rocking back and forth, eyes glazed.

“Addy, honey,” he said in the voice he always used when Rose or Sonya were ill. “Where are you from? Where’s your family?”

Her head snapped up. “Thiladir,” she said. “I have to get to Wolverhampton to see Thiladir. Miss Hastings said it’s most important that I see him before my mum kills me. She made me promise to go.”

Alexander had more questions prepared for the child, but her sudden response halted them in his throat. He looked to the others for support. Sachihiro shrugged. Jaydan’s eyes were wide, but he recovered first.

“What do you mean by your mother wants to kill you?” he asked slowly.

“I have to get to Wolverhampton,” she said, looking about frantically. “Is this Wolverhampton? Where’s Thiladir?
Thiladir?
”

Jaydan leaned back onto his heels and fell silent.

“This is the Forest,” Sachihiro said as he slid off his perch. He had his lute in hand and was fiddling with the strings. The burly man looked far calmer than Alexander felt.

“I can see that this is a forest,” Adelaide said, her eyes clear and firm. “But where is Thiladir? You
must
take me to Thiladir. Miss Hastings said.”

Sachihiro shook his head. “No, this is
the
Forest. We’re not far from Woodhaerst. It’s…” His voice trailed off and he leaned against a nearby tree, eyes on his instrument.

Whatever had come over Sachihiro had struck him hard. Now he looked unnerved. It didn’t make Alexander feel any better. He regained his composure and shifted closer to Adelaide. “I don’t know where Wolverhampton is or who Thiladir is, but we’ll help you get there if that’s what you need. And we’ll keep you safe. I promise.”

Alexander turned to Jaydan and Sachihiro. They nodded in agreement. He breathed a sigh of relief. There was something undeniable about the strange crew he had stumbled upon. And the girl…
There is none more precious than the young.

Chapter Four

UPON REFORMING, MAIRA collapsed onto the obsidian floor and heaved, spewing the entire contents of her stomach onto the black glass. Dying wasn’t the trouble; she had gotten used to that. It was the momentary lucidity that the transition brought. For just a few breaths she was cognizant of all that had been and all that was. She looked at the torn flesh, hair, and bile, and heaved again, this time expelling only air. She coughed violently. She had to be sure to be rid of all of the foulness.

Wiping her mouth, she stood, found the silk-covered bed, and fell atop it, letting her arms fly freely over her head. She lay still for a long time, just staring at the many imperfections of the ceiling above, waiting for her mind to stitch itself back together. Slowly, the repulsion and sick desperation faded, but Maira still felt empty. Somewhere, deep in the recesses of her mind, she knew why, but to bring it to the forefront, or to verbalize it… well, that was forbidden.

A stale breeze blew in from the open balcony, gently moving strands of black hair across her face. She didn’t bother brushing them back. There was no one to see her here. He knew not to call on her when she first returned; her mind was still fractured, the pieces slowly sliding back into place. Each time, the process took longer than before, and she wondered if this was the time she’d be trapped in between, knowing what she had been and what she was now. The body was such a simple thing to tear down and build up, but the mind… It was far more fragile.

She allowed herself to close her eyes, daring to drift into the dark corners of her shifting memories. It was dangerous to be certain, but the temptation was often too great. In a few more moments she would forget the journey anyway. She needed to see… to feel the life she had so long ago left behind.
I’ll return again,
she said to herself.
When all of this is done, I will return. And for what was done, I will watch the world wither and die.
She smiled at the thought, even more so than from the memory of a life left behind. He had promised her, promised that if she followed, that she would be there for the end. It was all she wanted now. It was all she
could
want. She opened her eyes and sat up, turning to look toward the balcony and the ever-present night beyond. The air was stale and rich with death, but perhaps it would do her some good, serving as a reminder of what she was.

She slid forward until her bare feet touched the cold obsidian floor and shuddered. Not from the chill—she hardly felt that any longer—but for what she knew lay ahead. She crossed the sprawling room and entered the night. Braced against the balcony railing, she allowed herself to lean out over the abyss and, for just a brief moment, entertained the idea of leaping off. True, it would change nothing. But the hope that it would… Another dangerous temptation.

The idea flitted away and Maira immediately forgot it had ever existed. Hope was always one of the last things to go. Her mind had reformed, healing and hiding the most vulnerable of her memories and thoughts. A void remained, somewhere deep inside her, but it was easy enough to ignore. It was safer that way, she knew.

The call came a moment later. He made it seem like a request, though she knew it was not. Not that she would ever deny Him. She loved Him. And she had so much to tell Him. No doubt He would be pleased.

