The Girl With Red Hair (The Last War Saga Book 1) (23 page)

Alexander ran a hand through Adelaide’s hair. Her sobbing had quieted, but she still clung to Alexander like it meant her life.

“I… I think so,” he said. “What happened?”

Sachihiro looked deep into his eyes and saw genuine confusion. “You fell. Don’t you remember?”

Alexander shook his head and looked around the room as if searching for the answer. Sachihiro scratched at his beard. He had hoped for more information from the man. How had he survived? And how had he ended up at Lilacoris’s door before them? None of it made any sense.

“I remember my father,” Alexander said. “And something else… there was a lot of light… I think.” He shook his head and shrugged.

“Are you hurt?” Sachihiro could see that he was not, but his mind couldn’t reconcile that fact.

“A little stiff. And I feel like I’ve slept for days, but other than that, I think I’m fine.”

Sachihiro nodded to Adelaide. “She saved us.”

Alexander looked at the girl curled into his chest and smiled. “I remember that part.” He laughed. “
We
were supposed to protect her.”

“Well, you did that too,” Sachihiro said.

“She’s asleep.”

Alexander extracted himself and laid Adelaide back into bed, covering her. He stood back and rubbed at his shoulder.

“And Jaydan?”

Sachihiro grimaced. “He’s in pretty bad shape, but he’ll be all right. He’s a… fast healer.”

Alexander looked over the scars along his forearms and shook his head. “He shouldn’t have done that.”

“Heh. Good luck tellin’ him that. He’s near as stubborn as Tannyl.”

Lilacoris appeared in the doorway, looking regal in her dress of leaves and vines. Sachihiro saw Alexander’s eyes go wide at seeing the Dryad.

“Alexander, you must be famished,” she said sweetly. “If you would like, I will bring you some food and drink. I know you desire to stay by the girl’s side.”

Sachihiro raised an eyebrow. How did this Dryad know so much about them? Something about the Fae made the musician uncomfortable. He had spent years studying his patrons, learning their tells and body language. It served him well, but Lilacoris…

“Yes, that would be nice,” Alexander said. “Thank you.”

Lilacoris nodded and left.

Sachihiro looked back at Alexander. “Well, I should go check on Jaydan,” he said, shouldering his lute and heading for the door. “Erlen, you coming?”

A small voice came from the space over his right shoulder. “Naturally,” he said, and then in a whisper, added, “the small one unnerves even this Dragontamer.”

“Me too, friend,” he whispered back. “Me too.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

WELCOME BACK TO the world of the living.

Jaydan pressed his palms to his eyes. The light hurt. In fact, everything hurt. He could feel parts of his body he had never given a passing thought.

“Shut it,” he mumbled.

Seems nearly killing yourself has left you in a bit of a mood. Maybe you should have gone all the way. At least then the whining would stop. We could hope.

“The last thing I need right now is to listen to you,” he said, fighting to sit up without swaying.

“Jaydan?”

He forced his eyes open a sliver and looked around. He was on a bed, in a room. Beyond that he couldn’t be certain. But he recognized the faces that looked at his from the bedside, one large and smiling, the other tiny and grinning just as wide.
Wonderful,
he thought.

He managed to wiggle into a reclined position against the headboard, and his eyes adjusted to the ambient light, though the edges of his vision were still clad in pulsating shadows.

“You still hearing voices?” Sachihiro asked after a moment.

Jaydan’s mouth felt dry, so he merely nodded until he was able to work some saliva into it. “Rhadiourgia.”

“Probably not a good idea to give it a name,” Sachihiro said.

Jaydan squinted at the man and sighed. “That
is
his name.” He fumbled at his vest. His fingers were raw and blistered. So were his arms. He tried not to think about the rest of his injuries. If the pain was any indication, he didn’t want to know. He found the small box and held it out to Sachihiro.

He took it, his face screwed up in confusion, not far from his usual expression. Jaydan tried to laugh, but coughed in pain instead.

