“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.
“This is what?” Tannyl called out. “We’ve been traveling in circles all morning. The camp we left is a few hundred paces from where we’re standing.”
“It is?” Erlen asked, seemingly surprised. He flitted about a broad oak tree and appeared again at the front of the group. “Well, this is it, or my name isn’t Erlen Dragontamer. And, I assure you, it is. For I tame dragons with reckless abandon and deft skill.”
Sachihiro heard Tannyl sigh, but the Hunter said nothing more.
“Well, what now, good Dragontamer?” Sachihiro asked, swinging his lute to his back.
Erlen nodded vigorously, grinning. “I told you I’d take you to the Doorway. I am Erlen Dragontamer, after all, a sprite of his word. Did you know I also tame dragons? There was this one time—”
An arrow appeared in the trunk of the oak, vibrating a hair’s width from the Dragontamer. “Enough,” Tannyl growled. “Open it.”
>
“Leave the poor thing alone,” Adelaide said. “He’s helping us, unlike you.”
Sachihiro held his breath as he looked from the girl to Tannyl and back again. A tense silence enveloped the group as the elf and girl stared at each other. Sachihiro forced a laugh to break the tension.
“Hey, Erlen, how ‘bout you just get us to the Fae Wyld and we can tell stories later? My fingers are a bit tired from all the playing anyhow.”
“Marvelous idea,” Erlen shouted, snapping to attention. “I shall guide us into the Fae Wyld and then, and only then, will I bestow upon you the epic story of how one Dragontamer conquered a whole village of dragons. For I am—”
Another arrow split the air, passing so near the sprite that Sachihiro thought it had actually connected. Erlen scowled at Tannyl and made a show of brushing off his chest and straightening his garb.
He then turned to the oak and knocked on it as one would a door. The tree shifted, its bark twisting and changing. A pair of eyes formed, as did a nose, and mouth. A long branch curled toward the trunk, wrapped itself around Tannyl’s arrow and pulled it out.
“What is the meaning of this? Outsyders and an arrow in my trunk?” The voice from the tree was full bodied and echoed loudly in the dense forest.
“Sweet Mother,” Sachihiro whispered.
“I am Erlen Dragontamer, and I—”
“I know who you are, sprite. If you must enter, then do so, but leave these Outsyders. They have no business here. You should not have brought them to my Doorway. Now, begone.”
Erlen turned to Sachihiro, shrugged and flew swiftly away. As he passed the oak, he vanished. The oak twisted and extended its arms.
“Begone, I said.”
“Hey, we need to get to the Fae Wyld,” Sachihiro protested. “It’s important. Erlen said he’d take us.”
“No,” the tree said.
Alexander stepped beside Sachihiro, Adelaide pinned to his side. She looked small and scared all of a sudden, wholly unlike the impetuous child that had challenged Tannyl. He might have been unnerved as well if his mind wasn’t busy sculpting the strange encounter into verse. What rhymes with oak?
“We didn’t mean to offend you,” Alexander said, a slight quiver in his voice. “We’re taking this girl, Adelaide, to Wolverhampton, and we were told it would be safer to travel through the Fae Wyld.”
“No,” said the tree.
“But I need to see Thiladir,” Adelaide said weakly. “Miss Hastings said—”
“No.”
“Well, this was a waste of time,” Jaydan said.
Tannyl pushed between Sachihiro and Alexander, took the arrow that hung from the oak’s branch, and slid it back into his quiver. He stared at the forest sentinel and then calmly said, “We wish an audience with Hilaros, All-Mother of the Fae Wyld. Fae’Mera’Hahn’Na’Ling has blessed me for the passage and I vouch for the others before you.”
The tree regarded Tannyl for a long moment. “You…” It shifted, the bark twisting like corded muscle. “Very well, elf, you may enter.”
“What was that?” Sachihiro asked, gaping at Tannyl. “How did you do that?”
He turned and shook his head. “Does it matter? We’re in, let’s go and get this over with.”
Sachihiro looked back at the oak and saw it had returned to its previous form. He approached it and ran his hand over the bark. It felt no different than any other, though it held warmth that was unfitting to a tree.
“Well, how do we get in?”
If anyone responded, Sachihiro didn’t hear it, for hands found his back and propelled him sprawling past the tree. He shouted, but heard nothing. And suddenly, he was falling.
Jaydan stifled a laugh and shook his head. “That’s one way to get him to shut up,” he said, having seen the Teller vanish. “Should have tried that before.”
“That was wicked,” Adelaide said.
She approached the place Sachihiro had disappeared and swiped her hand at the air. As it crossed the line between the oak and another nearby tree, it vanished at the wrist. She gasped, recoiled, saw her hand reappear, and giggled.
“It was so warm,” she said. She turned back to face the group, a giant smile on her freckled face. With an ill-fitting wolf dress she looked ridiculous. But the joy she felt was undeniable. Jaydan didn’t think it was possible to find such enthusiasm, given all that had occurred. He envied Adelaide in that moment. If he could only shut down his ever-racing thoughts, perhaps he could find the same bliss.
