Alexander rolled Sachihiro off of him and rose into a crouch, pointing his blade at the creature. Sachihiro let out a laugh that turned into a moan, but he rejoined Alexander, blade still in hand.
“Well, it sure was nice to have met ya, Alexander. Erlen, be a friend, and take care of Squirrel for me.”
“Don’t talk like that,” Alexander said, though he heard the quake in his voice. “We need to protect Addy. Think we could toss her to the next balcony?”
“A little late for that, I think.”
Alexander looked at the mass of writhing black shapes just in time to see them move as one. They flowed like a singular inky mass of gray flesh, shadows, and sharp claws. The giant was at their center, pointing at the balcony with a twisted finger.
Something pushed at Alexander’s back and slid past him into the room. The chaos was almost too much for him to notice the swatch of red hair in the flash of lightning. His heart lodged in his throat and he clumsily reached for her, but grabbed only air.
The small girl strode to the threshold between balcony and death and stopped. Her arms hung casually at her sides, her head tilted up just slightly. The creatures were upon her in an instant. Alexander dropped his glaive and stumbled forward. He had to get her back. He had to save her.
A bright flash of light lit up the room, and the collective mass of creatures shrieked in unison. In the momentary light, Alexander could see them fall back, like a wave being repelled by a rocky cliff. Adelaide remained in place, still as could be. A shimmering wall of translucent gold stretched across the threshold and reached to the ceiling, separating the two spaces.
Alexander knelt at her side and put a hand to her, but she didn’t react. He leaned forward enough to catch her eyes, but they were unseeing. Golden light pulsed from both sockets, the stormy gray of the one replaced, and the natural color of the other intensified. It was like staring into a pair of suns.
From the opposite side of her, Sachihiro whistled. “Addy’s got magic. Who knew?”
Not me, Alexander thought. The creatures regrouped and flung themselves at the barrier. Magic flared and they fell back in obvious fits of pain and rage. What magic could do this? Admittedly, Alexander knew little of the craft. Seeing what Jaydan was capable of went far beyond what he even dreamed was possible, and even that had nearly killed the Healer. But this… Something about it felt far more powerful.
The barrier repelled another attack in a flash of brilliant light. Sachihiro howled with laughter and clapped his hands together. But Alexander was looking only at Adelaide. A fourth attack sent shockwaves through the room, and he thought he saw her falter for a moment. A shoulder drooped, her chin wavered.
“That’s right, creepy crawlies,” Sachihiro was yelling. “Go back to whatever hole your mama shit you out of.”
They reacted to that, throwing themselves at the barrier with reckless abandon, no longer attacking as a single unit, but as dozens of individual nightmares. Each attack brought sparks of magic and flashes of light. And each attack seemed to take something out of the child that had summoned the magic.
Her left eye flickered and faded back to its usual stormy gray. The pupil was dilated and unfocused. Her right hand began to twitch at her side, and sweat ran down her freckled forehead to drip off the end of her nose.
“Uh, Sach,” Alexander said, still unwilling to look away from her. “I don’t know what she’s doing, but she’s not going to be doing it much longer.”
Sachihiro must have turned and seen what Alexander had, for his cheery demeanor shifted and he cursed. “What do we do?”
Alexander didn’t have an answer, but a voice sounded from the balcony. “I’d stop moping about for one, and move your asses.”
Alexander shifted his gaze at that, turning to see Tannyl standing atop the stone railing, hands on his hips as if he’d been waiting there for days. A long wooden plank jutted out from beneath one of his feet and disappeared to the right. Alexander felt his heart begin to beat again as he stood and took new stock of the situation. The crafty elf had bridged the gap between their balcony and the next.
Sachihiro ran to the elf, surveyed the bridge, and slapped a hand to his forehead. “We shoulda thought of this,” he said, leaping up to stand beside Tannyl. He dashed across the plank and vanished from view. “Just like a tightrope,” he called from the other side. “Nothing to it.”
Tannyl looked at Alexander, then at Adelaide, and then back again. “She’s magic?”
