A pair of sails peeked over the stony edge of the floating city. It couldn’t have been more than a few hundred feet away.
“Warded?” Tannyl asked.
Lilacoris smiled. “Of course.”
“Then we just need to get aboard,” the elf said. “I’ll grab Krigtor’s attention. Everyone else get to the ship.”
Alexander set Adelaide down and stepped to Tannyl’s side. “You run.”
Tannyl looked Alexander up and down. “No. Krigtor and I have some unfinished business. Take the others. I’ll catch up.”
“Alexander,” Adelaide said, her voice sounding small and weak.
He turned to face her. She was looking back down the path. Only a hundred feet stood between the horde and them. She turned back, eyes shining with tears.
Alexander nodded and returned his glaive to the clasp at his back. “All right. We’ll go on your word, Tannyl.”
“Now,” Tannyl said, releasing an arrow. He drew another and was running to meet the giant before his first arrow landed.
They ran as one, circling around Krigtor as Tannyl flew at the giant. Alexander was focused on reaching the ship, but couldn’t help but admire the elf. The first arrow struck the giant in the chest, grabbing its attention. The second hit him in the throat. Tannyl was upon him a moment later, arrows in both hands moving faster than any eyes could see.
The edge of Paladrix was an abrupt cliffside, giving way to a descending flight of stairs and small wooden dock. A lone ship bobbed in the air. It was enormous. The deck crawled with dozens of figures hastily preparing the vessel.
Lilacoris shouted commands as soon as their feet hit the deck of the ship. Shrieks echoed from the higher ground, but Alexander could not see any of the battle. Tannyl should have been right behind them, but he wasn’t. Even if he could slay the giant, the horde of shadows would end him.
Adelaide clutched at his leg and he knew she was feeling the same apprehension. He glanced at Sachihiro and Jaydan. The Healer was sitting on the deck, breathing hard, but his eyes were on the cliffside just as Sachihiro’s were. Even Erlen looked worried, clinging to Sachihiro’s hair.
Suddenly, the deck shifted below his feet, knocking Alexander off balance. The dock slid away from them. They were moving.
“Lilacoris!” he shouted, looking for the Dryad.
“We can’t leave Tannyl,” Sachihiro said.
“It looks like we are,” Jaydan replied, struggling to his feet.
They stood as a tight group, eyes searching for some hint of the stubborn elven Hunter. The ship cleared the end of the dock and turned sharply to the left, at an angle parallel with the coast. They all turned with it in silence, eyes never wavering. And then a head of mousy brown hair appeared along the high edge. Tannyl ran alongside the edge of the cliff, traveling in tandem with the ship.
Lilacoris’s voice rang out from somewhere near the bow and the ship veered nearer the shore. Tannyl continued to run, but Alexander could see he would soon run out of land. Adelaide tightened her grip, digging her fingers into his leg.
“He’ll make it,” Sachihiro said. “That elf’ll never die.”
Tannyl ran as far as he could, reaching the edge just as the ship sailed near. At least forty feet of empty air hung between the cliff and the ship, and the vessel was still further below. Tannyl flung his body into the air and Alexander heard everyone hold their breaths. The elf seemed to hang in place, arms outstretched and eyes wild. He struck the center sail and disappeared from view. Alexander heard the sound of tearing cloth and suddenly Tannyl dropped to the deck in front of them, an arrow in each hand. The sail fluttered, two long cuts down its middle.
They all piled on the kneeling elf. He shouted and squirmed, but five sets of arms held him tight.
“Ah, enough,” Tannyl spat, finally extricating himself from the mass hug. He stowed his arrows and made a show of brushing himself off.
“We’re just glad you’re all right,” Alexander said, surprising himself.
Tannyl grunted and looked skyward, examining the torn sail. “Damn,” he said. “I’m going to pay for that.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
ADELAIDE CLOSED HER eyes and inhaled as the cloud washed over her. It was cold and wet and made her skin tickle all over. And it made her feel clean, like the wisps of white were strips of linen scrubbing away all the dirt and grime. She’d have to wear her dress the next time the ship passed through a cloud. Maybe it would be cleaned as well. She dismissed the idea, looking down at her plain pants and plain shirt. Alexander would have to stop treating her like a child if she wore more practical clothing. She had even brought out the tall leather boots, though they had yet to cover her feet. The clouds couldn’t tickle her toes if she wore them.
