The Girl With Red Hair (The Last War Saga Book 1) (19 page)

He couldn’t see the enemy, but he could feel them. They melded into the fog and scoured the wall, cutting down the Fae with impudence. He couldn’t dwell on it, however, and forced himself toward the castle. He was one with the shadows, just as invisible as the enemy. He found an open door and slid into the citadel, shutting it quickly behind him.

He had only been in the castle of Paladrix once before, and that had been years ago, but his mind retained every detail. He raced down the hallway, bow strung, arrow nocked, and senses sharp. Instinct drove him ever forward. The hallway spilled into the stewards’ quarters. Bodies lay strewn about, cut and bloodied. He counted six slain as he continued through without stopping. The air was rich with the scent of death, a smell that reminded him of Woodhaerst. It mocked him, telling him that it was his fault. Calling him a murderer.

He heard shouting nearby, from beyond a large set of steel doors. The doors were etched with intricate Fae symbols of power and authority. They marked the last place Tannyl desired to be, but he shouldered the doors open regardless, Fae’Na’s voice ever present in his mind, guiding him.

The Council Hall was an open circular room of high ceilings and painstakingly crafted stained-glass windows that formed a majority of the walls. He paused only long enough to kick the doors shut.

“Who are you?” someone shouted. “Fae or foe?”

Tannyl turned back and immediately recognized the Fae Council. They stood in a loose group at the bottom of the dais. Something large and bloody lay in the middle of the room. Tannyl stilled his heart and calmly approached the Council members, releasing the tension on his bow but keeping it ready.

He counted nine individuals in the group. The Fae Council always had eleven, one for each Realm, and a High Speaker that oversaw the lot. As he drew near, he discovered where the tenth member was. The body in the middle of the Hall was large, thickly muscled, and dismembered. Each limb was torn from its socket and spaced a foot from its origin. The head was severed as well. He didn’t recognize the giant, but knew him at once as the representative of the Artic Realm. Few other creatures could survive the chill of that land.

“I said who are you, Outsyder? And what are you doing here?”

His eyes hung on the giant as he approached, but at the voice he turned to the Council. All eyes watched him as he pulled up a few paces away. Enough distance to react if need be. His fingers twitched with anticipation. He could drop at least three of them before they reached him. Four if he was lucky, but he had learned long ago not to count on his luck to be anything but poor.

It was the High Speaker, Yennan Wisdomancer, who had spoken. Tannyl could never forget the sound of his voice. It was the one that had banished him all those years ago. The one that had called for his death. Recognition washed over the Noble elf’s face and rippled through the group. Hushed whispers followed in short order. Only Yennan remained still, eyes locked on Tannyl.

“I know you, Betrayer,” he said. Tannyl could see his fingers tighten around the jeweled staff he carried. “Have you come to slay the rest of us? It will not be as easy as you think.”

Tannyl’s eyes narrowed and he applied tension to his bow-string, but Fae’Na’s voice quelled his impulse. He forced his hand from the string and made a show of stowing the arrow and unstringing his bow. He then held out his empty hands, but kept his distance.

“I know how I am seen, High Speaker. I have no desire to stand before you. That you can trust as truth. But your city is under attack and I have friends here.”

“And you. Expect. Us to. Believe your. Return. As coincidence?”

Tannyl cursed under his breath as General Pliratis, of the Desert Realm, crawled forward. The general clacked his long mandibles together and flexed his many carapace-armored limbs. Curved twin-bladed daggers hung across his segmented chest, and Tannyl knew all too well how deftly they could be wielded. If it came to a fight, Tannyl would need to drop him second, after the High Speaker. He was beginning to think
three
was a lofty dream.

“I know how this looks,” he said, trying to keep his voice even. Pliratis was not known for his restraint. But neither was The Betrayer. “Something similar has happened to my home, and we came to see Hilaros, hoping for answers.”

“Liar,” Pliratis spat, a clawed hand moving for a dagger.