Alexander shrugged. “Guess so, but she’s fading fast. And Jaydan’s already down.”
Tannyl dropped to the balcony and lifted Jaydan over a shoulder with unexpected strength. He managed to climb back atop the railing with little effort.
“Well, grab her and let’s move.” He was gone across the gap before Alexander could react.
Alexander turned back to Adelaide and saw the barrier flickering erratically. Her entire body was twitching violently and both eyes were rolled up in her head. Saliva ran from open lips and a sheet of sweat covered her entire body, sticking her ashen dress to her skinny frame.
“Hold on, Addy,” he said as he put a shoulder into her ribs, tossed her over his back, and vaulted for the balcony.
The magical light vanished as soon as he touched her, and he knew without looking that the creatures had noticed as well. Adelaide was light enough, but any weight over a single shoulder made balancing a precarious action. Pure desperation launched him atop the railing and propelled him into the middle of the narrow plank, but then it sagged under his weight and his mind faltered just as his body did. He leaned back the other way, at once knowing it was too much. Regaining his balance while still holding onto Adelaide was impossible now. In the moment between flashes of lightning, he came up with just one idea, and dove.
Headfirst, he propelled his body toward the neighboring balcony. He wasn’t certain whether he would land atop the plank or empty air, so he did the only other thing he could think of: He tossed Adelaide to safety. Which was good, he realized as only half his body struck the plank. It shifted away from him on impact and at once he was falling.
At least I saved her, he thought.
Chapter Twenty-Three
HE HIT SOMETHING solid and felt dozens of bones break at once. The air vanished from his lungs and Alexander knew he wouldn’t be able to get it back. It hurt too much to try. It hurt too much to think. So he lay there, still as death, listening to his own heart struggle against the pain. His vision clouded, blurred, and shifted. Colors came and went. His thoughts turned to vapor. For a moment, he forgot who he was. All he knew was the pain. Everything was cold.
Someone put a hand to his face. Alexander couldn’t feel it, but he knew it was there. “There, there, Alexander, I have you now. You’re safe.”
He smiled. “Father,” he said with his last bit of air.
A smiling face entered his vision and filled it. His father’s beard was unkempt and wild. It felt like so long since Alexander had seen his kind eyes. But he was here now, and that was all that mattered.
“I won’t let you go, Alexander. Never again.”
He tried to nod. He tried to smile. It was hard to tell if he accomplished either. His father’s hand pressed against his side, warm and reassuring, and a bit of air filled his lungs. He gasped and suddenly his vision was clear. His head was pounding, but he lunged upright, grasping for his father’s broad shoulders. He needed to feel him.
But the face that stared back wasn’t his. It smiled, dark eyes hungry and wandering. No, his mind screamed. He willed his body to move. To fight or to flee. Anything. It ignored his cries and the woman in the black dress grabbed the back of his head, pulling at his hair until it felt as if his scalp would be wrenched from his skull.
“That’s right, Alexander,” she said in her sickly sultry voice. “I’ve got you now, and I will never let you go.”
He saw the dagger flash in a pulse of lightning and felt it plunge deep into his neck. It didn’t hurt nearly a
s much as he’d feared. The woman held him, impaled, and leaned forward, placing a delicate kiss on his forehead. She wrenched the blade free in a spray of blood and Alexander’s world faded to black.
At least I saved her. Addy. At least…
Sachihiro rushed to the edge as Alexander vanished from view. The wooden plank that had been their savior bounced off the rocky side of the mountainous cliff, but the lanky red-haired man was nowhere to be seen in the deep gloom.
Tannyl appeared at his side, eyes hard and calculating. The creatures shrieked from the nearby balcony, but they seemed unable or unwilling to span the gap. Tannyl shook his head and put a hand on Sachihiro’s shoulder.
“We have to move,” he said. “Before they figure out how to reach us again.”
“But Alexander…”
“He’s gone, Sach. I’m sorry, but he’s gone. But we’re not. Grab Jaydan and I’ll get the girl.”
