The Girl With Red Hair (The Last War Saga Book 1) (9 page)

“Miss Maira?” the girl asked sleepily, squinting in the dim light.

Maira had the girl by the throat just as the words left her. In another moment she was pressed against the wall, Maira’s lips a hair from the girl’s ear. She could sense the throbbing of her heart, but the girl said nothing, stilled with fright.

“You should have stayed in bed,” she whispered into the girl’s ear. Her jeweled dagger slid into her hand and glinted in the lamp glow as she brought it level with the girl’s eye. The red of the stone pulsed in sync with Maira’s heart.

The girl shook, but remained still, eyes wide and unmoving, transfixed on the sharp point. Maira’s nostrils flared as she caught the scent of warm urine hitting the floor at her feet. More accurately, it was
fear
that she smelled, and it only served to increase her vigor. Hairs stood out from the back of her neck and she breathed in the girl’s musk.

She leaned back to take in the full vision of her prey. Restrained and frightened, the girl looked small and helpless, and Maira knew she had full control. The rest of the house remained silent. She dropped the dagger to the girl’s neck and leaned in for the kill. As the dagger pierced the girl’s skin and the blade got its first taste of blood, Maira was hit with a charge of energy. The life in this one was strong.

“Mama,” the girl said, tears running freely down her freckled cheeks. “Mama, please don’t. I’m scared.
Mama
.”

Maira paused and felt every muscle in her body constrict, paralyzing her.
No,
said a different voice within.
Not this one.
She thought for a moment that it was His voice, condemning her choice to disobey, but then she recognized it as her own.

The girl squeezed her eyes shut and began whimpering. Maira tried to press the dagger into the soft flesh. She hungered for a taste of the vibrant life that swirled within the small human. But she couldn’t. Her muscles would not obey her mind and the strange voice that sounded like her own continued to shout from the darkness.
No, not this one. Not this child.

Slowly, she lowered the girl to the ground and pressed her into the open room. She leaned forward, dagger still at the girl’s neck. The tremor in her hand was real.

“Go to bed, small one, and do not make a sound.” She said it with such sweet venom that the girl immediately stopped her sniffling and nodded, wiping tears from her face. She turned and walked stiffly to her bed, climbed beneath the blanket, and lay as a corpse.

Maira backed out of the room, shutting the door with a soft
click
. She brought the dagger to her lips, tasted the blood, shuddered, and spat it out.
No, not the children. Never the children.

Her eyes shifted to the room at the far end of the hallway and her mind sharpened once more. Her muscles bunched with sweet anticipation, and that haunting echo of her voice faded to nothing. She needed to feed now more than ever.

The door opened abruptly just as Maira was reaching for the handle. Instinct kicked in and the dagger was in Malic’s throat before his eyes could tell him what he saw. A force like lightning shook Maira’s body as every bit of life was wrenched from the farmer and channeled into her. In one movement, she dropped the body to the floor, shut the door behind her, and was upon Laira, hungry for more.

The woman woke with a start. Straddling her waist, Maira leveraged her weight into the woman to keep her pinned, and leaned down. Her tongue ran the length of Laira’s cheek. The life within her seemed limitless. Her body quivered.

“Please, don’t,” Laira gasped, her voice a harsh whisper. “Whatever you want, just take it. We have some Imperial coin. It’s yours. A strong horse too. Just don’t hurt my family.”

Maira smiled, her face illuminated by moonlight. She almost laughed. “I will give you a choice. I will take just one more life from your family this night. The children I have spared and your husband is already dead.” She paused to savor the look of pain on Laira’s face. “You or your son, Alexander.”

Laira stared back in terror for several moments. Maira enjoyed every tumultuous heartbeat. Perhaps she did have patience after all. She knew the end result anyway. No mother would sacrifice a child for their own life, especially not one like Laira. It was merely a game. One she had played at and lost.

Laira shook her head and tried to retreat into the straw bedding.

“I said
choose,
” Maira hissed, patience quickly disappearing. “Your child’s life or your own. If you cannot choose I will take both.”

Laira’s lips trembled and something desperate shone in her eyes. “How can you force a mother that choice? Either way, I lose a child this night.”

Maira’s rage ebbed in an instant as she slid to position her body over Laira’s knees. She placed both hands over her abdomen and then lowered her ear to it as well.
No!
her mind screamed. The disjointed voice of memories returned at once, echoing within her skull.

“You’re with child,” she spat more than said. She should have sensed it in the energy. It was too strong for one being. How had she missed it?

Laira nodded. “Please, Maira, I know you’re hurt, but spare my family. I beg of you.”

Maira spun off the bed and stood for a moment, pinned in the light of the Mother and Daughter moons. A cold wash of snow brushed at her cheek one moment and vanished the next. The chill in her bones deepened, bringing with it a deep ache. She listened to her own panicked breathing.
No, not this one.
Snow crunched underfoot as she shifted away from the bed. Icicles, sharp as knives, grew from the rafters, each one threatening to fall and impale her. She shook her head, trying desperately to dispel the images. She clutched at her arms, trying to force some warmth into them.

“Raise that child well,” she said at long last, turning to the open window. “And tell them of their oldest brother. The one that died for them.”

Maira leapt from the window without waiting for a response and was dead before she hit the ground.

Chapter Nine

ALEXANDER BOLTED UPRIGHT with a muffled gasp. Tannyl regarded the young man with a quizzical eye and set aside the arrow he had been fletching.

“Jumpy one, aren’t ya?” he asked dryly.

Alexander turned and shook his head, as if trying to dislodge something. “Nightmare,” he said.

Tannyl grunted. “Wouldn’t think you’d be the one slipping into bad dreams.” He nodded past Alexander to where Sachihiro, Jaydan, and Adelaide all slept peacefully, scattered about the impromptu camp. Even the sprite, Erlen, snored softly from a nearby branch.

