The Girl With Red Hair (The Last War Saga Book 1) Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Contact

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Contact

  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

  www.mjsauthor.com

  For Brittany, Kevin, Nick, Sage, and Zach

  The best players a Dungeon Master could hope for

  If you like this book, please review it on Amazon.

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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 ou
rs. 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.

  Chapter One

  THE SMELL TOLD Tannyl what he would find before his eyes did. It was unmistakable, and though it was not unknown to the Hunter, it still sickened him. More accurately, it was the memories it brought that sickened him. He put a hand on the nearest tree to steady himself. The rough bark gave a minute amount of strength, but not enough. Not nearly enough. Nothing would be the same again. The smell told him that. And much more. It had taken thirty years, but dread wrapped itself around his shoulders like an old friend, whispering of ghosts and echoes of failure.

  “You need a break, old-timer? Our young legs moving too quick for you? I’ll be sure to get Bryna to whip up some of that tonic she gives my uncle when his knee ain’t moving so well.”

  Tannyl turned and shook his head at the burly musician, but said nothing. In truth, his mind hadn’t heard what was said. Words would soon be meaningless as they discovered what Tannyl’s senses had already told him was there. Sachihiro gave Tannyl a pat on the back and made to continue on the beaten footpath, but stopped. He looked at Tannyl and then to the slight man at his back. Sachihiro wrinkled his nose. Tannyl grimaced. Even a lout like Sachihiro couldn’t avoid noticing the taint that hung in the air like a mire.

  “What is that?” he asked, waving a hand in front of his face.

  Thankfully, Jaydan answered before Tannyl had to.

  “Death,” the Healer said in his quiet monotone.

  Sachihiro frowned at his childhood friend and looked to the east. “Death? But we’re almost back to...”

  The young man’s words trailed off on the absent wind. In another moment he was running toward the village. Tannyl winced, cursed his senses, and looked at Jaydan. He was of an age with Sachihiro, but the quiet Healer had wisdom unfitting to one just entering adulthood. Tannyl didn’t need to say anything. In different ways, they had both seen enough death to know that the smell emanating from Woodhaerst, their home, could not be anything less than catastrophic. Life changing. Life ending. Lives ended. Bile rose in his throat, bringing with it the shrieks of spirits long since dead.

  Jaydan frowned, something just passing into his forethought. His face screwed into a mask of pain and before he knew it, Tannyl was alone. The elven Hunter calmly strung his bow and nocked an arrow if for nothing else but the comforting warmth he gained from holding the weapon. He wished for an ignorance he had never known. He cursed his senses for a second time. And then he blamed himself. Another habit he couldn’t shake.

  His muscles twitched, begging him to run as well, to throw himself to the torrent of emotions that bubbled just below the surface. She kept dancing across his mind, bringing with her some of the feelings he wished to keep buried. Feelings that caused his hands to shake and his breathing to quicken. He shut his eyes and contracted all of his muscles as he forced the emotions back down. They would do him no good here. He forced out a short breath and slipped into the trees, slowly circling toward what the smell told him he would find. But though his emotions were locked safely away, her face remained, and he couldn’t help but walk a little quicker.

  Sachihiro stumbled at the sight of the first body, falling hard to the packed dirt in front of Gaelin's home. The elven Birther lay slumped against the stairs that curved around the trunk of a massive oak. Her skin was mottled and gray, black in places, showing nothing of the vibrant life he knew she had once possessed. Pale bone jutted bare from the rotted flesh in odd places. Bile forced itself from between Sachihiro’s lips and he turned to retch into the undergrowth.

  “Sweet Mother,” Jaydan whispered as he came to a stop alongside Sachihiro.

  Sachihiro wiped his mouth and saw Jaydan wasn’t speaking of Gaelin. The Healer’s eyes looked further into the forest village. Sachihiro rose shakily to his feet and followed the gaze. He immediately wished he hadn’t. Bodies lay strewn as far as he could see. Some lay in the middle of the beaten path. Others leaned against the many staircases and trees that made up their home. And the smell…

  “What happened?” he managed to say between gags.

  Jaydan knelt at Gaelin’s side without a word. He produced a small twig and prodded at the fallen elf. Sachihiro had never been gladder for Jaydan’s stoic demeanor. Sachihiro felt like he was spinning out of control. He needed to punch something. Or someone. His stomach tossed again, but he bit back the bile with a grunt and steeled himself. After a few moments the Healer sat back on his heels and shook his head.

  “Well?”

  Jaydan looked at Sachihiro. “Looks like she’s been dead a couple weeks. Maybe longer.”

  Sachihiro’s head spun. He was never one for figures and sums, but even this revelation
was apparent to him. He shook his head. “No, we were only gone maybe eight days.”

  “Nine.”

  Sachihiro hadn’t heard Tannyl approach, but there he was, shrouded in the twilit shadows, standing just off the path. His bow was readied and the Hunter’s face showed cruel intent. It was an expression that once made Sachihiro uneasy, but now it grounded him.

  “Not even a full week,” Sachihiro continued. “How’s that possible?”

  “I don’t know,” Jaydan said. “There are narrow slashes all over her body, from a small blade or claw, but the edges are black and rotted as well. Could be some sort of poison.”

  “Any you’re familiar with?” asked the forest’s shadow.

  Jaydan shook his head. “I’d have to do some experiments to know more.”

  Tannyl grunted. “No time for that.”

  For once, Sachihiro agreed with the terse Hunter. Woodhaerst was silent. Even in the dead of night that was never the case. There was always business to conduct, goods to prepare for morning. And at least one impudent child would escape their bed and run shrieking through the village, evading sleep and hoping to nip a bite of Haegar’s fresh pastries. For a moment, Sachihiro fell back into fond memories of doing the very same thing. It had not been that long ago, though it felt like an eternity now.

  “We need to check on the rest of the village,” Jaydan said. “My parents…”

  “Uncle,” Sachihiro found himself saying.

  Tannyl merely grunted, but something passed over the stalwart Hunter’s face for just a moment, a fleeting betrayal of emotion. Any other time, Sachihiro would have questioned it, berating Tannyl with questions until the Hunter backhanded him or stormed off. He typically opted for both.

  “Check for survivors,” Tannyl barked. “See to your families. I’ll secure the border and look for signs of what happened.”

  And just like that, the Hunter vanished into the shadow-plagued forest, silent as one himself. Sachihiro turned to regard Jaydan, but the Healer was already running toward the center of town, leather satchel slapping against his back. Sachihiro adjusted the lute at his side and darted down a side path.