Sachihiro looked back at the pair. Both were lying unconscious on the stone floor. Adelaide had stopped convulsing soon after Alexander got her to safety, but Sachihiro didn’t know if that was a good thing or not. He wished Jaydan were awake. He could do something to help her, he was sure. He felt Erlen on his shoulder, invisible, but quietly trembling. And Squirrel was hiding in the body of his lute. Sachihiro could relate. But it was not a time to lose his composure. He took a breath and replaced his stage bravado.
“All right,” he said as he set to lifting the limp Healer. “But where do we go?”
Tannyl was still staring down the cliffside. “I met with the Council. At least one is dead, or close to it.”
“You met the Council? How? When? Can they help?”
Tannyl shook his head and knelt at Adelaide’s side. “No.”
“Then what?”
“One member was missing.”
Sachihiro stood with a grunt, Jaydan slumped over his shoulder. “So?”
“I believe she’s waiting for us.”
“And she’ll help?”
Tannyl lifted the small girl and draped her over the back of his neck. “I hope so, but I see no other options. She’ll have a ship—doesn’t trust the Bridges—so it’s our best shot of getting out of here.”
The creatures fell silent, no longer clawing and shrieking. He was sure they could crawl along the outside of the castle just as easily as they had the inner walls. So why didn’t they? It made Sachihiro uneasy. A concussive thunderclap nearly shook Jaydan from his shoulder. He shifted and caught Tannyl’s gaze. Even in the dark, he could see something within, but as skilled as Sachihiro was at reading people, he couldn’t decipher it.
“Does the Council know what’s going on? What those things are?”
“They know nothing. But they’re Shades, the larger ones anyway. Smaller ones are their spawn.”
“Shades?” Sachihiro shivered. “How do you know that?”
“I… I don’t know…” Tannyl looked at Sachihiro, his expression clear now. His face was pale.
Sachihiro stomped his foot to realign his mind. “All right, well, whatever they are doesn’t matter. Let’s get Jaydan and Addy to safety.”
Tannyl didn’t answer, but he moved quickly for the door. Sachihiro repositioned Jaydan and ran after as best he could.
The light was blinding. Even with his eyes pinched shut, it burned. Is this what it feels like to burn? No, Alexander thought. I’ve been on fire. It seemed like a distant memory, maybe not even his, but he recalled searing flames. And pain. And falling. Am I still falling? It was difficult to tell. The light was too bright. No. It had been dark when he fell. How could he have forgotten?
“Rise, Alexander,” echoed a voice from everywhere. “Open your eyes and come before me.”
“No,” he said. His own voice sounded distant as well, and it felt as if someone else were speaking for him.
“Open your eyes.”
Everything hurt; he was crippled with pain, but he obeyed the voice. It seemed he had no other option. The light intensified for a moment and Alexander almost passed out, but it faded a breath later, receding to a brilliant golden aura that emanated from everything.
The elven man kneeling before him smiled and stood, extending an open hand to Alexander. He took it and was standing, though he didn’t remember the transition. He tried to focus on the face before him, but it kept shifting out of focus. He could see nothing but the light. It was beautiful.
“You have earned my favor, Alexander, and for that I have a gift, though it comes not freely.”
Alexander’s mouth felt like it was full of mud and he couldn’t open it, but he found words springing to life regardless. “Who are you? Where am I?” His memories faded in and out at quicker intervals than did his vision. He tried to grab them as they raced past, but couldn’t react in time.
“My daughter,” the glowing elf said. His voice sounded like honey. No, that wasn’t right. Honey didn’t have a sound. “You must watch over her and protect her, no matter the cost.”
A memory found Alexander and hung in the forefront of his mind. “Adelaide,” he said, again without his mouth and with little intention. Am I thinking aloud?
“Yes, the one you call Adelaide. Serve me in this and you will be blessed with my power. But do not do this out of greed. You must do this because it is the only way.”
“I… I did protect her,” he said. Flashes of the shadowy creatures came to light. Fighting, trying to flee, but falling. I did save her, didn’t I?
“Yes, but the task has not been completed. She is not yet ready. They will come for her, but you must stand in defiance of their want.”
