“Uh, what just happened?” Sachihiro asked slowly.
“We don’t have time for this,” Alexander said. “We need to get out of here before—”
A strong gust of wind shook the great city like a blade of grass. Leaves and branches fell like rain. Some of the floating orbs of lights winked out.
“Oh shit,” Jaydan said.
Sachihiro clutched his lute to his bloodied chest and whirled about, trying to sense what the others seemed to have already. A single globe of light twirled about in the wind and drifted low, out of the canopy. It blinked out a moment later, but not before Sachihiro saw the dark shape darting past it. It had a long, slender body, wings of night, and a serpentine face of jagged teeth. He hadn’t doubted Jaydan, but had hoped…
“Shadow dragons,” he whispered.
“The time is now,” Opis said. “Gather your things and I will send you along.”
“Send us?” Sachihiro asked. Squirrel poked his head out from the lute and squeaked.
Opis struggled to his feet. He wavered, but held his stance. “Yes, I can send you along a Bridge. The Eye will provide the magic needed to reach it. The shadowed have only obscured our paths, not destroyed them, as first feared.”
Something swooped overhead, and Sachihiro could hear the gnashing of teeth. He ducked and instinctively reached for his sword. Dammit, Addy.
Jaydan and Alexander grabbed the rest of their belongings and pressed in tight around Opis. “Send us?” Alexander asked. “No, you’re coming with us.”
Opis shook his head. “That is not the way it must be,” he said. “Or the way it is.”
“You’ve lost a lot of blood, but you’ll be all right,” Jaydan said. “I promise.”
Opis shook his head again. “No, I will send you as I must, but I will stay.”
Sachihiro pressed into the group and grabbed the Vartaw’s thick fur. He shook the creature. “We’re not leaving you,” he shouted. The wind had become a roar. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. “Addy would never forgive us.”
“Please,” Alexander said. “There’s no reason to stay. Those things will finish what the Council started. And for what?”
“There is always a reason,” Opis said. “And a purpose. Neither require understanding to exist.”
Something sharp raked at Sachihiro’s back as it flew by. He gasped and nearly fell into Opis. The Vartaw steadied him with a thick paw. He smiled and turned, lifting his other paw and resting it on the gemstone. The bright pulse of green suddenly faded to a dull glow. Sachihiro could hardly see beyond the others. The air hissed with violent wind and invisible dragons.
“Now is the time to leave,” Opis said.
“Come with us,” Alexander said. “Please. For Adelaide.”
In the dim light and torrential wind, Opis smiled. His eyes twinkled in the gloom and he stood a bit taller. “This is for Adelaide,” he said.
Then the air opened up around the trio and swallowed them whole.
Chapter Forty-One
TANNYL’S THROAT WAS raw and his voice had long since failed him, but he continued to scream. He strained against his bonds until blood ran down his forearms. Sweat and tears blurred his sight. She was in his head and he felt every kill as if it were his own hands that tore flesh and severed limbs. They had tried to fight back, but Maira was too fast, moving like a shadow, and striking like an asp.
The cacophony of slaughter faded and the silence that descended on the clearing terrified Tannyl more than the dying cries of the last Druids. His eyes no longer functioned, but still he saw them. Whether it was through her eyes or some other sense he couldn’t understand, he saw each taken life. Man, woman, and child. All slaughtered. He hung limp from the post and tried to die.
A hand on his chin lifted his eyes to hers. The spines and terrible teeth were gone, and Maira’s flawless face stared back. Her features were soft and caring. Loving, even.
“Why?” he asked, though he knew he made no sound.
She smiled and pressed her cheek against his. “To show you.”
He wanted to struggle against her, but his body wouldn’t respond to his mind’s plea. A deeper part of him found comfort in her embrace. He melted into her and sobbed, though the tears had long since been depleted.
“Tannyl, my love,” she said. “Oh, sweet Tannyl. There is so much more beyond this world that I wish to share with you.”
He felt the rope at his wrists part and suddenly he was moving. At first he thought he was falling, but his perception was fractured and he at last realized that Maira was carrying him. With gentle strength, she laid him on the cool grass and knelt at his side. He stayed still and stared at the moon, begging it to fall and crush him into oblivion.
