“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 d
o 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.”
“I’ve made peace with my failures. Have you?”
“You think coming here to lay down your life will redeem you? You are forever cursed. In life and in death.”
“I can’t argue with that. I’ve done enough evil in one life to be cursed a hundred times over, but Fae’Na was not one of those evils. If there is any redemption for me, it is her.”
“Fae’Na,” she said, like the name bit at her tongue on the way out. “Literally, Not Fae. A name that would suit you as well.”
“It is one I’d gladly assume,” he said.
“To be named Fae’Na was once a great honor, before you sullied it and broke tradition.”
Tannyl’s tenuous grasp on his anger wavered. “Tradition? You would slaughter your own daughter and call it honor? It’s naïve cowardice at best.” He spat on the dry tinder. “And for what? Because you convinced yourself it would please the gods?” He strained against his bindings. “My only regret is that I didn’t finish what I began the night I took… no, saved Fae’Na from this cursed place.”
The old elven woman stared back, her expression seemingly carved from wood. She shifted the torch and reached into a pocket of her robes. She drew out her hand and held it to the torchlight. Two identical seeds danced under the flickering light.
She smiled. “You thought to rest at her side.” It wasn’t a question. “Sadly, that just won’t do.” With a flick of her wrist, the seeds leapt from her hand and disappeared into the pile of dry kindling.
Tannyl closed his eyes, gathering his rage.
“You and your new toy will burn. In the very spot that you took so many innocent lives, yours will end. In the place you stole my daughter, I will take your whore. And neither you nor Fae’Na will reach the glory of the Garden.”
Tannyl readied every muscle in his body. The moment was drawing near, but a hand on his froze him.
“I can kill her, Tannyl,” Maira said, her voice a whisper. “I can kill them all. For you. For us.”
He twisted his hands, grasping for hers. Their fingers intertwined and he felt the coarse rope at her wrists. It was too loose to actually bind her. She had already freed herself. What was she waiting for?
The Ancient looked on, savoring the moment, but eventually the torch would drop and he would be consumed.
Command me, Tannyl, my love.
That’s what she was waiting for. His permission. His eyes locked on the Druid he had once loved and then dropped to the place the seeds had fallen. No, he thought. I didn’t come here just to die.
“Maira,” he said, voice steeled and even. There would be no pleasure in it.
The Ancient tilted her head in an amused way. She was expecting a tearful goodbye. She hungered for it.
“Yes, my love?” Maira asked. The edge to her voice had returned.
“Kill her.”
Maira dropped from the thick stake and landed in a crouch. She turned to the Ancient. Old and wrinkled, the elf still pulsed with vibrant life. The mere thought of consuming it banished her memories to the shadows of her mind. The hunger filled the void.
Her sudden movement startled the old elf, and Maira was upon her in an instant. Desperation fueled her strike, and the weathered neck disintegrated before her fingers. Life and blood exploded from the corpse. It was like being struck by lightning. Such power in one so unassuming. She stood and let out a deep sigh.
She went to Tannyl. His eyes were hard, but it was obvious her appearance disturbed the elf. She nimbly scaled the pile of dried wood and cradled his face between her blood-soaked hands. He pulled away at first, but she held him fast.
“They’re gone. The memories. Gone,” she said, lacing her words with the essence of her sex. “I told you we were destined to be as one, Tannyl. You must see now how powerful we could be.”
She could feel him try to resist her, but she was too strong so near a fresh kill. She probed deeper, gently drawing him to her. His mind was a torrid mess of conflicting thoughts and emotions, but to Maira it was beautiful.
“We’re two of a kind, my love,” she said. “Let me show you.”
She released him and leapt to the ground.
“Maira,” he called out. “Cut me down. It’s done. You got what you wanted.”
She whirled on him. “Yes, but now it is time that you received what you desire.”
He was in her mind just as much as she was in his, and she sensed his realization before she even turned to pursue the nearest Druid.
“No,” he shouted as she began to run. “Leave the others! I don’t want this!”
She ignored him and twisted her hands into vicious claws. Thick spines erupted from her flesh, and her talons tore at the ground with terrifying speed.
“Maira!” he continued to shout. “Maira!”
I know what you want, she thought as she cut apart the first Druid. She was slicing at the second before the first had fallen. We are the same, you and I, and we will watch the world burn together.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
THE ROOTS TORE free of his skin with a horrific spray of gore and green tendrils. Alexander tossed it aside and looked as if he were going to be sick. Immediately, Jaydan felt a rush of energy as his body and mind were once again open to magic. It was like meeting an old friend or slipping into a familiar bed. The bleeding from his chest stopped just after he drew in the magic like a breath. Basic healing was second nature to him, and going a day without it had been too long. It would take more time to properly recover, but that would have to wait.
He struggled to his feet, leaning on Alexander just as the taller man leaned on him. Sachihiro was diving and rolling about the elven guardsmen, goading them and striking when he could. He wore a shirt of blood, and every strike was slower than the last. Jaydan smiled at his friend. If there was one thing the man could do better than carry a tune, it was take a beating.
“Sach!” he shouted, drawing in a deep breath of magic and channeling it to the end of his fingers. It seemed so simple now.
The bloodied brawler narrowly avoided a spear thrust and glanced at Jaydan. Jaydan smiled and nodded, thrusting his clawed hand at him. “Duck!”
Sachihiro hit the ground just as a gout of flames burst from each of Jaydan’s fingers. The magic rushed through him like a torrent. His limbs shook and his vision blurred, but he continued to channel until Alexander roughly shook him.
The air smelled of burned flesh and ash. The elves lay scattered about, noxious smoke rising from each of the charred bodies. Jaydan pumped a fist
and tried to go to Sachihiro, but his knees gave out and he fell solidly to the floor.
When he opened his eyes, both Sachihiro and Alexander had him by the shoulders and were lifting him to his feet. He found his footing and shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs. He looked his body over and gave a few cursory pats. He should have been dead, but other than feeling a bit lightheaded, he felt fine. Well, fine wasn’t the right word, but he was alive, and that was victory enough.
Sachihiro patted him stiffly on the back and the three limped to the large set of doors, careful to skirt around the smoldering corpses. Before opening the door, Sachihiro held up a finger and limped back to one of the bodies. He returned with a spear and a dagger. He handed the spear to Alexander. He then pointed to his lips and waved the dagger at Jaydan.
“Oh, I don’t know, Sach,” he said. “I kind of like you like this. Much more peaceful.”
Sachihiro scowled and pressed a hand to the door, preventing the others from opening it. Blood still dripped from the spot where his finger had been.
“All right,” Jaydan said, accepting the dagger. “Now, hold still. It’d be a shame if I slipped and ruined that pretty face.”
In quick order, Jaydan cut the threads holding Sachihiro’s lips together and pulled out the stitching. Sachihiro grunted with each tug, but held firm. Sachihiro slowly massaged his jaw and moved his lips.
“Oh, that’s so much better,” he said, lisping slightly. “I’ve never gone so long without speaking. If anything was going to kill me, it was having to stay silent while that walking tree sassed us.”
Jaydan clapped a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “You’re never silent for long.”
Sachihiro smiled and a thin line of blood ran down from the corner of his mouth. “What say we get out of here and go find Addy?”
Jaydan nodded, and together the three bloodied men tugged open the massive timber doors.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Sachihiro said once they swung them wide enough to step through.
The Girl With Red Hair (The Last War Saga Book 1) Page 25