Sachihiro opened the box and read the letter. Time seemed to hang suspended. Finally, he folded it back into the box and handed it to Jaydan.

“Think it’s true?”

Jaydan’s eyes narrowed. “My father would not lie like that. And I never told them about the voice. You’re the only one who knows.” His eyes shot to Erlen. The sprite flew above Sachihiro in tight circles, pausing every now and again to stab his sword at some unseen threat.

“Don’t worry ‘bout ol’ Dragontamer,” Sachihiro said.

Jaydan wasn’t worried. He was just… tired.

“We’re leaving soon,” Sachihiro said, and looked out the window. “Midday. I think that’s soon.”

Jaydan glanced at the small window on the far side of the room. It was still dark beyond the portal. He grimaced as his memories sorted themselves out, but he couldn’t force himself to care.

“So, what’d ya roll?” Sachihiro asked with his usual lopsided smile. Part of Jaydan hated the man. Nothing seemed to trouble him.

“Four,” Jaydan said.

“Damn. What happens on five?”

“Worse, I suppose.”

“And the skull?”

“Well, I’m not expecting a cache of gold to fall from the sky.”

Sachihiro scratched at his ear. “Damn,” he said again.

“It’s not often I agree with you, but that’s about the sum of it.”

Jaydan’s hand went to the pocket that held the small die and letter. It had been a worthy experiment, and lucky, all things considered, but he had no intention of using the die again. Though he wasn’t about to say that aloud for Rhadiourgia to hear. Not until he knew more about the thing that had taunted him since birth. Having discovered he wasn’t crazy was quite possibly the worst news he could have gotten concerning the subject. He had long ago accepted just that. He didn’t like the idea of something he couldn’t control.

“Care for a tune?”

Jaydan frowned at Sachihiro and shook his head, grimacing. Even that hurt. “Last thing I need right now is to hear another bawdy tavern tune or ale-driven dragon tale. I’d like to get better, not worse.”

Sachihiro feigned offense, but didn’t play. Instead, he traced his fingers along the runes carved into the body of the instrument. Jaydan had been meaning to talk with him about it, but there hadn’t seemed to be a good time. His mind fled to Woodhaerst for a moment, and he winced. They hadn’t even had time to grieve. Or say goodbye. He had a hard time imagining Sachihiro with tears in his eyes.

“Your uncle ever tell you how to use that thing?” he asked.

“He didn’t even like me looking at it. To tell ya the truth, I feel a little bad ‘bout takin’ it.”

“I think they’re supposed to help channel magic when you can’t use your body or mind.” The very idea of having such a need repulsed Jaydan. If one couldn’t use magic on their own then they weren’t worthy of it. But something stopped him from saying it aloud.

“I know. You told me before, and I know you think runes are silly. But it did something back in Woodhaerst, though damned if I know what it was or how to do it again. When I tried, all I got was Squirrel.” He nodded at the instrument and Jaydan noticed for the first time a tiny furred head sticking up from between the strings.

“You conjured a squirrel?”

“Birthed him, really. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

Jaydan shrugged. They both knew he would in fact understand, but Sachihiro didn’t seem to want to tell and Jaydan didn’t care enough to ask. “And you named it
Squirrel
?”

“Yep. Suits him, don’t you think?”

Jaydan rolled his eyes and Sachihiro laughed.

“Now there’s the Jaydan I know.”

Jaydan nodded as much as he could with the pain. He wasn’t entirely sure how he had channeled so much without dying. He had always had a penchant for healing magic, but to turn it into elemental energy was something he only dreamed of. He tried at every opportunity to turn his gift into something more than wound-knitting, but had found only limited success. Most experiments ended with no effect. Or with his arm stuck in a door. He still didn’t know how he had gotten out of that one. Surely he hadn’t caused the door to vanish.

