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

by Michael J Sanford

  “You lost, ma’am?”

  Maira hesitated, allowing the last bit of memory to vanish. It left a gaping hole. One that she would eventually need to fill.

  “Ma’am?”

  She turned at last and regarded the ragged man with a soft smile. His beard was unruly and his rust-red hair unevenly shorn. He wore a plain shirt and simple pants, well worn, but equally well maintained.

  “Lost? No, I don’t believe so,” she said, trying to drop the edge in her voice. Appear helpless. Afraid. Broken. A fragment of a memory flashed in her mind a moment and then was gone, but the feeling it left behind was genuine.

  The man smiled, wrinkles forming at the corners of his eyes. His skin was weathered, but pale despite countless hours working beneath the sun. He gave her a cursory glance, conscious not to linger on any aspect of her flawless form for too long. He had honor. Maira smiled, and cruel intent replaced the heartache that had inexplicably risen from the forgotten memory.

  He leaned forward, his eyes warm and trusting. “You need a place to stay? You seem to have traveled a long ways, dear.” He gave her another quick glance up and down again.

  Maira frowned for a moment and followed his gaze. Her dress was torn and tattered, hanging in dusty strips from her equally dirty body. Her feet were coated in a mix of blood and mud. She smiled, but quickly hid it, adopting a broken façade. She had forgotten how she had changed. She allowed herself a moment to grieve her usual dress and immaculate presentation, but remembered how necessary it was to look well traveled now.

  She looked up, careful to avoid eye contact, shuffled her feet, and said, “Yes, I…” she allowed a tremble to stall her words. “That would be nice, thank you…”

  “Name’s Malic.”

  “Maira.”

  “Well, you just follow me, Maira, and we’ll get you situated quick like.”

  Stoneshold was an expansive farming village, spread out over countless acres. From what Maira could gather, the fields were tended together, but every family retired to their own small plot of land at the end of the day. Most of the season’s harvest was cut, and the pair passed several carts laden with grain and root vegetables. Malic greeted each man and woman he passed as if they were lifelong friends, and Maira figured they likely were.

  She kept up her appearance, directing her gaze away from any they encountered. She answered questions with short responses, being careful to stutter whenever it seemed appropriate. Malic introduced her to all and took a protective stance whenever they stopped; his feet spread wide, knees soft, his body always placed between Maira and the other. It was hard for Maira to remained stooped and fight the smile that repeatedly curled the edges of her mouth.

  What are you doing, wife? You are not to harm that one or his family. It is forbidden.

  Maira scowled at the voice that suddenly floated through her mind as she walked in the shadow of an apple tree. There was no way to respond and little reason to do so if there were. He would be disappointed and there would be a penance to pay, but even that could not outweigh the temptation.

  He had permitted her full rein to destroy the others’ lives as long as they themselves still lived, but the one… She shook her head as she continued to follow Malic. They were nearly out of the fields now. Why disallow the pleasure of taking from him? What made him any different than the others? What made any of them special? Her mind raced with images of the four. She could practically sense them on the breeze. But they were far from Stoneshold, she knew. It was merely desire that seized her now.

  I am his Bride Queen, she thought. And I will do as I please.

  She would respect His wish that they remain alive, for the time being. That was a matter of great importance, part of the game. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t have some fun until the time came to bleed them dry. If she weren’t already dead, the anticipation would have killed her.

  “Ah, here we are,” Malic said, stopping in front of a large stone-and-timber farmhouse. “Laira will have dinner on the table shortly. I’m sure you’ve got an appetite. I’ll have the girls help you get cleaned up in the meantime.”

  Maira’s stomach growled and saliva filled her mouth. But it wasn’t the thought of a home-cooked meal that had lit her hunger. It was the anticipation of what she would do to Malic and his family. She could almost taste them now…

  She smiled, hoping Malic took it for appreciation of his offer.

  After dinner, Malic and Laira ushered Maira into the small sitting area off the kitchen. One of the younger daughters, Sonya, brought in mugs of home-brewed ale, and then quickly departed with a respectful nod.

  Maira took a sip and rested the mug on her leg. Laira had insisted in giving her a fresh set of clothes. The hand-stitched dress was plain and made her skin crawl, but she had thanked them profusely, and even managed to squeeze out a single tear. It had elicited the desired effect. Now, after a dinner of stew and freshly baked bread, Malic and Laira Farmer had insisted on getting to know Maira better over a mug of froth. She tried to savor the moment, revel in the anticipation, but patience had never been one of her strengths. In either life.

  She gritted her teeth as the pair sat on a small bench, uncomfortably close to one another. “You have such a wonderful home,” Maira said as she took another sip of ale, smiling politely and making a noise of approval toward the ale, though her tongue had only the taste for one thing. “And such nice children.”

  The pair beamed. “Thank you,” Laira said as her cheeks flushed red. “It’s not easy raising so many, but it’s a job I couldn’t imagine not doing.”

  “So many? Eleven is a bit more than many. You must be a wonderful mother.” Bile burned at the bottom of Maira’s throat. She could be upon the woman before the man knew he was a widower. He would rot before his children knew themselves orphaned.

  “Aye,” Malic said. “But it’s actually twelve.”

  “Oh?”

  Malic nodded. “Our oldest just left home a bit ago. Destined for something greater.”

  Malic and Laira shared a look and their hands found one another, squeezing tightly as they did. Pride and love radiated from the couple. It made Maira sick. She took a swig of ale, hoping to cleanse the taint from her tongue.

