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

snapped shadowy fangs at him as it flew past. His eyes darted to the others. It was hard to identify the number of attackers, and even harder to identify what they were. Their heads were serpentine, their wings a mix of misty shadow and tightly stretched membrane. None were larger than a cat, but each of their four legs was tipped with sharp talons. And they moved quick enough to leave him dizzy.
    “Get out of here,” Fae’Na shouted.
    The Elder was wielding a quarterstaff and swung it at any creature that got within range. Arrows continued to fly overhead. Some took the creatures from the air, but most seemed to hardly perturb the winged demons. The bolts of flame and magical energy did even less. The body of one creature dispersed for a brief moment as Jaydan’s flame struck its center, only to reform again with a hiss.
    “We’ll save you,” Sachihiro shouted back with his best stage voice. “I once—”
    A swooping creature clawed at Fae’Na and she let out a snarl as her flesh immediately faded to a mottled black beneath the ethereal talons. Sachihiro was struck a glancing blow to the temple and went to his knees more as a retreat than from the strike.
    Fae’Na looked over his head and Sachihiro saw her wince, though he hadn’t seen her attacked again. She shook her head, braided hair twisting like ravenous serpents.
    “All of you,” she bellowed. “Get out of here!”
    Sachihiro knew the others would not heed the words. Tannyl was the most stubborn man he had ever known, and there had been something glinting wickedly in the Healer’s eyes when he last looked into them. No, they would fight. There needed to be hope.
    “Don’t worry, Elder,” he said with gusto. “I know just the thing to drive the bastards away.”
    Dropping the sword, Sachihiro twisted his shoulder, bringing his lute to face with practiced precision. But there would be no applause here. He traced his fingers over the runes etched into the lacquered wood. His uncle had never permitted him to even touch the lute, claiming that he needed to first understand magic before attempting to charm it with song. Sachihiro had dreamed of the day he would be allowed to use the treasured instrument, but now it only reminded him of losing the very man that wielded it so deftly. Handling it now brought with it a twinge of guilt, and for a moment, he regretting taking it.
    Before he could think on it further, his thick fingers found the strings and he began to play. Even in the moment, he knew it seemed foolish. He knew Tannyl was cursing him and Jaydan was certain to be rolling his eyes and grumbling. With demons of shadow swirling about and his home in ruin, the musician did the one thing he knew how to do: play. The runes carved along the neck and etched into the base of the beautiful instrument began to glow warmly as he flowed into “Gregor’s Cry,” a ballad of battle and triumph. The world changed. Time slowed to a crawl and all other sounds faded away as he focused on the jarring notes and smooth refrain.
    As he played, a familiar energy swept over him and then a less familiar charge swept through him. The first pulse of energy startled him and his fingers slipped from the fret, but he recovered quickly and continued. The second shook the lute from his grip completely, and the third deafened him.
     
    Tannyl reached for the small quiver at his belt and cursed as he felt only the stitched leather. His eyes never left her. Standing tall, wielding her staff like a cudgel, he could not have been more proud. Or more horrified. He knew in that moment that no matter his path, he would never find peace. Death would follow him for all of time.
    He turned his eyes to the others, quickly assessing their condition. Sachihiro had fallen to his knees at Fae’Na’s side. Weariness hung plain on Jaydan’s face. Though foreign to magic himself, Tannyl knew the toll it took on the mind and body of those that used it. In another moment, Jaydan would