The Girl With Red Hair (The Last War Saga Book 1) (40 page)

“I died a Fae a long time ago,” he said to the Garden, hoping it would appease the spirits. “It’s time I truly rested. It’s time
we
rested.”

A soft wind rippled the leaves overhead, creating a gentle whisper of sound. In the perfect stillness it was like thunder. He smiled and nodded, taking it as a sign. He covered their seeds and kissed the spot where she would forever be.

“Forgive me,” he said as he stood. “You deserved far better than what I gave you, but know that I always loved you. No matter how it seems, you saved me.”

Tannyl kissed his dirt-encrusted and blood-stained hand and extended it toward her one final time. He then turned and walked away, leaving two spirits behind and hoping his own would find as much solace as Fae’Na’s. There was a time to move on, and he hoped against all hope that he had finally reached that point.

The wind stirred again, and for just a moment Tannyl thought he heard her voice. His mind was addled and not something he could trust, but hearing Fae’Na’s words, whether real or imagined, was enough to give him hope.

Father, I forgive you
.

Chapter Forty-Four

THE TREE WAS just as Tannyl had said, though the size of the thing seemed hardly believable. The tunnel entrance spanned dozens of feet in both directions, but did little to take away from the immense trunk. Jaydan would have loved to have taken samples from the bark, but the others weren’t going to last much longer. Their exhaustion was plain to see.

Jaydan, however, felt rejuvenated. Pink scars lined his hands and forearms, but beyond that he felt like he had just woken from a long sleep. He couldn’t recall what Adelaide had done to him, but he knew she had saved his life. Was that what had changed her? Aged her?

Yes, Jaydan, it’s entirely your fault.

“Oh, there you are, coward,” he whispered. Sachihiro gave him a look, but his eyes were barely open and he said nothing. Alexander was too busy carrying Adelaide to even hear.

Now that’s not quite fair. I was with you the whole time. I just thought it more prudent to stay quiet and let you focus on not dying. Though I see now that it was a waste.

“Well, I’m still alive, aren’t I?”

Are you? I’m not so sure. And if you are, it was nothing you did. You needed a child to save you. How terribly appropriate.

There didn’t appear to be any discernible light source within the tunnel beneath the great tree, yet Jaydan had no trouble seeing. A room opened up at their right and, wordlessly, the group shuffled into it. Sacks of unknown contents lined the far wall, but the floor was largely open, covered with thick moss. Together, they lowered Adelaide, using a sack of grain to support her head. Alexander sprawled beside her and Sachihiro collapsed nearby. It only took a moment before it seemed all had fallen asleep.

Jaydan stood staring at the older visage of Adelaide. “What is she?”

If I had shoulders, I’d shrug.

“Cute. Didn’t figure you’d know.”

I’m not sure I care for this new attitude, Jaydan, my friend. You’d be in sore shape without me.

Jaydan laughed loudly. “Do tell.”

I’d rather not.

“I’m so surprised.”

I don’t see why.

Jaydan rolled his eyes and sat atop a stack of crates in the corner. He brought out a small glass vial from a pocket and held it up to the ambient light. It looked no different than any other blood he’d collected before, but he could sense the power within the crimson liquid.

I wouldn’t drink that if I were you.

“Well, you’re not me. But I’m not going to drink it. Well, not yet, anyway.”

You think that will do it? Give you the power you so desire? Make you a god?

Jaydan shrugged. “It can’t hurt.”

Just keep telling yourself that. And I’ll be sure to have that carved into your tombstone.

“Look, I’ve got to try something. Whatever I took from that ash seemed to work out, and this is clearly orders of magnitude greater. I don’t know exactly what Hilaros was, but if she wasn’t a god, then she’s the closest I’m likely to ever find. I just need a piece of that power.”

But you’re not a god. You’re nothing even remotely near it.

“Not yet.”

The voice didn’t respond immediately, and Jaydan sat in silence, gently swirling the blood before his eyes, dreaming of what it could do.

Nothing will change. The world will still die. And it won’t bring them back.

Jaydan froze and gripped the vial in a tight fist. “You don’t know that.”

Don’t I?

“No. You’re nothing more than a voice in my head. My father only sought to give explanation to the delusion in hopes I would see past it. You know nothing more than I do.”

Rhadiourgia didn’t respond.

Jaydan opened his hand and ran a thumb along the glass. “I’ve got to try. If not for my parents, then for them,” he said, nodding to the trio that slept soundly across the room.

How noble, but it will do no one any good to pretend that your motivations are noble. Whether real or imagined, I know your thoughts, Jaydan. You think the power you seek will protect you.

“Maybe,” he admitted. “But if it could allow me to just… change things. Make a new world. Something better…”

And you think you’re the solution to a world you see as broken? Even with the power of a god, you think you can change even the smallest ant?

Jaydan slid the vial back into his pocket and reclined against the wall, shutting his eyes and taking a breath. His patience was wearing thin. “What do you want from me?”

I want the same. To make you a god.

Jaydan’s heart fluttered.

Stay with the girl.

Jaydan didn’t respond or even stir. Rhadiourgia’s tone had changed, the evasive tone replaced with one of cold certainty. He wasn’t about to disrupt it.

You may just be the one, my friend, if she is as she appears. Stay with her and you may just reach what you desire, though it will not be what you expect. It may not even be what you want in the end.

Jaydan let his body relax. Was anything as he expected? But if he could just become more than he was… Something
would
change. It had to.

If Rhadiourgia said anything further, Jaydan didn’t hear it. An otherworldly bliss stole over him and he eased into the comforting embrace of sleep.