  “Alexander,” Laira said fondly, turning back to Maira. “He was our savior, helping with the little ones. Two sets of twins and a set of triplets ain’t easy, even in a warm place like Stoneshold. Couldn’t have done it without him.”

  “Then why let him go?” Maira asked. “Aren’t you worried about him on his own?”

  Laira frowned for a moment, as if confused by something, but recovered swiftly. “Alexander? Oh, Heavens, no. He’s a bright boy and as upright as they come.”

  “A hard worker too,” Malic added. “Though was always better at caring for others than tilling the land. Neither his thumbs are green, I can tell you that much, but a bigger heart I ain’t never seen. ’Spect he’ll end up at the Abbey or maybe Quintstock. Don’t know he has much an idea what he’s doing, but whatever it is, we know he’ll do it well.”

  Maira made a show of fussing with her hair. “I’d be worried sick, but I suppose you’re stronger than I.”

  “Oh, nonsense,” Laira said with a dismissive wave. “Not about bein’ strong. It’s a matter of faith is all. I know my boy. He wanted to go find himself, and I know that’s just what he’ll do. He earned it plenty times over.”

  “Aye,” Malic agreed with a firm nod and a long pull from his mug. He wiped the foam from his lip onto his sleeve. “What about you, Maira? What’s a lady like you doing traveling alone?”

  Maira swallowed her rage and scratched at her arm. She forced the hand holding the mug to shake slightly. “It wasn’t my intention, sir. Just got mixed up with some unsettling individuals. I don’t even know quite where I am.”

  Sorrow clouded their faces. “Well, where you out of?” Malic asked. “You got a way of talkin’ that says you’re from the Empire, if I had to wager.”

&nbs
p; A brief memory flashed, suddenly making the room seem to spin. She shivered and thought she saw a swirl of snow cross the room. “Yes, but that was… a long time ago,” she said, grabbing the arm of her chair to steady herself. A deep breath forced the memory down. It faded with a hiss, but the chill remained. Her breath fogged the air. Why was it so cold?

  “You all right, dear?” Laira said, leaning forward, closing the gap between the two women. “You don’t need to worry any more. Whoever put that beatin’ on you, they can’t hurt ya here. And you just stay here long as you like.”

  “Aye, and if you need a way back to the Empire, we’ll see that you get to the Wall all safe like. There’s a trade caravan leavin’ in a couple days, once we get some more taters up. Got a friend up at the Wall that’ll grant you passage. No papers, no problem.”

  Maira looked at the pair, staring deep into their eyes. They seemed so… genuine. Like they had never told a lie in their lives. Something about that fact made the hunger grow. He would have no choice but to be pleased when all of this was over. It was so perfect. Delectably perfect. And there was nothing more perfect than destroying that which was.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I promise to repay you for your kindness. Somehow.” She felt her lips curl into a smile, but twisted them into a grimace.

  They both relaxed and made identical faces. Like she’d slapped them. “Nonsense,” Laira said. “We’re just happy to help. Children are old enough to not need so much anymore. It’s nice to be needed again.”

  Maira just nodded, truly savoring the moment now. Then she yawned. It was forced, but she thought it seemed genuine. It was hard to remember what it felt like to feel tired. She couldn’t remember what it was like to sleep. Or to dream… that was a dream in and of itself.

  Malic stood at once. “Oh, you must be beat. I’ll have a bed made up for you in just a bit.”

  “No, I can sleep here,” Maira said, indicating the worn rug that lay near a barren fireplace. “It’s no problem.”

  “Nonsense,” he said. “You’ll sleep in Alexander’s room.”

  Night fell as it always did, and with it His voice returned, carried along the shadows, into Maira’s mind. With the world cloaked in darkness there was no place to hide from His reach. Not that she would have. Fear was a stranger that she had slaughtered long ago. She welcomed His presence. She had been waiting for it.

  Wife, do not disobey me. The one that is Alexander is not to be trifled with. He has been claimed by one of the Six. The one that has already fallen. We must know his purpose.

  She smiled. The night gave her strength, and though she would not be able to avoid His voice, He had no way to directly touch her. Not here. Not now. She was in control. In the end, He would understand. She did it for Him. She laughed quietly to herself as she sat in the window, legs dangling from the second-floor opening, her eyes cast to the moons. It wasn’t true. She did this for herself. Because she desired it. And now that she had the means, why deny the pleasure? It was a constant thought that coursed through her mind, an argument with her own divided conscience, but the result was never in doubt. Even if she could remember her previous life, it wouldn’t matter.

  “I will take from him as I did the others,” she whispered to the night, wishing He could hear it. “And when they see all that they have lost, I will kill them, to ensure the end.”

  She closed her eyes, focusing on the cold night breeze, kicking her feet like an anxious child. Her bodily senses were all but nonexistent, but her mind was sharp, honed in the Shadows, and aware of all around her. She spun and rolled back into the room, rising to her feet with uncanny grace. Her soul ached. It was time.

  The hallway was empty and dark, save for a single oil lamp hanging from a hook in the middle of the space, turned low. Shadows danced as Maira stole quietly along the wall, making no more noise than the night itself. She was a shade, an apparition of doom.

  Something clattered across the wooden floor and froze Maira in her steps. She looked down to see a small carving of a horse. She cursed the child that had left it in her path and held her breath, eyes darting to each of the five rooms along the hallway.

  The one nearest her opened with a faint creak and revealed a slight girl of ten. She held a small blanket in one hand and rubbed her eyes with the other.

  “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.