The Girl With Red Hair (The Last War Saga Book 1) (15 page)

Alexander sighed and tried again to bring a potato, long since cold, to his mouth. He took a bite and chewed, satisfied with the accomplishment, if not the taste. He raised his eyebrows at Adelaide. She looked nonplussed.

“You’re holding your fork like an orc,” she said. Then she looked at Jaydan, who was chasing a small potato around his plate with little success. She sighed dramatically, stood, and left the table, gliding gracefully toward the crowd, but failing to hide the emotion in her steps.

Jaydan dropped his fork at once, grabbed the potato with his fingers, and chomped into it with vehemence. Alexander held onto the fork, picked up the small knife, and set to addressing the stone-cold piece of unidentifiable meat.

“Isn’t she supposed to be a child?” Jaydan asked.

Alexander looked up and watched as Adelaide alighted on an empty bench at the back of the cheering mass of patrons, sitting upright, with her legs close together, crossed at the ankle. Her hands were set together in her lap. Her head still angled a touch above horizontal.

“Maybe that’s just what Imperial children are like. I’ve never met one before her; it’s too dangerous for the merchants to travel in the Great Wyld with ‘em.”

“What are you doing here anyway, Alexander?”

Alexander looked at him dumbly, thrown by the abrupt change in conversation. He shrugged. “We’re helping Addy.”

Jaydan shook his head. “No, I mean
you.
Tannyl, Sach, and I got nothin’ left to go back to. Whole life got torn down around us, but you got a family.”

Alexander poked absently at a spear of asparagus, buying time. “I spent my whole life going no farther than the west fence,” he said. Jaydan and the others had been through more than he could imagine. It wasn’t right to keep things from him. “It was the same thing day in and day out. Tend to the fields, shift the flocks, and see to the young ones. Not that I’m complaining; the family counted on me.”

“I’m sorry,” Jaydan said.

“Don’t be, you’ve been through worse,” Alexander said, but grimaced when he saw the brief shadow of grief on Jaydan’s face. It had only been a couple days, and none of them had had a chance to deal with what had happened.
Fool,
he cursed himself. “Sorry, I didn’t mean…” Jaydan just shrugged, his mask back in place. “Well, Da made me promise at my ceremony that I set off for myself. Find my own way, you know? Anyway, my brothers and sisters are all old enough to work and tend to the farms, so I…”

“Sounds like you ran away.”

Alexander shook his head and abandoned his meal, shoving the plate away. “No, Da wanted me to go.”

“And your mother?”

Shame lit Alexander’s cheeks. He knew they were bright red, so he turned away and fussed with the tie in his hair.

“She wanted me to go as well. Made me promise not to stay.”

Sachihiro concluded his final act and the crowd began to disperse. The patrons filed out past the table Jaydan and Alexander shared, many wiping mirthful tears from their eyes. He even caught sight of a few reenacting portions of the performance.

“I’ve never had such a crowd,” Sachihiro said as he leaned against the table. His scruffy face was awash in sweat and plastered with his untidy hair.

“It was me they were excited to see,” Erlen said, looking just as energetic as when he had begun. “Only a Dragontamer can command such awe and joy in a group so great, grand, and large.”

“Oh, come off it, Erlen,” Sachihiro said, swiping a hand at the passing sprite. “Did you see their reaction when I was strumming while in a headstand?”

“Headstand? What performance were you at, you great big oaf?”

“Oaf? I’ll show you oaf, you tiny… tiny…
gnat
.”

Sachihiro lunged for Erlen, but the sprite flitted out of his reach, thumbed his nose at the musician, and vanished.

“Oh, where did the handsome Dragontamer go?” Erlen’s shrill voice said from the opposite side of the table.

Sachihiro dove across the table, knocking aside the unfinished meals and sending Alexander sprawling to the ground to avoid the man’s knee. He hit the ground and rolled aside, coming to his feet to see Sachihiro scramble up from the table and then promptly fall off the opposite side.

“No, not over there,” Erlen said from where Sachihiro had been standing previously.

