“I know you’re there,” she said.
A whisper cut the silence, sounding both near and far. It didn’t speak in words, but Adelaide understood the meaning. She spun in a tight circle, cutting a silver gash in the air with the sword.
“No,” she said. “I’m staying right here.”
The whisper called to her again, this time sounding as if it were in her own head, taunting her from between her mismatched ears. The sword tip dipped, suddenly feeling far heavier than before. Adelaide took in a sharp breath and gripped it tighter.
“I’m not afraid,” she said, but even she could hear the tremor in her voice.
Something moved at the edge of a nearby tree. Adelaide pointed the blade in that direction, but staring right at it, saw nothing. The whisper danced in the dimming light and wrapped its chill around Adelaide’s body. Night was fast approaching, and Adelaide suddenly remembered how much the dark terrified her. She had left that realization with the food and water, and now it seemed the most grievous error.
“Come to us, child,” the whisper said.
The clearness of the voice shook Adelaide and she dropped the sword. It landed point down in the soft soil, sticking straight up. She dropped to her knees and clutched the grip, trying to hide behind the narrow blade. She could see them now.
Tendrils rose up from the shadows, twisting and melding, slowly taking crude shapes. In the long shadows they rose, black as night, but as incorporeal as morning fog. Arms raked at the air. They were many. They were everywhere the light was not. And there was little light.
“Come to us, child,” they repeated, voiced as one haunting breath.
Adelaide shook her head and clutched the weapon. Tears streamed freely and her hands shook violently, causing the sword to dance in the dirt.
“Come to us.”
The dark shapes formed a ring around the small girl, reaching and grasping, beckoning. Adelaide squeezed her eyes shut, pulled the blade free, and collapsed into a ball on the ground. She curled into herself as tightly as she could, the sword pinched between her knees, pommel tight to her chest. The weapon seemed so inadequate now, and the book she had stolen seemed a complete mistake.
“Come to us, child. Dance with us.”
“No,” she screamed. “Go away!”
The shadowy things continued to call for her and she curled tighter and tighter into herself, retreating the only way she knew how. Miss Hastings said that shadows could do no harm and that to have light, one must also have dark. She also often asserted that the dark was nothing to fear.
As Adelaide huddled against the soft soil, sobbing against a stolen sword, she came to a startling realization that terrified her most of all.
Miss Hastings was a liar.
Tannyl crouched at the edge of the clearing. Night had fallen, and he wore the shadows like a cloak. He stayed there, senses extended as far as they could reach. It was a trap, he knew, but one that he intended on being prepared for.
A twig snapped somewhere to the right. Instinctively, he spun to his left and caught the Druid by the throat with one hand. He knocked aside the poisoned thorn dagger with his other. He pressed the elf to a tree and clamped a hand over his mouth.
“That’s my trick,” he whispered into the elf’s ear.
“Yes, I suppose it is,” said a voice from behind.
The blood rushed to his head, nearly blinding him. He let the elf fall and turned. The forest was thick with golden eyes and short, pointed ears. The woman at the lead appeared far older than Tannyl thought possible. Wrinkles cracked her once beautiful and youthful face. He had to suppress a laugh. Something good had come from his betrayal after all.
Despite the flesh that hung from her like worn leather, she stood as straight and as tall as ever. She was proud and determined. Tannyl had never seen her any other way.
His eyes flashed to the small army waiting in the trees. They covered him on all sides. He spat and extended his arms at his sides. “Not exactly fair, is it?”
The woman snorted. “What do you know of fair, Betrayer?”
Tannyl felt his lip curl. “You know, I never much cared for that moniker.”
“And yet you earned it with the blood of my people.”
Tannyl’s eyes narrowed and his muscles tensed. “Our people,” he spat. “And was it not blood that would have been spilled tenfold if not for my sacrifice?”
The elven woman laughed, throwing her head back. When she looked back at Tannyl, her eyes were hard. “The only thing that surprises me, Tannyl, is that you’d return here. You must know what awaits you.”
