Elf Saga: Bloodlines (Part 1: Curse of the Jaguar) Read Online Free

pain seems to linger much
longer, even though it doesn’t hurt as much. I don’t know if that’s
a good sign or a bad one. Probably bad.
    The waiting drags on. When Dad used to tell
us stories about traveling the world, fighting witches and
nightmares and bring back unicorns from the dead, I guess he left
out how long and boring the actual traveling was.
    When we finally reach Aram, I hurry down the
pier into the town of Garabad like I’m afraid the ship will snatch
me back and drag me out to sea again. I stumble around the stony
streets for a few minutes to get my bearings, which is pointless
because I can’t even begin to read the writing on the buildings or
the signs, so I just start going up to strangers and asking,
“Excuse me, but do you know Nadira dal Rezhiri? I’m trying to find
an ambermagus named Nadira dal Rezhiri. Have you heard of her?”
    I get a few frowns, a lot of shaking heads. I
have no idea if they’re telling me they don’t know her, or if
they’re just trying to make the annoying foreigner go away. I can’t
say I blame them. I don’t want me to be here either. And for all I
know, they can’t understand a word I’m saying.
    “Are you all right, fair maiden?” a man
asks.
    I turn to see four strange men and one even
stranger woman casting concerned looks at me. Two of the fellas are
big brutes in heavy Gallian armor, and they have with them an
elderly Drogori in Urskayan rags and a little slimeball with a
crappy mustache, and the woman… what the hell? All she’s wearing is
some sort of metal underwear and a sword. On this very brisk autumn
afternoon. I stare for a minute, and then I blurt out a laugh on
top of a snort, which hurts my nose.
    “We’re strangers in this land ourselves,” one
of the Gallian knights says. “On our way to slay a great demon, but
if you are in some need…?”
    “Let me stop you right there, buddy.” I wipe
my nose and wave him away. My head is pounding. “Don’t even start.
I can’t deal with a bunch of cardboard cutouts right now. I have
real, actual problems. So piss off. Go kill your naughty goat or
whatever. And get that girl some pants!”
    They glare at me and then move along,
revealing another stranger lurking behind them, a young man
clutching a pile of books with his ink-stained fingers. He
hesitates, and then says, “Nadira dal Rezhiri?”
    I blink at him. Is this idiot calling me
Nadira?
    “You’re looking for Nadira dal Rezhiri?” he
asks. He speaks the trade tongue with a heavy accent, so it takes
me a second to realize that I can tell what he’s saying.
    “Oh, yeah. You know her?” I ask.
    “No. No, no. I have no dealings with her. I
have never met her myself.” He shakes his head emphatically. “But I
believe she lives about ten leagues north of here, I think. Or she
used to. Near the village of Omoss.” He nods politely, and then
hurries away.
    “Ten more leagues.” I sigh, and start
walking.
    The next evening I walk into the village of
Omoss, fifty stone houses in a hilly area full of goats and olive
trees. I ask for Nadira one more time, and an old woman points me
up a path to a house on a hill. As I start walking up the hill, I
can’t help but laugh. I’m so tired I have to laugh. The house is a
windmill.
    “If I see another one, it’ll become a theme.”
I rub my eyes, unable to stop grinning. “I hate themes.”
    The climb up the hill is enough to make my
tired legs ache, and I feel a slight wave of dizziness run through
my head. As I approach the door, I hear singing inside.
    I knock.
    The singing stops, and a moment later the
door opens.
    “Hello! How can I help you?” It’s a girl. She
looks a little younger than me. Shorter and rounder, with a
scattering of fierce freckles across her nose and cheeks. And she
has green hair.
    Her green hair is very bright and very long,
curling down over her somewhat large breasts. And her green hair is
full of green leaves and flowers. Pink and purple tulips. In her
hair.