She took his hands in hers. His limbs felt miles away. His body no longer felt his own. He didn’t know whether to battle the feeling or embrace it. He wanted to do both.
They sat in silence for a long time before he gathered the strength to sit up. Still Maira had to help him. Her touch was unwavering.
She extended her hand to their surroundings. “Witness what we can do together.”
He did. Bodies were strewn about with reckless abandon. Even in the gloom he knew they had been torn to pieces. He had felt it. He stared at his own hands. They were red with blood. Was it his or theirs? Did it matter? Was there a difference?
“I… I didn’t want this,” he said. His voice came at a rasp.
“Yes, you did, Tannyl. You asked me to do this.”
“No,” he said, more resolute. “I didn’t. You’re in my head.”
They locked eyes and Tannyl could see pain in her dark eyes. He looked away, ashamed. No, that wasn’t right, he thought. He fought for control, but found his grasp on his own sanity tenuous at best. Waves of energy pulsed from Maira, tearing his mind just as her hands had torn every Druid’s body.
She grabbed his head in both her hands and gently pulled it toward her. “No, Tannyl. I’m not in your head. We are joined. Just as it should be. It’s beautiful and perfect. We would be nothing without each other. Together, we can end it all.”
He gritted his teeth. He was so dizzy. “Stop playing games, Maira.”
Her mask faltered and a brief flash of rage showed before she covered it with feigned sorrow. She let him go and produced a dagger. A gem set into its handle pulsed red. The curved blade glinted in the moonlight.
“So, this is it?” he asked, feeling his own anger blossom.
She shook her head. “I would never harm you, Tannyl. We need each other. But I don’t want to force you to my side, either. It must be your decision.”
She flipped the dagger in the air and caught it by the blade. She extended the handle to Tannyl. Suddenly the fog in his mind lifted. The presence was gone. Vengeance and hatred filled the void. He took the dagger.
She pulled back her hair and bared her neck to him, looking at the sky. Her skin was as pale as the moon and as flawless as the light it produced. His lips hungered for just a taste.
“No tricks,” she said. “Take the blade to your own throat and join me, or take it to mine.”
His eyes narrowed. His mind felt his own, but still he doubted what he was experiencing. It couldn’t be that easy. Were his thoughts truly his own? He looked away from Maira and took in the carnage all around him. The crumpled corpse of the Ancient lay a few feet away. Her vacant eyes condemned him. There was a time they had loved each other. Or at least had said the hollow words.
Maira promised him something more, something greater than his own existence. But there was nothing beyond. There was only the life he had carved for himself. There was only the death and betrayal and loss. His grip tightened on the jeweled blade. There was no redemption for a creature such as him.
He lashed out, seizing Maira’s hair with one hand and pressing the blade against her throat. She gasped, but didn’t fight back.
He leaned in close, mocking her seductive maneuvers. “You and I… We are not the same.”
She began to say something, but he severed the words along with her throat. She fell away from him, eyes wide. Surprised. Her body broke down as soon as it hit the ground. The flesh rotted in mere moments and the bone crumbled to black dust. It dissolved on the breeze and was gone.
He dropped the dagger and crawled to the Ancient’s side. He found her hands and brought them to his chest. He had no more sorrow to give. His mind was his own once again, but so were his memories.
“I’m sorry,” he said to the corpse. He knew the words would change nothing, no matter how many worlds existed, but he didn’t think it was right to remain silent.
The air shifted suddenly and a sharp wind buffeted him. He didn’t even bother to look up as she stepped from a Bridge and stood before him.
“All-Mother,” he said.
“Fae’Ta’Nyl.”
“I wish only to lay Fae’Na to rest, then I am prepared to pay for my crimes,” he said, looking up at the tall Dryad.
“And you shall, but I hold even greater blame.”
The response caught Tannyl off guard. “I don’t understand.”