He glanced over his shoulder, at the pillar of wood stacked in the center of the clearing. He turned back, trying to match her glare. “Fae’Na is dead,” he said. “I want only to give her soul proper rest. Then you may do with me what you will.”
“You still call her by that name, so you know that will never happen.”
It was Tannyl’s turn to laugh, though it was without mirth. “It serves as a reminder of what you made her. And of my own failure.”
“So you have a conscience after all. I’m surprised.”
Tannyl shook his head. “No, my failure was not putting you down when I had the chance.”
She spat. “So you came to complete your final contract as well?” She stepped forward, daring him to act.
“No,” he said firmly. “That is a life that died as well that night. I want only to return Fae’Na to the Garden. She deserves that much.”
He turned and began slowly walking away. “Like I said, you may do with me as you will, but I am going to the Garden to bury our daughter. Even you can allow that much.”
He never made it out of the trees.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
SACHIHIRO DIDN’T REMEMBER having fallen asleep, but shouting woke him. It didn’t take long for the memories to return. Having your mouth sewn shut was a difficult thing to forget. He rolled into a sitting position and looked for his friends. It was pitch black in the small prison hole. Still night, he thought. Was that good they were being called out sooner? Or did it simply mean their deaths had come early?
A square of light exploded from the opposite wall as the door swung inward with a bang. The suddenness blinded him, but stirred his anger like a stick to a beehive. He found his feet and lunged at the first figure that entered. His shoulder and head hit something solid. The gasp of breath told him it was an elven ribcage. He hit the ground and rolled aside, bringing his feet under him for another attack.
Something struck his temple and his twilit vision faded to midnight, but he kept his feet and swung a fist. It struck something solid. It felt like a chin.
“Dammit, Sach,” he heard Jaydan say from nearby.
He tried to call to him. The stitching prevented anything but a primal grunt. That too was muffled as the weight of his captors descended on him like a wave. He fought, flailing every limb and using his head as a bludgeon. He was certain he crushed a nose and heard an arm break beneath his kick, but any true resistance was quashed in an instant.
They jerked him upright and bound his hands tightly behind his back. Sachihiro snorted, trying to take in enough air to stay conscious, but his nose was full of blood. He blew it out at the first elf he saw as they forced him into the light. It earned him another spear butt to the temple and he fell, but smiled as best he could through his stitches when they tugged him upright again.
“Stop fighting, Sachihiro,” Alexander said from behind him. “You’re just making it worse.”
Grow a pair and fight for yourself, he wanted to say, grunting the words. None of it made any sense, and what these elves were doing was wrong. Regardless of what he and his companions were accused of, it was wrong. And if they were as set on killing them as it seemed, then Sachihiro was going to return the favor to as many as he could.
Blood and sweat ran into his eyes, making it nearly impossible to see anything but blurred shapes. He tried to memorize the path they were marched along, makin
g notes of each turn, but it wasn’t long before he lost track. He cursed himself. Tannyl would have been able to chart the course and discern exactly where they were in Vylarra and exactly how to escape. The elf had many skills that made Sachihiro nervous, but he couldn’t think of anyone more suited to the current situation than Tannyl.
A guard severed the rope tying his wrists and forced him to the ground. He sensed Alexander and Jaydan falling to either side of him. He tried to stand, but was kicked in the back of the knees and wrestled down again. He grunted and wiped the blood from his eyes.
“This will be done quickly,” said a familiar voice. “I will ask and you will answer.”
Even with his vision clear again, it took a moment to recognize Lilacoris standing atop a crowded dais a dozen feet away. The rest of the creatures were varied and Sachihiro couldn’t identify any of them save the insect-like creature standing at Lilacoris’s side.
“If you lie,” she continued, “you will be severely punished. When we are done here you will be killed in a manner suited to the answers you provide.”
“I should have known,” Jaydan said loudly.
Lilacoris stepped lightly, stopping a few feet away. “And what is it that you would know, small man?”