Maira looked out over the vastness of the Shadows and the many souls harbored within, and took a moment to restore her composure. She smoothed out her black dress, ran fingers through her hair, took a deep breath, and headed for the door. Just before leaving her sanctuary she made a point of wiping away any evidence of tears from her flawless face.

One did not weep before a god.

Chapter Five

THE FIRST RAYS of dawn filtered through the canopy and cast the forest in shades of false promises. To Tannyl, the sudden approach of light was blinding. Little light was needed to reveal much. It was one of the few things that unnerved the Hunter. He wouldn’t argue if the sun rested one night never to wake again.

He stopped moving and stood tensed, breathing heavily, fist clenched. Anger was an ever-present danger and he couldn’t always suppress it. It wasn’t what that child had said. He had hardly heard the words, though the edge to her voice sent a chill down his spine. But her accent. He remembered hearing the same haughty speech so long ago that it seemed another life. He wished it had been.

He whirled on the nearest tree and punched. The rough bark tore at his knuckles and immediately brought blood to the open air. He grunted at the pain and struck again. And again. He continued to strike the tree until exhaustion seized his limbs and they dragged him weightily to the ground. Suddenly he was bitterly exhausted. He hadn’t slept during the night. None of them had, but how could they?

They had run until one stumbled and couldn’t rise again. He wasn’t sure who had fallen. Tannyl called a stop to their retreat at that point, but sleep was never an option. Instead, they stared dumbly at each other across a meager fire until the sliver of the Daughter moon was directly overhead. Sachihiro had been the first to break the silence.

“That was a dragon, yeah?”

Tannyl had scoffed openly at that, though he hadn’t a better explanation for what had risen from the center of Woodhaerst. He knew the legends well.

“You’ve been listening too closely to your uncle’s tales,” Jaydan retorted, ever the skeptic. The Healer was a good man, but he always needed proof of something before agreeing to its existence, and dragons defined myth.

“Uncle…” Sachihiro said as he dropped his gaze and traced the runes of his lute with a finger. “Well, what would you call them then? Seemed like dragons to me.”

“I’m more concerned over that…
bitch
,” Jaydan continued, venom in his eyes.

Tannyl pounded his fist into the ground, forcing the memory from his mind. He needed to regain control. A lack of focus led to death. Or worse. His eyes scanned the trees and he allowed his breathing to slow. With each breath, he expelled a piece of the previous night, forcing it from his mind. The pain of that moment would get him nowhere. After a time, he was left with a peaceful absence.

Tannyl breathed deeply, savoring the dewy air. The light of dawn made him feel exposed, but the scent was a welcome embrace. Fresh, clean, and right. Then he turned to the rest of his senses, activating each in turn, examining his surroundings, renewing his focus. Colors became more vibrant as he picked out the details of each leaf. The scent of soil and growth filled him with vigor, despite the deep ache of exhaustion in his bones. The small hairs on his body stood at attention and he became aware of the painful throbbing along his knuckles. He could feel the blood clotting, the healing process begun already.

And then he sensed it. Fully aware, it was difficult for Tannyl to know exactly which of his senses has detected the presence, but it was there.

“Show yourself,” he said calmly, keeping his body still, senses active. He could have his knife in hand in a blink. His fingers twitched with anticipation.

A soft breeze rippled the foliage, an early morning sigh, but none answered his challenge. He shifted his eyes slowly from side to side, studying each shadow, every trunk, leaf, and branch...

His eyes narrowed and he came to his feet in perfect silence and control. The hunting knife appeared in his hand. He didn’t dare blink.

“I know you’re there. I can
see
you.”

The branch Tannyl had been watching shifted ever so slightly. He smiled. A million other creatures could never see what he saw.

“I know you’re sitting on that branch.”

Another moment of silence passed. Then a small voice from the air said, “You can see me?”

Tannyl nodded. “There’s a slight bend in the branch you’re sitting on. A bend that shouldn’t be there.”

There was a passing shimmer and a small winged elf appeared, sitting exactly where Tannyl knew he’d be. The small creature was hardly larger than a hand, discounting the iridescent wings that fluttered behind him.

With a flourish, the elf leapt atop the branch and bowed deeply.

“Allow me to introduce myself,” he exclaimed, small voice resonating beyond reasonable expectations. “I am Erlen Dragontamer. A sprite of the Wyld. And I tame dragons!” He added exclamation to his statement by drawing a slim wooden sword from the scabbard at his side and thrusting it high into the air.