The Girl With Red Hair (The Last War Saga Book 1) (17 page)

He shook his head. “He didn’t think I had it in me.”

“Well, isn’t that what the runes are for?”

Sachihiro shrugged. “I guess so. I never really understand when Jaydan starts talking magic.”

“Well, seems to this Dragontamer, and of that I most certainly and assuredly am, that your uncle didn’t have
it
in him either. Hence the fancy marked-up strumming wood you got there.”

He had never thought of it like that. “Well, I
was
able to use it back in Woodhaerst. For magic I mean, not just song.”

Erlen flew to Sachihiro’s nose and slapped it. “Now, there you go. See? You and your uncle are just the same. Now, show me.”

Sachihiro swatted at the sprite, but missed as he darted out of the way and moved to the middle of the room. “Show you what? I told you, my fingers are done playing.”

“Your music, while lovely, is no more remarkable than the spots on my dear mother’s backside. Magic. Now.”

Sachihiro looked at the lute, hoping to decipher some meaning or instruction in the odd symbols. He had once met a gnome that claimed runes were a dead language from before the world. The same gnome claimed to have bedded twelve giants on the same night, so he wasn’t sure the information was valid. It did him no good in either case.

“Go on,” Erlen said. “Do what you did in ol’ woody Woodhaerst.”

Sachihiro sighed and positioned his fingers on the lute. He
had
been meaning to recreate the spectacle he performed that night. It may not have done them any good in the moment, but the rush he got from the momentary burst of magic was exhilarating. Only a handful of previous performances could hold a candle to the feeling. Now he knew why Jaydan chased it so.

“All right, I’ll try,” he said.

His only thought was to reconstitute as much of that night as possible, and so he began “Gregor’s Cry.” Ignoring the pain in his fingers, he studied the runes and focused on trying to draw magic into the instrument. Jaydan claimed it was like breathing.

He finished the first verse and launched into the rowdy chorus. Something ran along his fingertips and he hardly noticed it above the pain and his own focus on the runes, but it returned as he transitioned into the second verse and built in intensity while the music softened. He stopped abruptly and looked at his hand.

“Don’t stop now,” Erlen said.

Sachihiro shook his head and held out his hand toward Erlen. “My fingers,” he said, stupefied.

“Yes, quite nice digits you have there. Now, on with the magically magical magic music!”

“They’re healed.” He rested the lute on his lap and examined both hands. His fingertips were still thick with callouses, but the tough skin was no longer cracked and bleeding. And the stiffness in his knuckles was gone as well.

“Well, go on,” Erlen said.

Reinvigorated beyond the physical, Sachihiro drew up the lute, stood, and launched into the ballad with gusto. He played hard and fast, fingers flying through the notes while his mind lashed out at the magic of the world that, admittedly, he couldn’t sense as well as he imagined Jaydan could.

Energy wicked up his legs and lit a fire in his stomach. He played harder, his hand becoming a blur. On the second chorus, the runes lit up all at once and the room filled with light and warmth. The world beyond his performance fell to nothing and Sachihiro focused on the instrument, silently commanding the runes to do whatever it was they did. His fingers danced over the strings, and the brighter the runes glowed, the faster he played. By the bridge, there were no longer solitary notes, but a constant hum of energy. His hands felt on fire, but he continued to play, determined to bend the magic to his will.

The end of the ballad was coming and he built up to the final push. The end of “Gregor’s Cry” was, in fact, Gregor Chalence’s famed battle cry that was said to have culled an entire horde of ravaging orcs in some bygone battle. He inhaled sharply, drawing with the breath every ounce of magic he could find, and prepared to give credence to the song’s title.

The music fell away in an instant and Sachihiro held up a fist to give the final yell, but as he opened his mouth, a crippling pain seized first his stomach and then his throat, and bent the musician double. With one hand on his throat and the other clutching the lute to his chest, he fell to his knees. He could feel his eyes bulge as he found himself unable to breathe. The room pulsed in vibrant colors and his own heartbeat deafened him.

