Read The Girl With Red Hair (The Last War Saga Book 1) Online
Authors: Michael J Sanford
The Girl With Red Hair (The Last War Saga Book 1)
The
Girl
With
Red Hair
Book One of The Last War Saga
Michael J Sanford
Copyright © 2016 Michael J Sanford
All rights reserved.
This book or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
without the express written permission of the publisher
except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places,
events and incidents are either the products of the author’s
imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance
to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely
coincidental.
First Edition
Cover art by Michael J Sanford
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Prologue
SHE WANTED MORE than anything to save the world. More than any other before it. The best parts of it existed because she had dreamed them up, and she couldn’t bear the thought of watching it all crumble. Or watching her die. But the desire hadn’t been without consequence, and now action would need to be taken to prevent that inevitable fate. A fate that always found a way of growing, festering, and fulfilling its own prophecy. There were innumerable ways to that end, but only one away from it. Or so she hoped.
She had made the first move. The bark of her arms and the leaves that sprouted from her scalp were proof enough of that. Not that she minded. It made her look like… She shook her head, dispelling the image that had brought her to that moment. To every moment. It was reckless and blind, though it had seemed so right at the moment. She still didn’t fully understand how she had gotten to that place. And she couldn’t stop shaking.
She had to take two steps for every one of his. No matter how quickly she moved, the tall elven man stayed a full stride ahead of her. She was breathing heavily and her heart thundered against her ribs, but it wasn’t a result of the pace.
“Are you sure this is necessary?” she asked.
He turned his head, golden hair floating about it in a haze of brilliance. “Yes,” he said. “You began this. Would you rather die with the world? And the rest at your side?”
She shook her head. No, she didn’t want to die, though it wasn’t that threat that drove her. She didn’t care so much whether she died, as long as
she
lived. Her perfection. Otherwise, what was the point?
“The world deserves a chance,” she said as they rounded a corner and took to the winding set of stone steps. “But there must be some other way.” That sick feeling of regret crept into her stomach and sat menacing. It was a feeling she didn’t think she’d ever get used to. It made things real. Made them matter.
A guard, clad in polished plate armor, stood in the doorway of the floor they exited on. He held up a gauntleted hand, but stopped as the elf ran his fingers along the man’s face. His eyes immediately crossed and a thin line of drool ran from the corner of his mouth. The elven man with the mane of gold never broke stride. If only she were so confident.
She shuddered. She knew this was all because of her. They all knew it was her fault. She had acted on impulse and was going to pay the price for such indiscretion. It was one thing for the world to die; that was destiny. But for them to perish with it…
It had once seemed so simple. No, not simple. Necessary. Why create emotion if not to taste it herself? It wasn’t fair. Her eyes bore into the back of the elf’s head. Of all the Six, he should have understood why she’d done it. Why she
had
to do it.
“If things are to be altered,” he said, rounding another corner and quelling a pair of guards with hardly a thought, “then a change in the process must be made.”
“Don’t speak in riddles,” she said. “Will it work?”
They stopped before a large wooden door. The guards on either side smiled warmly at them and wandered off in a stupor. She could feel the power pulsing behind the portal. It would consume him, she knew. Why was he the one making the sacrifice for her indiscretion? It was just one more thing she didn’t understand.
The elf turned on her. “Maybe. Maybe not. Nothing is certain now that we have descended.”
She nodded. It wasn’t something she had considered at the beginning. She had known the limits of her body, though that had taken time to adjust to, but it was her thoughts she hadn’t imagined being quashed. A mortal mind could not hold a candle to the vastness of the knowledge she had left behind. It was a terrible sacrifice, but one she didn’t regret. She couldn’t. Not now.
“You didn’t have to follow,” she said. “It was my decision.”
He shook his head. “And let you have all the fun? No. We have all grown tired of their games.”
Her eyes flitted to the door. “But does it have to be her?”
The elf matched the look, his eyes betraying some deep emotion she couldn’t read. Perhaps he was not as confident as he seemed. The thought was too terrifying to believe. “Balance needs to be restored. Of all the Six, she and I exist furthest from one another, and we both know her power.”
She nodded, knowing he spoke the truth. Slim as it was, it was the only chance. But that didn’t mean she had to like it.
“Does it have to be now? She’s hardly more than a child.”
He frowned. “She’s no more a child than either of us. And she chose that form just as we chose ours. Would you rather wait for the War? And watch
her
die?”
She looked down and ran a hand over the knotted bark that melded with her olive flesh. Suddenly, she felt the fool.
“Well?” he asked, drawing her head upward with a light touch to her chin.
She stared back. He was waiting for her approval, making it her choice. Making it her guilt. She knew that if she told him to leave, he would. It would mean his end, just as it would hers. The world would follow. Even in mortal flesh, she held such power.
“Why did you come here?” he asked when she didn’t immediately respond.
A face matching her own flashed through her mortal mind. As limited as the flesh was, the emotions it wrought were magnified tenfold. It often left her dizzy, as it did now. She swallowed hard. “Do it.”
He nodded and shifted his hand to the side of her face. Words could not encompass the vastness of understanding that passed between them in that moment. “Build something new.”
Tears fell from her eyes, running over flesh and bark, and dropped to the floor. Would it be worth it? Could it be?
He smiled, though not for joy, and entered the room, easing the door shut softly behind him. She stood, paralyzed, staring at the wood, but not seeing it. When the screaming began she fell to her knees and shut her eyes. She covered her ears, but it came from everywhere. Everything hurt. Pain was a sister to emotion and the two had her insides twisted into knots. Could destiny be altered? Every piece of knowledge she still held from before told her it couldn’t. But how could she not try?
Shrieks of pain and shouts of command rang out from the room for an untold amount of time, every moment further chilling her blood. It became hard to think straight, and suddenly she understood the strange illusion of time that mortals held so dear. She felt it slow down in that moment, prolonging the agony that was only a fraction of what she truly deserved for her actions. But if she failed and the world was destroyed again, would that be punishment enough for her crimes?
She didn’t know when, but at long last, the room beyond the door was silent. She rose into a crouch, took a deep breath, and stood. He was gone, she knew. Even in flesh she could sense his absence, not just from the world, but from everything. The permanence of that fact renewed her. Ignoring his sacrifice was not something she could even consider. There was no other choice now. Not that there had been before. Not truly. She remembered knowing that at some point. She wiped the tears from her face and stood as tall as she could.
“She will need to be sedated and restrained for the duration,” she said, turning to the twelve figures in billowing white robes at her back. They were formless, silent, and absolute. “When Ta’Nyah comes, keep her close, but out of sight. She will need time to feed. Has her caretaker been chosen?” The Twelve didn’t shift or speak, but she nodded after a moment. “Good,” she said, satisfied with their decision.
The Twelve parted and regarded her with hidden eyes that saw much more than she would ever understand again. She deserved whatever judgment they left unsaid, though she could not afford to admit it. Not with so much at stake. She strode past them, tall and strong. Resolute. It had been done. There was nowhere to go now but forward. Even her mortal mind knew the cost would be high. Infinite, even. Beyond even godly comprehension.
She could only hope it would be worth it in the end.