Yennan stepped in front of the Kynsarian, silencing him with a wave of his ringed hand. The rest of the Council fell silent as well. Luckily, they respected the High Speaker more than they despised Tannyl. He hoped it would hold. There was a time and place to die, but this was neither.

“Your friends are safe within the guest quarters here in the castle. Had I known you were with them I would not have granted them an audience. How did you manage to enter the Fae Wyld, Betrayer? And why are you truly here?”

Tannyl shook his head. “It doesn’t matter how or why I came. What matters is
that
,” he said, pointing to the disjointed body. “And whatever is attacking Paladrix, I believe is the same enemy that destroyed my village.”

“You. Sent them. Here!” Pliratis said between angry clacks of his mandibles. The others murmured in agreement.

Tannyl’s tenuous grasp on his emotions broke. “Silence!” he bellowed, his voice reverberating around the room, ensnaring their undivided attention. His hand hungered for the string of his bow, and it took his full focus to stay it. “I know you all blame me, but I have nothing to do with this. My home was destroyed by a similar evil. They…” His voice caught in his throat for a moment and he swallowed hard. “Fae’Na was killed. I came for answers and… I came to make peace with the Elders. And with you.”

“If Fae’Na was killed,” Yennan said slowly, the tension in his body betraying his true desire, “then her blood is on your hands. I can only hope that she has finally found peace, freed from your wicked grasp.”

Tannyl shook his head and fought back fiery tears. This was a mistake, he knew. They would never trust him and they shouldn’t. Not after what he had done. And he knew how it looked standing before them now, while the city was being invaded by a deadly force. Paladrix had never been breached before by an enemy. The Fae lived in relative peace throughout the Realms. A strange thought crossed his mind as he surveyed the many reproachful eyes of the Council members. Were they right?
Did I actually cause this?
His own mind couldn’t ignore the coincidence.

“I ask that you surrender, Betrayer, and call an end to this assault. You will not find victory here. You will not take another from our world.”

Yennan took a step forward and lowered his staff, pointing the weapon at Tannyl’s chest. Pliratis twirled a pair of daggers. The rest of the Council watched dumbly. They may have once feared Tannyl, but they knew the outcome of a battle now, just as Tannyl did.

He began to slowly back away, hands still extended in penance and peace. The Council slowly advanced, wary, but ready to cut him down with impudence.
Why did I think this would end any other way?
he cursed himself. He never acted with such blind foolishness. He never should have come, not to the Council, and not to the Fae Wyld. Would his death solve anything?

The Council stopped suddenly and their collective mood shifted as one. No longer did vengeance and bloodlust surround them. And their eyes moved away from Tannyl, looking beyond the confused elf.

Had they reconsidered? No, something else had stayed their hand. And he could sense it now, two, maybe three paces behind him. It was large, its breath uneven. A blast of cold air hit Tannyl’s neck, forcing every hair to stand on end.

“What wickedness is this, Betrayer?” Yennan asked. The Council was moving away from him now, each step quicker than the last.

Tannyl’s hand went to his quiver as he slowly turned. He tried to focus his mind, but what he saw contradicted everything he knew about life and death.

The giant stood, towering over the elf, eyes dark pools of black. His separated limbs were tethered to their respective joints by tendrils of black mist. His head floated just above the severed neck. Black blood oozed from the corners of his mouth and ran from his nose. The giant lunged forward with a roar. The primal sound of fury forced Tannyl backwards, but he withdrew a pair of arrows, holding them as daggers. He crouched, ready.

“This is not my doing, Yennan,” he called over his shoulder. He received no response, or at least not one he could hear, as the giant attacked.

It lunged at Tannyl, swinging a fist at his head, but the attack was slow. Tannyl dove into a roll and returned to a crouch, arrows ready. The giant faltered after the attack, nearly fell, but managed to right itself. Tannyl stole a quick glance at the Council. They were gone. He cursed them as the small door set into the back wall clicked shut.