He dropped the lute and clawed at his throat. Something clawed back. He fell forward on his hands and heaved. He could feel his throat shift as whatever was lodged within struggled to free itself just as much as Sachihiro thought to expel it. He arched his back, curled his fingers, and violently retched a dark mass onto the stone floor. At once, the air returned to his lungs and the room came into focus.

He felt Erlen on his shoulder, pulling at his ear. “Snap out of it, you poor excuse for a musical magician.”

Sachihiro groaned and sat back. He was sweating and his limbs were twitching from exertion. He looked at his diminutive friend. “So, what’d you think of my performance?”

“The lights and music were quite wonderful, but the Dragontamer is more than a little concerned about your final crescendo.”

“Maybe I got a little carried away, but I was just really feeling it at the end. Thought it was magic, but I don’t know.”

Erlen pulled sharply at his ear again and gestured to the floor. “I was speaking of that,” he said shrilly. “I may be capable of taming the most untameable of dragons, but I will be of no use in taming
that
.”

Sachihiro stared as the wet mass on the floor shifted, righted itself, and shook off the layer of mucus and saliva that coated its striped fur. It stood on its hind legs and regarded Sachihiro with beady black eyes. Then it squeaked and darted away.

“Oh,” Sachihiro said as the small creature scaled the bureau and perched on the top, chattering a string of indecipherable noises. “I seem to have given birth to a squirrel.”

Chapter Nineteen

ALEXANDER WOKE WITH a start. He sat breathless for a moment, shaking his head and calming the ragged panic that tore through his soul.

“Just a dream,” he said, though not all of him believed it.

He climbed from the bed and walked to the balcony, hoping fresh air would banish the nightmare. He stood against the stone railing and took three deep breaths before he noticed it. The sky. It was… dark.

He looked skyward. A dark mass of clouds swirled overhead. He grunted.
Guess Tannyl was wrong. They do have night here.

As he finished the thought, a bolt of lightning ripped through the sky. Thunder boomed behind it and shook the stone beneath Alexander’s feet. He stumbled and nearly fell, just catching the railing. Another flash of lightning and rumble of thunder sent him to a knee.

In the eerie silence that followed he heard another sound that nearly took his legs out from under him completely. His ears had long ago attuned to the very sound, and it had him running for the door in an instant. Nothing moved the lanky teen quicker than did the scream of a child.

Two other figures stepped into the hallway just as he did. Sachihiro was wearing only his pants, but his lute was slung across his back. Jaydan was fully dressed and stared at him with a dazed look. The Healer looked back into his own room, examined his hands, shook his head, and then turned back to Alexander.

“Addy,” Alexander said, running for the end of the hall. He didn’t look to see if the others followed.

He shouldered into the room, letting the door crash into the wall, not bothering to stop. His senses were sharp, even in the dim light. A flash of lightning beyond the balcony revealed everything in an instant and seared it into the backs of his eyes. Adelaide sat huddled against the headboard of the large four-poster bed, blankets pulled to her chin, her mouth reverberating with an infinite shriek of terror.

Alexander turned to the shape coming in from the balcony. In the gloom, it was hard to distinguish; it seemed to be made of blackness. Burning yellow eyes stared back like small embers, giving away its location. It crept on all fours, but seemed capable of walking upright; it had the look of a shrunken and stooped humanoid. Its flesh was gray and pocked. Something akin to smoke drifted off it, as if it were a smoldering coal.

Sachihiro and Jaydan stumbled into the room as the creature broke for the bed. Alexander moved to intercept it, but Sachihiro was quicker. Alexander stumbled to his knees as the burly man shot past in a streak of bare skin and lute. The creature screeched as it leapt for Adelaide. Sachihiro did the same, connecting with it in midair. They went to the floor in a twisted heap of man and shadow.