Tannyl grunted. “Let’s get this over with.”
Jaydan squinted at the invisible doorway and scratched at his ear. If he turned his mind to it, he could detect a faint trace of magical energy working in contrast to the flow everywhere else in the forest. But it was faint, and faded in and out. Easy to miss. Even staring straight at it, he had trouble discerning it. Usually, any disturbance in the magic energy was readily apparent. It was a kaleidoscope of colors and trails, emanating in and around everything. Living or not, it was there. He rarely understood it, but could always see it. The Fae Doorway was either expertly crafted or extremely powerful. He reached into his satchel and produced a small glass vial and wax stopper.
“We don’t have time for that, Jaydan,” Tannyl said firmly. He stepped past the tree and was gone.
Jaydan sighed and replaced his collection tools. He just wanted a sample, something to study. If he couldn’t learn more about the strange application of magic then what good was it? He couldn’t expand his own powers without thorough examination of all he didn’t understand. And if he couldn’t discover that power, he could never fix…
A small hand found his and squeezed tight. He looked down to see Adelaide staring back at him. Her other hand was linked with Alexander’s. The Farmer seemed to have turned to stone, eyes fixed on the magical gateway. The aura around the man was weak and pale in comparison to his own. He didn’t have the ability to use magic. Which meant he wasn’t a threat. That made Jaydan trust him. He looked closely at Adelaide and opened his mind to her aura for the first time.
He gasped.
“Are you scared too, Jaydan?” she asked, eyes wide, the gold one shimmering, the gray one dull and forbidding.
He shook his head and cleared his throat. “No, I just… you squeezed my hand a little hard. Startled me, is all.”
“Sorry,” she said, and loosened her grip.
He stole another glance at the girl. It was like nothing he had ever seen. Tendrils of golden energy twisted about her body, intertwined with wisps of black, darker than any night. The energy swirled and mixed, pulsed and faded. He looked closer and had to suppress another gasp. The magic wasn’t coming from her or even to her. In fact, it didn’t seem to contact her physical form at all, instead acting like a buffer between the child and the magic of the world that raged all around her. The girl herself was Void. But not like Alexander. She was well and truly barren of any magical energy. Nothing was without magic. Even the rocks and soil of the world glowed with residual magic. The air swam with it. Even a corpse contained magic. It made up everything. Everything except Addy, he corrected himself.
“Why are you looking at her like that?” Alexander asked.
“Oh, just trying to prepare myself,” he said, and nodded at the gateway. “Never done anything like this.” His hands were shaking, and he prayed Adelaide wouldn’t notice. He squeezed her hand to still it.
Alexander looked relieved and smiled. “Me either, but we have to do it. For Addy.”
“I’m not scared,” she said, and pulled strongly at the two larger adults, leading them between the trees.
As they stepped into the unknown together, Jaydan couldn’t help but look at the girl again and whisper, “What are you?” Luckily, his words were lost in a sudden rush of wind and light.
Chapter Ten
A LARGE HUMAN landed face first in the middle of the Archway with a loud grunt and rolled up, spitting dirt and grass. The Gorax had only managed to collect itself when four
more humans entered the Fae Wyld. These arrived with more grace than the first, but still stumbled slightly upon landing on the floating island. It pushed aside stacks of paper with its spindly hands and leaned forward, taking a moment to study the newcomers. Alfurians, it pondered. How strange.
“Thanks a lot, Tannyl,” the burly one said to the one with dark hair and a bow of wood. The Gorax noticed at that moment that the dark-haired one was an elf. He looked older than he smelled. And he smelled old.
The elf laughed and waved a dismissive hand at the man with grass in his teeth. “You’re still alive, quit complaining.”
There was a small human with a tall one. Both had red hair. They looked like offspring of the same progenitor, but were not. No, they were far different from one another. The small one turned and suddenly looked elven. But her scent… It was neither human nor elf. The Gorax did not recognize it, but it was familiar all the same. And unsettling. Also intriguing.
“Brilliant,” she shouted, and began spinning in a tight circle, arms outstretched. She was laughing. How peculiar.
“Look at all the clouds,” said the tall one with long hair the color of autumn.
“I think we’re in the sky,” said the slight human man with small features. He smelled powerful. Dangerous. But the Gorax did not fear him. One did not simply walk into the Fae Wyld by accident. At least not often. The Gorax laughed at that.
The humans, elf, and unknown offspring whirled to face the large lacquered desk that sat at the edge of the floating grass platform known as the Archway.
“Wicked,” said the offspring.
The Gorax cleared its throat and climbed atop the desk to give the creature a better view of its visitors. He spread two of its four arms and pressed its front feet together in greeting.
“Who are you to enter here?” it asked.
The Girl With Red Hair (The Last War Saga Book 1) Page 7