Sachihiro jumped up and adopted a combative stance, hands in fists, eyes scanning the empty dining hall. “Show yourself, coward,” he said, his stage voice conveying serious command, but eyes telling Alexander a different story.

“As you wish,” Erlen said, his voice seeming to come from Sachihiro’s shoulder.

The musician spun toward the voice and Erlen shimmered into view behind him, sword drawn. The sprite turned to Alexander, Jaydan, and Adelaide, winked, and thrust the tiny weapon into the seat of Sachihiro’s pants.

Sachihiro nearly jumped to the ceiling, yelping like a dog with a tail that got stepped on. He whirled on the sprite, lunged, and suddenly disappeared from view, as if someone had pulled his feet out from underneath him. Erlen darted away, landed in the middle of the table, and began to make a series of deep bows to his crowd.

Jaydan fell into a fit of laughter as Sachihiro sputtered on the floor, trying to untie his bootlaces from one another. And Alexander found himself clapping and laughing as well, bowing to the Dragontamer in turn. Once Sachihiro got himself upright again, he bowed as well, smiling ear to ear. They laughed in concert for a time and then turned to look at Adelaide.

She was standing at the next table, arms crossed. A deep scowl darkened her fair and freckled face. The laughter died at once, and Alexander found himself standing up straighter.

“Oh, come on, Addy,” Sachihiro said. “It’s all in fun. Have a laugh.”

She shot a look at the musician that Alexander expected to set him alight. “I hope you will not try that when we are meeting with the Council tomorrow morning,
Sach.
” Her lip curled as she said his name in the way Tannyl and Jaydan did.

Erlen flew up to Adelaide, coming to a stop at arm’s length. “My dear girl, perhaps you have not heard. But that there,” he said, pointing at Sachihiro, “is Sachihiro Teller, weaver of tales, and singer of songs. And I, of course, am Erlen Dragontamer, and I—”

In a flash, Adelaide’s hand darted out and snared one of Erlen’s fine wings between her fingers. Alexander heard himself gasp. Sachihiro whistled, and Jaydan stopped slouching and sat as straight backed as possible.

“Unhand me, giant girl,” Erlen shrieked, squirming against her grip to no avail. “I am Erlen Dragontamer, and you’re lucky you’re not a dragon, for I would surely tame you!” He managed to draw his wooden sword and continued shouting, “I swear by the mighty Dragontamers that if you do not unhand me I will unhand
you
with one swing of this feared and fearsome blade. I will cleave your wrist in twain and take it for a trophy. No giant girls will ever dare handle the Dragontamer with such ill regard after that, you have my word, or I am not Erlen Dragontamer. And I am!”

Alexander found his breath and took a short step forward, ready to attempt a sprite rescue mission, when Adelaide let a quiet squeak. Even Erlen fell silent and stopped twitching as everyone looked at the petulant girl of eight with red hair and a sprite between her fingers. The squeak turned to a shrill giggle that rolled into a laugh that cascaded into a side-splitting tremor that set Erlen free and sent Adelaide to the ground in hysterics.

Alexander froze, unsure if he should try to help her up or keep his distance. He looked back at the others. Smiles spread across both Sachihiro and Jaydan’s faces and they were soon holding their sides as well.

Erlen scowled, sheathed his sword in a huff, and alighted on the table, arms firmly crossed. “That is no way to handle a Dragontamer,” he grumbled.

Something about seeing the mighty Erlen Dragontamer culled so easily by Adelaide melted away the previous anxiety, and Alexander found himself silently laughing with the others.

Adelaide gathered herself, stood, wiped tears from her eyes, looked at her audience, and curtsied with perfect grace.

Chapter Sixteen

DESPITE THE THICKNESS of the stone walls, Jaydan could hear Sachihiro and Erlen carrying on their antics in the next room. He looked at the open balcony and wished for a door he could shut. He gritted his teeth and returned to his work, trying to block out everything else around him. It wasn’t conducive to proper research to be distracted.