She liked Alexander. He was tall and he was nice. But he also worried too much. He treated her like a child. She wasn’t afraid. She could protect herself. And she could run in a dress if she wanted to. And she didn’t need to wear shoes. She felt her face twist into a frown and consciously relaxed it. Alexander wasn’t watching her now. She smiled to herself, imagining the fit he would throw if he could see her now, legs and arms sticking through the railing, touching nothing but open air. So close to certain doom.
The sky had returned to its normal shade of bright blue soon after they had left Paladrix. Adelaide couldn’t tell how long they had traveled, but she had slept three times so far. The elf that was also a tree told her it was a long trip, but never said what long meant. Not that it mattered much to Adelaide. She knew she needed to reach Thiladir in Wolverhampton, but didn’t actually want to go. And she wouldn’t have left at all if anyone but Miss Hastings had told her to.
She hadn’t seen Jaydan or Sachihiro since the night they had left. The movement of the ship made Adelaide’s belly feel funny, but it made Sachihiro’s feel worse. He vomited a lot, and then disappeared into his room on the lower deck. It must have gotten worse because Adelaide had heard the normally cheerful man crying from behind the closed door. A lot. Jaydan made lots of noises too, on the second day. He was hurt, and Adelaide knew he should rest and drink lots of fluids like Miss Hastings always told her, but she heard him shouting almost every moment she was close enough to hear. So she didn’t dare bring him water. Sometimes it sounded like he was talking to someone and other times he just yelled words she’d never dare to use for fear of Miss Hasting’s paddle.
Sometimes she saw Tannyl. He stayed with Lilacoris most of the time and always frowned at her when she walked near. He still smelled funny, but she remembered how brave he had been to fight the tall Krigtor creature. She would have been sad if he hadn’t made it onto the ship, but only a little. But she wouldn’t have cried.
Alexander had tried to fuss over her, asking her lots of questions she didn’t care to answer, but Lilacoris told him to help sail the big ship and no one argued with the elf that was also a tree. She was the boss, but Adelaide liked her. Not just because she sent Alexander away, but because she was always smiling at her. The only thing that made her feel funny was when she felt Lilacoris trying to sneak into her head, like it was a room and she meant to steal her toys. But Adelaide kept it locked, and eventually Lilacoris stopped trying.
The other elves that made the ship move were really nice to her too. The one called Farlin always gave her an extra biscuit and sneaked her pastries before bed. The raspberry ones were her favorite. She didn’t think Jaydan or Sachihiro ate, so she decided it was all right for her to have more than one.
But best of all was the view. She rarely left the spot at the front of the ship, clinging to the railing. She could see the most from there. Well, except for maybe at the top of the sails, but Boufar said it was too dangerous for a little girl to be up so high. She disagreed, but hadn’t worked up the courage to try. Yet.
It was blue everywhere she looked, with swirls of pretty white clouds, so bright they glowed. For the first time since she had left, Adelaide didn’t miss her home. Miss Hastings was never far from
her mind, but she didn’t miss the order and cleanliness. Or the rules. It was nothing compared to being in the sky. It was a place only birds and clouds belonged and yet she sat in the middle of it, breathing the same air and feeling the same tickle of the clouds on her bare feet.
On the fifth day, or perhaps the sixth, Sachihiro and Jaydan emerged from the lower deck. Jaydan still moved with a slight limp, but the skin along his arms and neck was flat and pink instead of raised and drippy. Tannyl followed close behind. The elf looked at Adelaide as they walked past. He wasn’t frowning, and the way he smelled made her sad. Sachihiro and Jaydan were sad as well, though in more obvious ways. Sachihiro’s eyes were all red and swollen, like Miss Hasting’s were after Adelaide had gotten herself lost in the east garden for two days.
Everyone on deck fell silent as the trio approached the higher place where Lilacoris steered the ship. She was there, waiting for them with the same sad face. Some of the crew touched their shoulders and nodded in a strange, slow way. They climbed the stairs and stood at the railing, looking out over the deck. Adelaide followed the flow of crew members as they gathered together, all eyes turned up to the three men.