“I haven’t tried any charm with it yet. Think maybe it’d enhance charms?” Sachihiro asked, a wicked gleam in his eyes.

Jaydan matched the look. “Yes. And before you think it, no.”

Sachihiro smiled wider and ran a hand over his instrument. “But if it makes my charms stronger…”

“You do remember the last time you tried to charm him, right?” It had been one of the few injuries Jaydan could do nothing for.

Sachihiro’s smile vanished and he shifted atop his stool. “I still can’t believe how far up there he got it.”

The pair of friends locked eyes and laughed as they hadn’t in quite some time. Pain raced along every inch of Jaydan’s body, but he couldn’t stop. All the emotions of the past few days came out in one dramatic wash of laughter.

Sachihiro fell out of his seat and rolled on the ground, miming the dramatics of being attacked by an angry elf with a fistful of pinecones.

When the laughter faded and Sachihiro righted himself, the pair stumbled into another story of past antics. Then they remembered another. And another. Stories and laughter melded in a way that part of Jaydan knew they both needed. Their journey was far from over, but there was no past to go back to. There was only a future. And even that seemed in doubt. But that didn’t mean they couldn’t spend a few moments recalling the time Sachihiro had gotten his head stuck in a keg of spoiled cider. And it didn’t mean they couldn’t laugh despite all they had lost. Sometimes Jaydan forgot that. Perhaps that was why he kept Sachihiro around.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

THE SKY WAS still dark when they left the safety of Lilacoris’s warded quarters. But the storm had faded to distant rumbles and dull flashes of color that Alexander thought could merely be in his mind. Echoes of memories he’d rather leave behind.

Adelaide had his hand, but she hadn’t spoken since waking. He wasn’t sure if that was better or worse than the way she had first come to. She didn’t seem to have any recollection of having screamed those things. And she looked truly perplexed when Alexander thanked her for using her magic to protect them. She had eaten before they left, at least, but wouldn’t look at anyone directly, always staring off at an angle, seemingly at nothing.

A heaviness weighed on Alexander every time he looked at her. He felt he had failed her and vowed to be better. Something told him he had to be, that she was important. But his memory was still just as hazy as hers. Every time he shut his eyes he was falling again, plummeting through the black air, toward a bottom that never came. Sachihiro was fascinated by it, but it seemed to cause Tannyl to trust him even less. He kept catching the elf eyeing him anytime they were near one another. Alexander wanted to trust him, he truly did, but something told him he was a danger. And with Adelaide at his side, danger was one thing he would not abide.

“The docks are just a quick jaunt through the gardens and out a side gate,” Lilacoris said as the group stepped into the gloom.

They had not encountered any creatures in the halls that led from the castle, but Alexander found the silence even more troubling. It hid just as much as the shadows.

“Keep close,” Tannyl said, stepping away from the towering citadel and into the perfectly manicured rose garden.

Even in the tenseness of the situation, Alexander took a moment to take in the awe of the garden that stretched out for hundreds of feet before them. Every petal was in the perfect place. Every row cut through the bushes was precise and sharp. It created a maze of beauty, but as every Farmer knew, thorns hid within. His father liked to say that roses and people were much the same in that regard; a pairing of beauty and pain. Elegance or danger depending on where you looked. And where you touched.

Lilacoris followed at Tannyl’s side in the lead, talking in hushed tones like they were the oldest of friends. Alexander and Adelaide kept their distance, but came next. Sachihiro and Jaydan brought up the rear, accompanied by the Dragontamer and Sachihiro’s strange new pet squirrel. Alexander didn’t dare look back. He couldn’t bear to see Jaydan hobbling along in such pain. The second vow he made after waking was to pay the man back. He just didn’t know how.

“It smells so nice,” Adelaide said once they were deep in the garden.

Alexander tried to hide the relief at hearing her tiny voice, but could feel the tension melt from his muscles. Suddenly, the air didn’t seem as dark. He squeezed her hand.