His hand was still, and moved with precision as he added the solution of gravesbane to the mixture of ground limestone and thistledown. He stirred it twelve times, just enough for the components to fully mix, but not enough to agitate the volatile mixture. Satisfied, he brought out the small glass vial with the test material. He held it up to the light streaming in from the balcony. It looked like ordinary ash or soot. No, it had to be more than that. It was the only residue he had found in his hasty exit from Woodhaerst. It was part of what made the shadow dragons. A piece of their bodies. He was sure of it.

He narrowed his focus to the magical energies. Little more emanated from the substance than had it been ordinary ash. There had to be more to it than that, he thought. It was the body of a dragon he held in his hands, after all, a creature not meant to exist.

He removed the cork and carefully dumped the contents into the clay dish of murky fluid. He allowed the ash to absorb the liquid and held his breath. It fizzled slightly and small curls of steam rose into the air. When it had settled, he slowly stirred the mixture and focused on the magical rhythms of the concoction. It pulsed with latent energy. Not much, but some.

I wouldn’t do that if I were you.

Jaydan paused, but didn’t look up for the source of the voice. He had grown all too used to it over the years, and though his father’s letter chilled his spine every time he read it, it had at least provided one answer.

“Rhadiourgia,” he said quietly.

Oh, good for you, Jaydan. You’ve learned my name. And here I was thinking you’d lost your mind. But giving me a name does not dispel the fact that only you can hear me. Could be you’re still drifting into madness. And through no fault of your own, I might add.

“I’m getting close,” he said, lifting the dish to eye level, watching the last few wisps of steam fade into the air.

Oh, really? Last time you said that, you burned down half the Healer’s tent and rendered a lovely little chicken to ash. Hannah was so distraught. Really ruined any future for the two of you. And I quite cared for that hen. The chicken, I mean, not Hannah, though she was homely.

Jaydan scowled. He had tried to forget about that… unfortunate error in calculation. An early lesson in the danger of distraction.

“I wouldn’t say it if it weren’t true.”

If you say so. And I wish you all the best. It’d be a shame for you to die before… Who am I kidding? You’ll die long before you see it.

Jaydan brought the dish to his lips and closed his eyes, breathing in the pungent odor.

The voice sighed loudly in Jaydan’s mind.

“Do you mind?”

Oh, of course not. Please continue, Jaydan, my foolish friend.

“We’re not friends.”

Fine, you may call me Rhadi, if it suits you.

“That doesn’t change anything. Once I find a way to increase my power, my first act will be to get rid of you.”

Oh, I doubt that. I’m just a figment of your imagination, driven up by the myriad of ill-chosen decisions you’ve made in your life. And for what?

Jaydan didn’t answer. If the voice was in fact the Rhadiourgia that his father spoke of, then it knew full well the reason. Not that he cared to explain his reasoning to anyone. Even himself.

He tossed his head back and quaffed the solution in one bitter swallow. Fire lit in his throat and followed all the way down into his belly, where it raged anew. His muscles all contracted at once and he pitched forward onto the floor. It passed in an instant, but sweat broke fresh from his skin and he could feel his heart racing. He stayed on his hands and knees until it slowed and he was able to stand, however unsteadily.

He closed his eyes and turned his senses inward.

“Dammit,” he shouted to the empty room.

Well, at least you’re not dead.

Jaydan opened his eyes and bent to pick up his supplies. Another failure. If the ash of a dragon didn’t enhance his powers, then what would? He growled and tried to force the disparaging thoughts from his mind. He couldn’t afford to doubt, and he couldn’t stomach the thought of giving up. He would resume his experiments after he got some rest. It often provided renewed clarity.

When he grabbed for the empty clay dish, his fingers passed through it like smoke. Jaydan frowned and tried again, thinking his eyesight had failed him. Fainting spells were no strangers to the Healer. Neither were hallucinations. Rhadiourgia was proof of that. He hoped. He reached for it again, but found himself unable to grasp the object. As his fingers met the dish, they seemed to fade into mist and then solidify once again as they passed through the object.