Sachihiro could sense Jaydan quiver with rage, but he remained calm. It was a skill Sachihiro had to admire. It would have saved him many broken bones in the past. Where he was hot, Jaydan was cold.
“I should have known you and Tannyl would betray us.”
Lilacoris’s eyes flared with obvious vitriol. “Fae’Ta’Nyl’Na’Ling is the Betrayer, not I. I trust nothing that elf says or does, but neither am I fool enough to cross him.”
Sachihiro was taken aback. Lilacoris feared Tannyl? And what was up with the fancy name? He snorted, spraying phlegm and blood onto the smooth wooden floor in an attempt to laugh. The whole thing was preposterous.
Lilacoris eyed him. “I had thought stitching your mouth shut would have silenced you. Perhaps you require further encouragement?”
Sachihiro closed one nostril and blew as hard as he could in Lilacoris’s direction. A large wad of bloody phlegm struck the bottom of her dress. Jaydan cursed, and Alexander elbowed him in the ribs. Lilacoris only stared.
“A finger, then,” she said, nodding.
Before Sachihiro could react, rough hands forced him onto his stomach. Another set wrenched his arm away from his body. Pain exploded at the base of his small finger. He growled and thrashed. The weight on his back vanished and he rolled to his side, clutching his bleeding hand. His severed finger lay on the ground beside him, and Sachihiro couldn’t force himself to look anywhere else.
Alexander wanted to vomit. He wanted to run. But he also wanted to kill. Sachihiro cradled his injured hand and curled upon himself. He was silent. Alexander had to look away. Lilacoris was smiling.
“What did we do to you?” he found himself saying, courage boiling up at the image of Sachihiro so brutally maimed. “Tannyl left us, too. We have nothing to do with him.”
“As he would,” she said. “But I care not to even speak of that demon. No, you are here to answer to the invasion that is threatening my Realm.”
Alexander didn’t understand. He looked at Jaydan. He was as stone-faced as ever, but his eyes kept darting to Sachihiro. Alexander turned back to Lilacoris.
“I don’t understand,” he said.
“Do not play the fool, Alexander. Shadows are rising in my Realm, just as they did in Paladrix. Both attacks coincide with your group’s arrival. I wish to know why.”
“It has nothing to do with us,” Alexander said, though he couldn’t truly believe it himself. “We came to speak with your All-Mother to secure passage to the Empire and to obtain information on what happened in Woodhaerst.” He nodded to Jaydan.
“Look,” Jaydan said. “Whatever is happening to the Fae Wyld first happened in my village. Strange shadowy creatures killed everyone. My parents were killed.” He pointed at Sachihiro. “And his uncle. We want answers just as badly as you do. So take this thing out of my chest and let’s talk.”
“You think to give me orders in my own Realm? I rule the Forest. And I am responsible for every life. There are no lengths to which I would not go to ensure the Realm’s safety. If your home was razed by the very same creatures invading mine, then there is no doubt as to your involvement. Whether directly or not, you are the cause.”
Jaydan’s expression changed and he lunged for Lilacoris. The High Watcher nimbly stepped aside and Jaydan sprawled across the floor. He cursed and tried to stand again, but an elven guard pressed a heel into his back, much as they had done to Sachihiro.
“Did you not learn the cost of disrespect?” Lilacoris sneered and nodded at Sachihiro.
The burly man climbed to his knees and wielded his eyes as the only weapon he had. Lilacoris turned stiffly from him and knelt at Jaydan’s side. He grimaced and fought to rise, but was held firm.
“Wait,” Alexander said, standing. The pain in his gut flared and staggered him, but he maintained his footing, if just. “We’re not lying or trying to hide anything, Lilacoris. We don’t want to see what happened to Paladrix happen here either. Whatever you want to know… You don’t even have to ask. Just stop with the violence. Please.”
Lilacoris regarded him for a moment, then stood and walked to Alexander. “Speak.”
He swallowed, trying to restore moisture to his mouth. Even that was excruciating. “We don’t know what the creatures are, but we… I think I know what they want.”