Alexander woke to find himself in a sprawling meadow. Sweet-scented grass stood knee high and gently danced to the breeze. He blinked and found he had stood. Birds called in the distance and Alexander slid into the peaceful melody until the ground shook.

Suddenly, the sky darkened. Red streaks of lightning split the sky and thunder shook the world. His heart beat in time as his eyes raked the scene. The meadow gently turned to rolling hills in every direction. Everywhere he looked was the same. Was he even moving?

The quake at his feet soon turned into a rhythmic pulse. Footsteps, he knew at once. Thousands, perhaps millions, of footsteps echoed from everywhere. He spun in place and tried to run, but found his feet rooted in place. Shapes formed along the hills, building like a wave.

To his right, he saw deep darkness. To his left, he saw blinding light. Both forces crested their hills, becoming something terrible. Every muscle in Alexander’s body twitched and tensed. He wasn’t breathing, and it was difficult to differentiate between the thunder and his own throbbing heart.

A hand at his elbow made him jump. When he turned, Adelaide was at his side. She was young again, just a child. A thin dress of green hung from her slim body. She took his hand in hers and squeezed, smiling up at him.

Another hand took his other and, turning, he saw another version of Adelaide. She was far older than he remembered, but her eyes were unmistakable. She was of a height with him, her body firm with muscle, and her face lined with wisdom.

“Addy?”

She stared back a moment and Alexander wasn’t sure she saw him. But then she said, “We were wrong, Alexander. We were wrong.”

Beyond the valley, the armies shifted and flowed toward them like a single angry entity. It would be only moments before they were swallowed. Crushed. Destroyed.

“Wrong about what?” he asked. “What is this?”

The woman with red hair said nothing, but the small hand on his other side pulled gently. He turned to the girl that hardly reached his elbow. She was smiling. He knew she was perfectly content. At peace. His own heart was beating so quickly it sounded like a single tone buzzing in his ears.

“It’s all right, Alexander,” she said. “This is the end. We made it.”

For a moment he relaxed, finding comfort in her soft smile, but it soon vanished as a second smile of red opened across her slender neck. She didn’t fall, but her eyes closed and her hand loosened in his. Then laughter. A pair of eyes drifted up from behind her. Slowly, an elven face formed around them and sneered.

Tannyl.

He shook his head, not understanding, and tried to bite back the rage that swelled within him. The rumble of a million footsteps deafened the thunder of the sky and dispelled all thought. Alexander shut his eyes and held tight to the Adelaides’ hands as the opposing forces of light and dark crushed his mind, body, and soul.

Chapter Forty-Five

THE SUN WAS at its highest when Tannyl reached the battle-scarred clearing again. He stopped at the forest edge, shame once again creeping over him at the sight of so much death. Would it ever stop? He had put his daggers away long ago, but death continued to follow him. He feared it would always be so. Even now, having finally put his past to rest, he expected closure. He had found some, to be sure, but it had done nothing to dispel the overwhelming guilt that had become like a shadow.

He had intended on skirting around the clearing, but suddenly found himself passing by the pyre meant for him and Maira. It smelled of pine sap, but the sweetness was spoiled by the scent of blood in the air. He paused and looked at the stake at the center of the kindling. He should have died there, he knew. If not for Maira, he would have. He shook his head.
She doesn’t deserve my respect,
he thought.
If she saved me, it was only to benefit her own wicked ends.
He wanted to hate her, but found that he couldn’t. Was she still in his head? He had no way of knowing. He wasn’t even sure what she was or what she had done. The only thing he knew was that she wasn’t gone.

When he turned, he saw Adelaide sitting in front of Hilaros’s mythical corpse. Her back was to him, but he could see that she had her knees drawn to her chest. The girl was an even greater mystery than Maira. After staring for a long time at her back, Tannyl approached and sat down at her side, mimicking her position.

Adelaide didn’t stir, but as he sat, she said, “She loved her, you know.”

Tannyl looked at the great creature before them. She was beautiful in the most terrifying of ways. Again, Maira appeared in his mind. It took his full effort to dismiss her. “I suppose she did,” he said.

“I think that’s nice.”

“I suppose it is.”

“She wanted a new world for Lilacoris. And for us. It cost her her life.”

“Love can be a dangerous thing,” he said, knowing all too well the consequence of emotion.

Adelaide giggled, though it now seemed out of place coming from an adolescent body. “You sound like Miss Hastings. She liked to say that love was the
most
dangerous of all the feelings.”

Tannyl thought of the corpses that were scattered nearby. “She’s a wise woman, your Miss Hastings.”

“Yes, she is. I miss her greatly. Do you think I’ll see her again someday?”

“Don’t know.”

“Thank you.”

Tannyl looked at her. “For what?”

She turned toward him. It was then that Tannyl saw that her age was not the only thing that had changed. Symmetrical lines of fine scales traced a pattern from her temples, under her eyes, and along the edges of her petite nose. They glowed with a soft golden color. Tannyl’s eyes flitted to Hilaros, wondering what else the girl had taken from the fallen All-Mother.

“For not lying to me,” she said. “The others only tell me what I want to hear. Especially Alexander.”

“A side effect of love,” Tannyl said.

She smiled at that and turned back to Hilaros. “That’s nice.”

Tannyl didn’t know what else to say, so he turned back to the dragon as well. His own voice in his head was quiet and peace descended. He let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding.

“I think it’s nice what you did for your daughter,” Adelaide said after a while.

Tannyl turned sharply. Adelaide only smiled and continued to stare straight ahead.

“I think I have her memories,” she said, nodding at Hilaros. “Strange thoughts come and go, but I know they’re not mine. It hurts my head. Like there isn’t enough room in it. I think I might burst if I think on it too much.”