“Just missing home, I guess,” Alexander said. He ran a hand through his hair and stared at the sky.

“Almost dawn,” Tannyl said. “Once day breaks, we’ll see about getting that girl to Wolverhampton.”

“Adelaide,” Alexander said.

Tannyl only grunted. Names spawned attachment, and Tannyl knew attachment led to mistakes.
Never again.

They sat in silence some time. Tannyl resumed his fletching, glad to have something to focus his attention on. He should have been sleeping, he knew, but it was impossible to control one’s mind while asleep. And if he dreamed… He’d learned to stay awake as much as possible, stealing small bits of rest here and there. Besides, the prospect of going to the Fae Wyld had the elf on edge. It wasn’t the uncertainty of the strange place that irked him as it did the others, or even a doubt that it was real; he knew full well that it existed. It was one place he never thought he’d see again.

“What are the Fae like?” Alexander asked, as if reading Tannyl’s thoughts.

Tannyl shrugged. “Some are like the sprite,” he said, setting a finished arrow aside and beginning anew.

“And the others?”

“The Fae Wyld lies between worlds. But it’ll be better than trying to reach Wolverhampton on foot.”
I hope.
“And we may be able to get some answers along the way.”

Alexander nodded. “Answers about what happened to your village?”

Tannyl suppressed a smile. Alexander was young, but perceptive as well. It almost impressed him. “Yes. Whatever destroyed Woodhaerst was not of our world. That much I am sure of. The Fae All-Mother may know more.”

“You really think it was dragons that did it? That they’re real?”

Tannyl looked up. Alexander was staring intently back at him, his eyes firm, unwavering.
He’s not scared,
Tannyl thought. He couldn’t decide if it was because the young man was brave or foolish. Time would tell. “Don’t know, but whatever they were and whoever
she
is, I’ll find out and…”

He wasn’t sure what he intended to do in the end. Killing the woman in black seemed the natural inclination, but something told Tannyl that it would solve nothing. Vengeance never had. He was still paying for the last time he sought after it, but he had to do something. And there was nothing left to lose. He glanced at Jaydan and Sachihiro.
Nothing left for any of us.

“All I want is to get Adelaide to safety,” Alexander said when it was clear Tannyl wasn’t going to finish his thought. “And if I can help you find out what happened to your village… Well, I’ll do that as well. I can’t imagine what you are going through.”

Tannyl touched the hidden pocket in his vest. Despite the thick leather, he could feel the warmth of its contents. “You care a lot about what happens to a child you hardly know.”

“Of course. Don’t you? She’s just a girl.”

Tannyl grunted and forced his hand back to his arrows. “I hardly think she is just that. Whatever happened back where we found her… She certainly had something to do with it. And that was a lot of power to come from one
child.
”

He could tell Alexander didn’t share his sentiment, but the lanky man didn’t argue. “Whatever happened. Wherever she came from, she’s scared. We have to protect her.”

Tannyl looked away and gritted his teeth.
Blind morality,
he thought.
Honorable, but dangerous.
Tannyl knew all too well where naivety led. And, like the Fae Wyld, it was not a place he desired to return to. But he had sworn to protect Sachihiro and Jaydan, and they were just as determined to save the
girl
as Alexander. And they needed something to hold on to. Something to live for. Part of him wondered if the promise he had made to Fae’Na was just as foolish as the one Alexander had made to Adelaide.
Am I just as blind?

“We’ll get her to Wolverhampton.”

“Thank you,” Alexander said, obviously relieved. He was sincere, easy to read. Another weakness.

Tannyl nodded. It wasn’t for him. Or even for the others. They needed the distraction, but Tannyl had only one thing on his mind. Find the woman in black and make her suffer.

Tannyl woke the group with overly aggressive kicks at dawn. Sachihiro tried to negotiate for further sleep, but the Hunter dragged him upright by the ear and they set off, following Erlen the Dragontamer.

They had traveled most of the morning, he with Erlen, Jaydan and Alexander with Adelaide, and Tannyl grumbling to himself at the rear. The Dragontamer would go one way for a time, then abruptly change course and head in another. He paused at trees, pressing his hands to some, and an ear to others. Each time, he would remark, “Not this one,” and continue on in a new direction.

Sachihiro didn’t mind; he had his uncle’s lute and never-ending stories from Erlen to keep him entertained. All seemed to enjoy the journey, except Tannyl of course. He couldn’t blame the Hunter, not really. He far outstripped the rest of the group in age, and if the stories were true, he had lived a bitter life. His uncle used to tell that Tannyl had once lived in the Empire and was betrayed by his best friend. Others stories had the elusive elf as a powerful Fae that haunted dreams and killed without remorse. Then there were the ones that made Tannyl into an undying immortal that had saved many from a plague of unknown origin. There were few details in any of the tales, and each time they were told elements changed, but if one thing could be said with certainty, it was that Tannyl was haunted.

Sachihiro, on the other hand, felt enlivened by their current mission. His heart was heavy with what had happened in Woodhaerst, and it ached at the thought of what that woman had done to his uncle, but he had always dreamed of leaving. He memorized every story and song his uncle knew, and mined every piece of information from tavern visitors that he could, earning untold bruises and broken bones for prying too much, but none of what he knew was his own. Every performance he gave was borrowed from another. He longed to have his own ballad, something that would be sung all over the Great Wyld, or even over the whole of Alfuria.

His playing increased in speed at the thought.
Sachihiro, the world’s greatest hero and storyteller,
he thought.
I’ll make you proud, Uncle, just you watch. I’ll collect the greatest story ever told.

“This is it,” Erlen exclaimed suddenly, forcing the group to another halt.