He turned back to the giant. He could tell the lumbering behemoth was gaining control with each passing moment. It lunged for Tannyl again, faster and more precise. He spun aside and stabbed at the giant fist as it swung past him. Two quick thrusts and a roll away. The giant howled and whirled toward him, lifting a foot and slamming it down, narrowly missing Tannyl as he jumped to the side. As the foot struck so did he, jabbing at the meaty calf muscle with precision and speed, darting away just as the giant recovered.

Black ichor ran down the arrow shafts and over his hands. It was as cold as ice, numbing his fingers in an instant. His whole body shivered, though he couldn’t be sure if it was from the cold or the shock of the creature before him. They danced about a few more turns, Tannyl avoiding the heavy strikes and landing quick stabs of his own, but it didn’t slow the creature. If anything, it added to its fury.

He spun away from a kick, took a glancing blow from a backhand, and stumbled to the floor. A stomp nearly took his head as he rolled aside. Gaining his feet was more difficult this time, and the giant was more ravenous than before. It growled, spitting large flecks of black fluid in all directions.

Tannyl was a skilled hunter, but an even more skilled survivor. Retreat was always an option, and it seemed prudent now. He waited until the giant charged and then he matched the assault, running straight at the coming swipe. At the last moment, he fell to his knees in a back-breaking slide, his momentum carrying him under the meaty hand and between the giant’s legs. He drove a heel into floor, changed direction, and forced both arrows into the back of its knee, snapping the shafts with a twitch of his wrists. The giant leg buckled, bringing the creature down to a knee. Instinct told Tannyl it would only serve to delay the creature, and he took the opportunity to run for the small door beside the dais.

The giant howled in pain and anger, but didn’t immediately follow the streaking elf. He reached the door, but just as he reached for the handle, it swung open. He nearly collided with the figure that stood in the open doorway and came to a faltering stop.

Her eyes were dark and mysterious, her hair straight and black. Her mouth parted in the most inviting way, but her words chilled Tannyl’s blood more than the giant’s blood, and raised his hackles.

“There you are, dear Tannyl,” the woman in the black dress cooed as if they were separated lovers. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

Tannyl struck out a hand, seizing her by the throat. The giant continued to roar in the background. “You,” he hissed between clenched teeth.

She smiled, making no effort to resist his iron grasp. “Of course, my dear. I am never far from your side. I wouldn’t leave you. Not like the Druid.”

Rage filled his body and blood clouded his vision. He pushed into the hallway, pulling the door shut with his free hand and slamming the woman into the wall with the other. The impact shook Tannyl’s entire body, but she merely moaned in pleasure, her eyes fluttering in ecstasy.

“Don’t you dare speak of her,” he shouted, leaning close to her pale face and wet lips.

She grabbed onto his shoulders and pulled him closer, their lips nearly brushing. Tannyl tried to pull back, but her grasp was impervious to his resistance. Part of him didn’t want to resist. It warred inside his mind with his instinct to snap her neck.

“What are you?” he managed to say. “What do you want?”

She purred and leaned against his hold, leading with her mouth. “I am His Queen and wife,” she said, emphasizing
His
as if Tannyl knew who she was referencing. “But don’t let that dissuade you. I could always use another strong man like you. My husband won’t mind. We could be something great. We could watch it end, together.”

Revulsion seized Tannyl and he released her, stumbling away into the opposite wall. His hands were shaking. For a moment he saw double. “You are not my Queen,” he said, though his voice sounded less certain than he intended. “And I want nothing to do with you.”

She leaned against the wall, back arched and eyes closed. She breathed deeply and pushed off, walking toward him with fluid grace. “Maira,” she said when the gap had been closed. Her hands went to his face and he found his own wouldn’t obey his commands. He couldn’t move at all. “You, dear Tannyl, may call me Maira. A lover need not trifle with formalities.”

She grabbed the back of his neck and brought their faces together until their cheeks touched and her lips were on his ear. She pressed her body against his and he felt it respond to hers. His stomach roiled and his mind raced.