Hilaros knelt on the other side of the Ancient. She stretched a hand toward the corpse, but didn’t touch it. “I should never have come. I had thought… No, I was tempted.” She shook her head. Her eyes looked through Tannyl as if he were not there. “He is going to rise and destroy the world. We thought we could stop it, but now… No, it is I that destroyed the world. If I hadn’t been so… You must stop it… No.”
“What are you talking about?” he asked. He had never met Hilaros, though he had heard much of the Fae leader. She was said to be a god. None of the stories seemed accurate. The Dryad that knelt before him now was… broken. He knew what it felt like to be less than whole.
Her eyes shifted and regarded Tannyl for the first time. “Our being here has only hastened the inevitable. I am sorry. What cannot be changed can be changed not.”
“I still don’t understand, All-Mother. Are you not here to punish me?”
“Punish you? It is you that holds the hope. You and the others.” Her shoulder twitched and one eye closed for a moment. She grabbed her forearm and gritted her teeth. “I must undo what I have done. I must answer for my foolishness. No,” she shouted. Her eyes focused. “You must correct my mistakes. Our mistakes. We should never have come.”
Tannyl moved around the fallen Druid and took Hilaros by the shoulder, gently turning her from the death. He tried to catch her gaze, but her eyes darted about, suddenly distant. It was worse than Lilacoris had let on. He couldn’t distinguish her lucidity from her madness.
“What did you do? And who are the others?”
She grunted as if struck with a sudden jolt of pain. She grabbed Tannyl’s arm and squeezed. “We are the Six. The Guardians. But we have betrayed our purpose. I betrayed our purpose. And now, the one in the Shadows will rise. The one in the Light will fall. So many have died already…” Her eyes locked on his in a moment of clarity. “Fae’Na. I am so sorry.”
Tannyl’s mind came to a razor’s edge. “You know what happened to her?”
Hilaros nodded. “It calls itself Decay. The dead are its children. It’s our presence that is drawing it from its prison.”
“What do you mean?”
“We were only meant to watch as Decay wars with his Other. But when I saw…” Hilaros shook her head and shivered. Her grip on Tannyl’s arm nearly drew blood. “You must correct my mistake. Undo what I did.”
“Decay and the Shadows,” he said firmly. He could tell whatever grasp Hilaros had on reality was quickly slipping. If it was there at all. “And just how would I stop it?”
“Destroy… It feeds off our energy. You must destroy us.”
Tannyl recoiled. “What are you saying?”
Hilaros stood and began pacing. “No. We should not have come. I must. No. She is the mistake. No, she is the hope. Punish me. Send me… No, I should not have. If we hadn’t… No.”
Tannyl grabbed her by the shoulders again and held her firmly in place. “All-Mother,” he said, waiting for her eyes to slow their movement. It was clear now that Lilacoris was right and he would get nothing from her. “You’re sick.”
She shook her head and pulled away. “No. I acted in greed and now the whole of Alfuria will suffer. I must correct my mistake, but… No. Please, end this before…”
She fell to her knees and bared her neck in the same manner Maira had. Bile filled his throat. He grabbed his head. Was she still in his mind? This isn’t real, he thought.
“I thought Ta’Nyah could save this world,” she said, staring into the sky. “But we should never have created her. If you do not destroy us…”
Her words were lost as the air at Tannyl’s side tore open with a forceful blast of wind and a sound like thunder.
Chapter Forty-Two
THE FIRST THING Alexander saw was Tannyl, and the first thing he did was drive the elf into the ground.
“Where is she?” he bellowed, pressing a knee into Tannyl’s chest. “Where’s Addy?”
Somehow Tannyl got a leg in between their bodies and reversed positions. Alexander found himself looking up at Tannyl, pain exploding from every corner of his body. A jeweled dagger pressed into the soft flesh of Alexander’s neck.
“I didn’t harm her,” he said. “I did it to protect her. And all of you.”
Alexander fought against the lean elf, but found no strength in his limbs, so he spit in his face instead and snarled. He had never felt so primal.
“Whoa, easy, guys,” Sachihiro said.