Adelaide felt a hand on her shoulder, but didn’t have to look to know it was Alexander. Something in the way he squeezed her shoulder told her not to ask questions, and the way everyone else was quiet told her to do the same. She decided it wasn’t a time to argue.
Sachihiro cleared his throat. “I know none of you know us,” he said, his voice sounding as if he hadn’t used it in days. It made Adelaide’s ear itch, but she didn’t dare scratch. “But we, uh… I think after all of what happened at the, uh… castle with the creatures…” Sachihiro looked at the crowd, eyes bouncing around erratically.
Adelaide felt a pain in the pit of her stomach, but it wasn’t from the toss of the ship. It was because Sachihiro made her sad. He didn’t seem himself. He always told such great stories and had a lovely singing voice. But that wasn’t the man that stood up high now. She hoped he wouldn’t vomit.
Tannyl shouldered into Sachihiro and pushed him aside with a grunt. Sachihiro looked relieved as Tannyl rolled his head in a circle, finally stopping in the middle and staring out over the crowd. His frown was back, but the sad scent remained.
“I don’t know what attacked Paladrix,” he said, his voice far louder than Sachihiro’s had been. “But a similar evil attacked our home. In that we are on common ground. My…” he looked back at Sachihiro and Jaydan, “companions thought it would be good to honor those that fell, both in Paladrix and in Woodhaerst.” Adelaide saw some of the crew nod. Tannyl stood silent for a moment, slowly surveying the crowd. Adelaide watched his eyes. They were the only part of Tannyl she didn’t think was dirty. In the bright blue of the sky, they glittered like emeralds, but something in them changed in that moment. Their hardness disappeared.
“She…” he began, but stopped as the word caught in his throat. Suddenly, he looked very awkward. Was he sick too? “When I first saw her,” he continued, running a hand through his hair, “I didn’t think she was real. No creature could be that beautiful, I thought. And if such a creature existed, she certainly wouldn’t have looked at me the way she did in that moment. I was always good at hiding, at disappearing. No one had ever seen me like she did. I…” Tannyl looked down at his hands. He took a deep breath. “I’ve done a lot of horrible things in my life. I’ve caused far more hurt than I’ve created good. But one thing I did right…” He held up a single finger and squinted. No, that wasn’t right, Adelaide thought. Not squinting. “She was that one thing,” he finished, dropping his hand and immediately twisting his face into his customary frown.
Adelaide looked up at Alexander and saw that he was crying. What Tannyl had said sounded nice. It was a little bit like a song, but she didn’t think it was sad. It was strange, to be sure. The elf that spoke sure looked like Tannyl, but acted in a funny way. She scanned the crowd and saw some crew members crying as well. Had she missed something?
“My parents never cared about themselves,” Jaydan said, stepping forward. He wasn’t crying. And he wasn’t smiling. His face was somewhere in between. Adelaide took comfort in that. Whatever had changed Tannyl hadn’t seemed to affect Jaydan. “They only cared about helping everyone else around them. I’m not convinced that either of them slept. Or at least not that I ever saw. There was always some injured creature that needed to be patched up or someone sick that needed to be looked after.” He paused and looked skyward, then back down. He was smiling. “There was no illness or injury they couldn’t master. Once there was a man that came into Woodhaerst in the dead of night with a face full of porcupine quills and his pants full of fire ants. Only the Mother knows how. They had him put back together before the piss had time to dry. Hey, Sach, you remember his name?” All eyes went to the red-faced musician.
Alexander suppressed a laugh, and Adelaide could feel the tall man shake against her arm. She smiled, having solved the riddle as well. It was far easier to read than what Tannyl had said in his funny way.
Sachihiro stepped up, waving his hands. “That’s a decent story, but did you hear about the boy that tried to fly and gave himself a set of tits instead? Big paps, out to here.” Sachihiro held out both hands in front of his chest.
All eyes shifted to the now blushing Jaydan. Alexander covered Adelaide’s elven ear and pressed her other against his leg. She slapped at the hand and squirmed away. People were laughing now.