“I… of course. But…” He felt like he was falling again. “But I died…” She killed me. Rage filled his heart, but then vanished as the memory faded. Am I dead?
“Do you swear to this, Alexander?”
His vision went black for a moment, but then centered again. Who are you? He tried to shake his head. It didn’t move. “I only want to protect her,” he said, and he meant it. Every bit of his mind, body, and soul knew it as truth. Who am I?
“Kneel before me, Alexander, protector and shield of the world. The last world.”
He was kneeling, having moved without motion. It felt like time didn’t exist. The elf placed a hand on his shoulder and warmth radiated throughout Alexander, abolishing the pain, but leaving his senses jumbled and elusive.
He looked up at the towering figure of gold and light, feeling a sense of pride and purpose. Is this who I am? He didn’t have time to wonder any further, for his world faded once again, taking with it the memory of the moment, and casting both into oblivion.
Chapter Twenty-Four
SHE WAS IN his head. At the edges of his mind, he felt her. Tannyl felt naked, exposed, and vulnerable. He tried to conjure Fae’Na’s image. It was his only source of peace and focus, but every time he did, it was her face he saw instead. Maira. Merely thinking the name sent chills up his spine and stoked a fire in his loins. It both sickened and energized him. He knew he had to kill her, but doubted it was even possible. Is this all I am now? Her plaything? Do I care?
“Tannyl,” someone said.
He shook his head and let her presence lurk in the recesses of his mind. Perhaps if he ignored her…
“You’re just staring at it. You gonna knock or what?” Sachihiro asked.
Tannyl’s vision cleared and his senses realigned. She was only a distant whisper now. Adelaide was still across his shoulders, and all of a sudden he felt the crushing weight of having carried her for so long. Jaydan sat in a nearby corner, eyes fluttering but failing to open. Sachihiro leaned against the wall near him, red-faced and sucking air.
He turned back to the door and knocked.
It opened immediately, revealing the elegant form of a Dryadic woman. Her face was equal parts elven and knotted tree bark. Her hair was a mix of flowering vines and coarse auburn hair that fell perfectly against her back. It reached nearly to the floor.
“Whoa, you’re a tree,” Sac
hihiro said, gawking.
Tannyl elbowed him and smiled an apology to the Dryad.
“Tannyl,” she said warmly. “Took you long enough. Please, come in.”
“Thank you,” he said, stepping into the lavish quarters.
“There are rooms in the back for your injured, but do be quiet.”
Tannyl gestured to Sachihiro to grab Jaydan. He sighed but did so, following Tannyl to the guest quarters. Sachihiro laid Jaydan on the bed in the first room and followed Tannyl to the second. Its door was open, revealing a pair of beds, close together. One was occupied.
“Alexander!” Sachihiro yelled, shoving past Tannyl to run to the bed that held the still form of the red-haired Plainsman.
Tannyl held back his surprise until he got Adelaide into the open bed. He covered her with a thick blanket and turned to the doorway.
“Where did you find him?”
The Dryad shook her head. “I didn’t. He found me. Came to my door just before you did. Collapsed without saying a word.”
“Is he all right?” Sachihiro asked.
“He’s quite scarred and bruised, but I couldn’t find any serious injuries.”
“How is that possible?” Tannyl asked, looking at Alexander.
“How is any of this possible?” Sachihiro asked, standing and turning back to the door. He approached the Dryad, cut a theatrical bow, and extended a hand. “Forgive my manners. My name is Sachihiro Teller. Thank you for helping our friends. And us. This is Tannyl.”
Tannyl rolled his eyes, but the Dryad only smiled and extended her elven hand to the man. “Lilacoris,” she said. “High Watcher of the Forest Realm.” Her eyes flashed to Tannyl and he looked away. “It’s nice to meet you, but Tannyl and I are old friends.”
He turned his body to avoid her gaze.
“Tannyl sure knows a lot of different folk,” Sachihiro said.
“That he does,” Lilacoris said. “Your friends need to rest. Please, let us leave them to do so. There is much to discuss.”
The Girl With Red Hair (The Last War Saga Book 1) Page 15