Alexander found his footing and scrambled to help Sachihiro. He had managed to turn over and straddled the squirming creature. Long claws of black mist raked at the musician’s barreled chest. Sachihiro yelled with primal rage and set to smashing the thing’s head into the floor. Alexander slid towards the creature’s head and grabbed its arms. It felt solid enough, but the mottled skin was colder than anything he had felt before. He wrenched, stretching the arms until a sharp pop burst from its shoulder joints. Another pair of heavy punches from Sachihiro silenced the thing and it went limp.

“More!” Jaydan yelled, and the room lit up with magic fire brighter than the lightning.

Alexander spun upright to see Jaydan hurling thin spouts of flame at two more creatures that had entered the room. A third crawled onto the balcony and joined in a collective charge. They rushed at Alexander and Sachihiro. Adelaide continued to shriek behind them, her terror rising above the thunder that shook the room without reprieve.

Alexander lunged forward to meet the foe. One was knocked off course by a burst of magic that impacted its side. The other two jumped at that instant, hitting Alexander solidly in the chest. Neither equaled even half his size, but the collective force took him off his feet. He landed on the fallen creature with a sickening crunch. Sachihiro tore one of the creatures free and tossed it across the room.

Alexander’s field of vision vanished as a mouthful of wicked teeth opened before him. He twisted and brought his forearm into the creature’s throat. It snapped its jaw shut, just missing the tip of Alexander’s nose. Its breath frosted the warm air and its eyes flared.

Flashes of lightning and bolts of magic painted the small room in a dizzying array of color and light. He heard Jaydan yell something. Warmth washed over Alexander as the room lightened considerably, and the smell of burning wood filled the room.

The creature thrashed and clawed for purchase atop him. Stabbing pain lit up his left side. He pushed harder against it and brought a knee sharply upward. It struck the thing in the back and loosened the grip it had on Alexander’s flesh. He twisted and smashed his elbow into its head. It shrieked and rolled away. He was up in a blink, taking in the chaotic scene at a glance.

One creature lay motionless on the floor near Jaydan, smoke rising from its corpse. Another had Sachihiro backed into a corner. He was fending it off with a bronze candlestick. And then he saw the source of the flame. The large four-poster bed that sheltered Adelaide was on fire. Orange tongues licked at one of the posts, greedily consuming the draping fabric that hung from the top. The base was a bed of churning flame. Adelaide had stopped screaming and was squirming against the headboard, seeking refuge where there was none. There would be little time before both the bed and girl were consumed.

“Addy!” he bellowed.

Someone shouted his name as he sprang for her, but it was muffled by the shadowy thing that struck him in the side of the head just as he reached the bed. He grabbed for Adelaide, but was thrown off balance and hit the small table at the bedside. Colors lit his vision as his head bounced off the thick wood and he fell once again to the stone floor.

He was on his stomach now, the creature on his back, running edged claws along his spine. He heard her screaming again. But now it was clearly a name she was shouting as the flames surrounded her. His name.

He forced his hands beneath his body and pushed to his knees. She was still yelling for him. The room was thick with smoke and heat. The lightning created eerie images in the smoke. It was impossible to tell what was real. Adrenaline pulsed through his veins with every shout and he managed to get into a crouch, still harboring black death upon his back. With a primal yell, he jumped backwards and drove the creature into the ground. Bone and flesh broke beneath his weight and he felt it go limp.

His back burned with pain, but he pushed it aside as he dove into the fire. The canopy collapsed as he did. All he could see were flames. All he could hear was her voice. His clothes caught almost immediately, but he found her reaching hand and pulled hard, throwing his body from the inferno, dragging her roughly behind him. He hit the floor and rolled. His hand lost her, but before he could seek it out again, he was enveloped.

He couldn’t see and he couldn’t breathe. He struggled against the force that held him, but found the strength had left him. He heard distant shouting and felt his body move against his will. He wanted to fight, but it took all his concentration to just stay conscious. He tried shouting, but couldn’t tell if any sound came.