“And the man that caught his pecker in a honey trap?” Jaydan asked loudly.
Sachihiro scowled and climbed atop the wide wooden railing. He pointed at Jaydan, but spoke to the crowd. “There was once a boy who thought he had the magic to turn his body invisible. He walked around entirely naked for half a day, thinking no one could see him.”
“You told me it worked!” Jaydan shouted. He lunged for Sachihiro, but the burly man danced away, turned a cartwheel, and dismounted with a backflip. He landed on the lower deck with grace that seemed strange for a man his size.
The crew members on deck burst into a mix of laughter and applause. Adelaide ran toward Sachihiro, squealing in delight. He saw her coming and vaulted her onto his shoulders with practiced ease. She took a silent cue from Sachihiro and waved her hands to silence the crowd. They complied immediately.
“We have all lost many that we loved,” Sachihiro shouted, his voice returned to him. “But the memories live on. And as much as my friend and I would like, stories never die. There’s no telling what awaits any of us, so whatever may come, let us enjoy what we have now. It may be all we get.”
The crowd cheered, and Adelaide thought for just a moment that she saw Tannyl smile as well.
Tannyl could only shake his head, but it was merely out of habit. While it was certainly not the ceremony he had thought it would be, he couldn’t help but think Fae’Na would be pleased. She had always enjoyed stories and loved a good ribbing.
An odd sensation washed over him as he watched the merriment on the middle deck. It was something he hadn’t felt in a long time, and he couldn’t quite identify it. The crew members stomped in time to the song Sachihiro and Erlen were performing. It was a lewd shanty that mentioned him by name more than he cared for, but he wouldn’t begrudge the crew their joy. Adelaide weaved through the adults, dancing and singing along. He shook his head again, but smiled.
“Acceptance,” Lilacoris said.
He hadn’t heard her come, but wasn’t surprised either. For a woman with legs of timber, the High Watcher moved with uncanny grace.
“What about it?”
She leaned on the railing beside him. “That emotion you’re feeling.”
“What’d I say about reading me?”
She laughed. “Just trying to help.”
“And how’d you know I needed help?”
She stood and held up her hands. “All right, you’ve caught me,” she said. She leaned back against the railing and nodded at the others. “You know, that’s a goo
d group of friends you got with you, young as they may be.”
Tannyl didn’t say anything. He could feel her probing, but didn’t bother trying to resist.
“They need you,” she said. “And regardless of what you think, you need them. Maybe even more so.”
“You’ve known me a long time, Lila, but you don’t know what I need and you don’t know them.”
“The girl’s a bit strange, I admit. Only one I’ve known that I can’t sense, but she’s just a child. And the others are hardly more than that. You can’t keep making the same mistake just so you can blame yourself a bit more. There’s no justice in that.”
“You’d have me take them to the Tribes? You said yourself what awaits me there.”
Lilacoris shook her head. “No. I’d have them take you away from the Tribes. Away from here. You should have never come back.”
Tannyl’s hand went to the hidden pocket in his vest. His other tightened on the railing, nails digging into the hard wood. “I haven’t finished. I made a promise.”
She turned on him. “And what promise is that, Tannyl? To throw away your life in some feeble attempt to gain closure for an act long since dead? Is that what Fae’Na would want? You forget, Tannyl, I knew her long before you came back the first time, and I know what happened to her. I also know what would have happened if you hadn’t taken her.”
Tannyl set his jaw. His eyes burned hot.
Lilacoris took his hand and pulled him away from the railing. He let her lead him, too tired to resist. She pulled him to the back railing and pressed his head over the edge.
“If you’re truly committed to this vendetta against your own crimes, then jump. Jump, Tannyl, and be done with it.”
He stared into the blue. If she let go he’d fall. Would he grab the railing to save himself? He wasn’t sure he would.
She wrenched him upright and grabbed his shoulders tightly, forcing him to face her. “I’ve hated you for a very long time, Tannyl. And most of the Fae who know of you still do. But seeing you now, like this, is worse than any punishment I ever wished to inflict. You’re not the same man. He died that day.”
The Girl With Red Hair (The Last War Saga Book 1) Page 18