Lilacoris motioned to the elf restraining Jaydan. He stepped back and Jaydan sat up with a groan. Blood ran from around the seed in his chest. Alexander felt himself growing lightheaded, either from standing too long or from what he was about to say. She’s not here, he told himself. All that matters is getting out of here alive. I have to protect her.
“Adelaide,” he said slowly.
Lilacoris’s head tilted. “The girl?”
Alexander nodded. “I believe the creatures or shadows or whatever they are want… her.”
Lilacoris stepped back and slowly spun in a tight circle, surveying the room. When she returned to face him, a different emotion masked the half wooden face. “And what are you to her?”
Alexander grunted and forced himself to stand taller. “I… We’re her protectors.”
“How noble,” Lilacoris said with a wry smile. “Hilar… The All-Mother will deal with the child.” Alexander felt his knees buckle. “And it shall fall to me to deal with you. For as you said, protector, you are joined to her. You shall all share a fate.”
“You can’t,” Alexander said. “She’s just a child. She’s done nothing wrong.”
Lilacoris regarded Alexander with an expression of mild amusement, but ultimate boredom. The hate and anger had completely dissipated. “Her destiny is sealed, but you’ll join her soon enough. I won’t make you wait. I’m not a monster.”
“Then let us go,” Alexander said, taking a painful step toward her. It hurt to breathe. “Let us find Adelaide and we will be gone from your Realm.”
“A temporary solution at best. No, I cannot show mercy if it means that any of my Realm would die.”
Alexander took another step forward, this one stronger, though the pain still coursed through his body with each heartbeat. “So you’d kill us,” he gestured to Sachihiro and Jaydan. “And kill a child?”
Lilacoris’s eyes hardened. “Yes.”
“Then you are a monster. I will never allow you to harm Adelaide. Or my friends.”
Lilacoris’s expression melted and she took a step away from Alexander. This emboldened him, and the next step he took was the strongest of all. He would use his hands if it came to it.
Above, on the dais, the Council members shifted as a single unit, moving for the large door set in the corner of the room. Lilacoris turned and sharply followed suit. The thrill of victory was fleeting.
“Oh shit,” Jaydan said.
Alexander
thought to go after Lilacoris and the council members. He had a mind to punish each in turn, but Jaydan’s tone made him spin around. Suddenly, the Council seemed to be the least of their worries.
The elven guardsmen were rooted in place. Tendrils of black mist pooled on the floor like an inky fog. It wrapped around their legs, slowly curling upwards. Hungry.
Sachihiro and Jaydan were at Alexander’s side in an instant and they backed away together.
“That’s different,” Jaydan said. Sachihiro grunted.
The black mist continued to seep from beneath the large doors they had been dragged in through. It continued to move of its own accord. The elves twitched violently. Blood spurted from eyes and began to flow down their convulsing bodies. It mixed with the black mist and evaporated with a sizzle of steam.
“The other door,” Alexander said.
He turned and stumbled, but Sachihiro caught him and ducked under his arm. Sachihiro’s sewn mouth contorted into a vague semblance of a smile, and Alexander nodded his gratitude.
“It’s not here,” Jaydan said as they reached the corner.
The wood was seamless and barren. Alexander shook his head. There had been a door there only a moment before. He had watched the Council flee through it. I should have chased them down when I had the chance.
“Could it be magic?”
Jaydan ran a hand over the wood. “I don’t know. I can’t see anything with this cursed thing lodged in my chest. Could just be hidden. Maybe there’s a lever somewhere.”
Sachihiro grunted and pointed back toward the center of the room. The black mist was retreating from the guardsmen. Alexander allowed relief to slip into his mind just a moment, but the elves’ eyes dismissed any notion of safety. The mist continued to fade, but thin tendrils curled up from bottomless eye sockets, as if all of it lived within the elves’ skulls.
One took a step forward. The blood had vanished as well, stolen away by whatever magic now possessed the guardsmen. Alexander reached back for Jaydan, blindly grasping for the Healer.
The Girl With Red Hair (The Last War Saga Book 1) Page 24