Hands grabbed at Tannyl and dragged him off Alexander’s chest. Alexander scrambled to his feet and lunged for Tannyl again, punching him in the jaw before Sachihiro wrapped him up in a hug and pushed him away.
Tannyl wiped blood from his lip and scowled at them. “You shouldn’t have come here,” he said.
“How dare you?” Alexander asked. Sachihiro held onto his arm, preventing any further attack.
“This was my battle,” he said, then dropping his head, added, “and my penance.”
“Where is she?” Alexander shouted again.
Tannyl looked up, the anger gone from his face. Only a passive mask remained. “The girl isn’t here… What happened to her?”
Alexander felt his face flush. How dare he pretend to care about her?
“Uh, I hate to interrupt,” Jaydan said.
Alexander stopped trying to break Sachihiro’s hold and looked at the Healer. He was standing nearby, staring at a Dryad. The wooded elf was pacing and tearing at her vine-like hair, mumbling incoherently.
“That’s Hilaros,” Tannyl said.
“The All-Mother?” Sachihiro asked, letting Alexander’s arm go and stepping toward the Dryad. “Does she know what happened to Woodhaerst? Or to Addy?”
Hilaros turned on them suddenly and hissed, spraying the night air with saliva. Her eyes were wide, but unseeing, and her whole body was twitching. She took a single step toward the group and they all instinctively took one back.
“You should not have come here!” Hilaros shouted. She held her hands out at her sides, fingers curled. “I wanted to surrender. I truly did. But, no! I will correct my mistakes, not you. I will destroy Ta’Nyah and I will destroy her protectors! Let the world end as it always has and as it always will!” She jabbed a finger at them, her teeth bared. Drool ran from the corner of her mouth and dropped to the grass.
“Tannyl…” Jaydan whispered out of the side of his mouth. “What did you do?”
“She’s mad,” he replied, stepping to Alexander’s side. A brief glance passed between them, but Alexander couldn’t decipher its meaning. He still wanted to strangle the elven man. He still didn’t know where Adelaide was.
“Ma’am,” Sachihiro said, holding out his hand toward the snarling Dryad. “Uh, All-Mother? Perhaps we could talk a bit?”
“Dammit, Sach,” Jaydan said. “She’s not some wild animal that you can tame. Remember what happen
ed with that rabid fox?”
The man looked back over his shoulder. “What? We want answers, don’t we? And I didn’t know it was rabid at the time.”
“She’s mad,” Tannyl repeated. “She’s been rambling about Guardians and the destruction of the world. And she asked me to kill her.”
“What?” Alexander asked, casting aside his murderous urges.
Hilaros dropped her hand and clutched her head. She returned to pacing and muttering. It sounded like she was weeping as well.
Tannyl sighed. “She said something called ‘Decay’ is behind the attacks. And that it was caused by the Guardians.”
“Are you a Guardian?” Sachihiro asked, taking another step forward. No one else followed.
Hilaros stopped and looked at him. Tears shone across the flesh and bark of her face. “We should not have come,” she said softly. “We should never have created her. But I will set it right. I must.”
Something whispered in the back of Alexander’s mind. It was like a memory of a memory of a dream, distant and clouded. “Wait, does she mean Addy?”
“Why would she mean Addy?” Jaydan asked.
“Lilacoris said the All-Mother would take care of Addy,” Alexander said, his chest tightening.
“Her mind isn’t well,” Tannyl said. “I don’t think she can provide any answers for any of us.”
Alexander wasn’t buying it. He pulled Sachihiro back and walked up to Hilaros. The Dryad took half a step away, her eyes jumping all over the place. She shook her head and groaned, holding up a placating hand.
“Is her Adelaide?” Alexander demanded.
Hilaros doubled over, grabbing her head and tucking it between her knees. “You must destroy the Guardians,” she shouted to the ground. “I cannot ignore my purpose much longer.”
Alexander took another step forward. He was just a short strike from the Dryadic woman. “Where is she? What is happening to Adelaide?” he asked. He had never felt so close to chaos. If she didn’t give him the answer he needed… His hand quivered at the thought.
The Girl With Red Hair (The Last War Saga Book 1) Page 27